#yandere erasermic x reade | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

artemis32 · 2 years

Text

Subjugation I

Yandere Erasermic x reader

****

I've developed a thing for duo's

Also, warning, it's illuded to the the reader is / was a student, so if you're not into that, don't read it :)) reader is 18+ (around 19 to like 20-ish) so don’t get your panties in a twist

word count - 6.5k

****

tw - violence and abuse (against reader), implied sa, kidnapping mentions, age gap (reader was their student), mentions of starvation (let me know if I missed anything - broader warnings in the tags)

****

Part II

bnha masterlist

****

****

Six months, two weeks, four days, fifteen hours, and thirty-two minutes.

"Hmm. I was thinking we could order out for dinner. I'm not really in the mood to cook. What do you think Shota?"

Mr Aizawa - Shota, he insists - hums.

"Sure."

You were positioned awkwardly on the couch, laying on it upside down with your legs thrown over the back, staring up at the ceiling. Boredom ate away at the corners of your mind.

Every few seconds you’d tap your foot to the rhythm of a non-existent song, then your limbs would fall limp as you recalled your boredom. The cycle had been on repeat for the past hour and a half.

The conversation between the two men paused for a moment, and you grit your teeth in annoyance as you prepared for what was about to come.

“Say sweetheart, any special requests for dinner?”

You stare up at the ceiling with a deadpan expression on your face.

“Not hungry,” you respond in a flat tone.

The silence that follows has you mentally groaning.

Please not today. Please leave me alone.

“Ah... sweets, that wasn’t my question. Come on now, there must be something you’re craving. Oh! What about that Thai place you used to go to? We haven’t had that in a while.”

I wonder why.

The words lay on the tip of your tongue, but you bite them back. Now isn’t the time to kick up a fuss. Not when you’d been behaving so well lately.

The words make you gag.

“Hizashi asked you a question.”

Your skin prickled. You hadn’t realised that they were still waiting for an answer.

Out of the two of them, Aizawa definitely instilled more of a fear in you than Yamada ever had. You tried not to dwell on why exactly that was the case.

Heaving a heavy sigh, you hummed.

“Fine. Whatever.”

A beat of silence passed before Present Mic started speaking again, attempting to ease the sudden oppressive atmosphere.

“If you’re bored, you’re welcome to join me. Cleaning isn’t the most entertaining thing in the world, but it passes the time. Or you could help Sho with his work - what do you think Shota?”

You sit up, stretching your arms high above your head, joints popping from the lack of movement.

“I’d rather eat glass than help either of you.”

The words are said so nonchalantly that it stuns them.

Mic laughs nervously. “Come on now, there’s no need to be so hostile, I’m just trying to help you.”

His words almost make you laugh. Help you? How ridiculous. To think that either of them were aiming to help you. They were denser than you thought.

“No thanks,” you bite the words out harshly.

You stand and make your way around the couch, past the dining room table where Aizawa is seated grading papers, towards the hallway that leads off to your - the - bedroom.

They may have labelled it as the bedroom that the three of you shared when you behaved “as a reward”, but it wasn’t your bedroom. This wasn’t your home.

You weren’t happy here, and you would never be.

Mic seems to deflate at your harsh tone, watching you pass by with a pout.

“Why do you hate us so much? You never used to be this hostile. Is it because we don’t let you watch TV - is it because we don’t take you outside anymore? You know that that’s your punishment for the last time you...”

He trails off, not needing to say anything more for you to understand what he meant.

You feel your restraint wearing thin, mentally begging him to shut up.

“Maybe if you behave, we can go to the backyard - or maybe the beach or something this weekend? Of course, you’ll have to be extra convincing.”

His suggestive words are what make you snap, bile rising up your throat.

“As if I’d ever want to go anywhere with either of you... You- you disgusting perverts!”

You regret it instantly, slapping your palm over your mouth as soon as the last syllable glides off of your tongue, but it's too late. The words had slipped out before you could stop to think about them, and you immediately know you’ve made a mistake.

Aizawa lunges out of his seat, straight at you, but you’re already moving, sprinting down the hallway towards the bedroom.

Your feet slip on the hardwood floors, and you almost shoot straight past the doorway to the bedroom, grabbing the door frame at the last second. You pull yourself into the room and whirl to slam the door behind you.

Aizawa slams against it, pushing you further into the room as you throw your entire body weight against the door, trying desperately to shut it.

“Apologise now and maybe I won’t thrash you.”

The words are said calmly. He’s barely out of breath, far too calm. You’re breathing rapidly, though that’s more because you’re frightened, and less because you’re physically drained.

“No, I meant every word,” you spit the words like venom. “Go fuck yourself. You’re disgusting and you know it!”

His words lend to your righteous anger, giving you the last bit of adrenaline you need to shove the door closed.

You say a small prayer of thanks to whatever lead you to run into the bedroom instead of the bathroom across the hall amidst your panicked sprint down the passage.

The bedroom was the only room in the house with a lock on the inside of the door, and the sound of the lock clicking into place seems to echo throughout the room, a final bell, ringing like a clock striking midnight.

You jump back slightly as Aizawa slams his hand onto the door. It seems to shake on it’s hinges for a moment.

“When you come out here, you’d better be ready to beg on your knees, or I might kill you. You remember what happened the last time. You remember the promise I made to you.”

The solid door between the two of you seems to give you an inflated sense of safety, and you let loose, consequences be damned.

“Beg you? Don’t make me laugh. I’m not coming out anytime soon, so you’d better get comfortable Mr Aizawa.”

His name, his title, it all comes out so mockingly.

Your heart continues to beat wildly in your chest, even though the danger has long since passed. You flop down onto the bed, a small smile on your face.

When you left the room, whenever that may be, you knew that one of them would be waiting for you. You also knew you were likely in for the beating of your life for how you had spoken to them. But in that moment, you got a sick sense of satisfaction out of their reaction to your words.

****

Months ago, when they had first kidnapped you - rescued you - you had been vicious with your hands, even more so with your words.

You would bite, scratch, slap, punch, kick, spit at them whenever they tried to get anywhere near you. They’d been patient with you, saying that they understood that you needed time to adjust, to accept your new life.

What a fucking joke.

When you realised that your physical resistance had no impact on them - of course it didn’t, they were two fully grown men, two seasoned pro-heroes - you had switched to verbal assault instead.

And you had been delighted to find that it seemed to cut them far deeper than any one of your weak kicks ever could.

So you went with it, calling them every vile name you could think of, spewing insults as if your life depended on it.

In a sense, it probably did.

One day, around two and a half months after you’d arrived at the Aizawa-Yamada residence, you learnt about exactly how far their patience for your venomous words went.

You’d been tired, having slept on the floor in the bathroom after being caught in an escape attempt the evening before. You’d been hungry, your meal privileges being revoked as an extra punishment for trying to fight them after they caught you. But most of all, you’d been mentally drained and scared, just like anyone else in your situation would have been.

Yamada had come to the bathroom to drag you to the dining room table, back to his usual cheery mood.

Any other day, you would have been able to grin and bear, but after months of being so constantly on your guard, you were sick and tired of entertaining his disgustingly joyous moods.

He had gently coaxed you into a seat, serving you a plate nearly overflowing with food. He fed you what he assumed to be motivating words, encouraging you to eat.

Aizawa sat across from you, eyeing you with a look you couldn’t describe.

For twenty minutes you sat there, staring down at the plate of food, watching the steam curl upwards in enchanting swirls.

The men across from you were having a whispered conversation, interrupted only when Yamada cleared his throat and addressed you.

“Honey, do you not like the food? I made all of your favourites...” he trailed off, unsure of what to say next.

You felt the weight of their stares on you, you felt months’ worth of pent-up emotion, you felt anger and resentment and sadness and fear, and you felt so tired.

You felt all of these things, and you felt nothing.

Slowly, you lifted your head, your stare boring into Yamada’s, then into Aizawa’s.

Shaking your head, you let out a soft, dry laugh.

Nothing about this situation was funny.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

You’d never seen Yamada - Present Mic? - Hizashi? - look so concerned.

It made you sick.

“The two of you... You’re...”

They seemed to be waiting for you, anticipation thick in the air as they sat on the edge of their seats.

“We’re what?” Aizawa asked sharply.

“Perverts. Disgusting, horrible, depraved perverts.”

The words were whispered under your breath, barely audible, but they heard it nonetheless.

They stiffened, and the tension in the room skyrocketed until you could barely breathe.

Everything seemed muted at that moment, almost as if it had been dulled. You felt as though you were having an out of body experience, and you knew that you’d messed up.

But even though you felt dread slowly crawling up your spine, settling over your mind, you found a sick sense of satisfaction in deathlike stillness you’d managed to pull over the room.

Aizawa was the first to react, huffing out a quiet laugh. It rumbled in his chest, growing a bit louder as he leaned back in his seat.

He let out a heavy sigh, as if he’d been holding it in for years, before standing up and making his way behind you.

You tensed as you felt his hands on your shoulders, kneading the tense muscles, urging you to relax.

He moved your hair to the side, leaning down with his mouth next to your ear. His proximity gave you goosebumps, and they rippled across your flesh as his breathe ghosted over your neck.

“How long have you been saving that one sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. It sounds mocking, and he says it with a sneer.

Your racing thoughts are interrupted as you feel his fingers lace through your hair. He does it softly, intimately, and for a single moment it feels like a lover’s caress, and you think, foolishly, that he’s trying to comfort you.

The picture-perfect moment is ruined as he pulls your head back and slams it into the table.

Ringing fills your ears, and your vision is fuzzy, but all you can think about is the fact that Yamada had moved the plate of food out of the way mere seconds before your face had connected with the tabletop.

You weren’t sure if that made you feel better or not.

Aizawa yanked you back up by your hair, getting close to inspect the damage he had inflicted on you.

“Perverts huh? Let me give you a piece of advice sweetheart. You say something like that again, you’ll have a hell of a lot more to worry about than just a night without dinner. I swear to you, I’ll beat you black and blue.”

His words scare you. His actions scare you more.

Fingers still laced through your hair, he drags you to the bathroom and throws you in before crouching down in front of you as you lay sprawled on the floor.

“And in the future, if you really think we’re so perverted, maybe we should prove it to you. Hell, maybe we should do it anyway - give you a real reason to be scared of us.”

He stays there, staring, waiting for an answer.

Your cheeks feel wet.

When did you start crying?

You nod your head slowly, cautiously.

“I’m sorry... I won’t say it again, I- I promise.” Lies.

Aizawa nods before standing up. He towers above you, making you feel smaller and more vulnerable than you had in a long time.

“I think after you ruined dinner like that, you deserve another night on the floor. Hopefully tomorrow you’ll have a better attitude.”

He slams the door shut, leaving you dazed and shaking, your face bruised and bloody.

****

You’d been especially timid for months after that incident, toning down all your escape attempts and physical assaults and verbal abuse. You were still cold and harsh, you still spat and kicked and spewed venomous words, but you knew when to hold back. You saw the tell-tale signs of their patience wearing thin and you’d back off for a while, or at least until they’d calmed down.

It was a never-ending cycle, something that could be likened to a game or a dance, and it was exhausting.

But through all that, you never once uttered that word again.

And true to his word, neither Aizawa or Yamada had touched you, though they’d both made plenty of sexual innuendos and snide remarks, even going as far as to talk about exactly how good they could make you feel.

It all made you so sick, but you never said anything, never made a remark like you had that day.

****

Six months, two weeks, five days, three hours, and sixteen minutes.

The room was stiflingly hot when you woke up.

You didn’t remember falling asleep but buzzing off of so much adrenaline must have tired you out more than you’d thought.

Sitting up with a groan, you rubbed your eyes and surveyed the room.

Everything was the same as it had been when you'd dozed off. The dresser you'd shoved in front of the door hadn't moved an inch.

You stumbled slightly when you stood, dizzy from laying down for so long. Once your head had settled, you made your way to the ensuite bathroom.

Again, you said a small prayer of thanks, grateful that you at least had the privilege of a bathroom during this stalemate.

That's exactly what it was, you realised.

You didn't intend on leaving anytime soon, you'd been truthful when you told Aizawa that. But you also knew that they wouldn't back down, and that you were in for a lashing if you were to leave your newfound safe haven.

A small part of you was terrified.

Because you knew that you would eventually have to leave the safety of these four walls. And you knew what awaited you when you did. But you pushed those thoughts to the very back of your mind, shoving it into the box of things that you swore not to think about if you could avoid it.

On the bright side, you had a bathroom, fresh water, and there were various snacks hidden throughout the room, courtesy of Yamada and his bottomless pit of a stomach.

You made it to the bathroom without stumbling again and went about taking care of your business.

Ten minutes later, you realised you had zoned out, staring up at the bathroom window. The sight of it brought back some unwanted memories.

****

You had only attempted to escape twice since being taken, a number you thought the two men should be thankful for. You may have been cold and rude, but at least you didn’t give them many problems.

That was probably part of the reason they’d kept you around.

The first time you had tried to run away had been planned out in painstaking detail, and you’d accounted for almost every possibility. That probably also lent to the anger you’d felt at being caught, and the words that had followed.

It was also the reason that every window and vent in the house was barred up. It made you feel like more of a prisoner than you already were.

The two men had left for work that morning, as they usually did, and Yamada had showered you with promises of a lavish dinner and gifts when he returned. You had to swallow back the bile that you felt rising up your throat.

Part of your plan - probably the biggest deciding factor - had been patience. You had to wait, and wait, and wait, and wait. You never knew if they would decide to call off work and spend the day here instead.

You wouldn’t want them to catch you midway through an escape.

After what felt like hours of waiting, but was truthfully only an hour and a half, you made your move. The anxiety coursing through your veins made every noise ten times louder, and it felt as though time was slipping through your fingers as you hurriedly unscrewed the heavy metal grille covering the bathroom vent.

As much as you would have loved to climb out the window, you weren’t fond of the thought of falling twelve stories down, no matter how desperate you were to get away.

The next best option was the vents, and you had spent days learning the layout of the apartment, trying to come up with a mental map of what the rest of the floor of the building would look like.

It had been exhausting, but you couldn’t leave any written trace of what you were planning - not when the two pro-heroes picked up on every shift in your mood, every slight change in routine.

Keeping up the pretence of going about your daily routine that morning had been difficult too. You had to fight the urge to stare off into space, thinking over your plan again - but more than that, you had to fight the urge to look at the lifted floorboards where you had stashed the few tools you needed to open and close the vent without suspicion.

There had been a moment, right before Aizawa had left, that you’d felt your anxieties rise. In that split second, it felt almost as if he were looking through you, rather than at you, with a look on his face that you couldn’t quite describe.

But he’d left without saying anything - no warning words, no cautious looks, nothing.

Honestly, their lack of suspicion was likely the main reason you got caught - it made you too confident, cocky even.

It had taken you an hour to destroy the apartment, fifteen minutes to open up the vent, five minutes to clamour into the narrow passageway with the few tools you’d decided to keep with you, and nearly twenty-five minutes to close the vent again. Evidently, it wasn’t as easy to close it when you were inside the vent.

But you’d done it all, and it hadn’t even taken two hours.

You felt somewhat proud in that moment.

That same pride had been what got you caught.

Stumbling through the ventilation system, you’d realised how far off the mark you were with your mental layout of the building. It felt as though you were crawling around in circles.

You lost track of time. That had been the final nail in your metaphorical coffin.

The two men had returned home, talking about some or other recent hero rescue. They fell silent as they entered the apartment and saw the destruction you’d wrought.

Originally, you had hoped that they would think you had been abducted, or that they would think that you tore the place apart in an attempt to find a tool to escape.

Wishful thinking on your part.

They immediately closed the front door, set their things down, and walked to the room you tended to lock yourself in when they returned.

You never found out exactly what their reaction had been to the scene they stumbled upon in that room, and deep down you knew you didn’t want to.

The damages to all their possessions hadn’t angered them as much as your refusal to come out.

“We know you’re in the vents sweetie. Please just come out. We can talk about this - you’ve been so well behaved, we’re willing to be lenient with you. If you come out now, we won’t even punish you, you just have to help tidy up.”

You probably should have taken Mic up on that offer, but you were too stubborn, too sure of yourself.

Anytime they got anywhere near you, you’d quietly crawl away. You spent hours like that, shimmying through the vents, dodging them, blocking out their words.

Yamada was kind, trying to reason with you, cutting deals with you.

Aizawa remained quiet for the first few hours, helping Yamada look, but never saying anything.

He had reached his limit when Yamada silently whispered to him.

“This isn’t working - it’s getting late, she must be tired and hungry, can you help speed things up?”

Then the threats had started.

Threats of punishments, violent, invasive, perverse punishments.

It continued for hours.

You’d like to think that if you had become a hero, they would have applauded your grit in a situation like this. They didn’t seem to appreciate it though.

It probably would have continued on for a while, until they had to sleep, or leave for work, or until you found an exit. It would have continued, had Aizawa not shattered your hope of escape in one fell swoop. With a few words, all of your time, patience and determination crumbled.

“If you’re looking for an exit, you’ll be up there forever. We take up this whole floor, and the vent doesn’t go down.”

This apartment takes up the whole floor? That’s not possible...

He continued talking, oblivious to your sudden panic.

You don’t remember a lot of what he said, but you got the general idea that though the apartment wasn’t big, the entire floor belonged to them, and they had made sure that the vents wouldn’t lead out or down in any direction.

Dazed and absorbed in your thoughts, you didn’t realise they had found you until you were being dragged out by your ankle.

The lights were harsh after hours of sitting in the dark, and the look of Aizawa’s face had scared you half to death. Yamada had swooped in to save you, saying that as punishment, you’d be sentenced to sleeping the in bathroom until further notice.

Aizawa had added that you wouldn’t be getting any meals until you proved that you were actually sorry.

Of course, that situation had ended quite violently a few days later.

****

Your second and final escape attempt had been... messy, for lack of a better word.

It wasn’t something you had planned for weeks in advance. You hadn’t even been thinking about escape at all.

But the opportunity had presented itself so neatly, so perfectly timed.

And they hadn’t suspected anything. It had been so long since your previous attempt, nearly five months.

You had remained in the same apartment, and you had seemingly learnt your lesson. They both often applauded your wonderful change in attitude, saying how nice it was that you acted so sweetly for them now. As if they hadn’t threatened to beat you to a pulp, or worse.

It had been a Wednesday evening, and both men were tired after a long day of work. Yamada had decided that it was a good night to order in - neither he nor Aizawa wanted to cook, and even if they trusted you with knives, you had made it clear that you would never cook for them.

If you did, you would probably end up feeding them glass.

You hadn’t said much, agreeing with whatever they wanted as you focused on the TV.

There was some old Spanish movie playing. You hadn’t been paying attention.

Yamada sat next to you, trying and failing to get you to lay against him.

Like a real couple should.

Aizawa sat on your other side, watching the movie with half-hearted interest, listening to Yamada ramble on about when dinner would arrive.

Fifteen minutes later, you decided that you needed the bathroom.

When you stood up, Yamada rose as well, claiming he wanted to grab a bottle of wine and a few glasses for when the food arrived.

The two of you had just barely moved, hardly a step away from the couch, when the doorbell rang.

That in itself wasn’t unusual. The bell rang all the time.

Only this time, the delivery guy announced that someone had let him up - he was waiting right outside the door to hand off the delivery.

Adrenaline was a strange thing. It heightened your senses, it warped time and made it feel as though you were wadding through honey.

The two men looked at one another, Hizashi beside you, Shota on the couch. Then they looked at you.

You all stood there for a moment, a split second. They seemed to be warning you, urging you make the right decision, even though you all knew exactly what you were about to do.

Without saying anything, you turned on your heel and started sprinting towards the front door.

Yamada’s heavy footfalls behind you told you that he was close - too close.

You would have thrown yourself to the side, out of his way. Or maybe you would have tried to run a bit faster. Hell, you might even have stopped, if common sense had caught up to you sooner.

But the intercom crackled to life once more, the delivery guy calling out once more, and your mind was made up.

The front door was in your sights. A few more steps and you would have been able to brush your fingers against the stained hardwood.

Yamada’s arm coiled around your waist and he yanked you back, hard.

The air was knocked out of your lungs as you both fell to the ground with a heavy thump.

You opened your mouth to scream, to cry out. He would have heard you. The door was close enough, he would have heard you.

Yamada seemed to sense what you wanted to do, slapping his palm over your mouth as soon as you took a breath.

You laid there struggling as Aizawa walked past, his eyes flashing as he made his way to the door.

The hand on your face felt bruising, gripping your jaw harder when your tears made your cheeks slippery. You lay there for a few more minutes, trying to wrestle yourself out of Yamada’s iron grip.

Aizawa closed the door and made his way back you. When he crouched down in front of you, your body went limp.

Your only chance had slipped through your fingers. Again.

Luck was clearly not on your side.

They stopped pretending to trust you after that.

A few weeks after that, you moved.

The city centre was no place for such a happy family to be living, or at least that’s what they claimed. So you moved into a house, large and sturdy, in the middle of nowhere.

It was hidden away from the public eye, hidden by trees and acres of land and hundreds of road and trails that led nowhere.

Perfect for them. A nightmare for you.

They still barred the windows, shut the doors tight with too many locks.

A part of you told you that you weren’t that far from civilisation. After all, they still had to frequently travel to the city for work.

But the rational part of your brain, the one that had twisted and grown to learn all of their less than likable traits knew that they would move as far as they had to if it meant keeping you hidden. Even if that meant a three- or four-hour commute to the city, even if it meant living in some backwater town that seemed barely inhabitable.

****

Since your last escape attempt, it had been somewhat peaceful. But so, so boring.

And since your last tantrum, as they had taken to calling any show of defiance - whether that was an attempt at escape or something else - it had been six months, three weeks, four hours, and forty-two minutes.

It felt almost pathetic to keep such a stringent record of the time between “punishments”, but it kept you sane.

You reckoned that it had been just over a year since they had kidnapped you, but time became difficult in the days after your two escape attempts, so you’d taken to counting the days, hours, minutes after the punishments instead.

Now, it had been about half a week since you’d angered them. Pushing their buttons, making Aizawa specifically lose his temper so quickly, it felt cathartic.

Yamada stopped by the room every few hours, telling you he left food right outside the door, slipping bits of paper through the gap between the door and the floor, sitting for hours at a time just to talk to you about his day - trying to make you feel bad, if you were to wager a guess.

He even went as far as to beg a few times. You’d hear him crying, whispering through hiccups, asking you to please just end this. He was a good actor; you’d give him that much.

The snacks hidden throughout the room had run out on your second day cooped up in the room, but you hadn’t allowed yourself the time to panic about it. Thinking about leaving the safety of these four walls made you sick.

Though perhaps if you looked sickly enough, Aizawa might take it easy on you.

You shudder to think about what twisted sort of beating you’d receive after this. You were hoping, praying for a solution, holding out for something - for anything. You just weren’t sure what exactly that anything was.

****

Six months.

Three weeks.

Two days.

Fourteen hours.

Fifty-two minutes.

It had been almost a week. You were hungry, but more than that - you were so tired. Paranoia had started creeping in, and you couldn’t sleep. Every time you dozed off, you’d wake up in a panic. The slightest sounds set you off.

You knew that you’d have to leave the room soon, even if it were only to grab something from the kitchen. You knew that they took turns staying home, waiting for you to leave the room.

Moving the heavy dresser was easy enough. Moving it quietly took years off of your life.

Now all there was to do was wait.

Thankfully, Aizawa tended to keep books on his bedside table - many of which you had read over the past few days to pass the time. His tastes didn’t exactly suit your own, but it wasn’t as if you had anything better to do.

You’d read about four or so of his books, rearranged all of the furniture in the room, hell, you’d been bored enough to clean - both the bedroom and the attached bathroom - you’d even gone through their closet, hosting what you’d deemed a fashion show.

So far you felt as though you’d done a decent job of keeping your boredom at bay, but you were running out of things to do. And your idle mind led to your hunger becoming more apparent.

Four hours later, a gentle knock on the door pulled your attention away from the book you were reading - some or another thriller novel.

“Hey sweetie, I’m leaving your lunch out here...”

Hizashi’s words trailed off as he spoke softly under his breath. You didn’t catch the rest of his sentence.

“Okay, well... I- Both Shota and I hope you decide to come out soon.”

To be completely honest, you were very surprised that they hadn’t forced their way in yet. How they would achieve that, you weren’t sure, but you knew that if they really wanted to, they could have.

Not that it mattered - while the anxiety of waiting had been slowly taking over your mind, it had been a nice break, a change of pace to have them out of your personal space for such an extended period of time.

You loitered near the door for a while, watching the minutes tick by on the bright digital clock next to Hizashi’s side of the bed.

After nearly an hour and a half, you stood and reached for the door handle with a quivering hand. For some reason, you felt a growing sense of apprehension.

It’s fine. Just be quick about it - no need to psych yourself out.

Just open the door, grab the food, and get back into the room. There ain’t nothing to it.

After one last quick, deep breath, you unlocked the door. The click of the lock seemed so loud - too loud.

Regardless, you tell yourself that there’s no point in backing out now, not when the door was already unlocked.

Grab the food, shut the door.

The handle moves smoothly as you pull in downwards, cracking the door open an inch. You spy out into the hallway, hardly daring to breathe.

Grab the food, shut the door.

The hinges on the door seem to screech out in the silence - you tell yourself that the adrenaline is making it sounder louder than it actually is.

Grab the food, shut the door.

You’re straining your ears, trying to hear through the sound of the roaring in your head.

Grab the food, shut the door.

It’s right there. A large bowl of soup - maybe miso? There’s another bowl next to it, slightly smaller, filled with rice.

The sight of food so nearby makes your mouth water.

Grab the food, shut the door.

You look around cautiously, left, down the long passageway, towards the dining room and the kitchen, and then right, towards the office shared between the two men and the spare bedroom.

Nothing.

Rather than letting out a sigh of relief, you quickly lean forward and grab both bowls, jumping back into the room and slamming the door behind you.

Setting the bowls down on the dresser takes far longer than you’d like, but before you can linger on the stupidity of slamming the door, you twist the lock into place and slump against the door.

You had split some of the soup - miso, you’ve now confirmed - and the floor was slippery with the remnants of it. Just as you were about to move away from the door, intent on cleaning up the mess, there was a knock at the door.

“Sweetheart? Did you take the food? Are you okay in there?”

Yamada. It’s just Yamada.

Your heart is racing as you choke out a response.

“Um, yeah, I- I’m fine.”

Too close.

You ignored whatever he said next, going about cleaning up the mess you’d made. While you were crouched down on the floor, you thought about how exactly you’d have to ration the food you’d been given. You weren’t eager to have a repeat of the experience you’d just had.

****

Despite your plan to ration out the food you’d painstakingly acquired, you’d eaten it all within a few hours.

You originally stuck to your plan, eating only a few tablespoons from each bowl. But the aroma rising from each bowl, so tantalisingly close, had almost felt like torture.

And so, three hours later, despite your seemingly unwavering will, both bowls were empty and you were happy.

The problem of getting food again whenever you needed it would have to wait for another time, you decided.

After a scalding hot shower and a bit of pampering, you got into bed with a smile on your face for the first time since you had locked yourself up in this room. You felt so much better after eating, even your paranoia had eased up a bit.

Tomorrow, you’d think about what to do. Perhaps it was time for you to try and get out again. Or maybe you’d come up with some sob story speech for the two men. Or maybe you would stay holed up in this room for another week or two.

Regardless, you fell asleep content and warm, feeling almost happy.

****

When you awoke hours later, your head felt heavy, limbs weighed down, tongue heavy in your mouth.

The sounds around you were muffled, as if the world had been plunged under water.

You heard two voices.

What happened? Where am I?

The voices grew closer, though you still couldn’t make out their words.

It was as if a switch had been flipped in that moment. One second you were dazed - confused and slightly uncertain, but comfortable, and the next it felt as though there was ice flowing through your veins.

They had drugged the food.

They had drugged the fucking food.

You felt so stupid. Why had you not for one second considered the fact that they may have drugged the food they’d been leaving outside your door?

Maybe you could pretend that you were still sleeping. But how long would that last? What would you do once they realised that you were awake?

In fact, you didn’t even know how long you’d been unconscious for, or where you were. You knew nothing and you felt the tidal wave of growing anxiety beginning to wash over you.

Above all of your questions and concerns, you felt like a scared child. You had always known that they would eventually get you out of your safe zone, but right now, you had no idea what they planned on doing to you.

Not knowing made the fear even worse.

You almost threw up when you felt a hand resting gently on your arm, squeezing softly to get your attention.

“Don’t worry honey, we won’t punish you just yet. The anxiety of waiting, of not knowing - that’s all part of the fun, isn’t it?”

#yandere #dark content #female reader #bnha #mha #eraserhead #present mic #yandere erasermic #yandere erasermic x reader #yandere aizawa x reader #yandere hizashi yamada #yandere hizashi x reader #yandere aizawa shouta

1K notes · View notes

call-me-copycat · 1 year

Text

Alright, so in my last poll, I asked which you all would like to see me write, and Yandere won!

Please be advised that the following work of fiction will contain depictions of characters engaging in behaviors that may be considered disturbing, unlawful, and mentally unstable, including but not limited to unhealthy obsession, dark thoughts, violence, and kidnapping. This is purely fiction, and anyone who reads any of these stories are consenting to see dark content. If you do not wish to read about these topics, please refrain from continuing.

I want to emphasize that these stories are solely for entertainment and artistic expression, and should not be taken as an endorsement or condoning of such behavior in any way. The characters and events that will be portrayed are entirely fictional and should be treated as such.

I do not intend to promote or glorify these actions, and strongly discourage any attempt to replicate them in real life. The content within these stories will not be suitable for all audiences, and reader discretion is advised. If you find any of the content within to be distressing, please refrain from reading further. If you are struggling with mental health issues, please seek professional help

In conclusion, I want to emphasize that the behavior that will be depicted in any of these stories will be in no way acceptable or condoned. It is simply a work of fiction and should be treated as such.

35 notes · View notes

allmightsprettyhousewife · 2 years

Note

Not Her, Anything But Her (GF), Who Are You? (BNHA), Our Pretty Bride (BNHA), please!!! I haven't watched GF in like 7 years but I'm excited to read your fics!! 😊💖

"Not Her, Anything But Her" - Stanford Pines x Reader is just very self indulgent! Essentially, Ford picks up a stray while roaming through dimensions and they get a death threateningly bad injury. And while he's patching her up, he is just begging to whoever's out there to not let her die! "Who Are You?" - Yandere! Erasermic and Reader (Platonic) This one is a request! When a baby falls right down into the arms of one of his students, Shouta and Hizashi take custody while Nezu tries to find where and who they came from. But they end up getting a bit more attached then they thought they would.

"Our Pretty Bride" - Enji Todoroki x Reader x Rei Todoroki Enji and Rei's marriage has been on the rocks for years, but now they're trying again. None of that matters when they were doomed from the start. But maybe adding someone new might help, that way, if they don't fix their marriage. They'll have someone else to blame..

#Diana Speaks!#gosh its been a month since you sent this #slkjdflsk #the first one was very much just ford x me #but im editing it so i can post it

9 notes · View notes

pumpkin-pi-e · 3 years

Note

Ok... fluffy prompt. I hope dark fluff counts!

Platonic yandere erasermic where either one (though preferably Aizawa, tbh) scoop up an angry/upset darling and rock with them in a rocking chair until darling is calmed down and not fighting them. Then rock a lil longer for good measure *smirk*.

The other yandere can either be helping them, or off working?

Hope this gave you something to play with!

Dark fluff definitely counts! I’m sorry if it’s not too refined, I usually keep requests for up to a week to make sure they’re polished, but I didn’t want you wait that long. I added a non platonic imagine under the cut, I hope that’s okay!

Warning for a/b/o mention under the cut.

When you’re acting fussy, Aizawa puts you down for a little nap. On occasions where their kitten is spitting and hissing—concealed fear under a mask of volatile anger, Zashi (ever quick to appease) offers whatever he can think of to pacify you. Overindulging, the blonde does what he can to fix the problem. That’s what’s wrong, isn’t it? You’re unhappy with something. That’s gotta be it. Perhaps you’re not satisfied with the color they picked for your walls. Maybe it doesn’t match your personality as they’d originally thought. The poor DJ is on the verge of whining, distress crashing against him in horrible, sickening waves; the nauseating motion twisting his stomach as you shoot down every attempt. He’s seconds away from swaying at the sea-sickness it inspires. Aizawa has an unorthodox method. You’re only bearing your claws because you’re overtired, overwhelmed. Overstimulated from the new life you still haven’t settled into. Poor dear. You’re stressed, and don’t know how to channel it in a healthy outlet. Oh, you’re a feisty little thing. You erupt with such passion. The roar of a lion, but you’re a scared little mouse beneath it all. You just need love, reassurance. And rest.

“Come here, kitten.” It held no animosity, no urgency. Bereft of any demand. It’s an invitation for you to fall into him, and leave those turmoils right there where you stood.

You’re brought gently into waiting arms via capture weapon, secured and wrapped in tight warmth like a baby harness. Aizawa shushes those panicked protests with patience only a father could muster, a warm croon like the drone of a humming stereo, a depth so throughly understanding as he hums a tune of peaceful serenity, the calming push and pull of water sidling up to the shore—the song of the ocean. You’re encouraged to take shelter under the crook of his neck, so you can feel its melody. Calloused hands, roughened from years of use — the abrasive friction of cloth sliding against soft fingers that felt like hot irons on occasion tenderly pat its beat in the center of your back. Striving to help you find your center. That slumberous limbo which came before sleep. Maintaining a tenor to compliment Shōta’s soothing alto, Zashi joins his lullaby — cuddling up to your side for comfort. The intent isn’t to silence. It’s to calm you.

“We can talk about it once you’ve settled down.” Aizawa reassured. His hushed voice is downy satin, softer than the fabric draped over you. Embosomed in the heat of his chest, the steady rhythmic pump of his heart forces you to unwind and match its even pace.

“You can tell us all about what’s got ya signin’ screamo after you’ve chilled for a lil bit.”

There’s no hope of struggle, not when you’re safeguarded the way you are. Those hands won’t be harming them or yourself. You could tire yourself out with enough determination. All the easier for them to put you down for a nap, Aizawa reasons. His leg sets the chair in motion, a back-and-forth wavelet gentle enough to mimic the lazy tide. You’re pampered with song and spoiled with warmth.

They coo, shushing you like a newborn. If you’re overstrung, you’re welcome to vent in the safe-haven of his skin. He’s a pillar of emotional support, your shoulder to cry on should you need it. Shōta lets you cry it out. Encourages it even.

When the sniffles have stopped, and that indignation over being rocked like a cranky toddler has subsided, you muffle a question from the closeness of his shirt. “…can you let me go now?”

“Not just yet.” The erasure hero answers, kissing the top of your head. It’s for their benefit as much as yours. Unwilling to part with the lovely heat, the serenity of your company, Shōta stubbornly holds you a little while longer—refusing to let you go.

[A version with the struggle if that’s what you were wanting!]

“A certain beloved listener needs a hug. You got a case of the grumps.” Zashi figures you’re hurtin’ for some lovin’.

“Someone needs a nap.” Shōta stresses. The hero knows from past mistakes that you won’t willingly come to him. Bypassing the struggle that would’ve inevitably taken place, you’re snatched from where you’d stood previously. Quick as a whip. Hizashi is most likely to scoop you up and cradle you right then and there.

Aizawa’s head tilts, regarding you like some anomaly he couldn’t make sense of, one which belonged in a laboratory. He mulled over the strange sight, the skittish little kitten he brought home bearing her fangs. As if to ward off a predator, you puffed out your chest, standing tall on those fidgety legs that couldn’t quite commit to your brave front. You’re a cub imitating its mother—going through the motions, but lacking the ferocity and killer intent. It’s clumsy. Those calculating eyes watch you flinch as he raises a hand to prop on his hip.

“Listen-!”

He is. The two of you can talk like adults, he’s listening.

“I’m not afraid of you!”

His eyebrow quirks. The tremble in your voice is telling. He’s not sure if that statement is for you or him.

His height is clearly intimidating you. While he wants to avoid making any sudden movements that might panic you, it could give you a fraction of peace. Splaying his palms outward in submission, he inches to his knees, monitoring your face to gauge your response. You do little more than eye him skeptically.

Give ‘em an inch, they take a mile.

Inflated from seeing your captor kneel before you, you fly off the handle—demands and threats hurled in his direction. A tremble sets into your bones as the hysteria crept in. Before long, you’re shrieking and crying, the composure you’d feigned up ‘til this point shattering. Now that it had fallen, there was no putting it back together. Hiccups weave with your tears. They become more frequent, and you find they aren’t hiccups as you’d thought, but quick frantic gasps for breath.

Shōta weathered your tantrum, figuring you had a lot of pent-up stress to get off your shoulders, but he couldn’t have you getting sick or fainting.

Vibrations caressed your skin, brushing your cheeks and wiping them clean. Your heart skipped before descending back into its steady pace. Peace washed over you, but it wasn’t natural. It was coerced.

The snarl you rip is something you never knew your throat could manage, neither did Aizawa. He paid it no heed, purring louder opposed to stopping.

“Let me feel what I’m feeling! Am I not entitled to that at least?!”

“Enough.” It isn’t a command. It’s a quiet request.

He tore off the patch suppressing his scent. This must be something hormonal, something he, as an alpha, couldn’t understand. He may not understand, but he can help.

There’s determination in his jaw.

He will help. You won’t deny him that.

It’s his right as your mate.

A whine inspiring his pity left your throat when that husky smell surrounded you. It’s heavy with no dilution. Without ventilation, courtesy of tightly latched windows, he’s all you can detect. He’s the heat in your veins—the infectious sensation that titillated the primal switch in your brain. Your eyes are wild, feral, when they land on him. Blown and glossy, expanding the longer he’s in your view.

You fight like a hellcat when he gives you a warm seat on his lap. That ferocity doubles when he hides you in his neck, right against his scent glands.

“You don’t have to fight anymore.”

You could spit the acrid taste of his words right back at him if you weren’t busy huffing the spiced cinnamon of his skin. It’s disgusting and you hate it. You hate how intoxicating it is. How calming it is. How it called to your tumultuous heart and begged it to relax, shushing its fears. It’s tinged with warm-familiarity and laced with nicotine.

“Isn’t this better?” He asked, cradling you gently with one hand and keeping your head in place with the other. You’re forced to unwind, and take deep breaths of that ataraxia remedying the panic slowly fading from your system.

Enough screaming. No more crying. Just relax in his scent. Unwind in his presence.

You slump against him, boneless. That salted caramel sapped the fight right out of you. It was every comfort item wrapped in one—homey smells of decadent desserts that left you full and had your eyes drooping. It was smoky and sweet. A sugared candle of butterscotch with a hint of wood.

The satisfied hum he breathed travels through you, tickling the pleasure receptors in your brain, leaving in a shiver. “Isn’t it nice having someone providing for your needs?”

He eases to the floor, lying on his back. You follow as if sewn to him. Aizawa no longer has to hold you in place. Thoughtful arms warm your waist because they want to. For an alpha, he’s needy in the touch department. Not clingy, per se. His need is silent longing, an ache in his chest when he’s outside your presence, the solace it offers—a gap in his heart as if a piece of him were missing. The piece that you carried. He can’t be at peace without a reminder of you nearby. Shōta is a creature of comfort, he likes to keep his comfort items close. That raw hallow cavity, tender as a rotten tooth, an infected wound, the insufferable twinge, is why you’re currently in his arms. It’s to blame for your relocation, confined to this lonely cabin.

A getaway you never asked for.

You’re a hot press on sore muscles, abating the phantom pains of past injuries incurred from his hero work. They’ve healed, the less severe of them, but those open scars still bled mentally. It was a persistent sufferance, one that never went away. There are some wounds time can’t heal. His burns are too deep, scalded to the last layer of tissue. That type of trauma can’t be outlived. It burned through sinew; the damage to his psyche was irreversible. It’s stained in red from the amount of times he’d martyred himself. The harrowing moments made immortal in his dreams, the respite of sleep bittersweet. They replay behind his eyes, staining his vision red, the color overtaking him as his head repeatedly bashes into unforgiving concrete; that horrible pounding is the grating rhythm that forces him into unconsciousness. Even in his false reprieve, that repetitive belabor is the lullaby playing in the background. Numb to the impact, but his torment continues outside of awareness.

Time won’t renew him, make him whole again, but you do a damn good job of distracting him, taking the edge off. You aren’t a healer, your quirk is much more mundane, extra ordinary. Nonetheless, you’re still his novocaine, his dream-catcher.

Nose nuzzled in the crux of his throat, he’s inhaled endlessly for what felt like a lifetime, and then a millennia more. His musky scent is a drug, a narcotic to be exact. Sleep flirts with your eyelids, seducing them to close for just a little longer each lethargic blink. A growl scares it off for the time being. Undeterred, it came back to tempt you. Shōta’s purr ramps up. Beneath you, he’s a certified massage therapist; the thrum in your skin solidified you, kneaded knots that further reduced you to putty.

The world is harsh and unkind. He’s seen it. It’ll eat you if you let it. Why won’t you let him protect you from it? Shōta won’t let it take from you what it did from him.

#I smell favoritism #answered ask!#please come again! ☺️#lol this is the fastest I’ve ever answered an ask #I hope my writing style isn’t hard to read?#if so I can rewrite it for you! ❤️#yandere erasermic x reader

197 notes · View notes

seijorhi · 3 years

Text

Pretty Young Thing

A yandere Erasermic commission for an anon, I hope you like it bby!!

Aizawa Shouta x reader x Hizashi Yamada

TW non-con, breeding kink, pregnancy, surrogacy, pregnant sex, smut, age-gap, nsfw

“Don’t you think she’s a little young, ‘Zashi?”

“It’s up to you both how involved you are during the first stages and the overall pregnancy. Normally we suggest an initial meeting with the potential surrogate for all three of you to get a feel for one another and decide if you want to proceed with the arrangement, but should you wish, we can–”

“No,” he interrupts, sparing Hizashi a fleeting glance. “We want to meet her.”

Beneath the desk, his husband squeezes his hand.

Hizashi quirks an eyebrow, pausing midway through fixing his hair in the mirror. “Whaddya mean, babe? She’s in her twenties ain’t she?”

He’s not wrong, but that’s not the issue. They picked you, they both picked you, but there’s this lingering unease that he can’t seem to shake. It’s not so much your age specifically, he knows that you’re only a few years younger than the majority of the other women whose profiles they’d seen – you’re old enough to understand what you’re getting yourself into and agree to it, at any rate – it’s just that he doesn’t quite understand why somebody your age would want to do this.

And there’s something different about you, it’s just a feeling of course – he hasn’t yet had a chance to confirm his suspicions, but he wants to meet you and decide for himself.

“We do have a number of potential surrogates with promising Quirks if you’re considering pursuing that option for your child,” the Doctor told them, smiling as they flipped through page after page of profiles.

Hisako, 35, Quirk: Sun-flare

Nozumi, 26, Quirk: Mimic

Koharu, 28, Quirk: Seismic Wave

Chiyoko, 33, Quirk: Golden Whip

Yuzuki, 32, Quirk: Silencer

There’s dozens of them – which is more than he expected.

Aizawa knew coming in that this wasn’t normally the process, that this agency catered specifically to Heroes – was recommended by the Hero commission – but it still feels strange, just browsing through pages upon pages of potential candidates to carry their baby.

Was he supposed to be feeling some kind of emotion looking at these profiles? The women were all healthy, each of them attractive, in their own ways (nothing but the very best, the Doctor had reassured them with a smile). This woman, whoever they picked, she’d be carrying their baby, yes, but that was the extent of it. She wasn’t going to be a part of their lives beyond that, so what did it matter if she was nice or liked to cook or play tennis?

There were stats, of course. Their education and IQ’s and little snippets of history, but they were all impressive, otherwise they wouldn’t have been included. Were they supposed to choose based on their Quirk? One that might compliment his or Zashi’s? Quirks were troublesome things to begin with, and–

“Wait-wait, Shou, hold up,” Hizashi’s voice cut through his musings, long fingers wrapping around his wrist midway through turning the page. “Go back one.”

He does as he’s told, flicking the page back.

Y/N, 23, Quirk: N/A.

A lone eyebrow lifts. Quirkless, huh? A blank slate.

But that’s not what caught Hizashi’s eye.

“She’s kinda cute, don’tcha think, baby?”

It feels weirdly like a first date, nervous jitters and all – though he’d like to believe he’s better at suppressing that now then back when he was a teenager. Aizawa hasn’t bothered to shave, but his hair’s tied back in a loose bun and he’s pulled out a suit for the occasion – he’s even wearing a tie for fuck’s sake. Beside him, Hizashi’s ditched his usual leather jacket and ripped jeans for, well, nicer jeans and a button up floral shirt.

And then there’s you. Standing in the doorway of the cafe glancing around like a little lost lamb, he recognises you instantly from the picture on your profile, but the moment your eyes meet his he’s struck with the realisation that the picture didn’t truly do you justice.

Because you do look young (at least compared to their thirty odd years) and it might just be the hesitant smile adorning your face as you start to make your way over, or the charming little summer dress falling to your mid-thigh, swishing hypnotically with every step, but Shouta feels something catch in his chest the more he stares. You really are… what was the word ‘Zashi had used? Cute?

Yeah. You were cute.

The agency had offered to host this little meetup at their clinic, and while he hadn’t particularly cared one way or the other, Hizashi’d been insistent. He’d wanted this to feel ‘natural’.

‘I don’t really wanna meet our potential baby mama for the first time in some boring, sterile office, d’you?”

He’d only bitten back a sigh at the time, shaking his head. It wouldn’t have been worth upsetting him by reminding him that the girl was technically a glorified incubator. He had every intention of being involved in this process, but this initial meeting was to establish two things. Firstly, that after meeting them, you still felt comfortable with carrying their baby, and secondly, he wanted to make absolutely certain that you weren’t trying to get anything out of this.

Oh, he knew you were getting paid, handsomely, he’s sure, but the thought that you, or any of the women the agency had fobbed their way might not all be in this for altruistic reasons had crossed his mind.

You were just so young.

But he was more than happy to determine those two things in a ten minute meeting at the agency.

Hizashi was not, and so here they are.

Ten minutes in, and he finds himself glad of his husband’s insistence. Hands wrapped around your mug of coffee (you should enjoy it while you can) you chatter away with Hizashi, beaming and blushing, tripping over your own words in your nervousness.

You’re about as dangerous as a kitten, and he allows himself to relax enough in his seat to enjoy watching the blonde charm you.

“So why don’t ya tell us a little about yourself, songbird?”

“There’s really not all that much to tell,” you say with a sheepish laugh, but they listen as you talk anyway. It’s nothing the profile hadn’t already told them, nothing spectacular that would make you stand out in the crowd.

And yet, an hour and a half later, you’re trying in vain to distract him and Hizashi both so that you can slip your card in with the bill to pay for lunch, and Shouta finds himself oddly amused.

There were other candidates – ones with impressive Quirks, smarter than you, more accomplished than you, older than you–

“Ya sure you don’t want a lift, sweetheart? It’s no trouble.”

You smile again, demure little thing, and shake your head. “Oh no, really it’s okay. It’s not far and… I like the walk. Thank you, though.”

– but none nearly so endearing, he thinks.

And when they watch you disappear into the crowd, one final wave thrown over your shoulder, Hizashi’s fingers lace with his once more.

“So she’s our baby mama, huh?

He’s silent for a moment. “I suppose so.”

—

The agency recommended, at least in the initial stages before the implantation procedure took place, that any communication between the three of you should go through them.

Hizashi had your number programmed into his phone before you’d even left the cafe, and he’s been texting you every day since – to the point where it wasn’t unusual for Shouta to come downstairs and find Mic chuckling to himself, fingers dancing across the keyboard on his phone as he replies to whatever message you’ve sent.

Shouta, for his part, tends to message only to check in.

How are you feeling? Any side effects from the meds?

Your response comes a little slower than usual, and it’s almost an hour before finally he receives it.

Sorry they’re cracking down on us using our phones at work :(

Everything’s good so far! The doc said i should be on track for our appointment next week!

… is it weird that I’m a little excited haha?

His brow furrows at that. You hadn’t mentioned a job – at least not to him, he’d have to ask Hizashi later whether you'd said anything to him.

Why on earth were you still working? He’d seen the contracts, he knew exactly how much you were getting paid for this little venture, wasn’t that enough to support you?

He makes a brief mental note to make sure that whatever job you were working at, you stopped long before the baby was due. You might just be a surrogate, but he’d be damned if his baby was put in jeopardy because you were needlessly exerting yourself.

Nevertheless, his expression softens somewhat as he reads the second part of your message. You were excited, hm?

Well, that made three of you.

Both he and Hizashi’d been willing to come along to the clinic with you – he’d even submitted a formal leave request to take the day off from UA, but the Doctor had assured him that it wasn’t necessary.

“The procedure is quick and relatively painless. She’ll be home within a few hours, and so long as she remains off her feet and doesn’t undertake any strenuous activity, she will be perfectly fine.”

It hadn’t sat particularly well with Hizashi who’d spent the afternoon huffing and complaining about the clinic trying to kick them both out of the process. That much, he expected – he understood it to an extent; the agency catered specifically to Heroes, most of their clientele probably had busy schedules (which was true in their case as well). There wasn’t a need for them to be present at such a minor procedure, even if it did hopefully mark the beginnings of your pregnancy.

What he hadn’t expected was the twinge of discontent he felt settle in his own stomach. The Doc might’ve preferred they stay out of this, but at the end of the day he really didn’t give a shit what she or the agency wanted.

So he messaged you.

Do you want us there with you?

He watches those three little dots bounce for almost a solid minute before finally your reply comes through.

No, it’s okay, you don’t have to come. The Doc said it wouldn’t take long and I don’t wanna be a burden for you guys

It’s not really an answer to his question, and he briefly wonders if Hizashi might be right about the agency interfering, but he’s not going to fight you on it.

At least, that’s his plan until Principal Nezu pulls him aside at the end of a staff meeting and tells him that he’s found somebody to cover his classes tomorrow if he still wants the day off.

“Ya gotta go, babe. One of us should be there for our ‘lil mama.”

He asks you what time your appointment is and there’s a surprisingly pleasant fluttering in his stomach when you walk through the clinic doors and catch sight of him sitting in the waiting room.

It’s a momentary surprise – you almost do a double take, but a smile lights your face and you ignore the receptionist in favour of racing towards him.

“Shouta, I thought you weren’t coming!” Your arms wrap around his middle, squeezing tightly.

He finds himself returning your hug – albeit somewhat stiffly – but he’s glad he made the decision to come. The Doctor wasn’t wrong, you’re only in with her for just under twenty minutes, and when you come out there’s a tremble in your legs, but you seem otherwise fine.

It goes without saying that he’s driving you home, though you try once again to beg him off.

Kitten, when are you gonna learn that so long as you’re carrying his and ‘Zashi’s child, they’re going to go out of their way to make things easier for you – whether you want them to or not.

Yet your quiet discomfort on the drive home doesn’t slip past his attention. Maybe it’s because he’s become accustomed to your nervous rambling, but there’s something odd about the way you’re sitting so quietly, fingers twisting in your lap as you stare out the window. He knows that if Hizashi was here, he’d be chatting your ear off, but he’s never been one to fill silence with unnecessary small talk.

Though he can’t exactly help the way his own mind drifts. Are you in pain? The Doc didn’t say anything about there being any pain, only that you should rest over the next few days, so it shouldn’t be that. Perhaps you’re just lost in your thoughts – it’s strange for them having a surrogate, he can only imagine what’s going through your own head now that it’s actually begun. He hopes that you aren’t having second thoughts, almost opens his mouth to ask before thinking better of it.

You’re entitled to your thoughts and feelings, whatever they may be, and if you wanted to talk to him about them, you would.

It’s not until the scenery outside starts to change and the fancy sky-scrapers give way to dingy apartment blocks and dilapidated buildings, crammed in together too tightly that he realises that it’s not discomfort that’s written across your face, but embarrassment.

This was your neighbourhood?

Shouta recognises it, and really he should have picked up on it earlier when you’d given him the address – he’s spent more than a few nights patrolling the area. It’s a hotspot, not for the high-class, dangerous villains plastered across the news every night, but thieves and murderers. Petty thugs who prey on the weak, those addicted, with nowhere else to go… you live here?

Surely with the money you’re getting from the agency, and your job on top of that, you can afford a better neighbourhood.

He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, watches as you all but shrink into your seat, and when you speak, your voice is little more than a whisper.

“You can just drop me off at the corner here.”

He pulls the car to a stop by the curb, and for a moment neither of you speak. He doesn’t know what to say, and judging from the way you’re nibbling on your bottom lip and glancing up at him, you don’t either.

“I–”

“Thank you,” you cut him off with a tight smile. “For coming today, and for… this. I-I really do appreciate it.”

The words aren’t quite sincere, but he only nods – noting the miniscule sigh that escapes your lips at the action. “Of course. Anytime you need us, just call, okay.” He waits for you to nod before continuing, “Do as the Doc said, rest.”

You all but scamper from the car after saying another goodbye, though Shouta waits until you’ve disappeared into the crumbling apartment block before driving off.

Maybe the inside is nicer, but he sincerely doubts it.

—

“You should’ve seen it, ‘Zashi.” The two of them are curled up on the love-seat, half empty containers of takeout littering the coffee table in front of them. “I just can’t figure out why she’d be living somewhere like that.”

The blonde frowns. He’d been messaging you throughout the afternoon, so he knew that the appointment had gone fine. It wasn’t that he expected to come home and find the erasure Hero jumping for joy, but the subtle discontent on Shouta’s face had been enough to make him pause.

“You’re worried about our ‘lil songbird?” he asks, pushing away just enough so that he could turn to study his face.

The short nod says plenty. Of course he is – even if you weren’t potentially carrying his child, you’re young, beautiful and far too innocent for your own good. In places like that, you were easy pickings, and you don’t even have a Quirk to protect yourself. His job requires him to assess his students’ strengths, their failings and weaknesses and their progress. He doesn’t need to see you in action to know that you wouldn’t be able to hold your own in a fight.

It bothers him.

“She’s not safe there.”

Hizashi hums, but instead of settling back against his husband’s side, he straightens up further. “Well, why don’t we go take a look-see, huh handsome? Make sure our sweet thing’s pad’s all safe ‘n sound, put your mind at ease. Whaddya say?”

As he stares into those imploring green eyes, Shouta knows that he should say no.

Concerned or not, there’s still a line, privacy that should be respected. He’s tired and this is the only night that they both have off this week. Your place is almost twenty minutes from theirs, and it’s already late – almost midnight. The list goes on, there are a thousand reasons that he should say no.

“Fine. Just for tonight.”

—

Two weeks later, the two Heroes receive a call from the agency; the blood test came back positive – you’re pregnant.

In the blink of an eye, at least to Shouta, this becomes startlingly real. You’re pregnant. They’re going to have a baby. Boy, girl, it doesn’t matter… You’re pregnant, and as his husband ends the call and yanks him by his collar into a fierce kiss, he realises how important this is.

How important you are, just by the virtue of carrying their baby.

They invite you over for dinner to celebrate, and while he’s never been one to flaunt the comfortable lifestyle he and Hizashi have, he does find it strangely pleasing to watch you wonder wide eyed through their apartment. He’d be the first to admit it’s big – bigger than they’d ever probably need, though with the baby on the way maybe they’ll finally be able to make use of all that extra space.

Mic grabs you by the hand, eagerly dragging you towards the nursery he’s already begun setting up. “Once I heard the good news, I just couldn’t wait to get started! Our little rockstar’s gonna have the sweetest crib, don’tcha think? Ain’t it amazing?”

He’s already started painting and there’s a wooden cot halfway assembled and the beginnings of a musical mobile pushed off to the side waiting for him to return to it. It’s hardly close to being finished, but you just grin, gazing at the mural he’s started on the walls. “It’s amazing,” you say.

“I knew ya’d like it!” he beams.

Shouta hangs back as Hizashi guides you through the rest of the apartment, chattering excitedly away. He likes seeing his husband happy, and somehow you manage to bring it out of him without even trying. It’s still early days but Shouta has to admit that already you’re more to him and Hizashi than he expected, or even anticipated. You fit well with them, seamlessly, as if you’d always been a part of their lives.

After dinner, they drive you home despite your protests, and Hizashi insists they walk you up to your apartment. You’re no doubt under the impression that they’re doing it to be gentlemanly, missing the shared looks between the two men as they pass the out of order elevator and tread down hallways with stained carpet and peeling wallpaper, ignoring the leering yellow eyes of your neighbour, peeking out from the crack in the doorway as they bid you goodnight, ‘Zashi squeezing you extra tight.

There’s an uncharacteristic hardness in his husband’s eyes as they both slip back into the car, “No way in hell are we lettin’ her stay here.”

On that at least, there’s no arguments from him.

—

Hizashi, unsurprisingly, is the one to bring it up.

The three of you are grabbing a bite to eat after your first ultrasound. This time, both of them had been insistent on being there, and he’s glad they were. Seeing that grainy image of their baby, hearing it’s heartbeat – strong and steady – had filled him with an emotion he’d never felt before.

It was happiness and excitement and wonder and awe all mixed up and wrapped into a gut punch that stole his breath away, and while Hizashi had burst into a loud fit of tears, burying his face in Shouta’s neck while reaching for your hand, he’d managed to keep his own at bay.

Mostly.

Regardless, you have little choice but to indulge them when they drag you out to one of the blonde’s favourite restaurants – on the proviso that they had you home in time to get ready for work.

“Songbird, there’s something the two of us have been meanin’ to ask ya.”

You perk up a little, hastily swallowing down your mouthful of food so you can reply, “Oh?”

He wonders if you notice the way your hand already instinctively drifts to your stomach, your barely there baby bump.

“Why’re ya livin’ in a place like that, sweetheart?” You freeze, the corners of your smile slipping, but Hizashi continues, “Ain’t the money from the agency enough? We know you’re working that other job as well… we just…”

Shouta can physically feel you tensing like a bunny caught in a trap, and he doesn’t know what possesses him to reach out, sliding a hand across the table as you pale, but you take it regardless.

“Talk to us. Please,” he begs. “We just want to understand what’s going on. You have to realise that it’s not exactly a safe neighbourhood, and it’s not just you we have to worry about anymore.” Dark eyes flicker pointedly towards your stomach.

It’s a dirty tactic, but that doesn’t mean it’s not the truth. Did you realise how much danger you were truly in? Not just from the common street thugs – though frankly he thinks it’s nothing short of a miracle that you’d managed to get this far unscathed – but any number of villains with a grudge against either one of them, or Heroes in general. If they found out a pretty, quirkless thing like you was carrying their baby, how long do you think it would take before they tracked you down and kicked through your door?

Your eyes flicker between the two of them, and you swallow shakily. “I-it’s…” you break off, taking a deep, steadying breath, “It’s all I can afford right now.”

“But, hun, what about–”

“I know,” you say. “The money for the surrogacy isn’t for me. It’s money I owe.”

Neither Hero speaks a word as you talk, telling them about your uncle, the man who raised you, how his business went under a few years back and you both lost almost everything.

Shouta isn’t surprised to find out that your uncle turned to loan sharks when the banks turned him away and threatened to take your house. Alarmed at the man’s blatant stupidity, yes, but not surprised. Your eyes start to water when you tell them about how he died a few months back – a hit and run – and the visit you were paid only a week later, informing you that your uncle’s debts were now yours, and payment had better come through quick.

Your hand’s trembling in his by the time you finish. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t have any options, I didn’t know how else to get the money, and they said that i-if I didn’t pay up, they-they’d–” a sob catches you unawares, and once again it’s Hizashi who’s out of his seat and at your side in a heartbeat, sliding into the booth beside you, pulling you into a one armed embrace.

It’s his eyes that you meet, and Shouta understands. He doesn’t need you to explain what threats were made. You were scared, terrified probably, and you had every right to be.

“I didn’t know what else to do,” you sniffle. “I’m sorry for lying to you.”

Really, he should be furious. Disappointed at the very least.

“Move in with us,” he says instead, ignoring your sudden, startled intake of breath. “At least until the baby comes.”

He should be, but this works better.

—

It takes a little longer than he’d like to convince you, but the two of them wear you down and a few weeks later Shouta finds himself carting boxes of your things up into the spare room in their apartment.

Despite the fact that you’re pregnant with their baby, you’re terrified of being a burden to the two Heroes, but it’s because of the baby that you eventually relent.

They want to be close, involved. They want to know that you’re safe – and their apartment’s state of the art security system will make sure of that when they’re not home with you. They want to make sure that you’re not exerting yourself, that you’re eating the right things and not running yourself ragged at a job you don’t need, stressing yourself out needlessly and putting the baby at risk.

All of that’s true.

It’s just not the entire reason.

At first, he convinces himself that it’s for Hizashi, as well as his own peace of mind, but he’s starting to wonder if that’s the full truth of it. Because of course he wants to keep a close eye on the pregnancy – he knows that this can’t be easy on you. You have no family left, and if you have any friends then they’ve done an excellent job of keeping you at arm's length.

You have nobody but them, and it does bring him some modicum of peace to know that you’re just down the hall if anything goes wrong.

Hizashi adores having you there with them, having somebody else to cook for, somebody to come home to at the end of a long day. More than a few times, they’ve both returned from a night of patrolling to find you curled up on the couch, fast asleep with a blanket over your legs and a book slipping from your fingers, having tried, and failed, to wait up from them.

You tune into Mic’s radio show on the nights you can’t sleep, and on the odd mornings that you wake up before either of them, they come downstairs to find bacon sizzling away in the pan, a pot of coffee already brewing. There’s something oddly charming about the way you pout while you pour it for them, knowing you can’t have any yourself.

“You’re a special kind of masochist, ya know?” Hizashi teases, sidling up beside you to grab a cup.

You sigh dejectedly. “I must be,” you reply as he plants a kiss on your cheek and squeezes your side affectionately, but it’s impossible to miss the sparkle in your eyes. You’re happy here, with them.

Shouta warns you from pushing yourself too much, but even he can notice the apartment’s tidier when they arrive home than when they left, the freshly baked goods sitting on the countertop that weren’t there yesterday.

“I just… I know I can’t pay you back for all of this, I just wanna make myself useful,” you tell him one night when he asks about it. “I still feel like I’m taking advantage of the both of you, staying here…”

“You’re carrying our baby, that’s enough,” he reminds you, his calm, steady voice brooking no disagreement. And yet, as dark eyes study your face, he can tell that it’s not enough for you, so he sighs, and in a quiet voice adds, “We like having you here.”

He likes having you there. Sitting at the dining room table, helping him grade papers, lounging around on their rare days off together – helping Mic set up the nursery, volunteering to go shopping with them for baby stuff. He’s lost count of how many pregnancy books you’ve bought, pouring over them with a fine tooth comb late at night – often falling asleep in the process, leaving him and Hizashi to carry you off to bed with a barely there kiss to your forehead.

You fit between them in a way he hadn’t quite expected. Not a burden, not an interloper, but as if there was always a place carved out for you with them, and it’s only now that they realise that there was something missing to begin with.

It doesn’t quite click until he finds his thoughts drifting towards you at work, his fingers drumming along the top of his desk so he can stop himself from reaching for his phone. He’s not usually so distracted teaching, and as the hours drag he finds himself glancing towards the clock on the wall, counting down the hours, minutes, until the day is done and they can return home to you.

Shouta can’t pretend for much longer that there isn’t something oddly satisfying watching your belly grow and your breasts swell as your pregnancy goes on. You’re glowing, and soft and beautiful, and he could kid himself and say that it’s just the normal effects of pregnancy, but there’s some part of him that’s strangely proud when your shirt rides up and he catches a glimpse of your baby bump – knowing it’s his child you’re carrying. His and ‘Zashi’s and yours.

And oh, he wishes that it was only pride that burns through his veins at the sight of you, barefoot and pregnant, pottering around the apartment. Hizashi’s the one to hold back your hair and rub your back soothingly when your morning sickness hits, but it’s Shouta who takes care of you when you start complaining about aching muscles and joints.

He tells himself that it’s purely about comfort, namely yours, ignoring the way you flush and stutter when he drags you up the stairs and pushes you gently towards the bed, telling you to lie down on your side.

It’s just a massage, yet the moment his fingers run along your soft skin and a breathy moan slips from parted lips, the very last vestiges of the facade he’d built up in his head crumble into dust.

You’re perfection. Bared and beautiful beneath him, making the prettiest noises for him as he works away at your muscles, expertly releasing all of your tension. He’s glad that your eyes are shut and you’re lost to the bliss, you don’t notice the way his breath hitches and becomes rough and heavy, the way his cock twitches in his sweats, blood flowing south as you arc into his touch.

Such a responsive little thing, aren’t you?

“You’re amazing,” you moan, and though you can’t see that either, Shouta smirks. “Please never stop.”

It’s a good thing he has restraint, because it’s taking absolutely all of his to stop himself from taking more.

He wants all of you.

Wants to tease and taste.

Take.

Wants to hear those pretty fucking moans take the shape of his name… Hizashi’s name.

And maybe he might have felt guilty for those perverse thoughts, for the way he wants to tear the rest of your clothes off and fuck you nice and proper, breed you–

If his husband hadn't been standing by the door, watching the two of you for the last ten minutes. Shouta doesn’t need to look to know that it’s not anger or jealousy burning in his gaze.

He knows that his husband’s far from disgusted, knows it from the way Hizashi grabs his wrist on his way back down the hallway, pulling him instead to their bedroom and shoving him back onto the mattress with a wicked grin.

There’s something positively feral in the blonde’s expression as he hovers over him, forcing Shouta back down with a hand splayed across his chest, the other reaching down to his sweats to free his aching, needy cock.

“You’ve been holding out on me, baby,” he sings.

—

They have time.

Your due date is still months away, and you’re comfortable, here with them.

There’s no reason for you to consider leaving until the baby’s born, and Shouta is adamant about keeping it that way. Hizashi can huff and puff and moan all he likes, he knows that they have to take this thing with you slowly. He won’t risk spooking you and losing any chance they have.

That’s not to say that he doesn’t empathise with the blonde, what with all the affectionate hugs and touches you thoughtlessly bestow, the way you’ll plonk yourself down on the couch between them so they can feel when the baby’s kicking.

Hizashi’s gotten to the stage where he’ll drop to his knees to shower your stomach in kisses when he gets home of an evening before sweeping you up into a hug of your own, his face a mask of perfect innocence when he catches sight of his husband’s less than impressed expression over your shoulder.

Having you here with them, this little temporary faux family dynamic the three of you have found yourselves in is easy, domestic and nice. It should be enough, but it’s not.

“It’ll be weird, going home after this,” you hum absentmindedly one night.

Preoccupied with the noodles you’re toying with in your bowl, you miss the sharp look shared between both men.

“Whaddya mean, sweetheart?”

If you notice the odd stiffness to the words, you pay it no mind, simply shrugging. “I mean once the baby’s born. I dunno, I think I’ve become too comfortable here freeloading off of the two of you…” you glance up, smiling a little. “Going back to work and finding a place on my own again, starting fresh, it’ll be different, that’s all. Not bad different,” you hasten to clarify at the blonde’s nearly stricken face, “just… different.”

“Well it’s not like we’re gonna be forcing ya out, hun! You’re always welcome to jam with us for as long as you want.”

You shake your head with a rueful little laugh, “We both know I can’t do that. You’ll have the baby to worry about and the last thing I want is to feel like some awkward interloper, always getting in the way – especially after everything you guys have done for me.”

Hizashi’s fingers dig into the meat of his thigh, tightening with every word out of your mouth.

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “I’m not saying I’m never going to come around to hang out or anything, but once this baby comes I’m gonna have to figure out what I’m going to do with my life.” Your eyes meet his, wide and hopeful, and Shouta’s reminded once again of just how young you really are. “I can go anywhere, do anything. It’s kind of exciting, don't you think?”

It was a mistake, to think that you’d come around to them on your own.

You were young and naive, still living out a rose tinted fantasy where the world was your oyster and all you needed to do was reach out and take it. And maybe he’s partially to blame for that, taking your problems and getting rid of them, making you feel safe and comfortable, not realising that that security didn’t extend outside of these four walls, outside of their protection.

They need you, but kitten did you ever stop to think that you need them, too?

Shouta had made the mistake of forgetting how this all came to be – you hadn’t wanted a family, you were just trying to save your own skin. You still think that you can make it on your own, without them.

He supposes he shouldn’t blame you for your misplaced idealism, it’s only natural after all. Some people just don’t know what’s best for them.

They need to be shown.

—

You don’t stir as your bedroom door swings open.

Not as Hizashi pulls back your sheets, groaning softly at the sight of your swollen breasts and precious baby bump, stretching against the confines of your silk pajamas. “Ain’t she a fuckin’ dream, Shou?”

Not as the blonde busies himself in carefully sliding your sleep shorts down your legs, or even as Aizawa gathers up your wrists, pressing a kiss to each one, and binds them to the headboard with his capture weapon.

“Gentle, ‘Zashi,” he murmurs when the blonde crawls up on the bed beside you. “Nothing too rough.”

You wake as long fingers caress your cheek, tilting your face towards him so he can kiss you properly.

Shouta hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights, but bathed under the soft glow of moonlight from your window, he watches your eyes flutter open, the momentary confusion that flashes across your face followed by realisation, horror, as you try to jerk back and cry out–

Only Hizashi doesn’t give you the opportunity, winding his hand through your tresses and anchoring you against him, forcing your lips open so that he can deepen the kiss and groaning appreciatively when a terrified whimper escapes you.

You still haven’t noticed Shouta kneeling on the bed between your legs, too preoccupied by Hizashi’s tongue sliding against yours. “Relax, kitten,” he says, laying his palm on your thigh, letting his thumb glide over the smooth skin.

“Let us take care of our cute ‘lil baby mama, yeah songbird?” Hizashi adds, breaking away from the kiss with a lovesick grin.

Tonight is solely about you. Your pleasure, whether they have to tease it from you willingly or not.

Your tears are kissed away, your broken little pleas swallowed under ‘Zashi’s greedy lips as Shouta shuffles down the bed, nudging your thighs further apart so he can lie between them.

The keening cry that leaves you at the first stroke of his tongue against your warm sex is a thing of beauty.

Blood rushes to his cock as you writhe, and he tightens his grip as much as he dares to keep you locked in place as he delves in again. There’s little finesse to the way that Shouta eats your pussy – it’s a simple study of reactions; the way you gasp and shudder when the tip of his tongue circles your clit, the way your pussy clench and quiver around the muscle when he eases it inside of you, massaging your spongy walls.

Never one to be left out, Hizashi decides that there’s a better use of his attention than just your lips. With your arms bound, he’s not able to take your top off entirely so he settles with yanking it down, freeing your breasts.

“Fuck baby, you’re so pretty. Look atcha!”

Your tits must be tender and aching, because the moment Hizashi’s mouth envelops one of your nipples, sucking at the pert nub, a fresh sob bursts from your lungs and you’re trying desperately to wriggle away.

Hizashi just frowns, breaking away for a second to brush a stray lock of hair back behind your ear, “Ah shit, sorry babe! I’ll be gentle, promise.”

Shouta’s far too preoccupied by the intoxicating taste of your sweet cunt to notice whether he actually does or not, but he trusts him not to push you too far. There’ll be plenty of time for that later.

Your baby bump is cute and all, but Shouta wishes that it wasn’t blocking his view of your face – he wants to watch every little expression as he slides two thick fingers into your dripping cunt and your hips buck up to meet him. It’s a twisted kind of pride he feels, pride fused with filthy, maddening pleasure as he pulls a string of choked moans from you with just a few shallow thrusts of his fingers.

His jaw’s slicked with your juices, your cunt sucking his fingers deeper when he turns his attention back to your poor, neglected clit. He can tell that you’re close, not just from the needy whimpers and the way your muscles are tensing beneath him, but the desperate canting of your hips, rocking up against his face even as you beg for relief.

“Shouta, Shouta, please– oh god, please stop, p-please!”

He longs to wrap a fist around his throbbing cock, desperate to help relieve the burning ache deep in his gut as you cum for the first time on his tongue. Or better yet, maybe have Hizashi wrap that perfect mouth of his around his cock and suck him off–

But now’s not the time for him to be greedy.

Rough fingertips prod at your walls, searching for that hidden little spot that’s gonna make you go wild–

You almost convulse when he finds it, and Shouta can’t help but smirk against your cunt as you tighten and quiver around his digits. With Hizashi playing with your tits, pressing hot, open mouthed kisses along your neck, Shouta’s lips wrapped around your clit, tongue flicking at the sensitive pearl as he suckles on it and long, thick fingers driving you to madness with each and every stroke, it’s too much for your poor, pregnant, oversensitive body to handle.

You cum with a strangled shriek, and Shouta almost moans at the flood of juices that gush from your trembling cunt onto his waiting tongue.

“How’s she taste, baby?” Hizashi asks, green eyes blown wide, his own erection straining against his leather pants.

Shouta doesn’t waste a beat, pushing himself up with one arm and grabbing his husband’s wrist with the other, yanking him into a fierce kiss – letting him taste your honeyed juices on his tongue.

Fingers tangle in dark locks, tugging him closer, and ‘Zashi lets out a low, throaty groan. It’s rough and eager, a slow burning frenzy that makes the blood in his veins sing with excitement. With their lips still locked, the blonde hastily yanks at the zipper on his pants, freeing the painfully hard member with a tight hiss.

But when he finally does break for air, it’s not Shouta that he addresses, but you, lying spent, crying and breathless between them, beautiful in your fucked out state.

“You can’t expect to put on a show like that and not get me all worked up, sweet thing,” he coos, taking his flushed, throbbing cock in hand and giving it a few slow, cursory pumps. “I’m gonna fuck ya so good, baby – have you singin’ like a little birdie for me,” his eyes meet Shouta’s, a wicked smirk tugging at his lips. “Nothin’ but the best for our cute ‘lil wife. Whaddya say, songbird? Lemme make you feel all nice and special, yeah?”

#yandere bnha #yandere shouta aizawa #yandere hizashi yamada #yandere erasermic #yandere shouta aizawa x reader #yandere hizashi yamada x reader #shouta aizawa x hizashi yamada x reader #tw non con #tw pregnancy #tw breeding kink #tw age gap #oh my god it's like 5am why do i keep doing this to myself

3K notes · View notes

dreamingofaizawa · 3 years

Text

Obedient (Rewritten)

Soft! Yandere! Erasermic x Chubby! Fem! Reader

***18+ Fic***

You must be 18 years old or older to participate in this reading. If you are not, please remove yourself from the line and find another piece. Thank you.

Warnings: Yandere, stalking, implied drugging, kidnapping, reader is way too fucking calm with the situation, Stockholm Syndrome, BDSM themes, a collar, body worship, the word Daddy once, smut, double penetration (diff. holes), anal, unprotected sex, overstimulation, aftercare.

Word Count: 6.6 k

Author's Note: Alright. I've been wanting to rewrite this for a while now. Obedient was the very first fic I'd ever written and posted back in September, and my writing has changed A LOT since then. Reading the original, I realized there's a lot that I can change and tweak, and a lot that wasn't very clearly or well written (in my opinion). So, here it is!

You can find the original here.

Enjoy~

“Happy birthday to me.” The words tumble loosely from your lips on a heaved breath, your fingers curled lazily around a cold glass of whiskey.

It isn’t a rare occurrence to see you perched atop a stool at the edge of the bar, nursing your third glass at 2am on a Friday night. Or rather Saturday morning. It’s one of the only places you can find solace, away from nosy coworkers and nosier acquaintances. The loneliness is soberingly blissful. You never cared much for social interaction.

At this point the bar is emptying, only a handful of bodies sticking around in the early hours. In the reflections of the rows of glass liquor bottles you see them again. Two lanky figures sitting in the corner booth at the back of the establishment. Any normal person would see them and think nothing. But you know better. When you first walked into the bar six months ago they were in that exact spot, and every time afterward they’d be there when you walked in and stayed after you left.

You, being observant as you are, always watched everything from your spot at the bar, the slightly warped images in the glass serving as your eyes for the night. It didn’t take long for you to figure the two were watching you every time you stepped inside. The blonde one always sat with his back to you, and his head would occasionally turn in the reflection. You’d alternate seats to make sure you weren’t imagining things, but it only confirmed what you’d suspected.

Not that you cared enough to do anything about it.

As long as they keep their distance you’re perfectly content letting them look. And they did keep their distance. They’d never even come within 5 feet of you, seemingly happy with just lingering glances. Of course, tonight would be a different story.

You watch as their glassy reflections stand up, the distance between you and them shrinking with each of their long strides. You let your eyes fall to the amber liquid in your hands, praying they’d only pass you by on their way out. Two sets of footsteps approached, two bodies popped up on either side of you, and a deep, silky smooth voice sounded on your right.

“Mind if we take a seat?” A glance to your right revealed a rugged, yet handsome man peering down at you with his deep, tired onyx eyes. Long raven hair spilled over his shoulders, framing his chiseled jaw peppered with barely tamed scruff and a scar curved along his cheekbone. You turn to look at his friend, long blonde hair pulled up into a high bun and hypnotic green eyes focused on you behind orange tinted sunglasses despite being indoors past midnight. He is handsome as well, a small mustache on his smiling lips, high cheekbones and a sharp jawline drawing you in.

You couldn’t help but feel they look familiar, somehow. You’d seen their faces before, somewhere, but you pushed that to the back of your mind for now.

It wouldn’t hurt to let them sit with you, right? They seem friendly enough, and it’s better to entertain them in case things go south should you reject their request. With a small, tired smile, you nod.

“Sure thing, fellas.” They both plop down on either side of you and the blonde immediately gets talking.

“So what’s the occasion, little listener?” Two thoughts came to mind. One, how did he know there was any occasion, two, what kind of pet name is ‘little listener’? Your confusion must have shown on your face, because the raven haired man spoke up.

“You’re pretty dolled up for a night at the bar, kitten.” Ah. So they had been watching you. You aren’t wearing anything that would normally be considered ‘dolled up’. Your tan sweater and black skirt are relatively plain, and the platform boots you’re wearing accompanied by your thigh-high socks are something you’re experimenting with.

But usually you entered the bar with a white button-up and black slacks from your job as a waitress. Today you had time to go home and pamper yourself a bit before heading to your usual drinking spot. Evidently, they noticed. You bring your glass up to your lips and gulp down the remaining liquid before entertaining the question.

“Nothing special. Call it a birthday party.” And hey, you mean it when you say it isn’t special. Your birthday only marks yet another routine year on this earth. The blonde nudges your shoulder with his own.

“I’d say that’s pretty special, sunshine!” The alcohol must be affecting you, because you chuckle a bit at his enthusiasm.

“Just another year gone by, you know?” You’re never this talkative sober. The man on your right rapped his knuckles on the bartop, the barkeep making his way over with a tired smile.

“One more glass for this pretty kitty here.” The name had your eyebrows raising.

“This one’s on me.” As the fresh glass was sat on the bartop you scoffed quietly.

“Kitty?” A deep hum came from the man.

“Well how would you describe yourself, kitten?” Somewhere in your muddled brain you warned yourself not to be self-deprecating on your 25th birthday. You didn’t listen.

“Definitely not feline. I’m short and chunky and the only thing cat-like about me is my posture and eyeliner,” you stated, matter-of-factly. As a waitress at an esteemed high-end restaurant, you had to learn to be quick on your feet, agile, and most importantly, poised. A hum comes from the blonde, a muttered ‘pretty and humble’ floating on his breath. You force a chuckle at the statement.

“Pretty is also a word I wouldn’t use to describe myself.” A short silence falls between the three of you, and you take the time to study their faces. Where had you seen them before? You’re certain if you’d met them before you’d remember them, you don’t tend to forget attractive people.

They’re oddly patient as they watch the cogs in your brain turn, your eyes taking in every detail of every feature. Your breath caught and your eyes went wide when you’d finally placed their faces.

“Present Mic and Eraserhead. You’re pro heroes.” The words are quiet, nearly imperceptible as you breathe them, but they’re close enough to hear. Present Mic beams at the recognition.

“In the flesh, sunshine. But we’d prefer you use our names.” Eraserhead leans away and sticks a hand out for a handshake.

“Shouta Aizawa.” You shake his hand and turn to the blonde, who similarly has his hand held out.

“Hizashi Yamada.” You introduce yourself, a bit shaky and only slightly starstruck. What in the world are two pro heroes doing talking to you? As you regain your composure you excuse yourself to the restroom. You weren’t prepared to talk to heroes tonight. A glance in the mirror has you sobering yourself, rationalizing their strange behavior. These two are pro heroes. They were clearly only worried about your safety, a woman all alone in a bar till the earliest hours of the morning. ‘That’s why they were watching me’, you muse. You quickly fix yourself, then step back out to the two heroes.

The three of you pass another hour of time before you decide it’s time for you to head home. They offer to give you a lift, but you politely decline. You can't intrude on them any more than you already had. Hizashi insists otherwise.

“Please Sunshine? If something were to happen to you we’d never forgive ourselves!” It made sense to you. They’re pro heroes after all, it’s in their nature to worry. So you oblige to ease their anxieties.

Since Shouta hadn’t touched any alcohol, he’s driving, and you punch your address into the GPS system of their very expensive looking car. As you sit back, Hizashi holds a bottle over his head.

“Water?” You thank him and drain the bottle, realizing you’re a bit more dehydrated than you initially thought. In your semi-drunk haze you fail to notice that the bottle had already been opened, and you miss Shouta’s eyes watching you down the beverage through the rearview mirror.

It’s only five minutes later you feel drowsy, your head lolling to the side and eyelids drooping. You don’t quite register the question Hizashi asks you, and when you don’t answer he turns around to look at you.

“You seem tired, Sunshine. Take a nap, we’ll wake you up when we get there.” Your exhaustion takes hold over any rational thoughts, and with a sleepy nod, you stretch out over the backseat and let your mind slip into unconsciousness, blissfully unaware you’ll never see your apartment again.

The first thing you notice as you wake up is how stiff and sore your muscles are. It takes you a moment to realize you aren’t in your clothes from last night, nor are you in your own bed. Your eyes snap open and you sit up, taking in the unfamiliar room. With a curse under your breath you scour your memory for anything, checking if you’d gone home with anyone or gotten yourself in a tight situation. The last thing you remember is being driven home by the two pros, then passing out in their backseat.

Questions began forming in your mind. ‘Where am I? How did I get here? Where had the two heroes gone?’ In an attempt to think clearer, you try crossing your legs, but your ankle is stopped short by something heavy. Throwing off the blanket, a thick metal cuff glinted in the light of the room, an equally thick chain leading somewhere over the side of the bed.

When your breathing begins to quicken, you settle your mind, refusing to panic. Willing yourself to relax, you begin to think about how you can get out of this situation. ‘Today should be Saturday. Assuming this room is part of a house, someone would most likely still be here’. With a small breath, you speak, hopefully loud enough for someone to hear you.

“H-hello? Is someone there?” It only takes a few seconds for footsteps to reach your ears, and the door opens to the last person you’re expecting to see. A ruggedly handsome Shouta Aizawa stands in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe with a small smirk on his lips.

“Good morning, Kitty.” As endearing as the pet name is, the only emotion you feel right now is confusion. Your mind is drifting to all the fanfiction you’d read online, piecing together the events of last night like a puzzle. ‘The bottle of water was already open’. In your defense, they’re pro heroes, it’s only natural for you-- or anyone, really-- to let your guard down. A large hand on your shoulder jolts you back to reality, your eyes wide as you stare up at Shouta like a deer in headlights.

“You okay Kitten?” All you can manage as you settle your thoughts is to blink up at the man, swallowing down the lump in your throat before letting out a shaky breath.

“Let me guess. I’m home now, aren’t I?” The man stares back down at you with subtly raised eyebrows before chuckling softly.

“That’s not the reaction I was expecting, but I can’t say I’m mad about it. You’re a smart little kitty, aren’t you.” He leaves you to your thoughts and your mind begins reeling once again. You understand this is wrong, that you shouldn’t be so willing, so obedient. You also know how boring your life has been up until now. How mundane and lonely you’d been for as long as you can remember.

You’d cut ties with your family long ago, and ‘friend’ is a very loose term. Most of the people you called friends are acquaintances at best, your antisociality and trust issues meant ‘making friends’ is not on your life agenda. Somehow you knew, deep down, you wanted something like this to happen. You longed to give up control, to let someone else string you along and take the reins and let you relax, not have to worry about anything anymore. That side of you tended to make itself known through your explorative late teen years.

You’d had romantic partners before, though once anything intimate came up they all refused to associate with you anymore. They couldn’t understand your want to give up control, your need to submit. They refused to collar you ‘like an animal’. None of your partners ever understood the weight behind such a garment. This may be your chance at the relationship you’d always craved, regardless of its twisted nature.

Then there’s the logical side, the chances of you actually escaping. As a quirkless human in the presence of two trained pro heroes (assuming Hizashi is also in on this), the likelihood of you making it out is slim to nonexistent. If you somehow manage to get out, the two could easily track you down and just as easily drag you back. So, as wrong as it seems, you don’t fight it.

Shouta returns with a tray of breakfast, setting it down on your lap after you’d adjusted yourself to lean against the headboard. As he pulls back you mumble a ‘thank you’ and begin to eat, acknowledging the pang of hunger in your belly. As weird as it seems to say ‘thank you’ to your captor, you find it could be helpful even if only a little. Being polite is automatic, but it’s also a great way to make sure you don’t end up injured, or worse, dead somewhere, so for once in a long time your manners are intended. You’d gotten halfway through your meal when Shouta speaks up.

“You’re taking this really well.” He almost seems skeptical. You peer up at him as you finish the food in your mouth.

“There isn’t much use panicking. I’d only end up hurting myself. Besides, it’s not like I can get out.” You motion to the cuff around your ankle and he gives a small chuckle.

“You’re not wrong, kitten.” He leaves to let you finish breakfast, returning ten minutes later and taking your empty tray. He comes back right after, a pair of handcuffs and a blindfold in hand.

“I’m sure you need to use the bathroom.” You give a small nod, acknowledging the pressure in your bladder for the first time since you woke up. Gently, he takes your wrists and locks the cuffs around them, then holds up the blindfold before going to tie it around your head.

“These are just a precaution.” Soon you feel the cuff on your ankle fall away, and Shouta’s strong arms loop under your knees and back as he lifts you off the bed.You’re both surprised and not that he can lift you with relative ease. He is a pro hero after all. It takes less than 30 seconds for him to stop and gently place you down, taking the blindfold and cuffs off.

“I’ll be waiting just outside the door. Once you’re done, knock and I’ll take you back to bed.” You nod and he leaves, locking the door once he’s outside. Of course it locks from the outside. You take a moment to just think about your current predicament. Currently you’re locked in the house of a pro hero, being kept against your will (sort of). Your life had just taken an unexpected turn.

You knock on the door like Shouta said, and it isn’t long before you’re back on the bed with the cuff around your ankle. As he turns to leave you stop him, and he turns back to you with a quirked eyebrow.

“Can I...draw?” You didn’t know if he’d actually let you have anything, but it was worth a shot. If you were to be cooped up here you need to keep yourself occupied. With a low hum, he leaves the room and comes back with a sketch pad, pencil, and eraser.

Days come and go with either of the pros serving you three meals a day. They begin questioning your obedience, especially Hizashi. He questioned your lack of panic and how you never seemed to try to escape. Even he knows this isn’t normal. Shouta seems less skeptical, like he’d expected less of a fight than any normal, sane person would give. When Hizashi asked questions you answered truthfully. Lying is of no use to you.

“Really, I don’t mind it here. So far my life has been pretty shitty and boring, so this turn of events is mildly appreciated. Besides, you treat me relatively well, considering I’m being held captive, so I can’t say I’m upset.” You’d guessed from both your reading and their actions that they truly believed they cared about you. The chances of them hurting you are slim, so you’re able to live with them without fear.

The cuff around your ankle came off about a week in, and Shouta gave you the freedom to roam the house, though it wasn’t without warning. He held his hand out to you, an offer to help you stand, and you took it. Slowly, you swing your legs over the side of the bed and shift your weight to your feet. Your legs shake like a newborn fawn, but Shouta held you to let you stretch your legs and get comfortable walking again.

He led you out to what you assume is the dining table and sat you down, Shouta taking the seat on your right. You assume Hizashi is in the kitchen, what with the clatter and smell of food. Shouta asked what you’d been drawing, which caught you a bit off guard, but you answered anyway.

“Koi fish.” He hummed, focused on you.

“Any particular reason why?” You take a moment to think about your answer, it’s not a question you’re used to responding to.

“Well they’re gorgeous creatures. Elegant, sleek and graceful. The way they move is so mesmerizing, smooth and flawless like a flowing creek. I’ve always loved drawing koi.”

The conversation lapses into your fascination with the fish, how they somehow remind you of dragons and how the fantastical creature’s existence isn’t as far-fetched as it’s made out to be. Hizashi joins soon enough, serving dinner and listening in on the conversation.

Once you all finish eating you get comfortable on the couch, nestled between the two men. It isn’t long before you drift off to sleep, their body heat lulling you into dreamland. Shouta carries you to bed, carefully laying you down and pressing a light kiss to your temple. He stands above you, admiring your features as you sleep.

You’re gorgeous to him, a goddess in your own right. He and his blonde counterpart had started watching you mainly because you were a woman, completely alone and seemingly unarmed in a bar until the earliest hours of the morning. Neither of them could tell if you were quirkless or not, and as heroes they made sure to keep an eye on you during their weekly trip to the bar should you get into any trouble.

But eventually it became a habit to look for you, and the more they looked the farther they fell. You looked as exhausted as Shouta every time you stepped through the doors, hair just beginning to lose its style and shoulders sagged. But you were so beautiful, even in your exhausted state. Hizashi was the first to mention his infatuation to Shouta, but the raven-haired man had already figured the blonde was into you.

Soon enough they began to get antsy, constantly watching you walk out the door into the dead of night all alone. You’re just too trusting of the world outside, not taking enough precautions for a woman of your caliber. They made it their mission to make sure you were safe, and one day, take you back home where they could protect you.

Now that you’re here, it’s like a dream. Even as you sleep you’re the most beautiful thing in the world. How your lashes flutter against your cheeks, the way your lips softly part with every breath, how your chest gently rises and falls, it all makes him stare down at you in complete awe. It takes a great deal of willpower for him to tear his eyes away from you and join Hizashi in their room.

***3 months later***

A couple months have passed since you’d...moved in with the two men, and you can’t say you hate it. They’ve respected your privacy, allowing you to stay in your own room and letting you bathe yourself after refusing their attempts at persuading you to join them. Honestly it’s been nice living with them.

Though, the longer you’re with them the more thoughts begin gathering and swirling in your head. Caring thoughts, how their days progress, how they’re feeling at any point in time. And needy, dirty thoughts. Any time those pop up you make it a point to push them deep down into the farthest recesses of your brain, refusing to fuel those pesky embers.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you know what’s happening, what’s been happening. You’re no stranger to Stockholm Syndrome, having done your own minimal research on the subject a few years back. You constantly tell yourself this isn’t normal, nor is it healthy, to enjoy the company of your captors. You have to remind yourself that they had taken you from everything you knew, and even though there wasn’t much for you to love, they’d taken you from that as well.

But soon enough the illogical prevailed, because despite all of that, the two have been nothing but good to you.

In no time at all the days you spend alone in the large house are the days you find yourself missing their company, hoping they’d return sooner. You managed to dig through their clothes and pick out some of their older t-shirts, and began wearing them around the house. Their lingering scents have been a comfort as you patiently wait for them to come back. They don’t seem to mind at all, so you’re content.

As time passes you get closer with them, gravitating toward them and snuggling into either of their sides, letting them wrap an arm around you and tug you into them. You began giving kisses when they left and returned, a small peck on the cheek at the door. The first time you had engaged a kiss was a shock to both of them.

You had tugged Shouta’s sleeve and when he turned you silently grabbed his collar and yanked him down, leaving a small peck on his cheek, doing the same with Hizashi. They barely had the time to react before you dashed to your room and curled under the blankets, face heated and heart pounding like some schoolgirl who had confessed to her crush and got a positive response. That night you’d received more cuddles and kisses than normal.

The kisses became routine, and before long you all slept in the same bed. Strangely enough, life began to feel somewhat normal. The house began to feel like home.

And soon enough that schoolgirl crush manifested into something dirty, something lustful and carnal. Just as much as you long to be around them, you want desperately to feel their hands on your bare skin, mapping out the curves of your body as you writhe beneath them. You crave them and their touch. But of course you still have your pride. Dropping hints would have to suffice.

Slowly, subtly, you dress lighter, more scantily. No shorts under their t-shirts that barely cover your ass, allowing the stretched collars to drop and expose the slightest peek of skin. After a shower you walk back to the room in nothing but a towel, allowing the edge to ride up your thighs. Your tactics seemed to work, their eyes glued to the newly exposed skin, soaking in your plush thighs and soft skin. Their stares make you ache, but after weeks of nothing but lingering glances you decide to toss your pride out the window.

You have dinner ready when they walk in the door, and after everyone had eaten and showered you usher them both to the couch while you sit facing them from the coffee table. Their confusion is evident on their faces, your nervous fidgeting and reluctance to look them in the eyes didn’t help. What you’re about to bring up is embarrassing to say the least, but staying silent would be a detriment to your sanity. With a steadying breath, you meet their gaze and quietly force out your seemingly ridiculous request.

“So… I enjoy being here with you,” your fingers twist into the hem of your shirt and you swallow down the lump in your throat, “and I really appreciate that you’ve given me anything I asked for-”

“No.” Shouta’s voice suddenly cuts off your sentence.

“You can’t go outside, Kitten. I’m sorry, but that’s non-negotiable right now.” You blink dumbly at him, completely thrown off balance by his statement before you catch yourself, waving your hands frantically in front of you.

“No! Oh god, that’s not…um…. I wasn’t asking to go outside. I love being here, with you, and doing whatever but...it’s what we don’t do...that’s bothering me...just a little bit…” By now your voice is so quiet and high-pitched you wonder if they can even hear you. Hizashi, bless his heart, is just as confused as before the conversation started.

“Sunshine, you aren’t making much sense. If you think about it, there’s actually a lot we don’t do.” Shouta holds a hand up, silencing the blonde. His dark eyes drag over your body, watching the way your thighs almost imperceptibly rub together and you can’t meet his gaze. You squirm, the intensity in his eyes something you aren’t used to but it makes you hot all over. His hand comes down on his thigh twice.

“Come here, Kitty.” Slowly, you stand and walk to him, letting his hands grab your hips and pull you down to straddle his lap. A finger curls under your chin, angling your head to look Shouta in the eyes. A small smirk pulls the corner of his mouth, a moment of realization flashing across his face.

“Our little Kitty is getting needy ‘Zashi. Isn’t that right, Kitten?” Heat flooded your face, your embarrassment and arousal sending hot blood to your face and chest. You squeeze your eyes shut and nod, hoping they’d do something about the very horny state you’re in. Shouta’s hand moves to your hip again, lifting you and placing you in Hizashi’s lap before standing and walking away.

The blonde cooed at the surprised squeak you let out at the sudden movement, and you open your eyes to his wide grin. Leaning forward, he wraps his arms around your waist and presses his lips to yours in a sweet kiss. It feels nice, and you let your body melt into him and his warmth, his long fingers digging into the flesh of your lower back as he tugs you closer and a pleasant haze settles over your mind.

It’s a blissful moment shared between you, and Shouta returns just as Hizashi pulls away from the kiss. They share a look you can’t place before the former raises a hand to gently stroke your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He seems conflicted, trying to mull over some sort of decision in his brain, his brows just barely drawn and jaw set. When his eyes dropped to his other hand, yours followed, to find he held a long thin black velvet box. Clearly it holds some sort of jewelry.

After a few moments he turns it to you and lifts the lid, and your heart damn near stops beating. Whether it’s from excitement or a brief flash of fear, you don’t know. These two have been watching you for much longer than just at the bar. Those few months are only the tip of the iceberg, but how they’d come to notice you would probably forever remain a mystery to you.

Right now, all that matters is that they know everything. From your failed relationships to the reason they’d all ended. They had to know, that’s the only explanation. There’s no possible way it’s pure coincidence that you now gaze down at a beautifully crafted leather collar. It’s simple, thin, black dotted sparsely with sparkling gems and a dainty metal ring centered at the front. Tentatively, you reach out and trace the leather with your fingers.

“Is this...for me?” A deep hum sounds in Shouta’s chest, and that’s answer enough for you. Shouta plucks the garment from its seat and moves behind you. The cool leather feels heavenly as he loops it around your neck, his fingers brushing your skin. Everything seemed to go quiet as you waited for something, anything, to solidify this moment.

Click.

You shudder out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. Shouta tilts your head and presses his lips to yours, looping a finger through the collar and giving a gentle tug. It makes you mewl, allowing him space to slip his tongue behind your teeth. He can see your pupils dilate when he pulls away, plush lips slick with saliva, lust invading your mind. You look so needy and desperate for them, so fucking gorgeous.

Hizashi leaves a kiss on your cheek then picks you up and places you on your feet. Both men grab either of your hands, lacing their fingers with yours, and gently pull you with them to the bedroom. Hizashi begins undressing first, and you can only let your eyes drag over his bare upper body for a moment before Shouta grabs your chin and distracts you with another kiss. This one is more passionate, heated, rough as his tongue effortlessly invades and dominates your mouth. Hizashi’s voice permeates your lust-filled haze.

“Come here, baby.” Shouta pulls away and allows you to walk over to where the blonde sits naked on the edge of the bed. He motions for you to turn around and you oblige, then he grabs your hips and pulls you back to sit in his lap, your back pressed to his chest. You watch as Shouta undresses, baring his skin to you as Hizashi tasks himself with undressing you.

Your shirt is the first to be removed, a groan spilling from the blonde when he discovers you aren’t wearing a bra. He pulls you flush against his chest, peppering wet kisses down your neck and shoulders as your eyes roam over Shouta’s sculpted frame. The raven haired man makes his way over, kneeling down between your legs and reaching up to toy with your breasts, rough fingers working your nipples until they peak. Hizashi’s hands find their way down to the pouch of your stomach, grabbing at the soft pliant flesh and squishing the fat there.

You let out a low whine, feeling extremely self-conscious with his hands working at the parts of your body you hate the most. You grab at his wrists in an attempt to pull him away, but he hushes you and whispers into your ear, his breath hot on your neck.

“It’s okay, pretty baby. Let me feel you.” You will yourself to let him go, let his hands explore your body the way he wants. He keeps his hands on your belly, long fingers massaging into your skin.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” He’s nipping and kissing at your neck, whispering praises into your ear as he fondles all the fatty parts of you.

Shouta’s hands reach up and tug your panties down, then grip your thighs and pull them apart, exposing you to his hungry eyes. You can’t help but feel exposed, uncomfortable, as they touch and gaze at every part of yourself you had always despised. A whimper builds in your chest, tears beginning to sting your eyes and your breath shaking. Hizashi leans over and kisses your tears away as Shouta leans forward and kisses at your belly and thighs, hands working at whatever flesh he couldn’t get his lips on.

“Let us love you. All of you. You’re such a pretty kitty.” You let yourself relax, let yourself relish in the fact that these two gorgeous men are doting over your body like you’re a goddess, like they couldn’t live if they didn’t worship every one of your perfect imperfections. Though you’re far from comfortable, the initial fear subsides, allowing them full access to you.

“Good girl kitty, good girl.” Shouta whispers as he nips at your thighs, sucking little red marks into your skin. He hooks your legs over Hizashi’s, and the blonde’s fingers dip down to tease your folds, barely breaching your little hole and making you buck for more friction. A soft moan slips from your lips as he pushes two long fingers into your soaked pussy.

You rock your hips into his hand, his palm barely brushing against your clit making you mewl. Shouta focuses his attention on your breasts and belly where Hizashi left bare, kneading and kissing and licking, leaving blooming marks all over your skin. Soon you feel a knot form in your stomach, tightening and burning impossibly hot. Hizashi feels your pussy clenching around his fingers and quickens his pace, grinding his palm down against your clit hard and curling his fingers to hit that spot that has you seeing stars.

When the knot snaps you’re falling apart on Hizashi’s lap, back arched and legs shaking. You throw your head back against his shoulder and cry out, pleasure racking your body in intense waves. Hizashi keeps moving his fingers inside you, letting you ride out your high, legs trembling and toes curling with the continued stimulation.

After your release you relax back down, chest heaving with every breath. Hizashi lifts you up and lays you down on the bed, Shouta crawling up over you and kissing you sweetly. He grabs your legs and wraps them around his waist, lining up his painfully hard erection with your throbbing pussy.

“Are you ready for me kitty?” You look up at him through your lashes and nod fervently, needing him desperately despite the sensitivity. He tugs at your collar gently.

“Use your words kitty cat. Are you ready for me?” Your eyes widen slightly and you answer without any real thought.

“Yes Daddy.” Shouta growls at the name and swears under his breath, thrusting his hips forward and bottoming out all at once. The air is punched from your lungs, the stretch around his thick length almost enough to make you cum a second time. Shouta leans down and kisses at the bruises Hizashi had left on your neck, giving you some time to adjust. It only takes a few moments for your walls to stop clamping down on him.

“I’m going to move now kitty. Relax for me.” He starts slow, groaning as he watches his length slide in and out of you.

Your warmth feels so good around his cock, and he moves faster, driving his cock so deep you swear you can feel him in your throat. Hizashi lays down next to you and puts two fingers into your mouth, your tongue sliding over them, coating them in your saliva.

He pulls them out and goes to rub your clit, leaning over and placing open mouth kisses along your collarbone, sucking new bruises onto your skin. Your legs quake with the quick building pleasure, your second orgasm creeping up fast. Suddenly both men stop their movements, Shouta pulling your body flush against him and sitting up.

Lithe, cold fingers suddenly dance around your back entrance, toying with your puckered hole. A single finger pushes in and you mewl and squirm at the new sensation. A second finger works its way in, the two digits working to stretch you gently. Soon there’s a third, and when you’re relaxed the fingers are gone and replaced by the thick head of Hizashi’s cock.

“You ready, sweet thing?” You nod and whine, a little weary but ready to be full of the two men. He slowly inches his way inside, shallow thrusts sinking him deeper until his hips are flush with your ass. Both men pepper wet kisses along your shoulders, giving you time to relax, but you don’t need it. You whine, wiggle your hips in an attempt to get them to move, and they oblige.

Their initial pace is slow, letting you feel every ridge and vein as they slip in and out of you. They build up a rhythm, when one is bottomed out the other has only the tip in, and soon you’re drooling from the amount of stimulation you’re getting. Hizashi’s fingers move down to work at your clit, and just the slightest touch has you trembling. The stimulation shoves you over the edge and has you cumming hard around them, your slick dripping down your thighs. They slow their pace slightly, your holes clamping down on them and attempting to milk them dry. Hizashi’s fingers rub your clit harder, overstimulating you.

“Do you have one more for us baby? I know you can cum one more time for us.” You whine, thrashing in their arms trying to simultaneously get away and tug them closer. Tears fall down your cheeks and a familiar tension fills the pit of your stomach and Shouta leans over and bites down on your shoulder. The pain pulls you over, crying out as you clamp down on their lengths hard. Their hips stutter as they chase their own release, and they shoot rope after rope of cum into you as you ride out your own high.

They still their movements, holding you and each other close. After a few moments they pull out together, the movement making you moan and tremble. Your body goes limp and Shouta pulls you to lean against him, stroking your hair and back. You’re sobbing softly into Shouta’s shoulder, your last release washing over your body almost painfully, your bones already beginning to ache. Shouta rubs your back softly and Hizashi peppers soft kisses along your shoulders, both cooing praises in your ears.

Shouta picks you up and the three of you go over to the bathroom, where Hizashi plugs the drain and turns on the tap to fill the large tub with hot water. Shouta climbs in and sits down, still cradling you, and the slowly rising water begins to soothe you. Hizashi pulls out a tube of ointment and rubs it onto Shouta’s back, relieving the scratch marks you left on him. After tending to Shouta he unlocks your collar and sinks into the tub, leaning against you. You let the two massage you and wash you, bringing you back from the intense scene.

“You okay kitten?” Shouta rumbles into your ear, petting your hair. You nod into his shoulder and grab Hizashi’s hand, wanting to be close to the both of them. The hot water and the care of the two bring you back down to earth, and you start to feel fatigue pulling at your consciousness. Hizashi notices you drifting off and takes you from Shouta. He dries you off with a towel and locks your collar back around your neck.

“Sho, I’m going to take her to bed. When you’re ready come join us.” Shouta hums and Hizashi carries you to bed.

You lay with Hizashi and cuddle into his chest, letting him hold you and rock you as you drift off. After a few minutes you feel the bed behind you dip and look up at Shouta with half lidded eyes. He gives you a peck on the lips before nuzzling against your back. With a long, soft sigh you melt into their arms, content with the new life you’d been brought into.

#erasermic #yandere erasermic #erasermic x reader #yandere erasermic x reader #erasermic smut #erasermic mha #erasermic bnha #shouta aizawa #shouta aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa smut #hizashi yamada #hizashi yamada x reader #hizashi yamada smut #shouta aizawa mha #shouta aizawa bnha #hizashi yamada mha #hizashi yamada bnha

1K notes · View notes

lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 2 years

Text

Precipice vs Poly Part 1

Yandere Erasermic x Reader

When the couple reunites with you, you're a renowned hero in (c/n) and have been forcefully given a vacation. On a goal to feed your nostalgia you decide to travel back to your high school’s hometown of Musutafu, Japan.

On your voyage back your former principal and now dear friend Nezu invites you to temporarily teach for free room and board. You decide this was the perfect way to not overwork yourself and still be productive; something you fought tooth and nail about when your agency sent you packing.

“Oh the high and mighty Precipice, I hope your travels weren’t too stressful.”

“Thanks for having me! Traveling is traveling. So are these the little hills I’ll be taking care of?”

Right off your agency’s private jet, you were told to be at the campus’s new training grounds. You weren’t expecting to see such a lively group of young children. You resist the urge to completely belittle them just because you could. But they are just so cute!

You were so busy fawning over the children that you missed their starstruck instructor. He’s glad his scarf and scruff hide the pink painting of his pale cheeks. Shota was trying to remember how he forgot the one-sided romance that he had with you. Half the times he and Yamada met outside of school it was because he kept getting caught tailing you.

“You won’t have to teach all alone, this is Aizawa-san’s class after all.”

You completely shifted your focus onto Shota, ”Oh my Gosh! Cat-kid Shota? It's crazy you're smaller than me, now.”

A kid with yellow hair and a black streak in his hair was one of many who were laughing; interrupted by the tight binds of his teacher’s scarf.

“I’ll have you know (L/n) I run my class with no room for slacking.” He was trying to intimidate you, though he doubted you saw it that way. You couldn’t read a room if your life depended on it.

“Of course you do, you were always so particular about stuff like this. And Yamada would be just around the corner to wreck your flow. But you guys were always such a good team…” You were just rambling off all that you could remember about him and Yamada.

You remembered him?

The curve of his lips quickly reverted to a scowl at which he barked out that the giggling and gossiping students had to run 10 laps around the entire perimeter. As the students begrudgingly started their trek you moved to stand next to Shota, amused as he tried to hide his face from you. You would continue to fluster the teacher for the entire day.

—-------------------------

“(Y/n)’s here?!”

Shota and Yamada were allowed to spend lunch together ‘grading papers.’ While (Y/n) broke off to get lunch off campus Shota thought catching Yamada up was best.

The radio host was totally thrilled. It was rare to have both of his obsessions in one place. In a cruel twist of fate crushing on you was what got Shota to even look in his direction. After they confirmed their feelings for eachother all that was left was you but consequently you moved back to (c/n). Now that you are back, maybe they could try again!

“Don’t get any crazy ideas. They’re only here for a week or two for vacation.”

“Oh.”

Shota huffed in pretended exasperation; he really hated when Yamada made his pouty face.

“But they were willing to hang out with us while on their visit.”

He was still pouting but not as much. Shota wanted his partner to not forget that this was a scheduled visit. If you didn’t return after a set time, an alarm would be raised; this wasn’t open season.

______________

“Hey (Y/n)-babe!”

“Hiya.”

You had agreed to meet them at a quiet space on campus for lunch. The only time you all were able to hang out during school hours. You were still doused in nostalgia as you got in line to get food from lunch rush. You may have shoved some of your temporary students out of the way but you needed to eat.

When your mountain of food was prepared you had began to leave the cafeteria only to be stopped by Present Mic who suggested we go to a private place to catch up. He at some point left to get his own food and Shota, returning with both.

“Soo how’ve you guys been? Did you guys finally tie the knot?

“That's funny you should ask what we did a couple months ago.”

“That’s awesome!”

“Well what about you? Anyone at home?”

Shota snuck a glance at Yamada; he knew what he was doing, he just hoped it didn’t leave either of them in shambles.

“Well other than my sweet Venus there isn’t anybody, nope.”

“Venus?”

Did you actually move on? Was he too late?

“Oh, my baby flytrap!” You said it so casually as you pulled out your phone. “I found her while on a mission in the Amazon. Apparently she had been feeding off the chemical waste of some underground experimentation-”

You went on as your phone faded with the photo of an 8 ft Venus Flytrap cuddling you in your hero suit. While they were slightly unnerved about the fact you were so belittling of a flesh-eating plant, at least you weren’t dating anyone.

—---------------

When he arrived at school ,after his nightly patrol, he decided to take the scenic route to the roof. He wasn’t expecting to see you there looking solemnly at the rising sun. He sat next to you and you both sat watching the sun rise.

“It's always this breathtaking y’know? Even at the top of Mount Everest when the clouds sometimes block it...It's always..like this…”

His gray eyes focused on your face and then your lips before turning back to the rising sun.

“If you’ve seen it so many times then why do you still do this?”

Without looking at him you loudly inhaled and exhaled, throwing your hands in the air as you jumped to stand.

“Because it always reminds me that at any moment now something can and will change. Whether that's my death or someonelse's the sun will always come up and mountains reach for the sun; so I have to be like it, like the sun.”

He would be an absolute idiot to let you walk out of his life again.

—---------------

“A date? With all three of us?”

Present nodded enthusiastically. He was sure you’d be willing considering that's how you always were: relaxed, open-minded, experimental. He wanted to prove Shota wrong, that they didn’t need to get underhanded for you to agree. His cat-loving partner doubted you’d even consider because of how focused you were on becoming an awesome hero.

“That is a bit new for me…I’m used to going on one-on-one dates….”

You spoke nonchalantly looking at the students through the glass. His confident stance slugged a bit. Please no no no-

“But sure! What time?”

Part 2 Coming Soon

#yanderes #yandere bnha #yandere mha #yanderexrea #yandere erasermic #yandere polyamorous #yandere poly #yandere eraserhead #yandere present mic #yandereeraserhead #yandere aizawa #bnha fanfiction #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere #yandere shota aizawa #yandere aizawa x reader #yandere present mic x reader

112 notes · View notes

lonelyrosegold · 3 years

Text

ITS GONNA BE OK - erasermic x reader

for all the people who love the "its gonna be ok" yandere erasermic x reader fanfic by jadepillar18 but can't read it anymore because they deactivated there tumblr im happy to say that the wayback machine has the fanfic archive

Just copy this url

https://jadepillar18.tumblr.com/post/186486336917/its-gonna-be-okay

Into the waybacks machines search and you'll find it

I now have the fanfic saved on my computer (and backed up) because of the wayback machine

ALSO

if jadepillar18 has another account somewhere with this fanfic on it or just has another account at all please let me know

#bnha x reader #erasermic x reader #erasermic #yandere erasermic #yandere erasermic x reader

149 notes · View notes

lolita-lollipop · 2 years

Note

Sorry I put in this request so late but I was thinking something like when erasermics daughter like they wanted to let her be independent and whatever but they are still very protective over her. so she gets Engaged and is pregnant. So she shows up to their house and all hell breaks from lose there. Because they felt betrayed she didn’t tell them.

YANDERE ERASERMIC X PREGNANT BT READER

It was late at night, to your parents protests of course, in their eyes you were still some little child who went to bed at 8:00 and cuddled with them till 6 in the morning. You had decided to have a “suprise” visit, without your beloved husband/wife of course, this was something you needed to do alone, mainly for their safety. They were both more than happy to visit with you, being that neither of them had spoken to you in almost a war, getting engaged and all was time consuming.

You’d had everything prepared for the big announcement , worn their favorite little pair of pajamas , a soft pink pair that made you look all the more younger, let mic do your hair and read you stories like he used to, even Let Aizawa hand feed you little bites of the favorite food mic had made. All this preparation just so you could drop the news in a way where they wouldn’t be infinitely pissed with you. It was at the dinner table, maybe five minutes into dinner, papa Aizawa just holding you close during it all. Slow conversation had been bubbling up amongst the three of you, a lot of questions about how your liver was treating you, which you always answered with “fine”. It’s not like you’re scared of them, just a little worried, they went overboard all the time. This would be no exception.

“Daddy, papa. Don’t be mad. I’m pregnant” you spoke quickly, and it was like the room froze completely. Mic dropped his fork into his lap, and both his and his husbands jaw dropped immediately. It took a few seconds for them to register this, a few seconds to realize what you just said, and then it hit them. You… their baby… is having a baby?

What?

There was a defeating silence in the room, one that made you so glad that you left your lover at the hotel. The heavy weight wasn’t directed at you really, more from the two men to eachother, regretting ever teaching you what seggsy times were. They knew they shouldn’t hav elect you go out with that man, or go to that college alone! They ruined your innocence, tainted your pure little heart, and that is unnaceptable. Just guttural rage coursed through both of them. Aizawa dropped the fork form his hand, letting it clatter against the plate below. He turned and placed both hands on your shoulders, squeezing lightly.

“Mind repeating that?” He spoke, scanning your face to see the different emotions filtering through. Sure, he was mildly pissed, but he needed to make sure this was… you know? Willing, from what they had taught you doing the dirty for a child was not something enjoyable, there had to be some reason that you did it right? You didn’t seem really upset, just worried. His guess was that you’d known for a while, maybe even a month or two, it made his heart sink how you’d dialed to inform him.

“I am pregnant. I learned a while ago and was scared to tell you because I know you’re gonna be mad and don’t want you guys to overreact and-“ you hurriedly spoke, waving your hands around frantically, tears threatened to spill over the edge of your eyes. Mic stood in his state of shock, just sitting frozen with his mouth set widely , very widely, open. Aizawas hands wandered from your shoulders to your neck, up to cuppi your face.

“Why didn’t you tell us! I did tell you that man was bad luck, that he would infect you! And now look, you’re having his child.did he make you do this? I swear to god if he-“

“No! No, after our wedding we- did things. And I was scared to tell him about it cause it was so early, and you guys were already so reluctant to let me marry him. I just didn’t want to mess things up. It’s been three months.” Mic finally snapped back into reality. It’s been three months since you’ve known, three months that you’ve been alone, without any help. Sure, your husbands mother, inko, was a lovely woman, they Bruh actually liked her, mainly because she was just as fiercely protective over you as they were. But not even she was good enough to help you through this right now. You should’ve told them. They should’ve known sooner.

They never should’ve let you marry that man. Doesn’t matter how much they love his mother, or how much you might love him, it shouldn’t. Have happened.

“You aren’t going back to him.” Mic spoke, you recoiled form his hand as he tried to push the hair out of your face, circling your lip and squinting your eyes. They can’t just keep you from him, that isn’t how this works. You nicked aizawas hands away, standing up and backing away from the two.

“No. You can’t do that to me- he’s the fathe- I love hi-“

“I’ve had enough of this. Why can’t you see he’s manipulating you? You don’t love him, he wants you because you’re sweet and controllable honey! That’s why we wanted to keep you with us, to keep his disgusting hands off of you.” He spoke, harshly enough to actually spark fear in you, the tears that had previously threatened to fall were now streaming out form your eyes, they’d never mentioned this. They hadn’t ever told you any of this, if they really cared that much they would’ve informed you that your fiancé was a jerk. The two paused seeing the tears slowly protrude from your eyes.

“Why are you crying baby? Did papa upset you? He’s just trying to tell you the truth honey, don’t be upset with hi-“

“I thought you would be happy for me! I finally get something of my on taht I can be Happu for and you can’t even show the courtesy to smile- you act liek you’re so concerned but then you don’t even care what I want! It’s not fair!” You yelled, waving your hands about like your papa did whenever he was upset. The tears streamed freely from your eyes at this point, and you were clearly on the verge form simply collapsing. You do hate to say it but they were your parents, you lived them no matter what, it’s just they were so terribly controlling. It was just so infuriating, knowing they could do whatever they wanted and get away with it because you loved them.

It took you little to no time to head out the front door, the two males heading straight after you, your keys jingled in your hand as you hustlers your way to the car you owned, crying all the way. Aizawa took a quick moment to glare at mic for being so blatant, of course you wouldn’t understand it, they’d taught you to just believe what you’re told, so obviously you would go off and trust whomever fiddled with your emotions.

“Don’t leave just yet baby! We weren’t finished, I’m sorry papa got carried away, jsut stau a bit more” mic yelled at you, rushing after you, who was surprisingly faster than he remembered. But he time he’d made it over to you you were already trying to buckle in, he grabbed the piece of fabric before you could though, staring straight at you. His sweet little baby is mad, at him?

“I don’t want to be around either of you, leave me alone” you hisses, yanking the seatbelt back from his grip, and clicking it firmly in. Your heart felt as if it had shattered into hundreds of peices, it was a good try I got you hadn’t thought him with you, they might’ve killed him this time, or worse, completely taken you away.

Mic went to reprimand you for talking back like that, you’d never truly defied them, or told them off, so it hurt a little more than it should’ve. Aizawa stopped him before he could though, being the level headed person he is, no matter how angry he may be, he knows that trying to talk you out of anything right now will just sadden you further. Mic let his own tears free, and he dropped to his knees by the edge of your car, a hand placed on the side of it. You should feel bad, but you don’t.

And so, the two men watched you drive away in that little white car of yours. Aizawa with his mouth pressed into the thinnest line, and mic sobbing completely. Crying while driving wasn’t realy a good idea, but you would do anything to get out of there right now. You’ve never truly been mad at them, well enough to a point that it couldn’t be made up with a hug and some Chocolate. They did nothing but stare in longing as you drive away, they didn’t know what to do, you’re mad, that man has full control Over your life, and they can do nothing about it

…

What do they do now?

——————————————————————————————————-

I’m so sorry that this is so late, if you didn’t see I’ve had exams for the past week, and they’ve got me s t r e s s e d

But thanks for the patience, sorry this sucks so bad.

Have a great day!

#platonic obsession #platonic yandere #soft yandere #yandere platonic #yandere my hero academia #yandere aizawa #yandere eraserhead #yandere shouta aizawa #yandere erasermic family #yandere erasermic x reader #yandere erasermic #yandere hizashi yamada #yandere hizashi #pregnant reader

593 notes · View notes