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flyingraijin · 2 years

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Cookies 'n Cream | S. Todoroki

Entry 05 | The Virginity Chronicles

Summary: The rules have been clear for a long time; no messing around, no wasting time on anything that isn't trying to get to the top, and no Shoto Todoroki. At least, until school is over. Your parents have a lot of influence in the hero world, but once you've graduated, you're free from their control. And there's only one more night to wait.

Only, you've never been the most patient person. And after years of hiding your feelings and your need for him, he's right there now, in your room, close enough to touch.

(Or, alternatively; Shoto fucks for the first time)

Pairing: Shoto Todoroki x fem!reader

Warnings: Forbidden romance, first time au, third year au, soft smut, hand jobs, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, all characters are 18 years or over!

Word Count: 12 440

Note: So it's finally here, boys. This has been a long time coming, my apologies. Mental health has been a bitch, so writing wasn't the easiest thing for me, but I got it done eventually! I hope everyone enjoys :)

Series Masterlist + Series Taglist

It’s Aizawa who eventually comes to break up the party. The clock has just ticked past eleven pm and with the noise level in the 3A common room not decreasing in the slightest, you’re honestly not surprised. Your teacher looks exhausted when he shuffles his way into the room, the bags under his eyes having deepened in only the last day. He also seems reluctant as he stares around at your classmates, and you almost get the feeling that he’s sending you off to bed because he has to, not because he wants to.

Which makes sense. You think your celebration is justified, after all, considering how your entire class had just passed the official hero licensing exams that afternoon. Although, you don’t exactly mind the fact that you’re being forced up to bed either - Kaminari still has so much energy, despite the late hour and exhausting day, and frankly it’s getting on your nerves a little.

“Guys,” Aizawa says tiredly as he stands between two of the couches, looking around at your classmates. “I know it’s been an exciting day, but you all have to be up early for the graduation ceremony tomorrow.”

“Aww, but -” Mina tries, looking upset. But she cuts herself off when Aizawa fixes her with a particularly teacherly look.

“You all also need to move all of your things out of the dorms tomorrow,” he continues, and you're almost able to ignore the distinctly sad tone of his voice. “And I guarantee none of you will want to do that if you’re all exhausted. I’m technically not your teacher anymore, so I can’t really make you go to bed. But you’ll be doing yourself all a big favour if you do.”

The room falls quiet with his admittance because despite the fact that it has been on everyone’s minds, you don’t think you’ve actually heard someone admit it out loud yet. It being the fact that this is your last night ever in the UA dorms and from tomorrow, you’ll all be full-fledged heroes.

It’s an exciting thought. But also much more sad than you think anyone ever anticipated.

Momo is the first to agree with Mr Aizawa and honestly, you’re not surprised. You recognise the look of slight dejection as she forces a smile around at the rest of you. “That’s probably a good idea. We don’t want to be exhausted on our first day of heroing!” Her tone is light, purposely light, but it still hits you in the chest a little too hard. Still, you force a smile back at her.

“Yeah, I think I’m about ready to turn in anyway.”

Slowly, your classmates start to agree, and then group by group, they begin to troupe upstairs. You get to your feet along with them and bid Aizawa goodnight. However, before you head up, you make a b-line for the kitchen, all with the intention of getting something that you’ve been saving for yourself up until this point.

The kitchen itself is dark when you reach it, being illuminated only by the lights still on in the lounge. But you don’t have any problem reaching the tall fridge and then crouching down in front of it as you open the large freezer. The icy drawers are more empty than usual, with a lot of your classmates having either taken their food out or eaten it in anticipation of having to clear the entire space out. You find what you’re looking for immediately, tucked away in the back corner of a bottom drawer, untouched and waiting for you. The cold nips a little at your fingers as you reach for it, but you barely notice in anticipation of getting what you want. Then…

“What are you doing?”

You jump, your arm instinctively tucking back into yourself as you retreat from the freezer. Your heart thumps in your chest as for a split second your body goes into fight or flight mode. But then you turn to peer over your shoulder and find only the familiar, curious gaze of your best friend and classmate, Shoto Todoroki.

Your breath leaves you in a rush and you slump a little, placing a relieved hand over your chest. "Thank god, it's just you," you manage to wheeze out as your blood pounds in your ears.

Shoto, totally oblivious to the anguish that he's caused you, cocks his head a little to the side and blinks. "Who did you think I was?" he asks curiously, eyebrows furrowed.

You shake your head and turn back to the freezer, eyeing your prize once again. "No one. You just… you scared me."

"I'm sorry."

You stifle a small laugh as you grab what you need and then go to stand. Shoto steps back as you do, giving you room to reach your full height and close the freezer door behind you.

"It's fine," you say, as the door seals once again. "I just wasn't expecting you to be there."

" I wasn't expecting you to be here ," Shoto points out. He looks down at what you're holding. "I thought you were going to bed."

"I just wanted to grab this first," you tell him. And when he gives you a questioning look, you hold up your prize.

"Ice cream?" Shoto asked as he reads the label on the tub you've got clutched in your hand, and you nod, pleased with yourself. You'd managed to score the last tub from one of your favourite ice cream parlours on your way home from training yesterday, and you'd been saving it for this very occasion.

"It's cookies ‘n cream flavour!" you tack on when Shoto raises an eyebrow at you. "That's the best flavour!"

His nose wrinkles a little. "I prefer vanilla."

"Why am I not surprised?" you mumble, turning to head back past him towards the elevator. He follows after you immediately, falling into step beside you as you begin to make your way back through the kitchen.

"Why do you have ice cream anyway? Is it a special occasion?"

You shrug one shoulder and look down at the tub in your hand. "I guess it's… like a send-off," you muse. "It's our last night as UA students and while I liked the goodbye party, I figured this would be a more fitting celebration."

Shoto gives you a blank look for a long minute, long enough that you almost start to think he might have forgotten the significance of the ice cream as you stop by the counter to grab two spoons from one of the cutlery drawers. But then the corner of his mouth twitches upwards and he offers you one of his rare smirks.

"You mean because of how on our first night in the dorms, you skipped out on the room contest to eat ice cream by yourself in your room?"

You shoot him a wide grin and point the spoon handle right at his face. "Exactly."

"And I suppose I'm obligated to show up to this ice cream event too? Since you roped me into the last one?"

"I did not 'rope you in'," you reply indignantly as the pair of you reach the elevator. Shoto presses the button to bring the elevator to the ground floor and turns to look at you as you continue. "You just invited yourself into my room because you didn't want to stay up and talk after everyone took their votes!"

"I was still there,” he points out. "Do you want me there again or not?:

You close your mouth, a little haughty. Of course, you want him there - Shoto is your best friend in the world, after all, not to mention the very unfortunate fact that you're completely in love with him. If anything, the worst thing about the goodbye party thrown by the rest of your class was the fact that you couldn't snuggle up with him on the couch like you wanted to.

But you also know of how much pleasure he takes in the fact that you're a complete sucker for him and so you don't want to admit that now.

"I guess…" you start, as the elevator doors slide open and the both of you step inside. "I guess it would be kind of difficult for me to eat this entire tub on my own…"

It wouldn’t. But you put on your best innocent face anyway as you side-eye Shoto through your eyelashes.

He only shoots you a pointed look in return. And then he hits the button for your floor and you smile triumphantly, knowing you’ve got him.

“You can just ask me,” Shoto points out as the elevator rumbles into life around you. He turns a little, shuffling on his feet as he looks down at you. You shrug nonchalantly even as your heart leaps in your chest.

“But it’s more fun not to.”

“For you, maybe,” Shoto mumbles and you giggle, turning to face him properly.

“Aw, do you not like my games?”

“Maybe not,” he tells you, giving you a pout. But you can see there’s warmth in the depths of his eyes as you reach forward with your free hand to catch hold of him. His fingers are cold as they tangle with yours.

“I can’t resist though,” you say, tilting your chin upwards to look at him properly. There’s a bit of a height difference between the pair of you, after he’d shot up like a fucking beanstalk back in second year, and usually, it annoys you. Now though, as you watch the way he looks down at you with a raised eyebrow, it brings a certain kind of giddiness to your chest. “You’re very cute.”

The corner of Shoto’s mouth twitches and he leans in a little. “I know I am,” he says quietly, almost smug. “That’s why a good majority of this school is in love with me.”

Your eyebrow jumps and you lean away, putting a little bit of distance between the both of you. Your smile doesn’t falter though as you meet his gaze and study his expression, noting the sparkle in his eye. “You’re not supposed to know about that.”

Shoto almost laughs. His fingers squeeze yours as the corners of his mouth tug upwards and then he shoots you a smirk worthy of someone like Sero or Bakugou. “I may be a little oblivious,” he says and suddenly his voice has dropped an octave. You can't help but lean towards him again, your lips parting just slightly. “But I’m not stupid. Most of them are very, very bad liars. Including you.”

The tip of his nose brushes yours. You smile again. “But I’m allowed to be obvious about the fact that I’m in love with you.”

“That’s true,” he tells you and then you can feel his lips brushing against yours as he talks. Something in your stomach swoops. “I’d like to hear you say it more often though.”

You almost kiss him. Almost. You can feel him, his lips, his torso beginning to press against yours, the way his hand is tight on your own. You’re so close to him and you almost kiss him right there, despite the fact that you’re supposed to be hiding the fact that you’re together with him.

But then there’s a small jolt as the elevator reaches its stop. And you step back just in time for the doors to slide open, revealing the dark, empty hallway of your landing.

Shoto pulls back a little too, a faint look of annoyance passing across his features. You give his hand a final squeeze as you say, “All in due time.” Then you drop his fingers and, with another smile, turn to lead the way towards your bedroom. Shoto follows behind you with only a soft sigh.

No one bothers you on the way to your bedroom door. You don't even see anyone, and the evident strips of light appearing from under other people’s bedroom doors lead you to conclude that they’re all made it upstairs before you and Shoto had. You don’t mind though; actually, it’s far more convenient to be undisturbed. Because despite the fact that everyone in the class knows you and Shoto are close, they don’t know how close. And it’s still important to hide the fact that you’re not-together-but-together from the rest of your class, at the very least until you’ve both left UA for good.

Your relationship with Shoto has always been complex like that. Right from the start, when you’d so boldly introduced yourself to him on your very first day at UA. There’d been a connection between the both of you from the beginning - probably because you each came from well-established hero families and understood each other’s pressure - and you’d been unwilling to let that go. And so your relationship with him had grown into something very special, if still tainted by the disapproval from both of your parents.

You’re not dating Shoto. That’s the truth, you’re not . You’re not with him, he’s not your boyfriend. Because he can’t be, not like this. You can’t go out and do couple things, you can’t cuddle and kiss in front of anyone else, you can’t address him as yours for fear of the anger of both your families. Not after your parents had told you specifically if anything happened between you and him, they’d pull you from UA in a heartbeat. He’s still your partner though, your person . And you love him more than you’d ever thought you were capable of loving anyone. Just not publicly.

Which is why slipping him silently into your bedroom is practically a routine at this point. Shoto follows on behind you, a cover story already poised at the both of your lips. He keeps his head down as you open the bedroom door and steps inside first when you let him through, keen eyes scanning over your empty room once before his shoulders relax. And then, once you’ve shut and locked the door, and are turning back to him with the tension already flowing out your own body, he closes the distance between you two in a few long strides. You practically fall into his kiss when he reaches for you, his left hand sliding right your waist while his right clasps your jaw gently. You inhale in surprise and almost don’t register the kiss before he pulls away again and drops his head a little to fix you with a dark gaze from beneath his bangs.

“You take far too much joy in teasing me,” he tells you in a soft voice. You giggle in response and shake your head, letting him go when he steps back to run a hand through his hair.

“You make it too easy.”

Shoto only grunts in reply and turns to take his usual spot on the floor beside your bed, his back to the bed frame. He crosses his long legs and watches on as you first go to switch on the fairy lights strung across one wall and then discard your phone on your desk. Neither of you speaks a word until you turn again and take your seat next to him on the floor, stretching out your legs before you.

Shoto takes the spoon that you offer him and then continues to watch silently as you wrestle the lid of the ice cream from the tub and reveal the creamy substance to the cool of the open air for the first time. Neither of you go to take a spoonful though, something hanging in the air between you, holding you back.

“Hey, Shoto,” you start eventually, staring hard at the ice cream before you. “You’re not… nervous for tomorrow or anything?”

You can feel his soft gaze on the side of your face as you speak but you don’t dare look at him. For some reason, bringing the question up almost makes you feel… embarrassed? No, ashamed is probably a better word.

For a moment there's silence as Shoto seems to think about it. Then he shifts, moving a little closer to you. “I don’t think so,” he says eventually, almost sounding thoughtful. “I’m not nervous to graduate or anything. Why do you ask?”

You shake your head and go to dig into the ice cream with your spoon. “Um, no reason,” you say. “I was just… wondering.”

Shoto watches you for a moment more. Then he reaches out to take hold of your wrist, stopping you from massacring the surface of the ice cream any more. “There’s something bothering you,” he observes, his voice quiet. You just shake your head again in response.

“It’s nothing,” you mumble before shoveling a spoonful of ice cream in your mouth. “Really.”

But, just as he’d rightfully said earlier, Shoto isn’t stupid. Oblivious, not stupid. And so when he reaches out to take hold of your chin gently and turns your head so he can meet your eyes, you can see the clear concern burning in his gaze. “Please,” he asks, softly, sweetly. “Tell me?”

For a moment, you’re not going to. For one long moment, you honestly think you’ll just deny him again and, when he inevitably stops pushing you, go back to eating ice cream while talking about happier topics.

But it’s only for a moment before when you meet his eyes, you realise you really don’t want to hide it from him. So much of your life is hiding, it’s already come between you and some of the people you love the most. You don’t want that to happen to Shoto.

So you purse your lips and let out a short sigh. And then you say, “I’m kind of scared.”

Shoto lets go of you, his eyes narrowing just a little as he gives you a confused look. “Scared.”

“Yeah,” you affirm and look away from him. “Really scared, actually.”

“Of what?”

You shrug. “I’m not sure. Graduating, maybe. Or… I suppose it’s more just, I’m scared of being an adult.”

You take another scoop of ice cream, which prompts Shtoo to do the same, and for a few seconds, the pair of you just sit in silence, processing what you’ve said. Then you shrug again and shake your head.

“It’s like… we’ve spent three years here, right? In these dorms, with each other, learning all these things that should help us when we actually have to be heroes. But… now that we’re almost done, and we’re leaving tomorrow , I can't help but feel like… like I don’t really know anything at all.”

“You’re in the top five of our whole year though,” Shoto points out. You bite at your bottom lip as your nose scrunches a little in response.

“Yeah but…” you start, “that's not really the same. That's all theory and practice of how to be a hero . I don’t even know how to be a person , and now we have to go out there, completely alone, and just figure it all out.”

Shoto seems to think over your words for a minute as he takes another mouthful of ice cream. “I suppose I understand,” he admits eventually. But then his head turns and you can feel him looking at you once again. “But… you won’t be completely alone.”

You turn your own head and meet his gaze straight on.

“Yeah?”

He nods. “You’ve got all the friends you’ve made here. Uraraka and Asui and Yaoyorozu… all of them. They’re not just going to leave now that we’re finished with UA. And…” and here he pauses for a moment as something wells up in his dark eyes. “Well, you’ve got me.”

“You?”

He nods once. “Even if it hasn’t been … officially, these past few months, you’ve got me. And from tomorrow… we won’t have to hide anything anymore.”

“Right,” you mumble. "From tomorrow…"

Tomorrow you're officially free. That's how you've always thought of it. Your graduation from UA and into the vibrant world of pro-heroes acted as somewhat of an official-unofficial step into adulthood. From tomorrow, your parents would have no real agency over your life, not if you didn't want them to. From tomorrow, you'd need to learn to handle your own affairs. From tomorrow, you could be your own person, properly, with nothing in the way.

And from tomorrow, you could be with Shoto. Because from tomorrow, the bounds of the ultimatum your parents had stung over your head fell away. They couldn't "forcefully remove you from school", they couldn't put a cork in your dreams. They couldn't lock you at home like they're threatened. They couldn't even cut you off financially because you'd have your own job and be earning your own money - you have a place at an agency that's not theirs, working under a hero who has no connections whatsoever to your family. From tomorrow, you'll finally be free.

That thought alone is enough to ease the knot of anxiety growing inside you just a little bit.

"I can take you on a real date tomorrow," Shoto continues quietly. "And I can hold your hand in public, and not care who sees."

"Not even your dad?"

"Not even my dad," Shoto confirms. He nudges at your knee lightly, a little cheerily, with his own, and then you hear the small smile in his words when he speaks again. "I don't have to care about him ever again."

You turn to look at him properly then, and his eyes catch yours immediately. They're sparkling, you realise, gittering in the twinkle of the fairy lights on the opposite wall. His whole face really, is illuminated in a way that makes you think he could be an elf. Or a fairy. Something kind of inhumanly beautiful creature, especially with the way he's staring at you right now.

A smile finds its way to your own lips and slowly you reach over to set the tub of ice cream down on your nightstand, so you can raise a free hand up to brush his bangs away from his face.

"That sounds good. Really good."

"Just a few more hours," he tells you in a soft calm voice. And you repeat it back to him in a warm tone.

"Just a few more hours."

You're not sure who leans in first but when your lips meet after that; it's very soft. You feel Shoto’s fingers on your jaw, holding your face with a touch lighter than feathers, and at the same time, your own hands curl into the fabric of his shirt. He tastes like cookies and cream, you realise with a soft start. And you're sure you must taste that way too, especially so when Shoto lets out a soft sigh against you and presses closer.

Something bursts in your chest, heat that spreads outwards until it feels like your entire body is tingling. You grip Shoto a little tighter in an attempt to ground yourself and in response he lets go of your jaw completely, allowing his hand to slide downwards to rest against the side of your neck instead. His lips are as soft and sweet as ever, coaxing you gently, moving only the slightest fraction to draw you in as much as possible. And then suddenly he pulls away, leaving you to chase after him with an unhappy sigh.

When your eyes open again, you find that Shoto is already looking at you. His hand is still on your neck, thumb rubbing back and forth against the warmth of your skin comfortingly. And there’s something questioning in his expression that has your eyebrows furrowing a little in concern.

“What?” you ask, and it comes out as barely a mumble between the pair of you. Shoto purses his lips, his eyes dropping from yours to where your fingers are still tightly gripping the front of his sweater. When he speaks, his voice is just as quiet.

“You… You do want this, right?”

“Want what?”

“Us,” he clarifies, looking up at you again. “Everyone about not hiding anyone, being able to be together properly, all of it… you do want it?”

Something inside you wilts when you pinpoint the self-doubt in his tone. And then you let go of his sweater to put your hands on either side of his face, holding his gaze steady as you stare into his eyes.

“I want it, Shoto. I can’t even begin to explain how much.”

His hand comes up to cover yours, and then he leans into your touch, his eyes falling closed for a second. “As long as you’re sure,” he mumbles.

Your own eyes slide shut and you lean in too, your forehead pressing to his. The tips of your noses brush and you feel yourself relax a little against him, as the familiar hot and cold of his body overwhelms you. You can feel him breathing and you find your own breaths matching his; in and out, in and out. Until his hands close a little tighter around yours and then he pulls them from his face, tugging them down so he can curl his fingers between yours in his lap.

You want to open your eyes and look at him. And yet, as he shifts a little and his energy changes, and the sound of his body shuffling around teases your ears, you find that you can’t. It’s like your eyelids are glued closed, your heart beginning to beat a little faster as you wait in anticipation for him to do … something.

It takes him a minute. His thumbs rub over the back of your hands, smoothing across your skin in a gesture that sends tingles rushing up your spine like ice. And you feel the soft warmth of his breath against your lips, like he’s drawing closer but only by a fraction. Your eyelids flutter and your lips begin to curve as you go to say his name. “Sho-”

But Shoto cuts you off completely by kissing you again.

Only, this time, it’s a little different.

There’s an energy in him that you don’t recognise as his lips caress yours. It’s warm, and eager, excited even, and it draws you in, turns your muscles to liquid and your bones to jelly as you allow him to pull you closer, eventually tugging you right onto his lap. Shoto lets out a soft sigh against you as your legs slot around his hips and your hands slide to his shoulders, fisting in the fabric of his sweater. He’s not usually so forward, so pushy with what he does, and yet there’s not even the tiniest semblance of doubt in his actions as he settles his hands around your waist and holds you against him as his lips move a little more vigorously against yours. They tug a soft sound from you, something of a very low whine, and then immediately take advantage of your parted lips to deepen the kiss. His tongue tastes even more of cookies and cream as it slides to find yours and for a long moment you genuinely think you’re going to completely melt against him as every molecule in your body seems to liquidate and crumble as everything about him overwhelms your senses.

A groan rumbles through the depths of Shoto’s chest when he seems to feel you totally submitting to him. His grip on you tightens, going from your waist to rub soft circles into your hips. And then his hands slide up your back, trailing first up and down your spine over your shirt and then sneaking under the hem to caress your skin beneath it.

You shiver violently at the feeling, loving it, and press closer. Your hand slips up to hold Shoto’s jaw as you move your head a little and kiss him even harder. There's a burning sensation beginning to rise in you now, a deep longing that's pressing you closer and closer to him, making you want more and more. You don’t entirely understand it but you do recognise it to some degree; it’s the same feeling that you’d used to get months back, before you and Shoto became… well, you and Shoto. It’s the desperation that would burn in your stomach as you’d stared at him back then, the deep, all-consuming ache that came with knowing you couldn’t be his in the way you wanted to. Neither of you had spoken about it back then, neither of you had confessed . You didn’t know about his feelings, you didn’t really even understand your own. Which is why, when you think back to it, and try to recall that feeling, it comes with a great amount of pain. Pain and sadness and grief , even.

None of that is present within you now, as you kiss him like your life depends on it. Only the longing and the desire, but nothing else. It’s overwhelming, to be honest, because it’s so pure. Pure and unadulterated and primal and so fucking suffocating. But it also feels good. Really good , in a way you haven’t truly ever felt before.

It scares you a little. But…

But it excites you even more.

You think Shoto must feel it too because finally, he pulls away from you. And when he does, his eyes are wide and his lips are swollen and he almost looks a little dazed. You can’t help the smile that tugs at the corner of your own mouth at the sight of it, and your fingers slide up into his hair to twist between the strands affectionately.

He mumbles your name, very softly. His hands continue to move up and down your back but it's more delicate now, less frenzied. You catch his eyes and then hold his gaze as you try to read him. And, surprisingly, you actually can.

“I need you,” he whispers out and it’s so quiet you barely catch it. Just barely, but you do and it feels like your entire chest explodes with love and affection. Your fingers move gently through the soft strands of his hair, stroking it back, messing with it as you use your connection to him to ground yourself. And you take a long moment to stare deep into his grey and blue eyes and take in all that you find there; the love, the compassion, the excitement, the desire, the fear, the exhilaration, the nerves… all of it.

“Are you sure?” you ask him eventually because you don’t really know what else to ask. And Shoto nods without a single millisecond of hesitation.

“I want you,” he mumbles and it’s so much more intentional . You almost squirm.

“Okay.”

You shift a little in his lap, trying to reorganise yourself. But you’re distracted when Shoto leans in to begin pressing soft kisses down the column of your throat.

Your brain seems to short-circuit for a second and it gives Shoto the perfect opportunity to collect you in his arms once again. He slips his hand from under your shirt to gently caress your jaw, turning your head to his liking so he can reach your skin properly. You let him with absolutely no resistance as your eyes flutter shut all over again and a long, contented sigh slips from between your lips. Shoto’s mouth on your neck is addicting in a way you’ve never thought you’d ever be addicted to something in your life. His lips are hot and the few tiny licks he gives, with just the very tip of his tongue tracing your skin - they burn . Like fucking fire. And it makes something well up inside you, a heat that makes your head spin and your blood pound in your ears, and everything about you just feels… oversaturated.

You feel his lips curve upwards into a smile against your own skin. It has warmth flooding your cheeks, making your whole face feel flushed, especially when Shoto pulls back a little to stare up at you with half-lidded eyes. You can barely find it in yourself to meet his gaze as your fingers find purchase in his hair once again and you blink down at him dreamily.

“What do you want from me?” Shoto asks softly. You have to bite your lip for a second to suppress a deep sigh.

“Just,” you mumble in reply, trying to stop your voice from shaking, “Just touch me.”

“Touch you how?”

“However you want,” you breathe out without even needing to really think about it. “Just… Shoto….”

You let your words die out when he goes back to kissing your skin. Only now his lips glide along your shoulder, before dipping down to your collarbone area. He hooks a finger into the collar of your shirt and tugs it down a little to get more access to the warmth of your skin. But, ultimately, it’s not enough, and before long - and perfectly in sync as if you’re reading each other’s minds - Shoto pulls away to give you room to haul your shirt upwards and over your head, ridding your body of it entirely.

It’s not a big deal for Shoto to see you in your bra. You’ve known him long enough for him to have witnessed you in various swimsuits on a number of occasions, not to mention how he’s never been incredibly affected by nudity to begin with. You’re comfortable like this, completely. And he doesn’t gawk or stare at you as you ball the material of your shirt and throw it away from you over your shoulder.

No, he just seems to appreciate . With adoring eyes and lips that are just the slightest bit upturned at the corners, he lets his gaze travel up and down your body. And then his hands find your back again, between your shoulder blades, and he pushes you into him, bringing you into the softest hug you’ve ever experienced.

You stay like that for a moment, you and him. Just breathing softly, eyes closed and arms tangled around each other as you sit, content just to exist like this. You can feel Shoto’s heart beating from where your chest is pressed up against his, and it’s steady, unwavering, and perfectly calm despite the heat of the moment. It calms you somewhat in response and your muscles loosen slightly as you sink against him, burrowing into his presence as much as you possibly can.

Shoto sighs against you, his body relaxing just as yours does. His head drops onto your shoulder, his forehead pressing into the warmth of your skin. You can feel his eyelashes fluttering, the tickle of them sending goosebumps rushing along your arms. And then you feel his lips, pressing warm, feather-like kisses into the dip of your shoulder joint.

“Shoto,” you whisper to him then, and begin to shuffle, slowly detangling yourself from his grasp. “Shoto, c’mon…”

He seems to understand as you struggle to your feet, following you as you rise to climb up onto your bed. You find your spot there first, back pressing into the cool sheets as Shoto crawls on the mattress beside you. And then you reach for him, already missing the contact of him, your hands search desperately to feel him once again. He doesn’t deny you for too long; just long enough to grab at the back of his sweater and tug it over his head to reveal the slightly crumpled white school shirt beneath it.

Your fingers delve deep into his hair the moment he leans back over you, and pull his face down to yours. You kiss him again before he’s really even settled, his body still shifting before his hips find their spot between your bent legs and his torso ends up flat to your own once again. His kisses are still soft but they feel so much hotter now, with his body right atop yours and his warmth so, so close.

You whimper a little against his lips when one of his hands begins to creep downwards, heading from your neck to your shoulder and to your chest. His long fingers are cool when they envelop your breast for the first time and it makes you shiver and squirm as tingles dance along your spine. Even through the fabric of your bra, his touch is so intimate . He barely does anything but feel you gently, cupping your breast in his hand and massaging at the flesh just enough to make you whine. But it’s overwhelming nonetheless and your fingers dig even tighter into his soft hair as you kiss him even harder, already beginning to slip under as the pleasure within you rises.

“My love,” Shoto whispers against your lips and you can feel him smiling through the words. “You’re addicting.”

“Fuck,” you breathe out softly as your hand slides down the back of his neck. Your fingers find the collar of his shirt and then slip beneath it, fingertips ghosting along the strong lines of his shoulder blades and back. “Shoto…”

He kisses you again, and his hands leave your body, going to the buttons of his shirt. You help him as best as you can with your eyes squeezed shut, fingers fumbling as you try to get the piece of fabric off as quickly as possible. Shoto hums at your eagerness, his smile remaining the whole time, and when he pulls back just enough to discard the thing, you see the sparkle in his eyes.

He’s very comfortable , you realise, with the slightest twinge of surprise, as you watch the way he throws his shirt across the room before ducking back down to pepper your collarbone area with kisses once again. Even as your head falls back and your chin tilts upwards as the feeling of his mouth on your skin makes your toes curl, your mind is spinning. He’s more comfortable than you ever would have expected. For him especially, considering not only is he just as inexperienced as you are, but he’s definitely not the most sexual being in any aspect of his life. You don’t even think you’ve ever had a full conversation surrounding any topics even remotely PG13 with him in the entire time you’ve known him.

He’s good though, you can’t help but think as his hands sneak to your chest again, this time slipping his fingers beneath the cup of your bra to touch your skin properly. Your back arches upward at the feeling, sensual and languid as your grip on his shoulders tightens again. He’s very good.

“Shoto,” you mumble again as your fingernails dance across the skin of his back. Instinctively, your thighs tighten a little around his hips. “Take it off.”

He doesn’t acknowledge you verbally beyond a low grunt into the crook of your neck. But you feel it in his touch; the eagerness he responds with as his hand all but raced from your chest to your back. He fumbles for a second, fingers twisting at the strap of your bra a little awkwardly as he learns the mechanism. You’re about to help him out when you feel the thing snap open, the band around your ribcage becoming immediately looser. Then all that’s left is to shrug the straps down your arms and chuck the fabric away, leaving you totally bare-chested and exposed underneath Shoto.

You half expect him to gawk at you. Or comment. Or just react in any way, considering the fact that he is a young man with a pair of boobs less than a ruler's length from him. You can remember some of the horror stories you’ve heard from your friends regarding some of their experiences and you’ve braced yourself for however, Shoto decides to react to seeing you this way for the first time.

What you’re not ready for is for him to do nothing but dive right back into what he was doing before. He barely spares your chest a second look before he lowers himself again to mouth along your neck. His own bare chest presses right into your own now, as one of his hands slips between the pair of you to cup the outer curve of one of your breasts, barely touching it with just the light rubs of his thumb against the warmth of your skin.

You almost say something about it - you’re not exactly sure what you plan to say but the words are there - however, your voice completely dies in your throat when Shoto decides to nip just a little at the skin of your shoulder. It sends a sudden ripple of shivers down your back and you have to bite down hard on your own bottom lip to prevent yourself from moaning outright. Shoto lets out a breathy snort against you and pulls his head back a little to give you a long look from beneath drooping eyelashes.

“You like that?”

You blink up at him and bite the inside of your cheek, feeling the heat flood to your cheeks. You nod anyway though, pushing back your skittishness for the sake of encouraging him to do it again. Shoto’s smile grows.

“Noted.”

And then he’s ducking down again, but lower this time. You suck in a sharp inhale between your teeth when the warmth of his breath first hits the bare skin of your boob. And then you let out a whine in earnest when his lips meet it, kissing the warm skin and flesh in a touch so light it’s barely there.

Shoto smiles against you at your reaction, his eyes darting upward to take in your expression as his mouth continues to caress your skin. One of his hands slides down your body, from your shoulder to your waist to hold you in place with a firm grip against your skin. The other starts to journey around to your back before you grab at his wrist and interlock your fingers with his. He responds immediately, his grip on you tightening, and then the back of your hand is being pressed into the mattress next to your head, as his thumb rubs comforting patterns down the skin there.

You feel his tongue poke out, tracing the curve of the flesh of your breast. And then he nips again, very very gently, sending spikes of heat bursting through your body and down towards your lower abdomen.

Your free hand slides up along the back of his neck, and then back down to trace the contours of his back. He’s so warm, the skin of his left side especially, and you can’t help but pull him even closer, trying to have his body cover more of yours as his weight presses you further down into the mattress. Shoto lets out a low hum against you at the feeling, and then he pulls back. Sits up, his arms sliding around your back to pull you along with him. You follow along blindly, pushing yourself into a sitting position before letting Shoto drag you forward to straddle his lap once again.

For a moment you stare down at him. In the dim light of the room, his blue and grey eyes are glinting. His hair is messy and his cheeks are a little flushed, and you honestly don’t think you’ve ever been more attracted to him in your entire life. Your hands slide up on their own accord, cradling his face, tracing his features. Your thumb rubs along his bottom lip. And then you smile, and he smiles right back at you; a cheeky, warm, lopsided grin that has one dimple appear on his right cheek.

“Hi,” you whisper down to him, unable to hold back the giddiness that rushes through your chest when he chuckles lightly in return. His arms have circled around your back by now, pressing warm into your bare skin and you bask in the feeling, realising suddenly how happy you are to just be here, like this, with him.

“I love you,” you mumble out to him, your voice a little muffled when he leans in. His nose brushes up against yours and for a moment the pair of you hover like that, lips just inches apart as your hearts pound against each other. Then Shoto takes a deep breath, his grip tightening on you just a little.

“I love you,” he breathes back on you in return, his eyelashes flickering so close they brush over your cheeks. “Stay with me.”

You kiss him in answer and he still tastes like cookies and cream. It draws you in completely, suffocates you, and suddenly you’re both moving again, much faster, much more hurried. Shoto’s hand goes to your hips and then he’s adjusting your position on top of him, moving your body very precisely. You almost want to ask what he’s doing but then you feel something pressing right up against you, against the fabric of your panties, and you realise immediately. A hot sigh escapes you, a sigh that morphs itself into a very thinly veiled moan, and your eyelids flutter.

Your hand slips down then, between your body and Shoto's, trailing along his exposed skin and then right to the buckle of his belt. It lingers there for a moment as you find yourself searching for Shoto's gaze, your free hand going to the side of his face. His eyes meet you're, one blue and one grey, and both hazy with too many emotions to count. Your lips brush against his as you whisper, "Let me touch you?"

You feel the flutter of his sharp breath against your skin and then he's nodding, his hold on your body tightening just a little. You're still staring into his eyes, looking deep, searching for whatever you might find. And the amount of trust you find reflected back at you, it floods your chest with warmth. Love and trust are the two things that have been notoriously difficult for Shoto to entirely understand throughout most of his life, and yet they're the two things he's provided you with unconditionally. And you can't express in words just how much that means to you.

Your fingers ghost over him, fluttering first up over the clothed bulge that's now straining at his pants. Your fingers shake just a little as the nerves get to you, so much so that you barely touch him at all. And yet the small pressure that you do provide is enough to have Shoto groaning, his eyes sliding shut as his lips part in a huffed exhale.

You bite your lip, spurred on, and move your hand so you can tackle the buckle of his belt. You fumble with it for a moment, the way your heart is pounding in your chest making your entire body jittery. But then Shoto slips a hand down to help you, his forehead falling onto your shoulder as he does so, and the pair of you are able to get the thing undone properly. You waste no time with popping the button of his trousers then, and soon they’re laying open too, exposing the dark blue briefs he’s wearing beneath.

For a moment you hesitate, your heart in your throat. You’ve never done this before, never even attempted it - the two romantic partners you’d had before Shoto had both been at an age when sex wasn’t even a viable idea for you, and since you and Shoto, despite being you and Shoto , weren’t really together, it hasn’t really come up in the past. At least, not like now.

You’re almost inclined to think that Shoto doesn’t want it, since he’d never expressed any kind of sexual attraction to you, or anyone else, throughout the entire time you’ve known him. At least, not to your knowledge. This thought makes you falter just for a moment, suddenly unsure as your hand hovers over him, and you wonder suddenly - despite everything that has already been said - if you’re taking things too far.

Shoto seems to realise your dilemma. And he completely dismisses it with one small move, by taking your hand gently in his own and then pressing it down, to where his cock is still swelling in his briefs. The both of you suck in sharp breaths at the feeling, yours in surprise and his in bliss, and then your body relaxes, tipping forward slightly until your head falls into the crook of his neck.

“Shoto,” you mumble against him, your heart racing. “Shoto, you’re-”

You feel his hand on your back, rubbing up and down gently. “Shhh,” he whispers back to you as his other hand guides yours, helping you palm him over his clothes. “Here… it's okay.”

You follow his movements, allowing for him to show you what to do at first. You’re a little flustered, both embarrassed because you’d frozen up, and curious at being encouraged to touch something you’d never had the chance to before.

Your hand maps him, guided by his own until he eventually pulls it away and lets you touch him alone. He’s so warm, and hard enough that you can make out the shape of him through his briefs. And then, as you add a little more pressure, he lets out a soft groan.

Your eyes jump to his face immediately, at first worried. But then you see it; the pleasure on his face, the way his cheeks are a little flushed and his lips are slightly parted.

Without thinking, you lean in to kiss him again, hard. Your tongue slips against his, as your heart races and he pushes back against you. You feel his hand against the back of your head, pulling you in. And you start to feel a little braver, turning your hand so you can rub against his crotch with more purpose. Shoto all but chokes against you.

“Does that…?” you whisper out, pulling back a little so you can gauge his reaction properly. “Does that feel… good?”

Shoto exhales, a little shakily, and then looks up to meet your eyes. Slowly, almost nervously, he nods.

“Keep going.”

So you do. Growing in confidence with each second that passes, you start to rub him properly, trailing your fingers up and down his clothed cock, mapping its full length and shape until you feel like you might understand it. Your eyes dart up again then, wide and curious, and you catch Shoto’s gaze. The corner of his mouth twitches upwards.

“You can touch it… properly,” he tells you, like he’s read your mind. “I want you to.”

You can’t ignore the way your stomach jumps, full of butterflies. Then you nod at him and slide your way off his lap, allowing him to hook his fingers into the waistband of his briefs and begin to tug them, and his trousers, down his legs.

He lies back once they’re gone, completely naked in your presence for the very first time, and you're… breathless. You can't stop staring at him, at all of him. The way his soft, floppy hair falls back from his face against the pillow, the way his skin glows golden in the flickering glow of your fairy lights. His eyes; ocean blue and stormy grey blink up at you, filled with warmth and care. His torso, lined with layers of muscle; not buff or built, but lithe, lean, like a figure skater. His chest rises and falls softly, the dips and curves of his abdominal muscles slipping between light and shadow. For a moment, you actually want to lick him, but then your eyes catch his once again and you lean up, towards his head.

Your lips brush over his, feather-light and only for a moment. And then you move, pressing soft kisses along his cheeks and then up to his forehead. His eyes close when you reach his scar, a sigh slipping from him as you trace the burn mark with your lips as you’ve done so many times before.

And then you slip down, down to his chin, to his jaw. You take a moment to nip along his neck, tasting his skin but careful not to leave any marks. And then you move to his pronounced collarbones where you can suck properly, and leave purple lovebites along his skin. He groans at the feeling, his hands sliding up your own body, up your back, to hold the back of your head. And then he pulls you back up to kiss you properly, his lips so soft and sweet against yours.

“Touch me,” he breathes against your mouth, his eyelids fluttering. “Please.”

So you do. You slide your hand down, to where his cock is standing tall, no longer restrained by the tight material of his briefs. And you begin the process of feeling him out again, with nothing to restrict you this time.

As soon as you touch him, Shoto hisses. His eyes squeeze shut as you let your hand wrap around him, before sliding up towards the tip, and then you both let out soft sighs. It’s a new sensation for both of you; his cock feels unfamiliar in your hand, the skin is so soft and there’s a weight to it that you’re not used to. For him, it almost seems overwhelming, his head tilted back and his eyes tight shut. You watch the way his lips part as you run your thumb across the tip, your own lip caught between your teeth. He just looks so pretty like this; really, he always looks pretty but there’s something special now. Something. Maybe it's the flush in his cheeks or the way his breath isn't quite even. Or the way he responds to each touch from you. But it has you shifting, your eyes widening slightly as you feel something tug in the base of your gut. Involuntarily, your legs squeeze together, and a spike of heat flashes up your abdomen. Your lips part in a muffled whine.

“Shoto…”

“More,” he mumbles to you then, eyes opening to give you a half-lidded look. “Please. More.”

And so you give more. You speed up your pace, you find a proper rhythm, and stroke him. You make an effort to watch his reactions closely, repeating something when he seems to like it. And eventually, you have him moaning, whining under you.

“Ho-ly shit,” Shoto chokes out, raising an arm to hide his face in his elbow. His hip buck involuntarily. “ Fuck-!”

And then suddenly his hand snaps downwards, locking around your wrist to hastily pull your hand back. “Shit, shit, shit ,” he mumbles, eyes now wide as he pushes himself up to look at you.

You look back, worried. “What’s wrong?”

“I -” Shoto shakes his head. Then he flashes you a small smile. “Nothing’s wrong, I just almost…”

Your eyes widen a little. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” he mumbles. His smile grows and then he reaches forward to run his fingers along the side of your face. “You’re… really good at that.”

Warmth sparks in your chest and floods to your cheeks. You glance down and then back up, shuffling forward a little. “I am?”

Shoto leans in. ”Yeah,” he breathes to you, pulling you closer. Your lips brush his as you break into a small smile, allowing for him to guide you up onto his lap once again. You kiss him properly, hands sliding up to tangle in his hair. His go to your hips, his grip loose until you make the voluntary effort to roll yourself against him. Then his fingers tighten, digging into you as he whines against your mouth.

You do it again, smiling more so to yourself than anything else when his breath hitches in his throat. And you want to continue, until he stops you, pulling away from your lips to stare up at you with hazy eyes.

“Wait,” he tells you softly. “I want … Can I touch you?”

You suck in a short breath when you realise what he means, your hands tightening in his hair on instinct. And then, a little shakily, you nod.

“Okay.”

“You sure?” Shoto mumbles, seeming to sense your nerves. “It's okay if you don’t want to.”

But you shake your head, gnawing on your lip a little before flashing him a soft smile. “No, I want to,” you mumble, your nose bumping up against his. “Please, touch me.”

For emphasis, you grab his hand, like he’d done for you, and guide it. Down your front, to where your skirt is still fastened around your waist. For a moment, he hesitates. And so you take the lead and shift, tugging the zipper down so you can rid yourself of the green fabric.

Shoto sucks in a small breath at the sight of your panties beneath; they’re nothing special, just black, with little pieces of lace detailing. They’re not even the nicest ones you own and yet, as he looks down at you, you feel so warm. So loved. When he reaches a finger out, to trace across the tiny bow on the front, a shiver passes up your body. And then you reach for him, take his hand once again, and guide it down between your legs, to where your need for him is burning .

You feel more than hear the way Shoto gasps when his fingers first brush over the space between your legs. You’re sure your panties are soaking when by now, with how turned on you were from seeing him almost reach his climax. And when he presses a little harder, up into the warmth of you, you feel it too; the way the fabric is completely soaked through.

“You…” Shoto mumbles out, his eyes still fixed on where he’s stroking back and forth over the fabric. “You’re so…”

You bite your lip and pull him a little closer, arms sliding around his neck. “Yeah,” you mumble out in reply, letting your head rest against his shoulder. “Keep going.”

He does, fingers exploring your folds over your soaked panties, feeling up every inch of you like you’d done with him. And then, with a glance to your face to make sure you’re okay, he pulls them to the side to touch you properly.

Your body tenses a little when you feel him there for the first time, his fingers so cold against the flaming heat of your pussy. But then, as he swipes his fingers up and down your slit, collecting your slick, you grow accustomed and roll your hips into the feeling. Your breath catches in your throat when his knuckle rubs up against your clit, and then Shoto pauses to observe you, just like you had done with him. The corner of his mouth quirks, and he does it again, rubs every so softly against you. You let out a sharp whine as pleasure shoots through your gut, and Shoto’s grin grows.

“You like that?” he whispers to you, peering up at you through his eyelashes. And you can only manage a nod in return as he does it a third time, letting his finger linger now, and you all but melt into his chest.

Something glints deep within his eyes and when he looks at you again, his gaze is filled with a determination you don’t quite recognise. He leans in, his lips ghosting along your neck. “Noted,” he mumbles softly, pausing for just a moment. And then you have to stifle a full moan as he draws a circle right over your clit and sends shocks of pleasure crackling up your spine like bolts of electricity.

You barely need to tell him what to do. Shoto’s always been unusually observant and he gets the hang of how to pleasure you so quickly it’s almost scary. His focus remains on your clit, his thumb positioned over it and drawing constant tight circles against you. But his other fingers explore too, dipping down to swipe up more of your arousal, exploring your slit and your heat, slipping inside once or twice. The whole time, you’re whimpering and whining, shaking in his arms as he figures out how to make you feel good. And then you feel it; the tug, the build, the rise towards your climax.

“Sho -” you choke out, hands sliding up into his hair to get his attention. “Sho, I’m close.”

“You want me to stop?” he breathes back to you, pausing only for a second. And immediately, you shake your head because god , you’ve never felt this good before. Not ever.

The small smirk returns to Shoto’s face and he leans in to press a kiss to your shoulder.

“Then let go for me, okay?” he mumbles into your skin, lips tickling you as he speaks. “It’s okay.”

You whine as his pace speeds up again, his thumb in particular sends waves and waves of bliss through your core. You're practically dripping now, it would almost be embarrassing if Shoto didn’t seem to be spurred on by the feeling. And then suddenly something tugs in your gut, pulling taut, and your whole body goes rigid with the realisation that he’s actually about to make you cum.

“Shoto,” you breathe out, grabbing onto him tighter as you search for something to ground yourself. “Shoto, fuck !”

He kisses your shoulder again, and then your neck, trailing his lips across your skin. “You can do it,” he whispers to you, so soft and so gentle that you’re sure something in your chest melts. “Just let go, my love.”

And then you do, your orgasm rippling through you as the tightness in your abdomen snaps and you slump against Shoto, your entire body tingling.

He doesn’t let go of you, not for the whole time, even as your limbs tremble and your hands tug at his hair and you suck in heavy, choked breaths from where your head is buried in his shoulder. His fingers slow to a snail's pace, just milking you enough to draw the pleasure out while his other hand runs up and down your back, soothing you. And when you do eventually pull back, finally recovering, he sends you the softest, most breathtaking smile you think you’ve ever seen.

“You’re amazing,” he tells you in a whisper when you lean your forehead against his. “So amazing.”

You kiss him in answer because you haven’t quite got the words to reply properly.

There’s a pause then, a long moment of silence as the both of you seem to get your bearings again. And then, as your senses return to you, you realise you can still feel him, achingly hard and solid beneath you. And you realise the need is still there within you, deep down and not entirely satiated despite just having had the best orgasm of your life.

“Shoto,” you whisper to him, your voice shaky and weak. “Shoto, I…”

“We can stop,” he tells you softly, raising a hand to cup the sides of your face. “If you want to, we can stop.”

You shake your head immediately, already shifting yourself on his lap. “No,” you mumble out, “no, I want… I wanna keep going…. if - if that’s what you…?”

“I want that too,” Shoto tells you immediately, his gaze so warm and loving. “I want that. Can… can I roll you over?”

As you nod in agreement, he winds an arm around your waist. And then he flips the both of you over onto the mattress, so now you’re beneath him, staring up at him, getting to see the way the fairy lights flicker off his messy hair and the side of his face.

For a moment, you pause, reach up just to stare up at him with a look of absolute adoration clouding your features. He is gorgeous , you can’t help but think again. So, so gorgeous.

But then you feel him as he shifts, settling himself between your bent legs. You feel his cock, still hard, rubbing up against you, and you moan because you want him. You want him more than you think you’ve ever wanted anything in your whole life.

Your hand slips down, practically ripping your ruined panties from your body and then, finally, you’re both completely bare and pressed up against each other, for the very first time in either of your lives.

“Shoto,” you whisper, blinking up at him. And then he’s leaning down, his nose bumping yours before your lips find his. His kiss is soft, sweet, innocent, and you can’t help but be taken back in that moment, to the first time you’d kissed him, over a year ago on his birthday, when the pair of you had ended up alone together out of pure coincidence. You’d been crying then, because you’d know about the rules, about your parents' ultimatum and their threat to pull you from UA if you tried anything. You’d felt guilty about wanting him back then like you were doing something bad.

You don’t feel any guilt now, as he pulls away from you to stare down at you with a gaze filled with love and wonder. You don’t feel any guilt, just love. For him.

“Please,” you whisper up to him. “Shoto, I need you.”

“I need you too,” he breathes down to you. His head dips and he begins to kiss along your neck. At the same time, you can feel him taking himself in hand, positioning his hips, readying himself to slide into you.

When he finally does, it feels… weird. There’s a pressure that you don’t recognise, and don’t quite like. It makes you tense up as he pushes forward, your thighs clamping around his hips as your hands dig into his shoulders. Shoto pauses when he feels your body go rigid, looking down at you with worry in his expression. Then he leans down to press his lips to your forehead, pausing for one long moment to let you situate yourself.

You take a few seconds, suck in a long slow breath, and then send him a nod to tell him to continue. He does and it’s almost bearable - the stretch and the pressure, it almost is. Until it’s not and your eyes begin to burn with unshed tears. Shoto stops again.

“Shhh,” he whispers to you, his hands on either side of your face. “It’s okay. Do you want me to stop?”

“N-no,” you mumble out, your eyes squeezed shut as you try to breathe through the burn. “No, don’t stop. Just… give me some time.”

“Okay,” Shoto tells you, nothing but calm. “Okay.”

You nod in thanks and turn your head to press your temple against his. He’s so warm and he smells like him , like he always has. He’s so familiar despite the unknown you’re facing right now, and it slows your heart rate a little. When shoto’s thumbs brush up against the sides of your face, you almost smile.

“Does it hurt?” he whispers down to you. “Are you in pain?”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “It…” you mumble eventually, not wanting to lie but also not wanting to worry him. “It… does hurt. But it’s fading. I can deal with it.”

“As long as you’re sure,” he tells you and presses a kiss to your forehead.

You take a few more seconds, breathing as calmly as you can. And then you tell him to continue. And this time, you don’t ask him to stop, not until he’s filled you completely as you’re clinging to him, eyes wide and heart racing as you experience a completely new feeling, one you’d never even imagined before.

You feel so close to him, to Shoto. You can feel him, so much of him. You can feel his heartbeat, pounding in his chest which is pressed right up against your own. His head drops into the crook of your neck and then you can feel his breath, warm along your skin. His hands on you are gentle, warm, and for a moment you almost think you’re going to cry. It’s overwhelming, to say the least but it’s also… good. Really good.

“Can I…” Shoto starts out, raising his head to look at you again. “Can I move?”

You swallow, staring up at him with hazy eyes. And then, slowly, you nod.

His first thrust is completely overwhelming, for both of you. The feeling of him moving inside you, the slide of him against your inner walls, it’s so much. You can feel so much. And Shoto too, seems to feel it, as his face contorts and he lets out a choked groan.

“Oh my…”

“Sho,” you mumble out as your eyes flutter. “Sho, more.”

His hips pull back again and then slip forward. And then again, and again, until he’s found his rhythm. It’s unpracticed, a little sloppy, but you can feel everything. So much it has you choking on your own moans as your hands scrabble for purchase in his head and his head drops to press against your collarbone.

“B-baby,” he mumbles out, his lips brushing up against your skin as he presses into you over and over again. “Baby you feel so…”

“Sh-Shoto,” you whine to him as finally, it starts to build. The warmth in your gut, the pleasure, it starts to expand, tightening up your throat and making your legs shake. One of Shoto's hands slides down, down your body and to your thigh, and without missing a beat he hooks it around, over his body. This changes the angle a little, the angle at which he’s sliding into you, and suddenly you feel like you’re seeing stars. He’s hitting a spot inside you now, a stop that’s so deep, and yet, it makes your entire body tremble. Especially when his hand moves from your thigh to between your bodies, to play idly with your clit. You actually jump then, tears flooding your eyes as you pull him even closer and bury your moans in the muscle of his shoulder.

Shoto reciprocates your grip, his arm sliding around your back so he can pull you in. And he keeps going, rolling his hips steadily as the both of you begin to rise, riding the wave of your building orgasms.

“Fuck,” Shoto chokes, moaning your name against you. And you whine back s your hands scratch down his back and then up into his hair.

“Shot,” you squeak, your legs squeezing around his hips. “Shoto, oh my god I'm gonna-!”

“Yeah,” he hisses back. “M-me too. C-can I stay-?”

“Inside,” you choke back. “Please.”

Shoto nods. And then he presses forward again, nose to your shoulder and holding you as close as is physically possible. You moan a few more times, your hips rolling in time with his. And then your body seizes up as finally, you get there, reaching the peak and then crashing down as a thick wave of pleasure all but wipes out every sense you have.

Vaguely you register Shoto grunting out your name before he too reaches his climax. And then he collapses on top of you, pressing you down into the mattress as the both of you tremble and whine and experience the euphoria together.

It takes you a while to come back from it. A good few minutes of holding onto Shoto like your life depends on it, your muscles shaky and weak and your entire body buzzing. Shoto doesn’t move from on top of you either, his head remaining where it is buried in your neck. You can feel his hand on your back, rubbing slow circles into your skin. And then, suddenly, he rolls, pulling the both of you over so you’re resting on top of him once again.

You look down at him with heavy eyes, your lips parted just slightly and your chest still heaving. Without a word, Shoto pulls you down into a long kiss.

You only pull away when you're breathing is evened out. And then you’re able to look at Shoto a little clearer, with eyes less clouded. He sends you a small smile.

“That was good.”

You can’t help the snort you let out, which devolves into a breathy laugh as you flop forward and let your forehead rest against his chest.

“Yeah,” you agree eventually, still smiling. “Yeah. Really good.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” you tell him. Your eyes meet when you raise your head again, and the pair of you share a long, warm look.

Eventually, you roll off him. Pull yourself away, allow him to slide out of you, and settle down beside him on the bed. You’re warm, very warm, but you still reach for your blankets. Pull them up and over the both of you as you stare up around your bedroom, allowing your heart rate to stabilise.

Shoto reaches for you, hand going to the side of your head so he can press a long kiss to your temple. When he pulls back, he smiles.

“So… can I call myself your boyfriend now?”

You shift yourself, rolling onto your side to face him. And you give him a cheeky smile back.

“Still gotta wait until tomorrow.”

One of Shoto’s eyebrows quirks. Then he turns himself around, and pulls away from you for a moment to reach for something on the floor beside your bed. When he comes back, you realise he’s got his phone in his hand. The screen glows, brighter than anything else in the room, and you catch a flash of the time.

01:16 am

“Technically,” Shoto mumbles, rolling back over to look at you. The corner of his mouth twitches upwards. “Technically, it is tomorrow.’

Your own grin grows and then you lean towards him, hand going to the back of his head so you can pull him towards you to kiss him.

“Then I guess you are my boyfriend,” you mumble out when you pull away, smiling uncontrollably. Shoto smiles back and nuzzles into you.

“Guess I am.” You feel him let out a long sigh. “It feels good.”

“It feels good to be your girlfriend,” you tell him in a low voice, before pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder. “Real good.”

The pair of you stay like that for a moment, basking in each other. Then something catches your eyes over Shoto’s shoulder and you pull away from him. “Shit.”

“What?” Shoto follows you as you sit up and begin to shuffle off the bed, his eyebrows furrowing in concern. “What’s wrong?”

“I -” you shake your head as you reach the end of the bed and peer over it, towards the tub that’s still sitting on the bedside table. Your face crumples and your voice comes out in a disappointed, childish whine.

“My ice cream is all melted!”

Shoto doesn’t stop laughing for almost five minutes.

Tagging: @lastroseofspring @kinda-sleepy @sunshine-flower @sashatanaka @spilled-mi1k @goodoldfashionloverboy1 @lovemegood @x-ashleyb-x @caydetoshinori-sapphirestorm @kendallambrosio @littleagxs @booyouwhore-andotherstuff @mhasimp666 @aconstructofamind @luvbugs-blog @chuflis @ko-riacchi

#💙 blue's fics #the virginity chronicles #shoto todoroki x reader #todoroki x reader #boku no hero academia #bnha x reader #my hero academia #mha x reader #cookies 'n cream

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cultherent · 1 year

Text

An Accidental Email [Ch.3]

𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥

TW: a little bit of smut, alcohol

Chapter 3

Thursday:

“Y/N, today I need the finalized video of the commercial. It needs to be uploaded tomorrow morning. If you two need to stay after work, file the correct paperwork for overtime.” You nodded at your boss with determination. “Please send me your final draft. I’ll leave edits, then after you revise, that should be all.” You left your boss’s room, making a B-line to Katsuki.

“Okay, I just met with Aizawa. He said when we have our final draft to send it over to him.”

“Alright. I’m almost done with the editing. I’ll send my part over for you to stitch it together.”

“Perfect.”

“The commercial is looking good, so I don’t think we have anything to worry about.”

. . .

“Fuck me,” you groaned, your head in your hands. You had only one strand left of living. Your boss had so many revisions, it crushed both of your spirits. So much to the point that you basically had to refilm a whole new commercial. It was around 7 at night, your job had ended several hours ago and everyone was gone.

Hearing a bang from the desk beside you, you saw how irritated Bakugo was. With a reassuring glance, “Hey, it’s gonna be okay. We’ll get this done.” He glared at you, not saying a word but instead clicking furiously with his mouse. You chuckled which caused him to stop and look at you again.

“Let’s take a break.”

With his lips scrunched to the side, “That’s probably a good idea.”

You guys ordered some fast food for pick up then went to put on your coats. “You dropped your scarf,” Bakugo stated, staring at the floor.

“Thank you for the informative comment. Are you gonna pick it up?” His nose flared and he just stared at you. “You’re literally closer to it,” the corner of your lips extended as far as they could go. “Seriously?” Bakugo grinned and started to turn around. “Bakugo, hand me my scarf.”

“No.”

“I said hand it to me.”

“I have better things to do like pick up my food.”

“My?” In an instant, you picked up your scarf and wrapped it around his body, pulling him into you. His back laid on your chest and your lips met his ear, “So, you're just being outright rude, huh?” Bakugo’s breath hitched when he realized the predicament he was in. “Y’know what happens when you aren’t nice to me, you’re punished.”

“You wouldn’t,” Katsuki challenged as he turned his head to face you.

Your hand curled around him and you placed your hand on his neck. “I wouldn’t?” You whispered. You quickly tied his wrists together with your scarf before pushing him onto the ground, he sat at your feet. He looked up at you, a mixture of irritation and lust flowed around his irises.

You bit down on your lip, he looked hot sitting below you. You bent down slightly and grabbed his hair at the base of his scalp. Yanking it slightly, he let out a moan. Smirking to the sound, you stood straight and slipped your shoe off. You pressed on Bakugo’s cock, a little surprised he was already hard.

You chuckled, “Really?” You grabbed onto him, causing him to fold over a bit. Moving his coat off, you flicked his nipples with your toes; he shivered. You caressed any part of his body that made him react. “No way, you’re extremely sensitive.”

Bakugo groaned, not really wanting you to know about that. You unzipped his pants, revealing an aggressive tent in his boxer briefs. Your foot lazily caressed his clothed cock. You took this time to take your chair and sit down, grinning at the comfort of the cushion. You fastened your pace and it seemed like he was getting to a point of climax. “Are you going to cum already?” You grabbed his hair, pulling him closer to you as he spat out nasty profanities from your stopping motions.

“Just keep fucking going, cunt.”

“Sorry, forgot who was taking orders,” you crouched down, pumping him with your hands. Feeling how fast you were going, he was going to bust in under a minute. You watched as his legs clenched and his eyes rolled back, but you stopped and placed your finger over his hole. He yanked himself from almost falling back and stared in disbelief. “This is a punishment, what did you think was gonna happen? And the fact you still bad-mouthed me. You should know who you’re speaking to.”

Walking behind him and picking up his coat, you throw it onto his head. “Let’s go, the food is almost ready.” Bakugo choked back words as he looked at you. “Now, I would've said the food is cold, but you were about to cum in 3 minutes.” You smirked, knowing you were able to take a jab at him. Walking closer to the door, “Chop, chop. I’m hungry and we have work to do.”

. . .

Friday:

“Did you hear about the company party going on tonight?” You looked up from your monitor, Todoroki beaming. You raised an eyebrow causing him to continue. “Aizawa has paid for us to go to a bar not too far from here as a reward for our hard work.”

You nodded with a smile, “So he’s paying for the drinks?” With a nod, your smile turned into a devilish grin which caused a confused look on Shoto.

“Also, what did Aizawa say about the video?”

With a sigh, “After redoing it, he liked it.”

“Don’t tell me you guys were here all night.” You nodded in defeat. “Well, this night goes out to you and Katsuki.”

. . .

“MORE SHOTS!!!” One of your coworkers screamed as others drank their drinks in one sip. You chuckled as you danced, the background music making you sway. Before coming to the bar, you went home to change, and you wore a tight-fitting dress that showed off your best assets. You did your hair and makeup and took photos outside with the other ladies you worked with.

“Let’s fucking send it!” Katsuki downed a purple vodka shot, his head shaking from the burning of his throat. He wore a loose button-up, his cardigan discarded beside him. He glanced at you, smirking.

You rolled your eyes, your attention focusing on Shoto who approached you. “How are you feeling?”

“I feel amazing, honestly. I needed this after last night.”

“I’m glad,” he smiled. “I didn’t say, but you look lovely today.”

Your cheeks heated, “Thank you, Shoto. You look great as well. I love the design on your shirt.”

“Thank you.”

“Hey Y/N, come here,” Bakugo stared at you, his eyelids heavy, he looked tipsy.

“In a minute, I’m talking with Todoroki.” He glared at you and sat on the barstool right next to you. He pouted to himself, sighing loud enough that you could hear him over the music as you tried your best to continue your conversation. “Give me a second,” your eyes apologized and your coworker understood. “What is it?”

Katsuki looked at you and grinned, walking away from you to do God knows what. Your eyebrows scrunched, your palms flipping to the air to your confusion. As you turned around, Shoto was gone, talking to someone else. You groaned as you sat alone at the bar.

. . .

“Woah there, I think you’ve had too much to drink,” a male coworker held Bakugo up by his shoulders. Bakugo slurred his words as he held a cup in his hand. Frowning, you walked over, changing his alcoholic drink for water. Sitting him down, you grabbed a water as well, “I bet you can’t chug this concoction.”

His eyebrow raised, “You’re going down.” He drank the whole cup, cheering to himself that he won. You chuckled to yourself as you motioned him to get up. When he did, his knees gave way. You held him up with all your might, not wanting him to fall. “I’m gonna take him home!” You told your coworkers.

“Do you need help, he’s pretty heavy.”

“No, don’t worry. I got him.” You were pretty strong, you had to be. Sometimes you have to carry heavy equipment around for work, you can’t just simply say you can’t do it. “I’ll order a taxi.” Bakugo stood on his own, but he rested his head on your shoulder. “Can you give me your address Katsu?”

“I like when you call me that,” he nuzzled further into your shoulder, his smile forming from ear to ear. “It’s way better than Cocksuki. That one is mean. But, I do like it sometimes…” You felt something press against your side, and your eyes immediately darted to him as he started moving it against you.

Moving him off you softly, “Bakugo, address.”

“Can we go to yours?”

“No, give me your address, that’s an order.” He stayed silent, pretending he was asleep. “You’re lucky you're drunk.” You put in your address on your phone, the taxi came shortly.

Verifying it was your taxi beforehand, you helped Bakugo in then you went in yourself. You listened to the sound of the car driving as Katsuki’s head fell softly onto your shoulder. You looked over to see his eyes shut, his chest moving up and down. He snored quietly.

“Right here is perfect. Come on Bakugo, we’re here.” You helped him into your apartment and plopped him onto your couch. “Wait right here.” You went to grab him some blankets and pillows, but when you arrived you found him on the floor. Placing the things on the couch, you moved towards him, “Are you alright?”

Katsuki crawled to your leg and looked up at you, his eyes bright and puppy-like. His cheek pressed against the side of your calf, “I want to be yours. Do whatever you want to me.”

“Bakugo-” you blurted, shocked by his words. You thought to yourself that he was only like this because he was drunk, so you motioned for him to get on the couch. He clung onto your leg, not letting up. “Katsu, you're drunk. You're not talking right, you need to rest.” His head went between your dress as he kissed your thigh, “Hey!”

“Call me that again, I love it,” he purred, his hands slowly moving up your legs. Pulling back, Katsuki fell onto his hands.

He looked up once more, “I could be your pet.” Your mind raced, you were extremely overwhelmed by everything going on. He crawled over to you on all fours, “Let me please you. Let me serve you.” Your hands covered your eyes, you couldn’t take any of this anymore.

It wasn’t right to do anything he said without his consent. Funny how you thought this, look at your situationship. You’re blackmailing him into sexual punishments which were for your own satisfaction, yet this was your line breaker.

“I’m sorry, Bakugo. I can’t do this. You’re drunk.” The man pouted as he sat up on his legs.

“I’m not even drunk, just a bit tipsy.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t. Have a good night, Katsu.”

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sapphic-agent · 2 months

Note

I thought of something that could add to the discussion around Izuku and Shigaraki. Back in the first war arc, Hawks made the morally gray decision to kill Twice before he could start multiplying and endanger the lives of every hero in the war. He didn’t seem to want to do it, but he did, because a lot more people would have died if he didn’t. Twice also wasn’t as malicious as Shigaraki and was portrayed as one of the more sympathetic League members.

Compare this to the current fight between Izuku and Shigaraki, where Izuku insists on saving him even when Shigaraki has been threatening to destroy everything, with the “sympathetic” part of him being buried underneath metaphorical rubble. There are parallels between the two, but I don’t know if Horikoshi intended there to be.

It adds to the problem of how Horikoshi never properly set up Izuku’s conflict of “saving” Shigaraki. It’s been mentioned by others how the relationship between Izuku and Shigaraki wasn’t expanded enough, but another way the conflict could’ve had more impact was through the reactions of other characters.

Hawks could have talked to Izuku about his decision, possibly pushing back against Izuku trying to save him and saying it’s “necessary” to kill Shigaraki because he’s too big a threat. And if he was written better as a more strict mentor, Aizawa could have been a character that pushed back against Izuku’s insistence towards saving Shigaraki, with possible parallels to Kurogiri/Oboro, while also pointing out the irrationality of (unintentionally) prioritizing one life over the millions of Japan (compared to his inconsistent logic in canon).

Seemingly the only significant pushback Izuku gets for his decision is from the vestiges who would probably be the only ones who would understand him when he talks about Shigaraki’s inner child. Instead we’ve got Izuku still insisting on saving Shigaraki, or the child inside of him, not only risking his life but also probably the entire country of Japan if he fails, and Horikoshi is forcing him down that path by making Shigaraki so overpowered that he can’t defeat him the normal way.

To add a question onto this, what do you think could have been done in the story to better set up Izuku’s decision to save Shigaraki, or at least what could’ve been done to make sure that Izuku didn’t come off as overly misguided in his decision?

Bestie, you hit the mark with this one.

I agree with basically everything here. Having Hawks talk to and relate to Izuku's situation (seriously, why is it so hard to get positive Hawks interaction) would have been perfect. Izuku learning that you can't save people who don't want to be saved would have been a crucial lesson as it goes against everything his built himself up to be.

There's saving people, and then there's the fucking mental torture Horikoshi's putting Izuku through for no goddamn reason.

There's actually a few things I think could have been done.

The mall scene should have been extended. I like it for what it is, but it really doesn't get into the difference in their ideals or what really sets them apart from each other. The parallels were all there, Hori just couldn't design to expand on them

Izuku should have been the one kidnapped, not Bakugou. Fucking Bakugou's kidnapping was so useless to the plot. All it proved was that Shigaraki can't recognize what makes a villain. Bakugou had everything handed to him his whole life, why would he compromise his secure future? Izuku would have had every reason to be a villain, but wanted to be a hero. This could have been the arc where the two of them learn to understand one another. Izuku sees the hurt kid and Shigaraki sees the battered hero

To expand off #2, I think it should have led to them both trying to "save" one another. Shigaraki wants Izuku to give into his hurt and anger, Izuku wants to give Shigaraki a chance at reformation. And that would make their final fight so much more interesting. They both think they're doing the other a favor when in reality Izuku doesn't want to hurt others and Shigaraki doesn't want to conform to society. And that ends up with one of them finishing things off for good

This Izuku vs Shigaraki fight should have had way more buildup. But that would mean properly developing Izuku and Horikoshi would rather die🤷🏾‍♀️

#mha critical #bnha critical #izuku deserves better #shigaraki deserves better

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class1akids · 5 days

Note

Do you think eris rewind will give deku his quirk back?

If I understood last chapter correctly, Aizawa is saying that there is enough Unicorn horn energy to rewind Deku to 2-3 minutes before status (and we don't know how long it's gonna take to get there)

And Deku has no idea how much time passed while in the Vestige realm - losing his arms, quirks, everything.

So there is no way of knowing if Deku's arms will be healed (probably yes), if his extra quirks will be back or if he has any part of OFA left. Even if the loss happened less than 2 minutes ago, the eternal question remains how Rewind works on OFA, the quirk, which is not part of Deku's genetic make-up originally, unlike Permeation was with Mirio.

So any speculation we can make is purely from a narrative perspective:

I don't think there is any point to bringing back all the 6 quirks - their purpose was done, the vestiges took away a lot of focus from Deku

There may be a reason to bring back Yoichi (who has unfinished business with AFO) and All Might (who didn't have a scene in the final war with Deku yet) vestiges

These two would also mean the "OFA" core.

If you remember, "I will make this power my own" was an early promise of Deku.

With OFA being at singularity, I think what would make the most sense in the light of the themes is Deku to get back OFA core (so just the stockpile of power) and then have a quirk awakening on this core that would unlock a new aspect of OFA that would be some kind of power-sharing (so either being able to boost others temporarily or to use their quirks).

#c1a asks #midoriya izuku #bnha 420 #eri

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lolita-lollipop · 2 years

Note

I just had an idea! So think about this we still are in zoom for classes and Aizawa is just teaching his class? And then we come in saying like dad or other things trying to get his attention or help how would us react ?? would they go Yandere?

YANDERE CLASS 1A X READER X YANDERE PARENTS ERASERMIC

The coronavirus had changed many things in the average lives of the 1A students, like the new restrictions on going off-school perimeters, the mask-wearing in public classes, and most drastically, the zoom classes from inside their dorm rooms. The only class that was allowed outside their hero class, and even that was done privately one on one. These kids spent alllllll day locked up in their rooms, it was suitable for more introverted students like Yokoyama or Jiro immensely enjoyed it, they didn’t have to speak to many, and the schoolwork was so much faster. But extroverted students, like Kirishima or mina, or maybe even bakugo, loathed it.

The only human interaction they got was with teachers, or with students through a screen. Bakugo spent all day blasting music, screaming at anyone who knocked on his door, mina was exceptionally irritable, and Kirishima pretty much spent all day watching Spanish soap operas. Not to mention the fourteen other students practically dying in their dorms. They all desperately needed something to cheer them up.

Then they all saw you.

It was small, just a peek. It was around the end of the school day, English with present mic. Or in other words, the worst class of the day. They’d all been crammed onto a zoom call with the oh-so-bubbly blonde, half asleep, longing to go outside and save some child from a pile of burning rubble. Or even get attacked by the LOV! anything- literally anything other than listening to this man ramble on about conjugations and verbs. Bakugo was screaming with his mic muted, Deku was legitimately watching the green paint on his wall dry, and Mina was learning a dance from thirty years ago. Everything was so dull.

Then. You came along.

“To conjugate a word in English you have to first take the subject and place it behind the action, then you-“ Mic rambled on, clicking through a PowerPoint to teach these poor kids English. He was cut off not long after, the door behind him creaking open with a looonnnnggg squeak, mic stopped speaking, expecting it to be his other husband getting home from work. The mic was in quarantine at the moment, working from home, bored. After the loud creak, I showed you, dressed in a pink pajama ensemble, hair pulled back into two low pigtails, a tired look on your face even though it was 3:00 in the afternoon. Probably the aftereffect of the “special tea” you’ve been drinking, the second they all saw you. They. Fell. In. Love.

“Papa? I can’t find my cat- have you seen her?” You peeped out, clearly not recognizing the zoom call, mic whipped his head around at your voice, immediately muting his microphone. All of the students could see how mics face brightened up, how he smiled at you as he spoke a few words. Pointing to the small cat in the corner of the room. Immediately the tiny girl picked it up, turning around to say goodbye to Mic. The class was mesmerized by that far-away look in your eyes. Then you saw the screen and realized what you had done, your face went pale, and your eyes widened. Immediately you ran out of the room and closed the door. Mic let out a chuckle and unmuted, just to be bombarded with questions.

“Who was that?”

“Why is there a girl in your room Mr mic?”

“Is that your daughter?”

“Does she go to ua?”

The smile completely wiped off of his face, realizing what his entire class of students just saw. The girl who went missing not long ago. They all now had witnessed her in person. Oh god oh god oh god. It’s fine, not the end of the world, he can play this off, this call isn’t being filmed, this is just a coincidence, you just happened to be there. No one will know.

“Yes yes that’s just my daughter, I told her not To come in here, sorry for the interruption class, now let’s get back to-“

“What’s her name? How old is she? Does she go to u.a?” Izuku quickly mumbled, taking out his notebook. He had to know who this girl was, she was just- just so amazing. Was this a quirk? This has to be a quirk right? He just asked the questions everyone was thinking about, an obsession clouded every single student's brain at that moment.

“A-ah- invested aren’t we? Her name is y/n, and she’s homeschooled so no. Now back to learning the English literature, because we are in English class”

“Wait but-“ Izuku attempted to continue questioning, but Mic clicked the mute button on all his students. That’s one plus of this miserable pandemic, whenever you don’t want to hear someone, you can just turn them off. that’s enough about you, let’s hope that all the students forget about it, forget about you. Goddamn. So much for letting you walk around without quirk canceling cuffs, your quirk is… special. It makes a sense of protection for anyone who lays eyes on you, makes everyone feel the need to keep you safe. It always works against you though, that’s why your “parents” pulled you out of school. They’ll forget about it. They will.

…

Flashback: they didn’t

days passed by and every single class that Aizawa held with his students, along with Mic, was filled with questions about the young girl they saw in the camera a single time. some students were subtle, and some were not, some would just ask if he had any other children and mix the topic of you in, and some would outright ask to see you (aka our spiky-haired friend bakugo). It worried both of your parents, not only did a large group of hormonally influenced teenagers not only know of your existence, but your quirk has taken over their minds. it was like a parasite.

So, the two would hope for the best and shut down the students every time they asked about you, instead assigning homework to anyone who asked. It wasn't long before they started doing research on you, looking to find you on any platform, every social media app. any google searches, nothing.

it was like nobody knew that the two well-known pro heroes had a daughter, which was quite odd, considering the paparazzi follows them everywhere. While a few of the students gave up hope of finding who you were at least, others took to... less legal ways of research, paying off anyone who would be up to searching the deepest darkest crevices of the web.

Until one night, a month or two after catching glimpse of you, Izuku Midoria was sent the results from his barely legal endeavor. he read through the pages with wide eyes, you would be surprised what someone can do from a computer. Pages upon Pages of info on a screenshot he had taken of this mysterious girl. He didn't understand what it was about her that enthralled him as it did, but oh boy was he caught in this trap.

something that caught his eye though was a specific photo of a newspaper article reading:

"MISSING

reported October 7th 2018

11 year old female missing after going on a walk with her dog (golden retriever), dog was found, child was not. Bearing h/c hair, s/c skin, e/c eyes, and around 5'2 in height. wearing a blue striped sweater and jean shorts, hair tied in short ponytail.

Any information found by civilians should be reported to nearest hero agency, or police organizations"

It was you, it had to be, it was your description exactly, and a photo of you, just younger than what you looked like on camera. this little girl in the newspaper, aged four years, yup, it was you. But why was a missing little girl in his homeroom teacher's house? So, he sent it to Ochoco, and asked for her thoughts, who then sent in to mina and tsuyu and momo, and by the end of the day the information was out for the public of class 1-a to see.

Then a groupchat was made, and theories were shared. Of course, they couldn't go to the police about this, because they would be accusing some of the top heroes of a serious felony, and no one would believe them, but they couldn't just do nothing. After all, you just seemed so helpless, so small, like you didn't know how to protect yourself like you needed them to protect you. And they would.

Bakugo proposed just finding where they live and "storming the fuckin house" to find you, but many objected, they would be fighting top heroes, and their teachers at that, teachers that know how each and every one of these students fight. Maybe they could try to talk to you if you just so happen to show up in the background again? but what is the chance of that happening?

Then The person who started all of this conversation, deku, made the best and most effective proposition.

blackmail.

It was a simple plan, one that no one could mess up, that could guarantee results. They wanted to see you, not for a few seconds, not just a glimpse, no, they all wanted to look at you for hours. so that's what they would get. Each student sent the information on you, the missing child posters, the newspaper articles on the mysterious disappearance, everything.

To say the next zoom class with Aizawa was tense was an... understatement. There Aizawa was, sitting in his leather rolly chair like normal, acting like nothing happened, not saying anything, just staring at his students, and they stared right back.

" I understand you all have made a discovery, and I have a reasonable explanation for it" He started, focusing his camera, nobody spoke up after that they just continued to stare, continued waiting for him to explain with his "reasonable explanation".

"You see, my husband and I adopted y/n over the summer when we were visiting the u.s. No one else was going to because of her quirk, so we took it upon ourselves as heroes to save he-'

"Cut the bullshit, I know what I want, and it is not to hear you drone on for an hour. We could anonymously send this to the press, and you'd be knee-deep in accusations." Bakugo interrupted, being specially fed up with the fact that this man that's supposed to be a law-following hero committed such a crime, and doesn't even have the conscious, to tell the truth once found out.

"If anything is released then you will never see her again, I know what she does to people, what she's done to your minds, and I understand it. We could... agree upon something." Nobody wanted that, they NEEDED to see you, and although they didn't know why they knew they did. and they didn't need an explanation.

"I want to see her, every meeting, every class, in person or not. I. Want. To. See. Her." Mina continued Bakugo's sentence for him,

"As her father, I will warn you all, if you so much as think about her in the wrong way, I don't care if you're my student, I will hang you with my scarf." Everybody looked at Mineta's screen after he said this, knowing damn well you weren't ever going to speak to him, nobody would allow it. Not in a million years.

"We would never hurt her. we swear on it"

And with a sigh, Aizawa huffed and scrunched his eyebrows, looking more than upset, looking more than anxious, he looked terrified.

"class dismissed, see you tommorow"

---

"sweetheart? can you come to talk to me and papa for a few moments, you can go back to reading your book in a second, but we need to tell you something" Your daddy's voice piped in from the living room, you'd been lying in bed and reading one of the only books they'd allowed you to have, it was odd that he sounded so serious, they never had that tone with you. so you made your way down the stairs, only to be met with the sight of your parents, sitting on the couch and looking grim.

"Yeah. uh- what's happening? am I in trouble?" you questioned, it was a very rare occurrence that they looked upset around you unless it was getting angry that you were trying to be grown up when you weren't. that was common.

"no baby, weve just been thinking. About how lonely you seem to be when we're working, all you have is the cats and occasionally the birds by the window. So we decided to enroll you into U.A, the school we work at, as a teachers aid" Aizawa lied through his teeth, immediately a smile lit up on your face, you'd been begging them for ages to let you go to school, even if it was just a little low budget school. this was amazing!

"oh my god! really! thank you thank you thank you! I love you so much! when do I start! what classes am I in? will I get to have real friends?" you spluttered out a multitude of questions, the little sparkle in your eye that had been lost for weeks finally had returned, it was cute, and the parents were glad it made you this happy.

Usually, kids would be VERY upset about having to go back to school, like having summer break end, but you were the opposite, the last instance of freedom you had before you stayed home 24/7 was our little middle school, with no parents hovering, no childish teaching methods, just you and school. and then they even took that away. so regaining that freedom was amazing!

" Hold on sweetheart, it's a big step to go from homeschool to high school, so most of your classes will be with us, you'll be in class 1A, and any times where you arent with us, you will be with one of our trusted friends. do you remember ms? midnight?" The minor inconveniences to your newfound freedom didn't dampen your mood.

"that's okay... but can I have friends?"

"Of course sweetheart. as long as we approve, there are so many good boys and girls in my class, you'll love it" Aizawa replied, thinking about the little bastards making him thrust his daughter into the scary new world. fucking bastards. he and Mic caught eyes for a moment, before continuing.

"You start in two days.

be ready" --------------------------------------------------- I swear im not dead, just been working on my drafts so i can clear out my inbox, if you see any grammer flaws, no you didnt.

anyway, this account has 1,700 followers now, and I'm doing a special. someone give me an idea in the comments plz.

have a wonderful day anon! and all those who read! bye bye!

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pocketramblr · 1 year

Note

An AU where Izuku made All Migh sign papers that turned out to be adoption papers, please. (All Might is adopted as a dad, obviously.)

1- Izuku clues in after the SF that his mom isn't exactly happy with UA and gets nervous about her freaking out and taking him out, especially if she hears that RG won't heal his bones anymore. So, he has a plan.

He gets his mom to sign several papers disguised as report cards, internship permission slips, and costume approvals. Then, he gets All Might to give him another autograph.

2- he's tricked them both into signing adoption forms designating them both his legal guardians. Then, if his mom tries to pull him, All Might can argue for him to stay and at least stall for some time, or help pick a different school to compromise, because Izuku's going to be a hero, dang it

3- then Izuku has to figure out how to notify UA of the adoption without, you know, tipping All Might off about the adoption. The Stain fight and subsequent hospitalization give him an idea. He goes to Aizawa after the break and asks about changing his records because (mutter mutter mutter) he needs to make sure Toshinori Yagi can see him in case of any hospitalization at UA and (mutter mutter mutter.) Aizawa looks at the documents and realizes what they are. He points out there are easier ways to give All Might legal permission to see him if injured. Izuku mutters some more, and he says he'll pass it on to RG and make sure all the changes are made. Then Izuku asks him to not tell All Might- after all, izuku doesn't want him to think Izuku's planning on getting hurt again or anything, just in case-

Aizawa realizes that this is being done in secret. All Might doesn't know he's legally adopted Izuku, somehow. And he decides it's both hilarious and not his business, because technically he doesn't have any proof of crime and this isn't an act of villainy he's required to investigate. Besides, kid deserves something after figuring out how quirk. And he'll learn something from the ruse however it goes. He changes the forms for Midoriya, listing All Might as a legal guardian with the school, and doesn't tell anyone. (Nedzu knows though, of course)

4- All Might isn't allowed to fight Izuku in the final exams because that's a rule at UA about family fights (Juzo can't fight Ectoplasm for the same reason.) He is unaware of this and isn't sure why Nedzu immediately says he can't (he was looking forward to it, for the same reason he likes dressing up as a villain during training and misses sparring with Nana). Aizawa is like "oh right, that rule" and keeps going without explaining. All Might really wants to ask what rule, but doesn't want to be looked at sideways for not reading the teaching handbook and already knowing.

5- It gets discovered after the mall trip when Tsukauchi tells Sansa to reach out to Izuku's guardians, and Sansa is like "hey isn't this that friend of yours" and Tsukauchi stares at the file because Toshi didn't tell him about the adoption! And that kinda hurts! But he figures it probably wasn't a big deal and just for emergencies like this, a contingency, and acts professional. When Toshi arrives and asks Tsukauchi why the police told him his son was attacked by a villain and if he made up a lie to have an excuse to reach him without breaking some privacy law, Tsukauchi stares. He says the name and relation was already on Izuku's file- if Toshinori didn't put it there, who did?

Izuku tries to make himself look very small and innocent.

+1- Toshinori is like "ok what happened" and Izuku, very nervously, comes clean about what he did and why- after Tsukauchi leaves for deniability. Toshinori is stunned because he never really expected this, to be tricked and come so close to having his boy as a son, but never know. It's hilarious, and it hurts, and he has no clue what he's supposed to do about it. Izuku apologizes repeatedly, and Toshinori cuts him off. He's not taking OfA back, he just needs to figure this out - and that means figuring things out with his mother and them deciding something together. Izuku really would rather not, but Toshinori shrugs and says this is what he wanted with them Co-parenting. Izuku is sheepish after that, and Toshinori softens a bit, admitting that he has very few regrets, and Izuku is none of them. He does, however, regret never telling his own teacher that he saw her as a mother. Then, before izuku can react, Toshinori sees Inko arriving, and leaves to go talk to her

#huh. this sure turned into a whole thing #no one knows what to think!! but they'll figure it out i guess #ok the students are gone and i need to grade #i shall see you again in five papers....#gentrychild #ask game #pocket talks to people

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takingchences · 6 months

Text

ultraviolet pt. 3 - BAKUGOU

A descendant of a legendary quirk longs to separate herself from her family name, but first she'll have to confront villains, ghosts from the past, and her growing attraction for Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight.

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x OP!fem!oc

Warnings: mature language

series masterlist + face claim

After a few more exercises, the fitness test was officially over.

"All right, time to give you your results. I've ranked you all from best to worst. You should probably have a good idea of your standing already. I'll just pull up the whole list. It's not worth going over each individual's score."

Momo came in first place, then Shoto, with Bakugou ranked third. Sana found her name in the seventh slot, right above Kirishima's and Mina's. I did it, Sana giggled breathlessly as Mina roped her into a side hug. I passed. But then... who didn't?

Midoriya's name sat at the bottom of the list. The boy cradled his injured hand with a distressed look on his face. Just like that, he's gone? She frowned.

Sure, she understood Aizawa's point about not wanting to waste time and resources on students with no potential, but on the other hand, didn't Midoriya's strength and determination make up for his lack of control? Out of the thousands of applicants, hadn't they been chosen because U.A had seen promise in them?

Their home room teacher clicked a button on his remote, making the holographic rankings disappear. "And I was lying," he said in his lazy drawl. "No one's going home."

Pure silence.

A deranged smile appeared on the Pro's face. "That was just a rational deception to make sure you gave it your all in the tests."

Sana thought Midoriya was going to vibrate right out of his red sneakers from shaking so hard.

The only person who didn't seem surprised by Aizawa's announcement was Momo, who stated that she'd known all along that it was nothing but a ruse.

It didn't seem like an empty threat though, Sana thought as the class stood frozen in front of the disheveled Pro. She remembered the hard look in the man's hooded eyes, his unruffled attitude at the thought of potentially crushing someone's dream. Maybe he realized that the most rational decision would be to wait and see what all we're capable of before making any big decisions.

In contrast to their relief, Bakugou almost seemed disappointed that no one would be going home. Midoriya is still here, so that's not much of a surprise.

The explosive blonde seemed to regard everyone he came across either as competition or beneath him in some way, but something was different between the two boys. She wasn't sure if it was a petty rivalry or something more that fueled Bakugo's apparent hatred for the greenette.

"We're done for the day. Pick up a syllabus in the classroom. Read it over before tomorrow morning." Aizawa called as he stalked back towards the main building. Class 1-A, with the exception of Midoriya, headed to the locker rooms to change back into their uniforms.

After grabbing a syllabus and collecting her things, Sana exchanged phone numbers with her new friends. If today is anything to go by, then I think this will be a very interesting year.

¸☾⋆*･ﾟ¸☾⋆*･ﾟ¸☾⋆*

Day two of Sana's high school career started off much better than the first, mainly because her father had already left the house by the time she'd made it downstairs. "Well, that's one less thing to worry about," she hummed pleasantly as she dug into her breakfast.

Today would be her first full day at U.A. She'd be introduced to more Pro Heroes, get to hang out more with Mina and the gang, and most importantly, she'd get to taste the cafeteria food. I wonder what Lunch Rush will be serving today? Sparkles surrounded her at the promise of delicious treats.

"What's got you in such a good mood?" Umi appeared next to her with her hands on her hips. "Is it because of All Might?"

Eh? Sana stopped chewing on her blueberry muffin. "All Might?"

The gray-haired woman looked surprised. "Didn't you hear? There's a rumor going around that U.A offered him a teaching position."

"I hadn't heard," Sana shrugged, pinching off another bite of deliciousness and letting the warm pastry melt on her tongue. Umi sweatdropped at the girl's lack of interest in anything but her muffin.

"You know, most kids your age would be thrilled after hearing that they might get to train under the number one hero."

It wasn't that Sana disliked the Symbol of Peace, she just didn't feel the need to worship him like the majority of the world. Maybe it was because she'd heard so much about him growing up under Endeavor, but she preferred less flashy heroes like Best Jeanist and Mirko. She liked Hawks too... though mostly because he was young and hot.

"I hate to be the one to break it to you, Umi, but I'm not like most kids."

A soft pat on the head had Sana tearing her attention away from her breakfast. The old woman had a small smile on her face, but her eyes held only sadness. "Eat up, my little sunflower. You'll need all your strength if All Might really is your teacher."

¸☾⋆*･ﾟ¸☾⋆*･ﾟ¸☾⋆*

Besides learning how to react during natural disasters and take down villains, U.A students were also required to take standard core classes like English and Math. After eating lunch with Mina and the rest of the girls of 1-A, it was time for Hero Basic Training.

"I AM HERE!" A boisterous voice announced. "Coming through the door like a hero!" Sana almost snorted at the hulking man lingering in the doorway on the tips of his toes.

The classroom buzzed with excitement in the overwhelming presence of All Might, the Number One hero. "Welcome to the most important class at UA High. Here, you will learn the basics of being a pro."

The Symbol of Peace held out a card with the word "battle" on it.

Sana could practically feel Bakugou's excitement, as well as Midoriya's dread. These two need a larger buffer zone between them than the seat I'm occupying. She placed her chin on her hand. Let's just hope they don't have to go against each other during the exercise. Or worse, team up.

All Might pointed at the wall, where cases with numbers in them were sliding out. "These were designed for you based on your quirk registration forms and the requests you sent in before school started."

After changing out of uniform, the class gathered at Ground Beta for training.

Sana was happy with how her costume turned out. The design was rather simple: a richly-colored amaranth bodysuit that matched her eyes perfectly with gold and white gold detailing woven beautifully throughout the suit. Lightweight armored paneling protected the soft tissue along her chest, abs, and back while also acting as cooling jets installed to help regulate her core body temperature. The material itself was breathable, as well as heat and flame resistant. Small diamond cuts of fabric along her body exposed flawless golden skin. The dark color of the fabric would also help her absorb heat. She'd wanted to wear something beautiful, but also embodied what kind of hero she wanted to be. Sana wanted to be seen as a guiding light, a beacon of hope. The deep, pink-purple costume shimmered like oil in the afternoon sun. She'd also requested a tinted visor to help shield her eyes. Her knee-high boots were more of a fashion statement than anything, though they did nothing to hinder her movements. The thick, sturdy heel was enforced with a bouncy material to make them more comfortable when worn for long periods of time. Some heroes wear capes while others wear heels. As bonus accessories, she'd been given a pair of three-fingered gloves to wear to prevent accidentally burning a civilian due to the heated nature of her quirk.

She quickly inspected her classmates' costumes. Kirishima had opted out of wearing a shirt, bless his saintly soul. His shredded back muscles and drool-worthy torso were on full display. Momo was showing almost as much skin as the human boulder, if not more. Mina wore a psychedelic-patterned leotard with a fur vest because, to quote the Alien Queen herself, why not? Shoto's entire left side was covered in ice, with an eerie red light where his turquoise iris would normally be. The sight made her sad.

Iida looked like a cross between a robot and a futuristic knight. Midoriya looked every bit like the All Might fanboy she'd imagined him to be, and Bakugou looked badass with a capital ASS standing there with huge, gauntlet-like contraptions strapped to his forearms.

His toned, athletic physique, which had been hidden away beneath his baggy uniform, was now very noticeable. His chest is bigger than mine, Sana half-joked, her eyes lingering on the bulging muscles of his arms and shoulders as they flexed under the weight of his support gear.

"What the hell are you staring at, dumbass?" Bakugou squinted at her choice of costume. Compared to something as elaborate as his, her's was nothing special to look at. She had no need for support items, so her outfit was pretty basic.

"Your tits," she replied honestly.

His eye twitched in annoyance, a feral, demon-like sound emanating from deep within his chest. "WHAT DID YOU SAY?!" Heh. Cute.

"Wow! You guys look super manly!" Kirishima greeted the two cheerfully, completely ignoring the blonde's outburst.

"Hey, Sana!" Kaminari slung an arm across her shoulders, pulling her into his chest. Her long, stawberry blonde hair brushed against his shirt. "Do you know what my costume is made of?" His golden eyes stared into her's excitedly.

She shook her head. "Um, no?"

"Boyfriend material." He pinched his collar and winked, a proud grin on his face. Sero and Mina rolled their eyes at the lightning-haired boy as they joined the group.

"Hey, Pikachu." Mina pulled her new bestie out of the blonde's embrace. "Quit trying to steal my girl." Mina nuzzled Sana's cheek with her own, making the Sakano girl laugh.

"They say that clothes make the pros, young ladies and gentlemen, and behold, you are the proof!" All Might cut their conversation short. "Take this to heart. From now on you are all... heroes-in-training!"

She noticed All Might shaking with suppressed laughter at Midoriya's obvious inspiration. He could've been a little more subtle with the design, but the overall look was kinda cute. Like a bunny.

"Now that you're ready, it's time for combat training."

"Sir!" Iida raised his hand. "This is the fake city from our entrance exam. Does that mean that we'll be conducting urban battles again?"

Again with the entrance exam, Sana sighed. Recommended students are really at a disadvantage here, huh?

"Not quite." The Pro held up two fingers. "I'm going to move you two steps ahead. Most of the villain fights you see on the news take place outside. However, statistically speaking, run‐ins with the most dastardly evildoers take place indoors. Think about it. Backroom deals, home invasions, secret underground lairs. Truly intelligent criminals stay hidden in the shadows." Makes sense, Sana nodded along. The less eyes on you, the more you can get away with. "For this training exercise, you'll be split into teams of good guys and bad guys and fight two‐on‐two indoor battles."

"Isn't this a little advanced?" Tsuyu asked.

"The best training is what you get on the battlefield!" All Might answered. "But remember, you can't just punch a robot this time. You're dealing with actual people now."

"Sir, will you be the one deciding who wins?"

"How much can we hurt the other team?" Of course he would ask that, Sana rolled her eyes.

"Do we need to worry about the losers getting expelled like earlier?"

"Will you be splitting us up based on chance or comparative skill?"

"I wasn't finished talking!" All Might quickly grew flustered with all their questions. He pulled out his notecards and began to read off the rules of today's exercise. "Listen up. The situation is this; the villains have hidden a nuclear missile somewhere in their hideout. The heroes must try to foil their plans. To do that, the good guys either have to catch the evildoers or recover the weapon. Likewise, the bad guys succeed if they protect their payload or capture the heroes."

The hero held up a box. "Time's limited, and we'll choose teams by drawing lots!"

"Isn't there a better way?" Iida was doubtful.

"Think about it! Pros often have to team up with heroes from other agencies on the spot, so maybe that's the reason we're seeing that here." Midoriya pointed out the functionality of using this method to pick teams.

"Yes, I see." The speedster realized. "Life is a random series of events. Excuse my rudeness."

"No sweat." All Might assured the teen. "Let's draw!" Each student went up and drew their lots one by one.

Not Shoto, not Shoto, not Shoto. Sana chanted as she placed her hand inside the box. Under normal circumstances, the two made a great team. But she wasn't sure how things would go if they were to be partnered up now. Their dynamic had changed... and not necessarily for the better.

Team I, she read. Glancing around, she eventually found her partner for the day. It was a hard task seeing as the girl was completely invisible except for the pair of gloves and boots she was wearing to indicate her presence. Hagakure, she remembered from lunch. That's her name.

"I declare that the first teams to fight will be... these guys!" All Might held up two balls. "Team A will be the heroes, Team D will be the villains." Looking at the named groups, Sana nearly choked on air.

Bakugou vs Midoriya.

Well, it was nice knowing you, Midoriya. You will be remembered fondly.

"Everyone else can head to the monitoring room to watch!"

As the rest of the class followed behind the massive hero, Sana hesitated, wanting to say something first. "Hey," she turned to the glowering blonde beside her, his ruby eyes locked in on his target. A determined-looking Midoriya met his gaze head on. "Bakugou."

"What?" He growled, refusing to look her way.

"I know it's none of my business, but the two of you seem to have a history." Sana spoke carefully. Bakugou wasn't the easiest person to talk to, especially when he was worked up about something (that something usually being Midoriya). And though he may not like what she has to say, it was something she felt he needed to hear.

"You're right," Bakugou grunted. "It's not."

Sana's eyes narrowed, her arms crossing over her chest defensively. "Whatever your problems with each other are," she continued. "You need to let it go, at least for the duration of the exercise."

Otherwise someone is going to get hurt. She knew from their expressions that both boys were taking this mock battle much too seriously. Idiots. Can't they put aside their issues for fifteen minutes?

"What the hell would you know?! You're just as weak and pathetic as he is!"

She took a step back, her eyes lacking their usual warmth. "Maybe I am," her voice was soft, but with a slight edge to it. Her expression was deadly calm. It gave her a sick satisfying to see his eyes widen if only a fraction. "But I'd rather be like him," she pointed her finger at the greenette watching them in confusion. "Than like you," she shoved that same finger into his firm chest. "Any day. Putting others down to make yourself feel better..."

Her father came to mind, then Enji; images of the two men looming behind the young blonde.

"That is pathetic."

The blonde's fists clenched at his sides. Sana turned on her heel, her pastel hair almost smacking him in the face had he not jerked his head back.

Stupid girl, he growled internally, stomping into the building to hide the weapon and start the exercise. Siding with that shitty nerd. I'll show everyone who's really pathetic.

#bnha #mha #my hero academia #katsuki bakugou #bakusqaud #katsuki bakugo x reader #kirishima eijirou #mina ashido #bakugo katuski #bnha fluff #bnha angst #shouto todoroki #bnha shoto todoroki

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bugs1nmybrain · 1 year

Text

Aizawa Shouta x College Student! Reader 18+

Prompt: You’re stressed the fuck out from homework. Shouta encourages you to take a break and gives you much needed stress relief.

Warnings: Fem reader, cunnilingus, unprotected sex

This is my first time writing smut, so it’s probably not awesome. Please don’t interact if you’re a minor!

Word count: 2990

------------------------------------------

This is what you wanted. It’s what you signed up for. But knowing that didn’t make any of this easier. Mountains of homework piled up on your schedule and for the past three days, the only break you’ve gotten was the sleep you managed to get. Your brain was turning into mush. Exhaustion was an understatement at this point.

You were currently working on a seven-page paper that you had to turn in in a few days. You had assumed that it would be a breeze to get through, but you were greatly mistaken. For the past three hours, you had only managed to get half a page done. The words weren’t coming out, and you obsess over how cohesive everything sounded. The perfectionist side of you took over as you wrote sentences, then rewrote them, and then rewrote them again.

With all the mental commotion going on, you had barely even noticed the door to your apartment open. Heavy boots clunked on the entrance floor, followed by the sounds of unzipping. Your cat ran up to the door to greet the familiar presence of Shouta.

Aizawa had come home after teaching. The hours were long, with a day stretching out from 7 AM to 5 PM, not including the papers he had to grade after leaving work. Like you, Shouta was exhausted, and in need of some much-needed relaxation.

After taking off his boots and leaving them at the door, Shouta made his way to the living room where he saw you vigorously typing away at your computer. Shouta isn’t a very attention-demanding person, but admittedly, he felt a bit offended that you didn’t greet him when he came inside. But he could tell that you were focused intensively on whatever it was you were doing. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to notice how drained you were. Your hair was messy (even messier than Aizawa’s usually was) and the bags under your eyes were prevalent. Your gaze didn’t leave your laptop even for a second.

“Hey,” said Aizawa, attempting to break you out of your work-drunk state.

You didn’t respond. Just kept typing.

“Y/N.”

Again, you didn’t respond.

Annoyed with the lack of a response, Aizawa took a seat next to you on the couch. He glanced over at your screen, being a little nosy as to what was so important that you couldn’t even reply to him. Seeing words stacked on top of each other, he quickly realized you were writing a paper.

This wasn’t the first time Shouta came home to you being a complete homework zombie. You were a very determined woman and were set on performing well academically, even if it meant that you neglected self-care. He couldn’t exactly blame you for doing so, that would be pretty hypocritical coming from him. There was a part of Shouta that really admired how much of a focused and hardworking person you are. There was another part of him that wished you’d be easier on yourself, though.

Confident that you wouldn’t respond to him if he tried talking to you again, Shouta decided to get physical instead. He slowly draped his arm over your shoulder and buried his head into the crook of your neck. Finally, you took a big yawn and shifted your gaze toward him.

“Hi,” you said softly, followed up by another yawn.

“What are you working on?”

“My analysis paper for Sociology. It’s due in a couple of days.”

“I see.”

Aizawa moved out of your neck and looked at you. You were staring at the screen again, typing. With a deep sigh, Shouta took the arm that was over your shoulder and made its way down the side of your arm, placing gentle strokes on it. “You should take a break. You’re a mess.”

“Shouta I can’t, this needs to get done.”

“What good is it going to do your paper if you’re working on it while you’re exhausted? Wouldn’t it be more logical to come back to it once you’ve given your brain some time to recharge?”

You pause, taking his words into consideration. You have been working on homework for days without any actual breaks. Still, though, you wanted to get this paper done as soon as possible.

“Trust me, I’d really love to do that. But-”

“But nothing. Take a break, you can come back to this later. When you do you’ll have a clearer head, and will be able to work more effectively.”

With a heavy sigh, you decide to give in to his suggestion. “Okay.”

You save the progress on your paper and sign off on your computer. You shut the case, placing the laptop on the coffee table in front of you. A drawn-out yawn escapes your mouth. Resting the side of your weight onto Shouta, you feel the warmth of his body encompass you as he wraps his right arm around your waist.

“How are you feeling?” Aizawa asks.

“I’m fine.”

Aizawa takes an instant note of how rigid your whole body is. Rubbing your back with up and down motions, he can feel the tension in your back muscles. He moves his hand up to your shoulders and notices how tight they feel. You’re clearly stressed.

While Shouta isn’t always the best with words, he knows how to show you how much he cares through physical touch. Carefully, he plants a small kiss on your forehead. The hand that was once on your back was now petting your hair softly. The embrace makes you hum, with a smile creeping onto your face. It’s felt like ages since you were able to spend time with Shouta. You’ve been so focused on homework and he’s been so busy with work that the only moments you two got to share were when you were sleeping. His touch felt sacred to you, and you couldn’t help but lean into him. The affection made your heart feel heavy, and it was evident by the expression you made.

“You’re really stressed out, aren’t you?” Shouta brings his thumb up to caress your cheek.

“Mhm,” you whine. “I’ve been working on school for days. It’s almost finals and a lot is piling up. I can’t afford to slack off for even a second. That said, I am a bit spent.”

Shouta was no stranger to feeling worn down from overwhelming responsibilities. Exhaustion was his middle name. It’s easy for him to neglect his needs, but when he sees you like this he can’t help but inflict the opposite ideal onto you. He loves you. He loves seeing you at peace, calm, and happy, all things you aren’t feeling right now.

“You need to relax,” Shouta says, moving his kisses from your forehead to your cheek. Your smile grows bigger and you giggle as his stubble tickles you. “Something funny?”

He moves gradually from your cheek down to your jawline, holding you tighter. You melt into his touch, realizing how much you’ve craved this closeness for so long. With the stress that you’ve been experiencing, your emotions and desires have been incredibly pent up.

“I just really missed you.”

Aizawa exhales a low hum and progresses further down, landing on your neck this time. You shudder as he presses his lips on you and his warm breath causes you to sigh. He spends a while giving your neck attention, kissing every inch until he reaches your sweet spot. This draws out a whimper from you. He chuckles at the response you gave him. He found the impressionable reactions that you made whenever he showed you affection to be cute and endearing.

Shouta focuses on the sensitive area of your neck. Kisses turn into gentle nibbles. You wince at the slight pain, which he soothes by placing more kisses on top of the bruise he left. Shouta typically doesn’t like leaving marks on you in case somebody saw. He doesn’t want anyone to know the details about your intimate life. However, he felt rather possessive tonight. He figures he’ll just tell you to wear one of his scarves tomorrow. He was leaving you flustered, and you felt your insides filling up with butterflies.

Without thinking about it, you roll your hips toward Shouta. You begin to rock yourself on his lap, moving closer to his groin. All this stress has left you unable to attend to any of your sexual desires, and with the way Shouta’s been touching and kissing you, you were growing a bit, no, QUITE a bit aroused. He notices the way you gesture yourself on him and breaks free from your neck. Missing the attention he was giving you, you open your eyes and furrow your brows.

“What?” You ask, worried you did something wrong.

“Come with me.”

You both stand up and Shouta guides you to the bedroom. Once you’re both inside, Aizawa shuts the door behind him, which was a little odd, considering you were the only ones in the apartment. The only substance supplying the room with light was the low-lit lamp on the nightstand. Aizawa comes up from behind you, placing his hands on both of your shoulders, and slowly turns you around to look at him. Without much warning he takes your chin in between his index and thumb, tilting your head up and placing a warm, inviting kiss onto your lips.

The overwhelming amount of passion that exudes from him ravishes you, sending shivers down your spine. Shouta takes his hand and grips his fist in your hair, lightly pulling at it as he sinks his lips deeper into yours. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and bring him closer to you, desperate for the warmth of his body.

“Needy?” Shouta teases.

“You started this.”

Aizawa chuckles at your retaliation.

You proceed to reach for Shouta’s hair, tugging at his as he did to you. This results in him moving his tongue inside your mouth, dancing around your own. His kisses become rougher and before you know it, his hand is moving its way under your shirt. He pulls away from the kiss for a moment to glance at you. He gestures his eyes to your shirt and back to you as if to ask you if he can continue. You give him a vigorous nod and he proceeds to move your shirt up along your sides as he keeps kissing you.

After your shirt went, so did your pants, leaving you in your underwear. Your face feels hotter, blushing from being almost naked in front of Shouta. It wasn’t the first time he saw you like this, but you were still a little shy about being so vulnerable for him. His hands roam your body, finding their way to your back, unclasping your bra. The look on Shouta’s face is as bland as it normally is, but you’ve known him long enough to notice the way his eyes look when he’s turned on.

Removing your bra off your body, Shouta tosses it aside to then continue by slowly moving his hands up from your sides to settle on your breasts. He gently squeezes them, admiring their softness, and you can’t help but blush so hard and bury your face into your hands.

“There’s no need for that,” Shouta remarks, taking your hands away from your face and resting them on his shoulders. He moves his head down to your chest, taking your right nipple into his mouth and lightly sucking while he pinches your other with his fingers. The warmth and wetness of his mouth on you make your thighs squeeze together. You can feel the one article of clothing you had on begin to moisten as your intimate area heats up. Shouta removes his hand from your breast down to your thighs, moving them apart from one another and stroking them.

He then traces his fingers on the outside of your panties, rubbing around your pussy, making sure to ignore your clitoris. You want him to touch it desperately, so you grind yourself along his hand, but he continues to ignore it. What a tease. Taking his tongue away from your chest, he lays you down on the bed and slowly pulls your panties off. Shouta kneels in front of you, kissing your tummy, getting lower and lower.

A heavy sigh escapes your lips and with a heavy breath, you ask, “What are you doing to me?”

“Relieving some of your stress, do you want me to stop?”

“No. Please no.”

Shouta takes a hair tie that he left on his wrist from earlier and ties his hair into a high ponytail. Returning to you, his lips graze your pelvis, then your thighs. He nips at them, gently biting them before setting your legs on his shoulders. Slowly, his kisses end up on the outer lips of your pussy. He licks a line up your cunt, actively ignoring your clit, building the tension. Your clit swells more and more as he avoids it, aching to be sucked on.

Finally, his lips wrap around your clit and you moan at the impact. He holds your thighs with his strong arms, continuing to suck on your sensitive bud. He alternates between sucking and flicking it up and down with his tongue. Removing one arm from your legs, he rubs around your entrance before sinking two fingers into your wet pussy. He curls his fingers at a fast pace while he toys with your clit in his warm mouth. A familiar coil builds up inside of you and you buck your hips at him. He can tell you’re about to cum, and sucks on your clit at a satisfyingly rapid pace. That feeling builds and builds, and with a high-pitched noise escaping your lips, your clit throbbing with heat inside of his mouth. Fluid gushes out of your pussy, soaking Shouta’s face.

“Wow. You really enjoyed that, didn’t you, kitten?”

All you could muster up for a response was a whimpering “Mhm!” Shouta gives a low hum at your adorable response. God, he loves you so much.

Contrasting his slow pace earlier, he places deep kisses up your belly and lands on your lips. Wet kisses create beautiful sounds between the two of you, causing you to moan desperately against his lips. You tug at his waistband, attempting to pull down his boxers.

“Does my pretty little kitty want my cock?”

“Mhmm…”

“Use your manners.”

“Please. Please Shouta. I need you.”

Obliging to you, his dick springs out of his boxers, revealing his length. The sight, though you’ve seen it many times, makes your eyes feel heavy and your cheeks get even warmer than it was already. Moving closer to you, he rubs his cock up and down your folds, making you produce the prettiest whimpers for him. With a passionate kiss on your lips, he pushes his thick member inside your warm cunt. The deep penetration makes your heart flutter with butterflies. He pulls in and out of you so slowly. Too slow. Painfully slow. You wrap your arms around him tightly and pull him into another kiss. “Fuck me harder.”

“That’s what you want, kitten?”

“Yes, I want it so bad.”

Shouta picks up the pace gradually. He pulls in and out of you with the perfect snap of his hips, sending you into a moaning mess. Before you know it, he’s fucking you fast and deep, sending waves of pleasure throughout your body. The sounds of his cock slapping inside your wet pussy echo throughout the room. His heavy balls slap against your ass, causing you to clench around him tight.

Your lips are tightened together, eyes clenched shut, as you attempt to conceal your noises. Watching your breasts bounce in rhythm with his thrusts, Shouta moans with a low grumble, relishing in the beautiful image in front of him.

“Let it all out, don’t hold back.”

With his reassurance, you open your mouth, and loud, high-pitched squeals escape. Shouta frees a hand, rubbing circles on your clit. The sensation of his cock and his fingers on your clit makes your vision blurry. You can feel that coil from earlier building up again.

“Shouta, please! I’m gonna cum..”

“I know, kitten.”

With a couple more deep moves of his cock, your insides spasm around him, making him thrust even faster, not giving you a chance to process your orgasm. The quick, rough plunges make you see stars as he rams his cock in and out of you.

“Shouta!”

Along with your pretty moans, his throat lets out heavy sighs. He’s getting close himself.

“Fuck, Y/N…”

Shouta savors the last moments of him being squeezed by your pussy. He feels a shock of pleasure in his cock, and pulls out you, releasing his pearly cum onto your belly. You let out a few more whiney moans, the phantom feeling of his cock still inside of you.

Heavy breaths are exchanged between you two. After a couple of moments to collect his composure, Shouta reaches over to the nightstand to take out some wipes and cleans up the mess he made on your belly as well as the sticky cum from your pussy. After tossing them in the trash, he settles beside you. Shouta curls up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. He places a couple of kisses on your shoulders. You turn over to face him, resting your head on him with your hand on top of his chest.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m more then okay, to say the least,” you giggle.

“Good. I’d say you deserve it for all your hard work.”

“I love you.”

“I know. I love you too.”

Your naked, warm bodies are pressed against each other under the covers, and slowly, you two drift off to sleep. A sense of relief and warmth rests inside your body.

Shouta was right. You needed to relax and take a break after all.

#aizawa shouta #aizawa #aizawa smut #college student reader

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linkspooky · 1 year

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To add to my previous post, I think a lot of the current debates raging in the My Hero Academia fandom on whether My Hero Academia has failed because at the end of the story there probably won’t be major changes to the society it takes place in are kind of silly. You see to remove any political message MHA is trying to send out of the equation. I think the big problem with MHA is much simpler than anyone wants to admit.

The biggest problem is that... it’s boring.

It’s boring the same way Marvel Movies are boring. It’s swapped out what are potentially interesting and layered hero characters, for what are essentially characters with costumes and superhero powers and not much else going on for them. Enji and Hawks are the only heroes that have character flaws, and they are largely stagnant characters, Aizawa is introduced to us as a ruthless pragmatist and trickster mentor and he’s now just a generic “I love all my kids” mentor and the only thing he really has done in a hundred chapters is use his power. I don’t think this is a controversial opinion either, a lot of people didn’t like the deku alone arc, a lot of people think the current war arc is less satisfying to read than the previous one and it’s not well paced and it drags.

You could say the kid heroes are interesting characters with potential for growth, but have you noticed the kid heroes have been consistently sidelined for the adult heroes who are shallower, just because they have stronger more flashy powers. Heck, Enji gets more screentime in the Todoroki family arc than Shoto does and Shoto is supposed to be a main character. I think the hero kids just not getting plot importance they used to get and being sidelined because they’re not as powerful as the adults is not even an MHA exclusive problem, it’s the reason I don’t like the Young Justie Cartoon, it’s a pretty common flaw in adolescent superhero stories. Because why focus on the kids when the adults get all the cool fights against the bigger bads?

I think the reason people sympathize with the villains so much is not because they find them to have better politics, that’s probably a ex-posto facto applied reasoning (though I think that’s part of it). (Also if people are invested in the story in MHA because of the political issues it expressed, and they are disappointed because we’re not focusing on that, that’s a valid response too because Horikoshi is the one who set these ideas up as themes and then failed t follow through). (Or even if someone wants to critcize the way Hori dragged race as a metaphor into the story, they’re free to be displeased with how HOri handled it but also can still be invested in the story as a whole.) I don’t think the villains are sympathetic because they’re societal reformers, I think they’re just interesting because they have severe personality flaws and character arcs. Enji is the same character from the pro-hero work onward, the exact same character, he even does the exact same action his only true action to atone is to just defeat a big bad in AFO the same way he roasted the Noumu alive. You can’t say Shigaraki is the same character he was at the beginning of his arc, nor Himiko Toga, nor Dabi, nor Spinner, not even Twice and he has a tragic arc. Negative character development is still development, a stagnant character is dull a dynamic character is interesting. Maybe everyone is excited that Toga, and Dabi are at extreme low points in their character arcs, because it’s a change, and it’s compelling to see the extreme emotions they represent. Like, there’s so much discourse today on whether or not the League of Villains is a healthy friend group for one another, and like they’re not, they’re codependent and heavily flawed but that’s what makes them interesting dude.

Compare that to Class 1-A which is a much bigger group of kids where they are all unconditionally supportive of each other, and a healthy influence on one another, and because there’s very little conflict in that group bond there’s also little development. The only reason Class 1-A is in fact something people are emotoinally invested in is because of the conflict they had earlier in their arcs, Bakugo and Deku is a long running conflict based on an unhealthy friendship and fixation they have on one another, it takes a long time for Bakugo and Todoroki to interact regularly as friends, Deku had to literally beat up Todoroki to get him to accept help or even admit he needed it, Iida would have straight up killed a man without Todoroki and Deku’s interference, and even early on Uraraka felt inferior and more selfish to her friends, and Iida also drew a line that Deku shouldn’t expect unconditional support and teamwork from Iida during the tournament because they are compettitors competing for number one.

Conflict creates depth which creates audience engagement.

The Teen Titans are my favorite superhero team ever, and they are a heavily dysfunctional found family. In fact Cyborg even jokes at one point that their life is a soap opera. They are constantly breaking up and getting back together, and sometimes the group’s decision to collectively either neglect or enable someone has a bad influence on their personality (the second return of trigon arc comes about because no one was paying attention to Raven, heck, Raven is kidnapped by a cult and just left there for months because Donna was a poor leader). These character conflicts are also what makes them interesting as a group dynamic, I don’t think you should break the group apart because they’re not healthy, because there’s a better story to be told in them working through their dysfunction into a healthier group bond.

I’ve said this a thousand times but I don’t think the hero kids are bad characters, I don’t even dislike them, I want to see more of them. Literally all I talk about on this blog are the villains, but the only fanfic about MHA I’ve ever written and managed to finish, is about Bakugo, Todoroki, Momo and Uraraka and in particular the great potential I see in those characters to be interesting,

You could write a story where society does not change as a whole, but still circumstances get better for people because the kids are deciding to help people and be kind. Bleach is all about the fact you can’t really change the whole world or save everyone. Ichigo is just trying to protect his hometown and it’s my favorite shonen manga. I also think those stories matter just as much as like revolutionary fiction, because oftentimes people can’t change the world as an individual, and yet the action of helping people still matters, and I think also for a lot of normal people they tend to be paralyzed into not taking any action to help people at all because they believe that it won’t make a difference in the grand scheme of things.

At the most basic level we haven’t even gotten that yet. We used to have it! I really liked the Overhaul arc, and that entire arc isn’t about societal reform, it was about several people striving to save a young girl because heroes are supposed to save people. We are thoroughly in shonen battle manga punch em ups and fisticuffs. And as a shonen battle manga it’s not even that interesting because the fights suck, they’re not well choreographed, we don’t know what’s happening most of the time, they’re incredibly crowded, there’s no tension because the heroes despite supposedly being outnumbered way outpower the bad guys. We are given the promise that might happen in the future, there is set up for the fact that these kids are going to as their final act in the story save the villains and sympathize them but all we’ve gotten between then and now is a whole bunch of fighting. And once again it doesn’t come from a hatred of the kids but a genuine desire to see more of them, I want to see Shoto’s thoughts and feelings about his brother, I want to see Uraraka try to be a rescue hero and grapple with the fact villains are suffering, I want to see Deku think about what saving Shigaraki actually means. What I don’t want to see is new super powers, kids trying out their super moves, or kids helping the adults in fight.

And once again this isn’t to criticize people who enjoy MHA or are still emotoinally invested in it. Like I’m sure I’m going to get replies to this post “Why are you even reading MHA if you’re bored by it?”

Like... because you can engage critically with something even if you’re not entertained by it? There’s more purpose to literature and media then just whether or not ti’s personally enjoyable? I think there’s still a fascinating conversation to be had, in what works in MHA, and what does not work. I like superhero comics, and MHA is a shonen mangaka’s commentary on how they perceive western comics to be.

But yeah, I think the biggest most fundamental failing of MHA right now is that it’s a real snooze fest. As a comic book story, it doesn’t work because the heroes aren’t fun, it doesn’t seem to have much to say about the heroes besides very generic statements of heroes good. Heroes help people. Deku good. Deku saves. Deku punches. Deku wins.

So like can everyone collectively agree to just stop yelling at people who are emotionally invested in the villains, or even want to see them win? And like I think people should be allowed to post salt on their own blogs privately or even try to like comment on why they think certain fandom opinions are wrong, but gosh some of these posts guys they’re just like acting like a vast majority of readers are stupid. PEOPLE AREN”T STUPID! In fact I think most people are actually really good at interpreting stories because we are exposed to stories from a young age, and we think and feel in narrative, it’s just a lot of people don’t have the tools to either analyze stories or express what they find engaging. In fact if you think someone is wrong, or even think they have a vastly different take then you’re own, I think you should ask them why they think that way if you’re really interested in a conversation with them. Heck Thy and I usually agree about a lot of things, but sometimes I’ll make a pretty extreme statement, and they go “Oh, I don’t think that, or that’s wrong.” And then I just walk it back and try to explain my reasoning and then even if they’re not convinced to agree with me we just both move on.

People root for the villains because they’re underdogs. They’re sympathetic and flawed. They are also not stagnant as characters and we spend more time in their head. People aren’t stupid for being emotionally invested in them or reading the story wrong necessarily, so much as MHA has kind of failed to properly establish stakes and tension and make things difficult for the heroes like it should be, that’s just how engagement in a story works. There’s a reason that everyone hates the Yankees, but Cubs fans can stay fans for like a hundred years without a world series victory. I’m not even trying to directly insult anyone, or say that My Hero Academia is bad fiction, or not worth reading, I just wish people would chill a little bit and stop jumping on villain stans for liking the unhealthier or darker aspects of the characters.

Everyone’s like “I love my murderous meow meows covered in blood” and then you actually say the reason you like Shigaraki is because he’s heavily flawed, and at times a vengeful, hateful little shit and suddenly it’s a problem. Spinner’s a codependent enabler, yeah it’s called having a personality with flaws. He wouldn’t even have a character arc if he wasn’t those things, he’d just be a lizard. The thing that is deliberately written by a flaw, called out in the plot, and he gets punished for. God has punished him for his sins. Right now he’s just lying on the floor nearly brain dead. Also sometimes characters don’t have like, big, operatic flaws. Like as murderous and nasty as Dabi is there’s like a catharsis and power in the way he calls out his abusers. Sometimes people are annoying and needy. I feel like more ficitonal characters should be annoying and needy! Sometimes the most interesting characters, are characters you like would hate to be friends with in real life because they’d just be too high maintennance and put-upon.

I mean on top of that there are also stories where characters get worse, and only experience negative character development, and there are people who become engaged in those stories because of the dark turns it takes.

You could say that the fandom downplays the darker aspects of these characters, but like that’s what every fandom does. Heck, don’t Bakugo and Deku have an extremely unhealthy friendship for a long time, that fandom likes to downplay because they want to see them in a much healthier version of their relationship?

It’s also pretty much harmless. Beyond being frustrated with seeing an out of character version of a character being popularized, it doesn’t really harm people in any way that matters, you don’t have to yell at people for being wrong or even go out of your way to correct them. In fact, I think people having extremely different takes from the story that you do should be celebrated more. Isn’t it interesting two people can read the exact same events and interpret them in wildly different ways? Isn’t it weird, that we all have this collective agreed upon version of like “in character” and “Out of character” and yet people tend to either deviate or stay inside that framework. People also, tend to enjoy different aspects of the story. I don’t think the heroes are interesting at all, but if someone is a diehard hero stan and they like the heroes I’m glad they are having a fun time.

Fandom is supposed to be a conversation, and like, you shouldn’t go out of your way to correct the people you’re talking with, because it’s a much more fun conversation to ask why people think the way they do and try to understand that then to just tell them they’re wrong and end the conversation there. The reason I have this blog is not because I think I’m right and other people are wrong, I just like to talk to people about my thoughts on the comic books I’m reading, and then other people ask me why I think the things I do and I try to explain it.

Oh and by the way I’m not talking about people who disagree with me specifically. Like, Class1akids wrote a response to one of my posts. I think they have every right to disagree with me and they were pretty professional about the way they expressed their opinion, I follow them and like their takes because they’re good at stating the reasons behind what they think. I just didn’t interact with it because I was feeling lazy that day and didn’t want to type up a big response. I’m just in general asking people to chill and be nice and have fun.

#spooky speaks #this is highly critical of mha #but i honestly don't want to pick a fight with anyone #i just want to like #try to explain why i think the things i think?#like consider this a conversation rather than a debate #this is critically what i think is making the audience less engaged with MHa #This is why I think the League of Villains fans get so rabid and opinionated #mha critical #fandom critical

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deusvervewrites · 9 months

Note

Not to jump on the Eraserhead hate train (except I totally am, this shit is hilarious)

It really says something that, both in fics and small parts of canon, Izuku has done more to help 1-A with their emotional and quirk development than Aizawa has. Sure, main character syndrome and all, but how much has Eraser actually done in between doing the bare minimum as a teacher and sleeping under his desk?

And people will argue the exercises done during the summer camp arc as him helping with their quirks, but most of these are just things they either could have figured out on their own, already do, or just make sense if you look at their quirks and their drawbacks.

He also makes them run an eight hour march through the woods while being attacked by earth monsters and skipping their lunch, for some reason.

Hell, for most of them, the training is just "Use your Quirk as much as possible as quickly as possible."

I'm willing to be a bit lenient on Aizawa on this point because MHA's pacing is unrelenting and despite being a school we never see any classes or lessons, so it's probable that he's meant to be training them during time skips, but I do think it's very telling that when Midoriya flashes back to all the times Aizawa's been a good teacher... it's a panel invented for that flashback, and it's so generic you can't even tell what he's supposed to be doing, while Aizawa's flashback is instead to a very specific scene--"You can never be a Hero with that power."

Compare:

#asks #meta

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jazzthatonewriterchick · 9 months

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Here, Kitty, Kitty (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Aizawa x Black!Catgirl!Reader

Synopsis: In which you find yourself in the weirdest predicament after you’re scooped up and taken to a cat cafe after you decide to take the streets to fight some crime, and you’re adopted by your very anti-social and hot coworker Aizawa aka Eraserhead.

Story Warnings: Smutty smut, 18+ (MINORS GET AWAY), Swearing, Adult!Reader, Ear and Tail Stroking, Light Degradation, Spanking, Exhibitionism, Multiple Positions, Creampie, Unprotected PIV Sex, Facial, Scent Play, Collaring, Deepthroat, Cunnilingus, Begging, Edgeplay, Power Play, Rope Play/Shibari, Master Kink, Some Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Some Action

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: WE AT THE END! THANK YOU SO MUCH! -Jazz

Read on AO3 here!

Other Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-One. Twenty-Two. Twenty-Three. Twenty-Four. Twenty-Five.

*************

TWENTY-FIVE (FINAL).

Aizawa isn’t sure what makes him do it.

Maybe just a feeling. Maybe a hunch. Maybe something in his body that yearns for you.

But at some point in the night, when all is quiet, he stretches his arm out to wrap around your waist and pull you closer to his body. The moonlight cuts through the open window in his bedroom, shining a silvery light on his bed that splashes along his covers and illuminates the comforter.

He just about has a heart attack when he finds the space you last were completely empty. It is still warm and the comforter is folded upward as if you just got up not too long ago. He didn't even hear you, probably too deep in his orgasm-induced sleep to hear your footsteps or feel you rise from his bed. He knows he was initially holding you when you both drifted off to sleep earlier, letting you nuzzle him and wallow in his scent like the cutest kitty ever.

Immediately, the fog that sleep created in his mind disperses and he sits up in bed, staring at the empty spot where you once were. ‘She didn’t,’ he thinks, all thoughts in a panicked jumble. ‘She didn’t get up and leave without telling me. She couldn’t have.’

His eyes immediately cut across the bedroom towards the window that he notices is cracked open. As if someone climbed through it and forgot to close it again after they left. His heart leaps in fear, hoping this isn’t what he thinks it is. That you didn’t do what he thinks you’ve done.

He immediately jumps out of bed and hurries over to the window, the curtains billowing in the breeze and the moon like a silver dollar in the sky. He opens the window wider and out onto the lawn. All is still, not a single thing moving except for the swaying cherry blossom trees posted outside the dorms.

Aizawa grips the window so tight that his knuckles turn white. You left. You really went and left him after everything tonight. He slams the window shut with a loud bang that cuts through the silence, anger and embarrassment coursing through him.

How stupid could he be? ’I thought things were different,’ he thinks as he runs his hands through his hair. ‘I thought this was real! I thought that–‘

“Shouta?” Your voice drifts from the bedroom doorway, startling him. He turns, finding you standing there, wrapped in a towel. Your hair is dripping wet and you smell like the eucalyptus soap he keeps in his shower. In the moonlight that pours through his window, the silvery light illuminates your brown skin and eyes, making you appear as not a woman but a Goddess.

A Goddess that hasn’t left him yet.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, confused and slightly scared. Aizawa’s shoulders slump in relief at the sight of you. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“I went to hug you in bed and…never mind.” He stares down at his feet, ashamed of himself and of how he immediately jumped to the worse. Is he that obsessed with you? Has he become that accustomed to your presence?

‘Yes.’

You move farther into the bedroom, worry still written across your pretty face. “Sho…” Aizawa adverts his gaze again, even as you move closer to him and take his hands into yours. You don’t force him to speak or demand an explanation. You are silent, patiently waiting for him to speak when he is ready. “You were gone,” he finally confesses. “I thought that…you left me.”

He finally looks at you and the beauty of your eyes. He sees the heavens in them. “No,” you softy coo, moving to wrap your arms around him. “I just went to the bathroom to take a shower. I’m sorry that I worried you.” You’re so much littler than him, so you have to stand up on your tip toes to even reach his chest. You lean your head against it, your ear right on his heart.

“I’m never leaving you or Eri again,” you whisper. “This is real.”

Aizawa’s body melts into yours as he holds you close to him. Close enough to allow himself to breathe and believe that you and this are the real damn thing. He presses his hand to the back of your head and proceeds to stroke your cute little ears as your tail curls around his legs.

“I know,” he exhales.

THE END.

#shouta aizawa #shoutaaa #smutty smut #my fic shit #my works #here kitty kitty #bnha smut #black coded reader #black fanfic writer #black writers #aizawa x black!reader #shouta aizawa x black!reader

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bibibbon · 4 months

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What hori gets wrong: tropes

What I mean by this is that horikoshi really doesn't know how to pull off almost any trope right especially when it comes with certain characters specifically aizawa and bakugo.

SHOTA AIZAWA: we all know that shota is supposed to be 1A homeroom teacher that is just a horrible teacher point blank in canon but you can clearly tell that hori wasn't going for that and he was trying to use the strict teacher that is a big softie for his students trope but it turned out horribly. I guess the best way to describe this is that horikoshi was trying to make aizawa more like Kakashi from Naruto but just failed miserably. (I can go on and on about how he failed and why but I will give a few points)

Having him expell his past classes which causes them to have A PERMANENT BLACK MARK

His clear favouritism of certain students one not even in HIS OWN CLASS

His unnecessary hate towards izuku who he sees clearly struggling but doesn't help him AT ALL

The way he treats other characters specifically teachers and his friends rub me off the wrong way

KATSUKI BAKUGO: this is basically the trope following the typical angry and aggressive deuteragonist. The problem with it is that bakugo HAS NOTHING AND I MEAN NOTHING TO BE ANGRY ABOUT IT like I understand why saskue was moody and angry the guy had to see his whole family get killed by his own brother but what did bakugo go through to make him the way he is? Answer its nothing and it makes his character come off as seriously an obnoxious and ungrateful brat at best and a literal abuser at worst. Also not to mention that he is LITERALLY IZUKUS ABUSER. I know hoi said that he regrets making bakugo as mean as he was but HE DONE THAT SO GO THROUGH IT PROPERLY!!! Also hori never really makes bakugo develop and Iam talking personality wise as his REDEMPTION ARC WAS SO ATROCIOUS (I will talk about that later)

There are many more other tropes that horikoshi uses which he just completely ruins and destroys like:

The gag/comic relief characters that he treats so HORRIBLY FOR NO REASON

The pervert that never learns aka mineta what makes this worst is that it's literally Horis self insert (according from the things I have heard)

And more that I probably can't remember but yeah the point is hori can't write tropes and he can't really make them unique. But I guess this doesn't go for all of the tropes he uses but it is the majority

#bnha critical #mha critical #izuku deserves better #anti bakugou katsuki #anti shota aizawa #hori is a bad writer

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sleepyrouge · 2 years

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strange what desire will make foolish people do

word count: 12.8 k

pairing: aizawa shouta x reader

description: your dad dies suddenly and you've never gotten along with your mother. when she announces that she's marrying shouta aizawa, you come up with a plan to ruin their marriage and fall for him in the process.

content warnings: stepdad!aizawa, adult stepdaughter!reader, cheating/infidelity, age gap, jealousy, emotional manipulation, parental loss, grief, descriptions of anxiety attack, mentions of vomit/bile (non-sexual), unprotected sex, spit, oral sex (f!receiving), use of petnames (baby girl), alcohol consumption, recreational drug use, "pranks" that a health department definitely wouldn't approve of, nobody in this is a morally good person. dark content. 18+ mdni (and no blank blogs) or you will get blocked.

authors note: i ended up going balls to the wall and this was 30 pages in google docs :) anyways this is like a series of stepdad!aizawa and angst and it's not the best but it's my favorite thing that i've posted so far

title is from wicked game by chris isaak

songs important for the plot/vibes: wicked game by chris isaak, i don't wanna be an asshole anymore by the menzingers, derailed by the menzingers, karma police by radiohead, you've got to hide your love away by eddie vedder (this is a beatles anti account no i will not be engaging in discourse about it at this time)

You had never experienced a fall from grace. You had always been the pretty little girl-smart, sweet, happy-go-lucky, and the apple of her daddy’s eye. You were convinced you were an angel right here on earth. To your dear dad, there was nothing wrong that you could ever do. Any time you broke one of his loosely defined rules like “no staying out past nine” or “no bickering with your mother while I'm gone on this work trip,” all it took was batting your eyelashes and a noncommittal apology before you were back in his good graces. You were your daddy’s girl, through and through. It didn’t matter to either of you that you were spoiled rotten.

It was probably why your own mother never liked you much.

It started like any other growing pains-your mother and you would squabble over little things, like not wanting to hold her hand when she took you grocery shopping or preferring your dad giving you piggyback rides over her. Then, as you grew up, it morphed into crying in fitting rooms while your mom found new things about you to criticize which eventually led you to shutting her out as much as you could both physically and emotionally.

It was, and you entertained this thought quite frequently, why your darling father died. For three days straight, he complained of chest pains that wouldn’t let up and all your mother would offer to him was over-the-counter painkillers and only cursory words of comfort. She was too busy, or spiteful, to encourage him to go to the hospital. On the fourth morning of that fateful week, you woke up to your mother screaming and your dad not waking up no matter how you shook him. You barely remembered that day-it passed in a blur of paramedics and flowers and tears.

You could remember feeling anger. Anger that would probably last the rest of your life. Anger that would be known across the centuries. There was nothing else quite like it.

You losing your father so suddenly was the beginning of you having to learn how to fall from grace and clip your wings back. You had to learn how to be alone. You had done your research on the grieving process and no matter how long it had been, there came a point where you were bitter and angry and just stagnated there. In a moment of pure hopelessness, you rejected your offer of admission from the university your father had dreamed of you attending since you were a baby. Your mother blanched when you told her, no doubt angered by the fact that you’d be hanging around the house like a black cloud full time now instead of halfway across the country and out of her hair. So she gave you an ultimatum. Either attend classes at the local college or get a job. If you were going to stay at home, the least you could do was be productive. It was how she reasoned with you. You had half expected her to kick you out when she called you into the kitchen to talk but then you remembered-she had an image to uphold. How would it look to the other executives of her firm if she kicked her only daughter out onto the streets so soon after her father died?

Begrudgingly, you enrolled in classes at the local college. You only took just enough credit hours to be considered a full-time student and even then, you never put much effort into your work. It was a rarity if you ever turned any assignments in on time and even rarer still was your actually showing up to your classes. It was a joke to you when you would proudly display your essays with failing grades on the refrigerator. What was the point in trying anymore? Your hero-your real hero was dead and buried. There was no one around to appreciate your efforts anymore.

Halfway into your first semester of your laughable college career, your mother met Mr. Aizawa. Part-time teacher and hero. You didn’t really know how they had met and you didn’t care to know. You had scrunched up your nose in disgust when your mom waltzed into the living room on a Friday afternoon and announced that he would be coming over for dinner that same night. The thought of some man intruding in your father’s house and sitting where he had sat made your blood boil with rage but you kept a calm demeanor for the time being if only for your own sake.

It was a short time later that night that the doorbell rang and you resentfully went to answer it. For some reason, you expected the spitting image of your father to be standing there. Instead, you found a tall, slight man with black hair and a scar underneath his eye. From the way your mother described him, you expected someone more exceptional. You huffed and leaned against the front door, not moving to let him in. You both stood and appraised each other like two gunfighters getting ready for a duel. He broke first and shifted slightly and that was when you noticed the flowers in his hand.

“If you’re at the point where you’re coming over for dinner, you should know that my mom hates that type of flower.” You were nonchalant as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“They’re for you, actually.” Mr. Aizawa extended his arm out towards you and you regarded the small bouquet of daisies with disinterest. You didn’t want him to know that they were your favorite. Still, you took it. There was something strangely endearing about him already-but he didn’t have to know that.

“Wasting money on flowers for me isn’t gonna make me forget that you’re fucking my mom.” You were just trying to get a rise out of him. All you succeeded in making him do was quirk an eyebrow up at you and shove his hands deep in the pockets of his slacks. Mr. Aizawa was so…un-heroic. It almost made you laugh.

Your mother’s voice calling you from the kitchen interrupted your appraisal of the man before you. You opened the door wider and silently invited him in. You led him to the dining room where your mother was making up three plates for dinner. Something about seeing three plates at the table again made bile rise in your throat. You watched as your mother greeted Mr. Aizawa with a kiss on the cheek and a light hug. “Shouta,” she had called him warmly. The bile still swam in your throat.

You barely made it through dinner and the small talk without vomiting. You pushed your food around your plate without committing to eating a single bite. There was anxious energy in the air and you couldn’t quite put your finger on why until both your mother and Shouta stopped eating and kept glancing back and forth at each other. You tried to gauge what was going on from the corner of your eye, but it was your mother calling your name that finally pulled you into the fray.

“We have some news to share with you,” Your mother and Shouta were holding hands lightly across the table and you could tell that whatever was next to come out of your mother’s mouth would be far from good. “We’re getting married!”

The world fell out from underneath you. You had the edge of the chair that you sat on in a vice grip. Surely you hadn’t heard her correctly.

“What did you just say?” You couldn’t recognize your own voice and Shouta simply watched the scene unfold from his place at the table. He toyed with the handle of his fork.

“I said that we’re getting married! Isn’t that great news, angel?” Your mother was using the voice that she reserved for when strangers were around but she really wanted to scream at you. You grit your back molars together so hard that you could practically hear them squeaking.

“Don’t you ever, ever, call me that again. You know that dad was the only one that could use that name with me. Speaking of dad, couldn’t you wait until he was dead and buried for at least a few months longer before bringing another man into his house?” Shouta held his composure like a statue as you growled across the table at your mother. Something in you was satisfied that he wasn’t running to her aid. Still, static churned loudly in your ears as you waited for her response.

“Don’t I deserve to be happy?” She was embarrassed by the way you were acting.

“No.” The admission damned you.

You got up from where you sat and your mother followed suit. Shouta was the last to rise. You looked between the two of them and barked out a laugh to hide the sweltering tears that wanted to fall.

“You’re pathetic,” You whispered coolly into your mother’s ear as you pushed your way in between the couple on your way to the front door. You had to get out before the walls closed in on you, and they were closing in fast.

You were in such a rush to escape the scene that it wasn’t until you were outside stumbling down the sidewalk and sucking in air that you didn’t know you had been deprived of that you realized you weren’t wearing any shoes. You stopped and rubbed the bare skin of your feet against the cement and shivered at the way it tickled. At least it was something to focus on other than the betrayal. You weren’t really surprised that your mom pulled something like this, but it still stung. You didn’t buy into the whole “your dad would want your mom to be happy” sentiment that family friends poured into your ears in the weeks after your father’s death. What your father deserved was happiness. Not your mother and the stray cat she probably found at the train station. You chuckled out loud as you thought of Mr. Aizawa like that.

In all honesty, he didn’t look like he belonged anywhere and it was hard for you to believe that he split his time between being a teacher and a hero. Still, throughout dinner, there was something about his eyes that kept entrancing you. Maybe your mother was onto something with him.

“You’re gonna get a splinter in your foot if you keep it up.” The monotone voice came from behind you and you slowly turned to see your mother’s suitor situated against the darkness of the night. You glared at him.

“What do you care?” You had to remember that while Shouta wasn’t the enemy, he was still on the opposing team.

“I don’t care, but it seems kind of silly to go and get hurt just for the hell of it.” You lifted an eyebrow at his statement.

“That’s funny coming from a hero,” You stop to look him up and down. “Especially one with as many scars as you have.”

“With my work, at least there’s usually some kind of outcome at the end.” He steps over to perch on a bench underneath a short tree. You cross your arms over your chest and try not to shiver in the cool night air.

“Who’s to say I wasn’t headed towards my own outcome?” Shouta just stares at you. You can tell he’s willing to let you talk yourself in circles and you take the bait. “What outcome do you think you’re gonna have with my mother?”

“I think I’m gonna marry your mom and get a stepdaughter with a horrible attitude problem out of the deal.” Shouta smirks over at you after a second and it’s the first time in a while that you feel yourself crack a genuine smile.

“You think you’re funny.” You say, trying to fight the edges of your lips back down into a frown.

“Not funny, just observant.” His smile is wider now and it’s almost enough to make the weight on your heart not so heavy.

“Why did you ask my mom to marry you in the first place?”

“I didn’t ask her.” His eyes shift down to the ground and then back up to you.

“What do you mean?”

“She asked me on one of our dates. I thought it was respectable. I think your mother would be good to settle down with before I get too old.” You snort at his answer.

“You think it’s respectable to marry a widow whose husband has been dead less than a year with a maladjusted daughter thrown in the mix?”

“I could do without the maladjusted daughter.” There’s that mischievous grin again and you can feel something inside of you start to crack that you hadn’t felt at all since your father died. It makes you woozy.

“I could do without her too.”

The wedding is planned relatively quickly. It’s a small enough affair to be held in a backyard garden and the day is sunny despite the turmoil you feel raging inside of you. You had been awake since the early hours of the morning, switching between fuming that your mother was actually going through with getting married to someone you both hardly knew and twirling around in front of your bathroom mirror in the dress that you had picked out for the ceremony.

With your hair and makeup done for the first time in an eternity, you felt quite stunning. It was your vanity that led you to being more cruel than usual to your mom.

It wasn’t like she didn’t deserve it, but even the words slipping off of your tongue felt like they sliced right through the muscle. Your mother called your name harshly as you held her gaze in the big mirror in her bathroom but still, Shouta failed to truly come to her defense. You were satisfied with that. You thought momentarily that maybe he might have agreed with your statement that, “Oh mom, you look beautiful. It’s just a shame that you’re a cunt on the inside.”

You left your mother’s room to the sound of Shouta offering warm words of consolation, could have sworn you heard him offer, “It makes sense that she’s still angry.” You bit your tongue to hide your grin when you heard him fail to refute what you had said.

You made your way out into the garden covered in lavender and honeysuckle to mingle among the few guests who had shown up. You kept a crystal champagne glass in your hand as you greeted your cousins and extended family. You relished in introducing yourself as “Shouta’s stepdaughter” to the few of his work colleagues that were in attendance. The fleeting appreciative glances that they gave weren’t lost on you and slowly, the cogs of your mind started to mingle with the champagne you drank and as the ceremony started, you started to formulate a plan to ruin your mother’s new marriage. Set it on fire and watch it burn to ash. All it would take was breaking Shouta down and stealing him from her and if there was one thing you knew how to do, it was how to get your way.

After the ceremony came the reception and chairs were cleared away and tables were moved around to allow guests to dance and mingle with each other. You sat by yourself with a sour feeling hanging over your heart. Your mother had actually been cruel enough to get remarried. Their vows and the kiss they shared played over and over again as you sipped on your champagne. The anger was exhausting. Nothing would have been better in that moment than being able to run into the arms of your father and cry to him about everything that was going wrong.

There came a light tap on your shoulder. Slowly, you angled your head to see who was intruding on your bubble of misery. Shouta. He was well put-together, all slicked back hair and an uncharacteristic happy grin. You remembered your own vow from earlier and painted a matching toothy grin on your face. Your eyes flicked down to the hand that he held out towards you.

“Would you like to dance?” You looked at him in confusion.

“What, you know how to dance?”

“There are lots of things you don’t know about me.” Oh, you hoped there were. Still, he smiled pleasantly at you.

“Okay, one dance and you can list off all the things I don’t know about you. For vetting purposes.” Being sweet to him was all part of the plan.

“I think it’s a little too late for vetting now.” He replied as you placed your hand in his and stood up. His hand was large and warm compared to your own. You toyed with the urge to fully lace your fingers through his as he led you to the impromptu dance floor. The song playing was nice and mid-tempo and the lyrics were saying something schmaltzy about love. Shouta held you at a respectable arms distance as the two of you swayed to the music. You could hear little coos of adoration from the couples dancing around the two of you. It fuelled you as you looked up, wide-eyed, at Shouta. He opened his mouth for a second too long before closing it quickly and you cocked your head to the side before running a hand up his bicep. His forehead creased almost imperceptibly.

“What were you gonna say?” You used your most innocent voice, the one that always worked on your dad.

“I know you don’t like when it gets brought up, but uh, I feel really fortunate that your mom came into my life and I’m gonna try my best to be a good role model for you.” The soft smile on your face stuttered as you thought of him trying to replace your father. You managed to stay strong and fight through the feeling. You weren’t mad at Shouta, not really. Just cautious. You needed him on your side to get back at your mom. However, there was something saccharine and sugary and enthralling about the man that stood in front of you. He seemed like someone who could take all of your troubles away if you would let him. As Shouta spun you around to hide his own bashfulness, you decided that he was something you had to have regardless of the ruination of your mother’s relationship.

It was okay if you had a little crush on him as you went about your plan.

You had seven days to yourself; one hundred and sixty-eight hours to be exact. Time seemed to eke by as you split your time between decaying on the couch and finding inconsequential things around the house to make your mom’s life just a bit harder when she returned from her honeymoon. Hair removal cream found its way into her shampoo. Gently used mouthwash found its way back into the bottle. Files in her home office subtly found their way to new homes. All of your pranks were plausibly deniable, of course, and something told you that Shouta would come to your defense.

You were angry after all and you planned to play into that as much as you could with him. He wouldn’t want to rock the boat and get on your bad side so soon after getting married, would he? He didn’t seem like the type of person to want to stick his nose somewhere that it didn’t belong.

As you milled about the empty house on your vacation from your mother, you did more research on your new stepfather. Eraserhead. There wasn’t much to be found on him aside from some news clips with him in the background, long hair floating wildly around his head. At first, you couldn’t believe that the same man holding off hordes of villains was the same man who asked you to dance and vowed to be a good man only days prior. He didn’t seem all that remarkable in his everyday life, but perhaps that was how he wanted it. You kept thinking back to the way he bashfully smiled at you and even though you were alone, you felt blood rush to your cheeks.

Last night as you laid in bed, your mind drifted to what it might be like if he laid on top of you, in between your legs-taking care of you in a different way than what he had meant when you danced together. Your mind had raced as you imagined what his kisses must be like, what it might be like for him to hold you down and make you squirm. It was enough for you to get off, lips parted in a delicious whine as your own fingers pushed in and out of you. You didn’t feel any kind of shame. Shouta deserved better than your mother and even if he might not ever fully grasp that, the least that you could do was sow the seeds of discontent in his mind.

Your musings were interrupted by the sound of the front door unlocking and suitcases scraping past the threshold. You finished gathering a spoonful of peanut butter from the jar and turned to lean against the counter. So, your time alone has finally come to a close. Your mother would ascertain that there would be no more walking around half-naked in front of her new husband, but there was time for one last performance at least.

You brushed one edge of your oversized sweater off of your shoulder, leaving you clad in only your underwear and the cardigan that hung from your frame. You patiently listened to the scuffle of luggage being moved around as you popped the spoon of peanut butter into your mouth. Shouta appeared around the corner and threw his jacket over one of the dining room chairs. He took notice of you immediately.

“We made it back safely!” His words sounded incredibly lame and he never broke his gaze from your eyes. You batted your eyelashes prettily at him as you pulled the spoon from your mouth.

“I can see that.” You were amused at him attempting to make small talk as you deadpanned back at him.

“Our trip was actually really neat. I think your mom took some pictures if you wanna look at them sometime.” Shouta had barely gotten the sentence out of his mouth before your mother was entering the kitchen and her eyes had gone just about the size of Pluto. Your full name sprung from her lips in a shriek.

“You know better than that! Go put some clothes on!” Her words echoed in the now abject silence of the kitchen before you broke out in spiteful laughter and put your dirty spoon in the sink. As you went to leave, still laughing ruefully, you could see an embarrassed blush rising up Shouta’s neck and that had made it all worth it. Your laughter wound down to breathless chuckles as you made it to the hallway and as you paused for a minute to catch your breath, you listened as Shouta once again came to your defense to the tune of, “Honey, it’s okay. She just has to get used to a man being in the house again.”

It’s a relatively easy decision for you to start working out to have more in common with Shouta, even though you’re not very good at it. It made sense that he’d work out. He was a hero and surely the job would be made all the harder if he didn’t have the physique to back it up. At the very least, Shouta seemed like he worked out just enough to be strong for the job.

His morning schedule is still a mystery to you, so you start to wake up early religiously each morning to work out in the living room within full view of the kitchen. It just so happens that you’re there on your little yoga mat in your sports bra and athletic shorts struggling your way through your second set of squats, when you hear someone moving around in the kitchen. You move your head to the side just enough to see Aizawa appraising you from the counter. You keep up with your routine and try to fight the smirk on your face. You really give an earnest effort to your workout now but you stop when you hear his gruff morning voice.

“Your form is wrong.” You look over to where he stands, shirtless, pouring a cup of coffee. You’re out of breath and the sight doesn’t help. You stand up to your full height and face him.

“How is it wrong?” You try to hide your breathlessness and the way your tongue wants to stick to the roof of your mouth. He sets his mug on the edge of the counter and crosses over to you. His fingertips airily trace over your spine first. You almost jolt forward at the unexpected touch.

“Your back is too curved. Keep your shoulders back like this,” He tugs your shoulders back until you can feel your spine straighten out. “and your feet are too far apart.” He nudges your feet closer together by a few inches. You let him move you around like a ragdoll for a few moments more. Finally, he steps in front of you and considers your new form.

“Try it now and see how it feels.” He instructs and you feel incredibly goofy as you go through the motions, his measured gaze never leaving you. You have to admit, the squats feel better now and less like you’re fighting your own body. When you rise to your full height again, you stand with your legs together and cross your arms across your chest.

“That was better.” You confirm, trying to catch your breath. Shouta smiles gently at you and you want to scratch at your skin for the way it makes you feel.

“I’m going on a run in a little bit, you should come with me.” He invites and all you want to do is glug down a gallon of water and collapse onto the floor, but then you remember your solemn vow to yourself and you accept his invitation. It’s all in the name of ruining your mother’s happiness after all.

There wasn’t a lot you knew about heroes. When you were younger, you had a passionate interest in All Might, but so did every other kid in the country. There wasn’t anything special about that.

You were content enough to leave the life-saving to the specially trained heroes. You knew you didn’t have the resolve or compassion to make it as a hero yourself. Still, it was an occupation that you respected from afar. Now, it was something that you got to observe up close every time Shouta came wandering home. Most of his shifts were at night, after everyone was in bed. It was when the real villains could play. Regardless of everything, you admired his ability to train a new generation of heroes during the day and still go out to patrol the streets and rooftops most nights.

You wouldn’t admit it cognizantly to yourself, but you found yourself adapting to wake up whenever you would hear the front door click shut in the small hours of the morning. You would peel yourself out of bed and wrap a blanket around your shoulders as you crept to the end of your hallway to watch Shouta. His goggles would always be pushed up around his forehead. His stubble would always be more prominent than usual. The dim light from the stove in the kitchen always made his eyes look more exhausted than they probably were. From your hiding spot, you would watch him pour a glass of water and sip on it at the kitchen table until his head got too heavy for him to hold up. You would wait until you could hear his gentle snores wafting over to your ears and then you would tiptoe over like you were in church and wrap your blanket around his shoulders. You would work his goggles off of the crown of his head and sit them gently on the table next to him before running your fingers through his silky hair. Your stomach always tingled. You always wanted to duck your head down and place warm kisses on his hairline.

You never noticed his eyes, very much awake, on you as you retreated back to your room.

The thing with time is that it was supposed to heal wounds. Except for you it didn’t. You kept hoping every day that you would wake up and find that you would care a little bit less about the loss of your dad. Maybe even be able to compartmentalize it and get on with your life, get your grades up and transfer schools and move out on your own. Still, you woke up every morning with a deep seated hole in your chest. It was assuaged in little pieces by the family portraits hung around the house. A family picture of your first birthday here. A picture of you and your dad at an awards ceremony there. The little remnants of your dad around the house helped to serve as a reminder that you were still human, as hard as it was some days.

Until one day the pictures weren’t there anymore.

You tore into a blind rage, your mom and Shouta watching from the kitchen as you threw the television remote at the wall. A novel was flung all the way against the refrigerator in the kitchen. You screamed like your head was being torn off. It went on and on until you tired yourself out and sat on the couch to sob embarrassedly, face hidden in your hands.

You tuned into the whispers emanating from the kitchen. You caught onto your mother telling Shouta that it was time for you to move on, that you were an adult and needed to stop relying on your emotions to guide you. Your hands balled into fists. What did she know? Your head cleared only by a fraction when you heard Shouta answer that maybe taking down the pictures wasn’t the right way to go about things.

You sat on the couch crying for so long that you didn’t realize when the two of them left. You stood, as if on autopilot, and gathered your materials for the classes that you had that day and departed, not caring how you looked, but just needing to get out of the house.

When you returned that afternoon, the pictures of you and your dad sat in brand new frames on your bed.

It was no secret that you had more friends in high school. You were near the top of your class and always managed to stay on top of gossip and the happenings around school. You missed hanging out with your girlfriends when you were happy, before they all went off to the schools they had been dreaming of for years. You were jealous of them and felt spiteful anytime they would post pictures of the great times they were having on their social media. It didn’t matter that you self-imposed your own exile to wallow in your bitterness. You were envious that your friends were able to fool around with frat boys when all you seemed to attract were the bottom-of-the-barrell burnouts from your college. Not that you were much better than them these days.

You spent too many weekends holed up in the apartments of your new friends, smoking weed and watching them play video games just for something interesting to do. It almost made you want to turn your life back around and get back on track. Almost, but not quite.

So when you heard of a party happening one weekend, you jumped at the chance to go and rallied your friend group to go with you so you wouldn’t look like so much of a loser.

When you are ready to leave, Shouta and your mother are having an intimate date night in the dimly lit kitchen, sharing wine and giggling at each other over things you can’t make sense of. You wonder what they have in common. Your mother makes you sick to your stomach but a green claw of unbridled jealousy seizes at your chest when you hear the subtle bedroom lilt to Shouta’s voice and when you see how his hand reaches up to push a lock of hair off your mother’s shoulder. You shake off the feeling and enter the kitchen in earnest, dressed in a skimpy outfit that makes your mother’s eyes pop out of her head. You can tell without even looking at her from years of professionally annoying her. You completely ignore Shouta-don’t even give him a spare glance as you walk by the two on your way to the front door.

“Where are you going?” You hear your mother call as you reach for the door handle.

“Out with my friends,” Is all you offer up before you’re gone.

And the party isn’t bad, the music is loud and there’s enough alcohol to placate you for the evening. Even your friends seem like they’re having a good time as they mill about in the crowd. There are just enough people that you don’t know there for you to get comfortably drunk. It’s a good way for you to finally unwind, you think, as you step unsteadily into the messy kitchen. You’re trying to pour yourself another drink when a spindly hand comes out of nowhere and takes your cup from you and finishes preparing your drink.

“I was doing just fine pouring my own drink.” You pout at your friend that you arrived with from the opposite side of the counter and he circles around to stand next to you, too close for what you were comfortable with.

“Nice girls shouldn’t be pouring their own drinks.” He drawls and it was smooth, but you clench your teeth and take the cup from his hand.

“‘m not a nice girl.”

“Sure you are. You just spend a lot of time pretending that you aren’t.” His cool breath is ghosting next to your ear and you’re just the perfect amount out of your right mind to let your eyes close and let your head lean into the feeling. Your mind is a television screen and it’s flickering through what it would feel like to have Aizawa in the same position, doing the exact same thing.

“If I was such a nice girl, I wouldn’t be hanging out with you, huh?” You lower your voice just enough for only him to hear and then he’s laughing in your ear and his slight torso is pressing against your back and it’s all too easy for you to envision Shouta in his place. Your heart is thumping in your chest, probably so heavily that he can feel it clear through to his chest. Then his nose is pressing against the smooth skin of your neck and his lips are ghosting against you and you can’t help but grip the edge of the counter with your hand that isn’t holding your drink. “Fuck, do that again,” you whisper and press more into his hold, grinding back against the man as his tongue licks a stripe up your neck, hand cradling the opposite side of your head to give him more room. His teeth bite against your skin roughly and you can’t stop the sound that escapes your mouth. It only serves to egg him on, encouraging him to bite and suck at your neck more fervently. Your eyes are shut tight with images of Shouta absolutely ruining you running through your head. It’s not fair to your friend, not in the least, but you warned him that you weren’t a nice girl in the first place. You can feel him hard against your back and that’s enough to startle you out of your reverie. You push him off of you and you can’t turn to look him in the eye.

“I gotta go…find something else to do,” You parse out and walk on unsteady legs out of the kitchen and back into the music-filled living room. The dancing and drinking is still going heavy but your mood is somber now. You want to be home and you don’t care what it takes to get there as you finish your final drink in only a few sips and set it on the porch steps as you leave the house.

You weren’t very far from home and despite your level of intoxication, you knew you could get home without forgetting the way. You pulled off the heels that you wore and dangled them from your fingers as you trekked home in the dark. It was hard to keep your mind from your stepfather-the gentle way he cradled your mother’s face in his large palm while he smiled at her and the way he poured more wine for her without her having to ask. You clenched your jaw. That should have been you. Your mother didn’t deserve such a good thing-such a handsome thing. If you had any say in the matter, and by heaven, you would weasel your way in any way you could, Aizawa would be yours and her heart would be broken. It was only fair, he seemed to be the only thing capable of mending the shattered and torn pieces of your angry little heart. You were so fucked.

You were so fucked and lovesick thinking about him as you walked back into your house that you didn’t even register all the noise you were making as you bumped from wall to wall trying to get back to your bedroom. Maybe you were more drunk than you originally thought. You heard Shouta’s voice calling your name from just outside of your cracked bedroom door what felt like seconds after you entered. All you could do was stand there and sway as he watched you from the doorway.

He was clad in flannel pajama pants and nothing else and his hair was messier than usual and you frowned at the sight. It was obvious. He was too relaxed. He had fucked your mother at some point after you left and that made dread settle into your stomach. You wanted to vomit. Shouta was your territory, didn’t she know? Still, you grinned at him like a child trying to get out of trouble. He appraised you, looking you up and down, and you wanted there to be more to his gaze than there was.

“You’re drunk.” It was a statement of fact and it rolled off his tongue weightlessly. You weren’t in trouble.

“I don’t think I am,” You licked your lips and over pronounced every syllable. Your tongue was liquid in your mouth. He barked out an amiable laugh and stepped into your room proper. You were glued to the spot as your heart started to race not for the first time that night.

“Sit down, I’ll get your pajamas.” Aizawa’s warm hand was on your upper arm and guided you to sit down on the edge of your bed. Your skin prickled in his grasp as you let him guide you. Your entire body felt like you were a past-done spaghetti noodle.

“They’re in the top drawer,” You offered up as he looked, a little lost, around your room. You bit the tip of your tongue in between your front teeth to stop from grinning too hard. You liked him taking care of you.

You watched as he dug through your dresser and grabbed a big t-shirt and pair of shorts. He folded the articles neatly in his hands and crossed the room back to your bedside where he placed the pajamas in your lap. You were about to open your mouth to thank him when he took your chin into two of his fingers and pulled your head to the side gently. Your skin buzzed underneath his touch as he ran the tip of his rough pointer finger over the bruise on your neck that you had pretended Shouta had left there in the first place.

“You’ve been lettin’ boys kiss on you?” He questions teasingly and your stomach clenches so hard you almost can’t reply.

“Uh, not here,” you swipe your thumb across your bottom lip, “just there.” The reply made sense in your head. You nod your head against the finger on your neck.

“Well, at least you’re having fun.” Aizawa laughs in earnest, if a little awkwardly, and then his touch is gone from your skin.

“Not really,” You admit and start to take note of how the room is spinning but you take pains to keep from slurring your words. Shouta raises up an eyebrow at you.

“Would rather be kissing boys properly, y’know?” There’s a nervous titter between the two of you.

“Okay,” he chuckles out, hand rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck. “Just don’t let your mom see.” You feel compelled by some force of nature to keep talking despite the voice in the back of your head screaming at you to just shut up and go to sleep.

“Would you kiss me?” The words slither out of your mouth as if they were lava and the room isn’t spinning anymore, but upending itself over and over again in the corner of your vision as you watch a stricken look cross over Aizawa’s face.

“I’m your stepdad and I think you need to remember that, baby girl.” He instructs and you hate the way that he sounds like he’s talking to a wounded animal that’s been stuck in a trap.

“But if you weren’t? What if I was just…somebody that you knew?”

“I think you need to put on your pajamas and go to sleep before you talk yourself into hurting your own feelings.” Your eyes felt watery and weak. You felt bile rising in your throat and started to panic.

“Fuck, you’re gonna throw up, aren’t you?” Aizawa registered the seasick look on your face and was hoisting you up by your arms and hauling you into the bathroom before you could even nod your head in confirmation. It was a good thing, at least, that he was in his right mind, because you unleashed the contents of your stomach into the toilet not even a second after your knees connected sharply with the tile of the floor. For once, you were thankful for throwing up, because then you could blame the tears welling out of the corners of your eyes on that.

The shit-faced debacle passed blessedly without much mention. You and Shouta went about your daily lives without bringing up how he held your hair back for you and sat next to you while you cried about missing your dad into the toilet seat. Somehow, even through you blubbering mindlessly about how much your dead dad meant to you, you didn’t let anything slip about your plan to ruin your mother’s marriage or your stupid infatuation with the man himself.

For the past week, you had regarded each other cordially from opposite sides of whatever room you were in together. You would nod in acknowledgement of each other when you poured coffee at the same time in the morning or when you were coming back from studying and he was headed out on some hero’s errand that you really didn’t care about enough to understand. But now, it was the weekend and you were holed up in your room with a joint and a half-done essay to prevent a repeat of last Friday night.

Loud music and smoke filled your room as you sat on the floor with your laptop and tried to make sense of the argument you were making on paper. For the first time in your college career, you were trying to apply yourself. Secretly, you enjoyed the warm smile that Shouta had given you earlier in the week when you had hung a paper with a passing grade scribbled at the top on the refrigerator. You wanted a repeat performance.

The steady clacking of your nails against laptop keys was interrupted by a knock at your door. You turned your music down slightly and tapped the ash off of your joint as you called for whoever was knocking to come in. Your door swung open quickly and Shouta propped himself against the door frame. You turned your music down lower.

“What are you doing at home on a Saturday night listening to “Karma Police” all by yourself?” He questioned and you rubbed your dry eyes.

“I have a dead dad. I’m entitled to my sadness.” You deadpanned and laughed after a second. The melodrama hadn’t started to get old yet.

“I mean…that’ll do it.” You raised your eyebrows up at him, wondering why he had come to your room in the first place. Shouta cleared his throat and stepped into your room before sitting down on the floor like you were. “You sure you don’t wanna go out and hang out with people your own age?” He crosses his legs as you take one last pull off of your joint before squishing it out on the ashtray next to your knee.

“I was trying to finish this paper, actually.”

“Oh yeah? What’s it on?” You half expected Shouta to say something about the smoke.

“Heroes and ethics or something like that.”

“And you didn’t want my opinion?”

“I like doing things on my own.”

“So you don’t wanna watch a movie with me, then?” There’s that mischievous smile on his face again that makes your heart feel like a galloping horse.

“You could ask my mom.”

“She’s out at a dinner.” You type up one last sentence and hum in acknowledgement of his statement.

“What kind of old man movie do you want me to watch with you?”

“Terminator.”

“Properly retro.” You affirm, closing the lid of your laptop and standing up. “Let’s go, then.” You hold out your hand to Shouta and help him up from the floor. You half expect to hear his knees pop in their sockets as he stands. You lead the way into the living room and sit down on the couch while he pulls up the movie with the television remote. He settles on the couch opposite from you. You’re startled by the overwhelming want to lean your head against his t-shirt clad chest.

“Have you ever thought about getting a cat?” He asks casually as the opening credits roll, remote clinking down onto the coffee table.

“Mom’s not a big cat person.” There’s a quick pause. “I used to have one a long time ago. Dad and I found it behind a trash can. I named it All Might.” Shouta snorted a laugh at your admission.

“Why’d you name that poor cat All Might?” He pulled a throw blanket down from the back of the couch and fluffed it over his legs. You stared at the simple action. Shouta clocks you from the corner of his eye but you don’t realize.

“I had a crush on All Might when I was little.” You were very serious.

“That’s horrific.”

“Hey, there are lots of things you don’t know about me.” You recalled the conversation the two of you had while you danced at the wedding.

“I know a little bit more about you after peeling you off the bathroom floor last weekend.” Your gaze breaks from his in embarrassment. “You know you can talk to me about missing your dad, right? I can try my best to understand even though I’m not really too good at this whole bonding thing.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you in an attempt to lighten the mood back up. “I want to be a good person for you.” You give him an appreciative glance but can’t figure out how to reply due to the raw emotion seizing your chest. “One good thing did come out of the whole ordeal though.” Shouta continued on and you focused on the deep timbre of his voice to ground yourself.

“What’s that?” It came out in a whisper.

“I don’t have to worry about you getting kidnapped because when you don’t want to move, you don’t. I had the worst time trying to get you into bed.” As you felt your face heat up, you wondered if he caught onto the double meaning as well.

“I’m sorry about all of that.”

“It’s okay, baby girl. It’s not the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.” He lifted up the corner of the throw blanket that was closest to you and motioned you over with a tilt of his head. Surely, he just saw you shivering. He had no ulterior motives. You were the only one with those.

You scooted over apprehensively against the material of the couch until your side rested gently against Shouta’s and he let the blanket float down over the two of you. “It’s cold in here, isn’t it?” You could only nod your head in agreement as the right side of your body felt like it was being engulfed in blue flames.

Your favorite times lately were spent getting to know Shouta better. Getting to know the person he was away from the house, when he was Aizawa-sensei or Eraserhead. You were realizing that he had many different faces, but at the heart of it all, Shouta was really just a person who tried hard to do the right thing. If you were a person that tried to do the right thing like he did, you wouldn’t still be trying to ruin your mother’s marriage. If you were smart, you would have realized that your plan would hurt Shouta as well.

But you weren’t really a common sense girl. Or a nice girl. You just wanted revenge for your devastated heart.

And certainly, Shouta falling in love with you the way you were starting to fall for him wouldn’t hurt either.

He offered to take you to dinner and show you some of his patrol routes since you had been peppering your interest about his job into conversation more fervently lately. He called it important bonding. Your mother was out on work business again and you thought Shouta might have just been lonely.

You had a fantastic time walking through the brightly lit streets with him. He was still dressed in all black and his back was hunched forward like he was unimpressed, but something told you Shouta was having a good time. Every now and then, he would point out an alleyway or a building where he apprehended a villain. It filled you with a weird sort of pride to know that he did his job so well. He seemed so fucking…morally upstanding that it made you want to scream.

“You gettin’ hungry?” His measured tone broke you out of your thoughts. You nodded up at him and hoped that the smile you gave him was pretty enough, better than your mother’s at least. “I’ll show you this cool place I eat at sometimes.” Shouta grins. You dig your fingernails into your palm.

You follow him to a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant. It’s run by an older couple that seem to know him well. You end up ordering the same thing he does and you watch as Shouta plays with his wedding ring absent-mindedly while he takes in his surroundings. You can’t figure out how to start a conversation. You tap the bottoms of your shoes against the linoleum floor and he looks at you like he’s about to say something but is interrupted by the little old lady bringing over your food.

“Is this your new wife, Eraser?” The lady asks as she places his plate in front of him. Her question is innocent but you choke on your spit and watch as vermillion creeps up Shouta’s neck.

“This is my stepdaughter,” he corrects, recovering easily enough and you smile politely at the lady. She smiles back warmly, ducking her head a little bit in consolation for her mistake.

“Forgive me. She’s absolutely beautiful though.”

“Thank you, I know.” It’s your turn for blood to rush to your head. You have to tell yourself over and over again not to read anything into it as the old lady walks away. There’s a charged silence over the table as the two of you focus too hard on your food. You’re the first to break the awkward air.

“I’m thinking about moving out.” It’s abrupt and you don’t realize at first what you’ve really said. Shouta’s eyes widened.

“What do you mean?” He takes a bite of his food.

“I mean, if I keep my grades up, I can still transfer into the university I was originally supposed to go to. I’m planning on summer classes too.” You watch him chew his food as you move your own around the plate.

“I think that’s a great goal to have if you can keep your grades up. I can help you study for your exams if you’d like.” He smiles warmly at you and you feel okay again.

“I’d really like that, Shouta.” You feel the urge to stuff your mouth with food so you aren’t encumbered by the emotions that you’re feeling. Silence settles again over the table. You’re taking a sip of water as you notice his mouth open and close a few times, like he can’t figure out what it is that he wants to say.

“What is it?”

“Nothing, it’s just…adult stuff.” He fiddles with his wedding ring again.

“I’m an adult.”

“I know but I…I shouldn’t talk to you about it.” Shouta looks down at his plate. You nudge his foot with your own underneath the table.

“Come on…we’re bonding, right?” You’re being too sweet, too calculated, but you really do want to know what’s bothering him.

“Your mom is just really difficult sometimes.” He blurts out and you almost laugh out loud but keep up your supportive front for his sake.

“She can definitely be a handful. I was just lucky to have my dad around to help soften the edges for a while.” Your food stands all but forgotten now. You watch as Shouta’s fingers drum on the table just centimeters away from your own. Gently, you slide your hand closer so that your fingertips are touching but you play it off like you don’t notice.

“I think maybe I’m just not used to relationships like this one. Or maybe I just need to finish adjusting. I don’t know.”

“Do you still love my mom?” Your senses are heightened as you speak, but you’re interrupted by the old woman bringing over the bill. Shouta hands over his card and pretends like he never heard your question. He puts his card back in his wallet and slides out of the booth. You still look at him expectantly but he maintains his innocence.

“C’mon, there’s an old record store on this side of town that I want to show you.” He smiles, tight-lipped, and you scoot out of the booth. You wonder why he ignores the question. You want a solid answer why he always runs to your defense (aside from the answer you’ve deluded yourself into thinking is the truth) but you don’t think you’ll be privy to that information tonight. You follow him out onto the sidewalk. You like how you and Shouta are absorbed into the nighttime crowd like any other couple. You don’t talk to each other for fear that your conversation will be lost among the bustle of the people.

Shouta walks with purpose, but never so quickly that you can’t keep up with him. In any case, it would be hard for you to lose him due to his stature. Sometimes you forget how tall he is with the way he hunches over and the way he carries himself. You like the way the neon of the street signs illuminates the sharp edge of his nose. You find yourself staring at the wisps of long, inky hair that frame his face. He was so, so beautiful in a meek way and it’s extremely easy for you to get lost in it. It’s what leads you to almost bumping into his shoulder as he comes to a stop. A giggle, a real giggle bubbles out of his mouth and you feel the final nail being driven into your coffin. You needed him. Like air, like water. He was more necessary to you than he was to your mother. All it would take was a single move. A single move. You could persuade him easily enough that you were a better answer to his question.

“You ready to check it out?” He nods toward the door and starts to push inside without truly waiting for your answer. You try to shake off the millions of emotions that are running through your body.

Inside the record store is warm and smells like old books. You break away from Shouta for the moment and start to paw through the racks of records by yourself. You pick up some of the titles and flip them around to the back, trying to read the writing on the back. It’s hard to concentrate. Your mind keeps stagnating on Shouta’s words and his proximity to you. He’s flipping through the old records the same as you are and you wonder if he can feel your eyes flicking over to him every so often.

He holds one record in his hand but you can’t quite make out what it is. You watch as he looks through one more rack of records before going to the cashier and making his purchase. It gets slid into a brown paper bag with the name of the store stamped on the front. You make your way over to Shouta.

“I’m ready if you are,” He smiles warmly at you and you nod your head, in so very deep. You follow him back out onto the street. He turns to face you quickly. “Here. It’s something to keep you entitled to your sadness.” There’s a barely concealed twinkle in his eye. You take what he holds out with a grin. You pull the record out of the bag.

“You’re so corny.” You laugh, but are touched that he remembered that you listen to Radiohead as he places OK Computer in your hands.

“It comes with the territory.” He speaks easily but nothing gets said on the walk back home.

Your heart is in danger of pounding out of your chest by the time that you reach the front door. You want to kiss him, to make a move so badly that it’s the only thing that you can think about. Everything that he’s done has to mean something, right? Desperately, you hoped that it did as your fingers fiddled anxiously in front of you. You follow Shouta inside and he walks you to your room like a gentleman.

“Don’t forget this.” Shouta places the record he bought for you into your hands as you moved to open the door to your bedroom. There’s harsh electricity running through your veins that’s bordering on catastrophic. You smile at him as gratefully as you can, nodding your head in thanks as you turn back towards your door. This time, you’re able to get the door completely open and take a few steps before you hear him call your name and apologize in a stage whisper. You fight the desperate feeling in your chest as you feel him tug on your arm roughly and pull you into his hard chest. OK Computer clatters to the floor. It doesn’t matter.

Calloused hands are on the side of your face and then his lips are melting against yours needily. Shouta pulls back just as quickly as he leaned forward but his palms are still on your cheeks. He’s looking at you levelly, letting you make the next decision like it’s a game of chess. Your head feels like it’s full of helium. You watch your hands move from outside of your body as they come to tangle around his neck. You make your play and kiss him back on your tiptoes. The surprise he feels is tangible. The new kiss holds the same probing energy but then expands into something wetter and needier-yet still remains sickeningly sweet. You suck his lower lip into your mouth and sigh in the back of your throat when his hands wander down the curves of your torso to your hips. Shouta breaks the kiss, a string of saliva briefly connecting you for a moment longer and he exhales hard as he lays his forehead against yours. You can’t help but get lost in his permanently bloodshot eyes.

“I-i crossed a line. I’m going to cross a line.” Despite his words, he tugs you closer to him until your bodies are flush with each other. Shame clouds his features and you can’t stand that. Not when you created the perfect storm for this to happen. You play with the shorter hairs at the base of his neck.

“You’re not alone, okay? We’ll cross the line together.” You whisper so reverently that at first you think Shouta might not have heard you, but then you hear a strangled groan come out of his mouth and he’s pushing you backwards until you’re sitting on your bed, surrounded by soft blankets and engulfed in the scent of his mellow cologne. He starts to lean over you and you crane your neck to look over his shoulder dubiously at the door that’s standing almost wide open. It’s the only thing stopping your room from being a sanctuary. He follows your line of sight and turns back around with fiery eyes as if to say, “just be quiet.” You swallow thickly and lean back on your elbows. Shouta crawls up your body, blanketing you nimbly, and then he’s kissing you breathlessly again. You do your best to keep up with him but there isn’t a sense of yours that he isn’t absolutely steamrolling right over. His overwhelmingly hot hands travel up between your soft thighs and push your skirt up around your hips. You can’t stop the pleased sound that escapes from your mouth.

“Fuck, you sound even prettier than I imagined.” He starts kissing down your jaw and sucking at your neck. You hold his head against you and bite on your tongue to stop the salacious moans that are fighting hard to make their way into the heavy air.

“You imagined me?” You whispered, shocked, into his ear. He grins up at you devilishly.

“What the hell did you think I was gonna do, baby girl?” He’s quiet, oh so quiet, but you want to scream so loud that it breaks glass. He kisses you again and you rub your thighs together. His kisses feel better than anything you’ve ever had before. You’re drunk on it. Shouta’s long index finger pulls your bottom lip down. You follow his lead and your mouth hangs open. You watch through hazy eyes as his face hovers over yours and his lips purse. A thick glob of spit falls from between his lips and lands on yours. You feel slick gathering between your legs. His spit is licked off of your lips slowly and you open your mouth again. More. You’ve never seen his eyes so dark as he repeats the action and grinds his rock-hard cock against you.

Your legs wrap around his waist and with your free hand, you guide one of his hands down between your legs. His fingers run over the cotton that covers your slit and you can feel it starting to stick to you uncomfortably. At this point, you don’t care that this is something that neither of you should be encouraging. You’ve already got the feeling that you’ve won, you’re finally getting the vengeance you seek against your mother.

Shouta starts to pull your panties down and doesn’t stop until you’re completely free of them. He kneels on the floor and pulls you closer to his face by your thighs. His fingers knead into the skin there and you can feel his breath against your wet core. An obscene moan gets lost in the air and Shouta shoots a stern glance at you. Sorry, you mouth from where you watch perched on your elbows but you don’t really mean it.

He rubs two of his fingers against your core and you keen against the touch, not expecting it to feel as good as it did. Your mouth lolls open and you try not to squirm underneath the intensity of Shouta’s gaze. He focuses against your clit, slowly rubbing circles around it. You grind your hips down into the feeling and he bites gently into the soft skin of your thighs as you fall apart too quickly on his fingers. Your arms turn to jelly and you slide down until your back is against the comforter. Eyes flutter shut as you get lost in ecstasy.

You jolt back up again when you feel Shouta’s fingers get replaced with his mouth. He laps at your wet cunt like he’s not good for anything else and you feel him pull away just long enough to let another glob of spit fall onto your already soaked entrance. Heat rises through your body when you feel him push a finger inside of you with ease because of how worked up he has you. He curls his finger and watches with a silent chuckle how you have to slap your hand over your mouth to keep your sounds inside.

“Cute,” he mumbles against your thigh and then you’re tugging at the roots of his hair, beckoning him on top of you again. You’re so blindsided by pleasure that you don’t care how you look as you paw his shirt off and rake your fingers through the dark hair on his chest. You babble mindlessly against his ear. It makes no matter to you how you sound.

You start trying to undo the button of his pants.

“So fuckin’ needy for me, huh? My needy girl.” He whispers hotly against the side of your neck and all you can do is nod your head at him and kiss him timidly. The tip of his cock rubbed through your folds and there really was no chance of ever going back.

“Please,” the request rolls off of your tongue and knocks against Shouta’s lips. He covers your lips with his own again and slowly presses into you. You squeeze your eyes shut at the uncomfortable feeling to begin with. He’s so big and all-encompassing that it’s almost hard to breathe. Shouta pants into the saliva-soaked kiss and bites at your bottom lip as his hips rock slowly against yours. Your fingernails dig into his shoulders at the sensation and you tighten your legs around his waist.

He grinds his hips against yours until he’s fully seated inside of you. He breaks away from the kiss momentarily to look at you, the tiny little tears pooling at the corners of your eyes from the overwhelming emotion. He runs his thumb through the tears and you bury your nose into the crook of his neck.

“Please,” you mutter again, embarrassed, into the fine sheen of sweat that coats his neck. Shouta rocks into you again and again slowly and deeply and you swear you can see galaxies forming in your field of vision. The heavy feeling of his cock inside of you is enough to have you arching your back into his chest and he fucks your harder and rougher until your grip on him is just at the point of leaving marks. You feel the muscles in your stomach turn to jelly and Shouta focuses his thrusts upward, right into your tummy. You whine against his neck. Your pussy clenches hard around him. He pulls your head away from his neck and you flop back against the mattress.

“Are you gonna cum for me?” He whispers lowly and through hazy eyes, you see a look in his eyes that you’ve seen mirrored in your own. It tips you closer to the edge. You nod your head. “Look at me, baby girl.” He requests and then he’s slapping his hand quickly over your mouth to stop you from being too loud as you reach ecstasy. You don’t know how many more times he rocks his hips into yours before he’s spilling inside of you and you can’t stop your eyes from rolling back into your head. His forehead slumps against your own and there’s a drunken grin on both of your faces as he pulls his softening cock out of you.

He maneuvers the both of you around until you’re both laying on your sides, his chest pressed against your back. You drift off to sleep with Shouta’s fingers running through your hair and feeling like you have just won a long battle.

It had been two weeks since you slept with Shouta. The next morning, in the wee hours, you had woken up in your bed alone but snuck around to give him a quick kiss before he left. He had held you by the waist and cradled your head against his when you kissed him by the front door. He had smiled at you and kissed your forehead, too.

It had been a full week since when he pushed you away in the kitchen and had hissed about how what the two of you had done was wrong. Your mother came in the kitchen while you were speechless and attempting to wipe the stricken look off of your face. You glared at Shouta from across the room while she announced a long work trip that she would be taking at the end of the week.

The night before her trip came and your mother organized an elaborate “family” dinner. You invited the boy that had left hickies on your neck over and after dinner, fucked him loud enough in your bedroom for Shouta and your mother to hear on their end of the house. Being a nuisance and vengeance were what you were good at.

The morning after, your mother left wordlessly on her week-and-a-half work trip. When you did leave your room, you and Shouta avoided each other like two black clouds caught up in a windstorm. You couldn’t focus on anything. Not homework, not shows, not the music coming through your headphones. Silently, you had resolved to curl up in a ball on your bed and let tears run from your eyes freely over the predicament you were in. At this point, even if your dad were still alive, you weren’t sure if he would have good enough advice to help you through this.

It hurt.

It hurt listening through the thin walls to Shouta cluttering around the house like nothing was wrong. It hurt how he only looked at you in passing as he put the leftovers from dinner away as you walked your hookup to the door the previous night. Didn’t he know that he was the reason you were tearing yourself apart? No, that wasn’t exactly fair.

A violent sob leapt out of your throat and you slapped your hand over your mouth to cover up your residual noises. You were the reason things had gotten so out of hand. You were almost completely blinded by your need to ruin your mother’s relationship that you hadn’t realized that you were sliding down a slippery slope for Shouta. Maybe you were as bad as your mother thought you were.

Your head was clogging up with the frequency of your tears now and it was hard for you to breathe. You couldn’t slow your mind down enough to regulate your breathing and your breaths kept coming out in ragged little pants. You sat up in a frenzy, unable to catch your breath. The disappointed look on Shouta’s face the previous night kept flashing though your head. You were lightheaded as you stood and stumbled on wobbly knees through your bedroom door and out into the living room. Tears coated your eyelashes together but through the blurriness, you could see Shouta sitting on the couch. He sat up slowly, on guard, unsure of where the line was anymore.

“What’s wrong?” His tone was neutral and that was enough to send you into a fresh wave of sobs and panic as your nose was so stuffy now that you couldn’t get a proper breath. You wanted to yell but it came out strangled. You wiped brashly at your face with the sleeve of your shirt and started to wring your hands together anxiously.

“C’mon, what’s wrong?” Shouta had stood and was standing a polite distance away from you now. There was no arm held out to you in consolation but his voice had taken on a tone that was more suited for talking to a dying animal. You felt like one just then.

“I’m-I’m sorry,” You managed to get out through hiccups. Pitifully, you watched the way that Shouta’s shoulders slumped. Still, you sobbed as he stayed quiet. Your knees wobbled perilously and before you could unceremoniously fall to the ground, you lowered yourself to the hardwood in a heap of limbs with your face buried in your hands. For a fleeting second, you wondered if you could die from crying too hard.

You felt a warm hand on your shoulder. Shouta’s hand. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

“You’re gonna make yourself throw up if you keep crying this hard.” It was nothing but the obvious. His hand squeezed down soothingly on your skin.

“Don’t care,” You muttered stuffily against your palms and curled tighter against yourself. “‘I think I’m gonna die.” Shouta’s fingers worked their way under your chin and yanked your head up more roughly than he had intended and through your puffy eyes, you saw the face of a man wracking his brain to try and remember if there was ever a time in his thirty-odd years where he had successfully used his Erasure to stop a panic-induced crying fit.

“You’re not gonna die.” There’s an annoyed edge to his voice. It makes you cry harder. He heaves out a world-weary sigh and pulls you into his chest. You don’t want his scent to be comforting but it’s exactly what you need at that moment.

“‘m sorry. ‘m just so sorry, Shouta. I didn’t wan-wanna fuck him. Just wanted to make you mad.” Getting the words out feels like running a marathon.

“I know, baby girl. I know.” There’s a pause before he speaks and he warms a little, melting into the sad jumble of your body. You close your eyes and try to focus on that, as if there was any way to repair this.

“Do you know how miserable it is being in love with you?” You look at him with puffy eyes. If your words affect him, he gives nothing away. But your words are the truth. There was only one thing in your life that hurt more than his rejection. His arms around you tighten and then fall away. You wipe your eyes again but it still does no good.

“It doesn’t make sense for you to be in love with me.” He picks at his nails.

“I don’t care. I am.”

“I treated you badly.”

“If everyone stopped loving the people that mistreated them, then the world would be an awfully loveless place.” It’s almost comical how your voice sounds with your nose stopped up.

“That’s not a logical…that’s a childish way of looking at things.”

“Tell me you don’t love me back.” Your fingers drum on the floor and Shouta’s eyes narrow at you.

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Why can’t you do that?”

“Because you know I fell for the wrong woman. You know I married the wrong one.” Your heart stops.

“I don’t know that,” there’s a pause. “You’re saying that you love me too.”

“I’m saying that I married your mom and fell for you and it’s the most illogical thing I’ve ever done.”

“Tell me that you love me and that I’m better than her and I’ll be okay.” You know you’re pushing him and you should just be grateful that he’s speaking to you again. He sighs deeply, guiltily.

“I love you too. More than your mother. I’ll have a talk with her when she gets back from her trip.”

You grin pitifully at him. You always, always, got what you wanted.

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