Tumgik
#shouta x you
dabisbratz · 5 months
Text
𝒮𝒲𝐸𝐸𝒯 𝒯𝒪𝒪𝒯𝐻 — shouta aizawa x male reader
Tumblr media Tumblr media
w.c: 12.4k
warning: dbf!shouta, age gap, (sho in his early 40s, reader is 23), bottom!reader, daddy kink, breeding kink, dirty talk, feminization, mentions of gettin ‘knocked up’ regardless of anatomy, sneaking around, creampie, unprotected sex ( wear condoms ! ), praise/degradation, brat!reader, jealousy, mutual teasing, reader has an oral fixation, improper use of lollipops, mentions of exhibitionism, blowjobs, cumming untouched/hands free orgasm, ‘ taboo ’
sonny says..: not proof read, msorry !! did lotsa jumpin around while writin this. . . n five months later !! she’s all done !! ໒꒰ྀི⸝⸝T ˘ T⸝⸝꒱ྀི১ ♡ m’a lil rusty, forgive me !!
Tumblr media
You’re back home for the summer.
Well— not entirely. You’re back at your family’s summer house for the season. Gifted from your grandparents, it teeters at the beginning of a beach, crystal sands and clear, blue waters that stretch out into the horizon. You’ve been looking forward to it since you’d graduated, even if it did come with a set of overbearing parents and a sinful amount of sunscreen.
The air is hot and thick, sticking uncomfortably to your skin through the windshield as you watch an everlasting stretch of greenery and trees pass you by. The road has stretched on for miles, every upcoming exit and street sign blending into one as each hour passes by. You’ve got the company of staticky radio stations and news outlets, spewing something nonsensical about sports, politics, car insurance. . . But it’s the trip you enjoy more than the destination. Traffic and all, you prefer it over the muggy air and parental scolding. Though, the beach is nice. . .
“You’re sure you’re taking the right route?” It’s your mother speaking, her voice crackling through the speakers of your car. You’re sure she’d smack you upside the head for the aggressive roll of your eyes in her. . . general direction, but she’s not exactly within eye-contact distance. Not for another five minutes, anyway.
“I’ve been doing this for years,” You have— it’s true. Though you’re only twenty-two, you’d driven this distance since you’d left for college. There’s a sound akin to the sucking of teeth through the radio, and you have half the mind to turn around and restart your road-trip all over again.
“Why’s there so much attitude in your voice?” Her cheerful, smiley voice suddenly sounds much more shrill, to your chagrin. You thrum your fingers along the leather of the steering wheel, biting back a long, drawn out groan.
“There isn’t any,” Gravel crackles under the weight of your rubber-tire car, snapping and popping into the air as it makes a smooth halt into the driveway. Shifting gears to park, the radio switches off with the twist of your keys. And, perhaps with more force than necessary, you’re slamming the door to your car and face to face with your mother. Her phone is still in hand, eyebrows pinched at the thought of her very own son hanging up on her. “. . . attitude, Ma.”
She hugs you with a squeal, ushering you up the stairs to your childhood ‘home.’ It’s almost exactly like you’d left it— save for a few recent porch decorations and repainted walls. You hope the years have been kind to it, with the irregular weather and constant pipe problems. Floorboards creak under your weight, welcoming you home after a few long years of studies. There’s an everlasting stream of bubbly speech behind you, your mom speaking, but there’s already so much to take in.
The air is fresh and salty, hints of beachy winds flowing upstream through the doorway. It smells like home, and looks like it too, as you situate your small duffel bag by the stairs that lead to the bedrooms. Your room. You hadn’t packed much— there was still a dresser overflowing with old clothes in your bedroom, after all. And now that you think about it, you should probably change into something more fitting for the weather.
“I know you just got here,” The sound of ice swirling against glass catches your attention, and you turn to face your mother. “But could you bring these out to your father?” She’s holding a tray of decorative glasses— or at least, you’d always thought they were— full of oblong ice and freshly squeezed lemonade. The glasses are stocky enough to adorn lollipops— one each, which are probably sickeningly sour. Topped with tiny, colorful umbrellas and intricate swirling straws. It’s almost like she’s trying to impress someone, with the way she’s put so much effort into the drink’s presentation.
Your lips curl to form a playful ‘no’, a boyish smile pulling at your cheeks when she huffs— as if she already knows what you’re about to do. So you shake your head instead, stealing the tray with one hand, “Let me change first.”
In hindsight, wearing clothes about. . four years too small wasn’t a great idea. The shorts that once fit you perfectly— before your growth spurt— are now much too short, like they’ve been tossed around in the laundry one too many times. You feel almost naked, moving the pink hem down with the shake of your legs.
Your mother insists they look just fine, a dramatic downturn to her lips as she rambles on and on about how fast her boy has grown up. Still, as you walk through the sliding glass doors parallel to the open patio, the sunlight bathing your legs does nothing but make you feel stuck under a rapidly growing spotlight.
It all clicks as you walk outside— the detailed drinks, the smell of barbecue and fresh coal. There is someone she’s trying to impress, someone other than your father. Maybe both of them. On a good day.
Wiping the bead of sweat from your brow, your eyes squint at the man in front of you. Around your dad’s age— maybe slightly younger, he stands at a whopping six foot something. There’s age in his face, and worry between his brows as if he’d spent most of his youth grimacing. His hair is long and black like charcoal, save for a few streaks of gray and a salt and pepper ensemble of stubble littering his chin and jaw. Two scars— forming a cross of sorts, one beneath his right eye, horizontal and thin. But the other is much longer, starting below his brow and ending at his cheekbone. It draws your eyes to a milky gray iris— heavily contrasting against the natural black-brown of his left one. It’s pretty, cloudy and almost pearlescent.
His silhouette— tall and thick, with broad shoulders that travel on and on as he crosses thick biceps over his thick chest. He’s standing in the way of the sun, and yet, it peeks through his long hair in small, short leaks. And, surprisingly, his waist is small in his black tank top. If you feel hot he must be scorching, draped in black— down to the beaded bracelet adorning his wrist. His hands— they’re big, maybe enough to cover the entirety of your face, curled into loose fists at his biceps.
And— right, you’re here to help, not gawk. But you can’t help it, shifting your weight from one leg to another as his intimidating gaze slowly sweeps you over. He’s like sex on legs, and if you can squint enough to get the sun out your eyes, you swear you can see the imprint of his cock through his black shorts.
“Uh,” You blink dumbly after introducing yourself, and suddenly the tray you’re holding is weightless. “Ma made these. I’m supposed to help. . . or something. . .”
“Or something.” The man echoes, but it’s quiet and you barely catch it. His voice is deep, way deeper than your own, rumbling in your ears and smooth like butter. Almost husky, with a dark edge to it as flames roar in his face. But it makes your father laugh, hearty and jubilant as he bounces over to where you stand. He gives you a small pat on the back as a greeting, ushering out a small, “son.”
The heat emitting off the grill is enough to make a grown man cry, but neither of you wince when you walk by it. Cold glasses of lemonade are handed out, fingers imprinted on cold condensation painting the surfaces of each glass as they’re passed around— one for you, one for your dad, another for him. You watch rivulets of water drip from his fingertips, down his wrist, past the collection of veins adorning his forearm.
“Mr. Aizawa,” There’s a beat of silence, but it’s quickly filled once you’ve been introduced. “World’s cruelest teacher.”
“Shouta Aizawa.” Is all he says, a correction of sorts, voice grumbly as his fingertips brush against your knuckles. Your eyes flicker down to where he’d touched you, his skin warm and inviting despite the roughness of his palms. You see now, that he’s accompanying your father, occasionally taking over when he walks back into the house every. . . five minutes or so.
“An old friend of mine, we go way back.” Your parents have an odd habit of rambling, it seems, because you and the handsome stranger make exasperated eye contact as your dad begins to reminisce on old memories. “You met him a few times— remember? He’ll be staying with us, so be respectful, you hear me?” His gaze seems to dip for a moment, down your lips and straight to the extra exposed skin of your thighs, then settle back to the ocean before you can comment.
But those five minutes must start now, because after a firm squeeze to your shoulder your father heads inside, leaving you alone with his. . . friend. He’s awfully quiet, busying himself as the patio door slides shut— occasionally sighing as he wipes away the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand. It’s obvious you’re staring, maybe a bit too hard, but he’s the best scene around, really. Even with the beach right behind him.
And maybe it’s wrong to think this way— but he’s hot. Old enough to be your dad and then some, sure, but it doesn’t make him any less attractive. He almost makes you nervous, the slow blink of his eyes as he pays you no mind.
“So you’re staying with us, huh?” You eye the juicy meat he’s been flipping for the last five minutes, golden brown and sizzling in the heat. It’s rather thick, soon to be lazily flattened by the tongs he's holding and— you can’t help but wonder. . . Is he good with his hands?
“Don’t make a habit of asking strange old men questions like that.” It’s not entirely clear if he’s serious or not, but he’s certainly assertive. Like a firm, guiding hand placed at the nape of your neck. Your eyebrows pinch in confusion, but before you can ask what he means, it clicks. You’d said it out loud, let it float into the air like an everyday, casual question. But Aizawa doesn’t seem exactly bothered, more passive (if anything), as he takes a swig of the fruity, sour concoction.
“You’re not strange.” Is what you conclude, slamming the tray down hard enough to rattle its contents, and the man notes your lack of regard. Even with a slight spill you don’t bother to clean, you’re already turning to walk off the patio and dig your toes into the hot sand before it can be mentioned— but not without plucking a lemon coated lollipop free from its icy enclosure of glass. There’s an arrangement of seashells hidden beneath the coarse mounds of the glimmering seaside. Different sizes and colors, different textures and shapes. Where some would scrape the soles of your feet, others would glide across them. But as a kid you’d liked the search for tiny crabs much more than the search for shells. Though you’re much older now, you’re not afraid to say you miss it.
“But I’m old?” Aizawa says, not too far behind you from where he stands. There’s a light glint of dry humor in his voice that sends butterflies down your throat and straight into your stomach.
“Yeah. Old enough.” Your small laughter is sweet, dancing in the air in a way that has Shouta nearly pressing his palm flat into the skillet— just to check if his heart is still beating. What do you mean by that, anyway?
There’s a divot where the tightness of your shorts dip into your skin, pressing against the plush skin of your ass whenever you bend over. Even as you’re upright, Shouta can’t stand to look for too long— you’re a real, proper, honest and genuine distraction. Yet here he is, watching you move around on your hands and knees, ass taut and round— shorts tight enough to show off the cute bulge of your balls from behind. And now that he’s really looking, it’s obvious you’re not wearing anything underneath.
He shakes his head, grunting to himself as he peels processed cheese free from its plastic packaging. You just met, that’s not right, you’re simply just minding your own.
“Ugh!” You share a groan, and for completely different reasons. Aizawa can’t help but watch you scramble in the sand, presumably after whatever sea-creature that had the pleasure to pinch you right on the finger. But you seem happy once it’s retrieved, stuck in the seclusion of its tiny shell as you hold it in your palm. From what he can see, you’re not much of a brat at all. Maybe your parents are just too hard on you. He’s always known them to be dramatics.
Still, he has half the mind to drag you over by your ankle, or maybe to press your handsome face into the sand while he fucks you from behind. Ever since you’d brought out that damned lemonade— tugging on the hem of the fabric as if you’d suddenly grown conscious of just how short they were— he’d been hard. And now he has to listen to you grunt and groan over the smallest of injuries. . . His best friend’s son, his presumed pride and joy.
He’s fucked.
From where he stands, slightly elevated, he can see the bulge of the sweet protruding from your cheeks, stuck afore your teeth. Cute, as it swishes from side to side, stuck in your mouth as your occupied fingers caress the diaphanous shell in the palm of your hand. Your lips move, puckered, around the sucker, curled and glossy with molten sugar— it’s hard to make out exactly what words your mouth forms, yet Shouta doesn’t think he’d be able to listen anyway.
Tumblr media
Turns out the creature was a hermit crab.
Shouta learns this at dinner, the day’s hard work shared on plastic platters and glass
bottles in the middle of the beach. There’s a roaring flame between the four of you, it casts golden embers along your skin every so often, crackling into the air. Cicadas chirp with the night’s welcome, loud and joyful in retaliation to the silent, serene fireflies and settling ocean.
You’re all sipping on beers, some more than others, but it’s enough to loosen everyone up. Even Shouta, whose eyes look lidded with sleep the more he drinks. He’s not incoherent, he never is. If anything he’s observant. For one, you have an awful habit of holding onto this evening’s lollipop, it seems, as you have it situated between your fingers like a cigarette. Sometimes your grip around it tightens, like when your mother wraps her hand around his bicep, squeezing the flesh in small, sporadic rounds. And though neither of you want to say it, let alone think it— you’re jealous. That’s the second thing.
Even with Shouta’s knee brushing against your own, you can’t help it. He’s so warm, muscly legs pressed against your own in a manner that’s almost electrifying. You want it all to yourself, to suffocate in his heat and capable hands.
You zone out of the conversation, blinking at the fire with reserved eyes until a thick screwer pokes at the flesh of your shoulder, leaving behind a tiny dimple. Jet black hair invades your vision for a moment, smelling of faint seasalt and warm cologne, until you turn, “What?”
“You want chocolate on your marshmallow, right?” Your mother asks for him, squeezing a transparent bag of thick, soft marshmallows. It’s tossed to you in a flash, to which you catch, but not before stealing a glance at the man beside you. His jaw sets, poking out from the mass of stubble. Like she’d stolen a precious moment away.
“Right,” You mumble, stabbing the skewer through the excessive amount of sugar. The stick hovers above the fire, the sweet melting to a crisp, flaky brown. Sticky and gooey, it slowly begins to lose its form. Through all the conversation you can’t help but glance at the older man to your left, taking in the glow of yellow and orange caressing his tan skin. His silhouette is bold and broad, legs spread wide as he sits on a thick log. What was once brown turns a deep, dark charcoal. “Oh, shit! Fuck. I meant shoot, sorry.”
You’re not supposed to swear in front of your parents— Aizawa’s paternal intuition picks that up. But shoving the marshmallow into your mouth, even as it has yet to cool down, he doesn’t quite get. Either way, your expression. . . it’s sickeningly cute. It’s cute to watch you fumble. With lips pursed into a tight line, cheeks bitten and eyebrows pinched with apology despite how obviously uncomfortable you are with the piping, burnt sugar spreading along your tongue.
His heart could almost burst.
“You’re fine, kid.” Shouta’s voice is a gentle whisper, airy like the waves brushing against the shore. With his eyes caught on the sticky white lingering on your cheek, he's desperately aware you’re not a kid. The way you move and speak, the way you carry yourself. The way you suck on lollipops like they’re something else. He’s never been one for dirty jokes or subtle innuendos but. . . yeah, this is doing something to him. His fingers twitch with want, the desire to wipe it away and rub his thumb along your lips. He should really get it together.
And maybe the fact that he’s more worried about your parents being in the way than the fact that they’re your parents proves that.
But they’re pretty preoccupied, lost in conversation neither of you are exactly interested in. Whirling his own marshmallow, chocolate melts down its fluffy outside. It’s steaming, hot and fluffy after twirling around the fire. Looking at it now, it looks comically small in his large hands, much bigger than your own. His lips part, cool air leaving the ‘o’ shaped mold of his mouth as he blows on it with a low, “Here.”
There they go again, mouth open as your pink tongue covers your row of bottom teeth, Shouta doesn’t let go of the skewer despite the light squeezes you press along his knuckles. Instead he holds on tighter, lifting and reaching until the desert melts in your mouth and sticks to your lips. Messy on purpose, your heart plummets into your tummy when dark eyes watch marshmallow fluff pull away from between your teeth. Hungry, starving.
“I can do it myself.” You mumble, wondering if the heat prickling your skin is from the brush of his fingers against your own or the wilting fire.
“Can you?” His expression is tired and flat, but his voice tilts with blooming amusement. It’s odd, the way you’re so quick to shut him down. You almost respond more openly when you hear sneaky comments or listen to gossip— ‘that boy just doesn’t know what to stop,’ ‘why’s he such a smartass?’ — spoken about you directly by you.
“Yeah,” There’s a shine in your eye that isn’t just a product of the glowing fire. Mischievous, almost. “I don’t break that easily.”
Tumblr media
Shouta could definitely take your dad in a fight. It’s the first thing that pops into mind as the two of you stand in the dark, dimly lit kitchen. Your parents had gone off to bed almost an hour ago, and with the clock approaching half past midnight, it leaves you two alone. So, yes, he’s considering who would win in a brawl because he can’t stop staring at his best friend’s son and his pretty, kissable lips.
They’re sheen with spit, your pink tongue licking them over as you scrub away yesterday’s dirt from the kitchen counter. It’s a noncommittal motion, your arms wiping suds and heavy contents of water along the granite surface. Yet you seem absolutely dead-set on getting that one stain. The stain that has your ass brushing against his side, bare skin rippling the harder, lazier, you scrub. Not that there’s even a stain to clean.
Yep. He’s fucked.
You suppose he should be focusing on the dishes— not that there’s much of those either— but his attention strays.
It carries him through the motion of leaning over, his body practically draping your own as you bend at the waist. Black hair again, wisps of it, lightly pressed against your back as he leans down, lips by the shell of your ear and an arm trapping you in. His cock is pressed right against the swell of your ass, and he may have to consider slipping it between his waistband.
“I think you got it.”
“Oh, really?” Your hips are moving again, side to side as you scrub shapes into nothing. “Double check for me?”
A low groan sounds behind you, big hands at your thighs that squeeze enough to have the plush skin bruised and tender in the morning. His hand travels, snaking up your thighs to meet the silky skin of your ass. Spread nicely with the way you’re bent over, warmth radiating off each globe as his thick pointer finger loops around the thin layer of pink cotton pressing against your balls.
It’d be so easy, perfect access to slip his thick cock into the warm, tight walls of your hole and pound you against the counter. You could sit on his dick for the whole day, drooling and dumb the more the head kisses your prostate again and again and again. Your Daddy could fuck you on your dad’s favorite sofa, make it squeal and whine under the weight of him filling your fucked-out and used cunt over and over.
Dark pupils blow wide as he pulls the fabric away, watching your hole flutter around nothing. He coos, sweet and deep. Just give him a minute, he’ll give you everything you need. Everything and more, until you’re a braindead fucktoy with glassy eyes and sticky, dripping holes. Until—
You’ve slipped past his arm, twisting as your growling stomach makes itself known. You inhale a quivering breath through your nose, eyes wide and expecting and waiting. His best friend’s son, wriggling and writhing under his palms, handsome face twisting as pearly teeth bite at your stout bottom lip.
He’s almost frustrated with himself, voice flat and distant when you puff out your cheeks. Forget a distraction— you’re a real, honest brat. “You’re still hungry.”
“I’m a growing man, Sho.” It’s almost consequential how your voice cracks, breathy and teetering the edge of a whine as he releases his grip on your body. Light from the fridge illuminates your silhouette in a yellow, halo-adjacent glow, and once again Shouta is staring a little too hard at his best friend’s son as he bends forward at the waist.
Aizawa weighs the juxtaposition between the middle of that sentence for a moment before his breath catches in your throat. Sho. You’d called him by a nickname, ten times sweeter than the candied fruit (grapes, are they?) you’re now sinking your teeth into. You’ve grown alright, and the proof stands hard, throbbing, and pressing against your shorts once you’ve returned to face him. It’s obvious your ploy with the fruit was just something to keep your mind off cumming in your cute, soft shorts— but he’d honestly have preferred to see that.
“I can see that.”
Rough palms press into your jaw— firm, but not aggressive, until fingers close and clasp at your cheeks. A dissolving layer of baby fat at your cheeks spills between his stern fingers, and you blink as the older man turns your face from left to right, then reverse. Seems he’s got a nasty habit of looking you over, breaking you down— bare bones. You still have enough room to chew, teeth grinding on the crystallized sugar with a hard and resounding crunch.
There’s always something in your mouth.
Dark eyes flicker to the lump appearing and disappearing in your throat as you swallow, sweet sugar dotting your lips, “You’re hard.”
“Yeah,” It earns a dark chuckle, though there’s not much light humor in it, “So are you.” His lips curl as he releases his grip, slow and lingering.
“Usually,” your gaze drops to his lips. “When two men,” Then up to his deep, dark eyes as you press against him, chest to chest. His cock twitches against the heat of your body, you can imagine it now— thick and pretty, curved upward with a sticky head and throbbing, heavy veins. “Make eachother. . . hard, they—”
A door slams upstairs, the air going still as your breath catches in your throat. As if that single disturbance has stolen all the oxygen in the world, your body goes rigid and stiff, and the sound of tired steps make their way descending down wooden stairs. The candied grapes are swapped for thick fingers, with light peppers of hair at the knuckles, and you can’t help but suck the seasalt right off.
“Behave.” He takes a single step back, dripping with indubitable authority that makes you feel light and airy. Ready to bend at his will with lazy eyelids and hazy eyes. It’s not a question, not a suggestion— it’s a demand.
“You’re still up,” Your father, shameless as he walks by the two of you with barely any coverings, makes a sleepy gesture in your general direction as he opens the fridge. “Both of you, huh?” He sounds faintly out of breath, and his skin sheen. The mental implications make you cringe, taking a step toward the characteristically nonchalant man who’d just stepped away from you.
Shouta’s eyes narrow.
“Don’t tell me I’m being replaced!” He’s always been a loud man, your father, but it seems tonight his one-too-many beers have finally caught up to him. It’s just a joke, the both of you know it, but you can’t help the prickle of heat poking at your throat. You’re pulled in by the back of your head, your father’s hand pressed against your hair as he holds you in a firm side-hug, “Rather Mr. Aizawa be your old man?”
“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Your smile is wide and tantalizing, heavy and dripping with something that has yet to be named. “Are you a good Daddy, Mr. Aizawa?”
Then, his eye twitches, “When I want to be.”
Your laugh is instantaneous and loud, an awkward thing that stretches into deep silence. There’s a lot of things you’d like Mr. Aizawa to be— rough, gentle, sweet, and mean. But your dad? It’s laughable, and couldn’t be farther from the truth. And sure, maybe the title you'd like to use on him sounds similar, but they’re most definitely not the same. If only he knew.
“I’m sure you’re the best,” He watches you smile, opposite ends of your mouth pulling at your cheeks in a motion that doesn’t quite meet your eyes— but it’s convincing enough. “Better than your other friends, right Dad?”
Tumblr media
Shouta is avoiding you.
You know it, you can tell! He’s always gone nowadays— a couple weeks into your vacation and you can only count a mere handful of the times you remember seeing him. You’ve barely talked, barely stole a few glances here and there— he may as well have disappeared. He’s out somewhere, somewhere that involves your father, and the ocean, and his generously sized deck-boat. You don’t want to say it, but you know you’re the reason why. You’ve gone a bit overboard, perhaps, with the flirting. Ever since that night— even before then, it’d become a natural habit of yours to call the man Daddy.
And, now, he’s grown even closer to your parents because of it. Whenever you come down for breakfast they’ve already finished, leaving your plate in the microwave— as if you’d want cold, limp eggs and soggy, get charred bacon. You want to scream, really. There’s your mother, who leaves lingering touches and bats her eyelashes like some sort of schoolgirl. You feel almost evil for the rage that sears your blood— even more so when your first thought is she’s pushing fifty.
Then there’s your father. Who is and always will be, not if you can help it, closer to Shouta than you ever will be. They drink together a lot, the guest more in moderation, but it still hurts to see them laugh about old times— over, and over, and over again. Even when you’re the topic of conversation, despite your presence being completely ignored, it hurts. You’re right here.
So you mope, lounging around in your swim trunks. Your skin sticks to every surface, humid and thick as your mother complains to you about getting some sun, stepping out the house, then something about how you need to fix the look on your face. She says the warm rays on your skin will do you some good, the salty water of the sea against your body will toughen up your bones and loosen your muscles. But there’s really only one thing on your mind.
It trickles into about an hour and a half when Mr. Aizawa finally comes back. Your father too, you suppose, with flushed cheeks that only sake can replicate. It’s once you’ve been pulled outside and forced to stand in wet, thick sand that washes away from your feet with every sweep of the shore— that they return. Once the sun has begun to set, yet still bright enough to have your brows furrowed and eyes narrowed, they return.
“There’s my boy!” No one’s boy, actually. Your father shouts with an intoxicated wave, and the grimace on Shouta’s face is hidden behind his whipping hair as he slows the boat to a stop.
Or at least, you think so. It’s hard to see with the sun in your eyes, yellow and orange flakes of the gold star percolating your vision.
It dances along the surface of the ocean, pretty and shimmering the closer you step, the further you go, until you’re submerged in water from your knees—down. There’s a shout, something akin to a ‘catch!’, and you have barely any time to react to the ball that’s flying to you with an oddly precise amount of speed and velocity. You gasp, whipping your head back to catch the ball between two sea-soaked hands.
“What the hell?!” Your hands sting, pretty eyes blinking back at the two silhouettes in your vicinity. Mainly at Aizawa, who hasn’t even acknowledged you, let alone looked away from the resplendent horizon. And what’s so good about that? Of all things to look at— you’re right here! You don’t leave with the setting sun, nor do you only ever arrive with the rising one. You’re a constant, and you know you don’t hurt to look at.
So you throw the ball back, all your force behind it with a smug look on your face until it smacks Shouta in the leg— right in the center of his calf with a horrifying thump of a sound.
“Fuck,” You shout in horror, despite it all. Despite the desire to maul him the last few weeks, rushing forward into the water with the cutest tremor to your brows. “Fuck, okay, shit, my bad!”
And it seems you can’t move fast enough to wade through the rippling waves, where schools of tiny, nipping fish and textured shells had twirled and danced about through the currents of pellucid water. But Shouta seems just fine, almost as if he’d forgotten how to react to the feeling of getting punted with a ball at full force. He picks it up, waves it in his large palm, and throws it back. You can hear it tear through the air, just as it smacks you in the shoulder with so much force you don’t register it at first.
Numbness spreads along your arm, eyes blinking up at the older man who laughs. It’s quiet yet hearty, and not at all a pretty sound. It’s more contagious if anything, a wheeze of sorts, but your lips still curl into a petty frown regardless. You can make out a huff of “Your face!” broken up with laughter, biting back on his tongue.
“I’m not laughing.” You grumble, rubbing at your shoulder with faux diligence.
There’s an eerie smile on his face, enough to send shivers down your spine as water drapes your face and drips down your body— boat engine revving with ferocity as the men float off into the boarding dock— Aizawa’s presence arrives just as fast as it leaves.
You’re left to your devices, gawking as you process the last few minutes— his smile, your brattiness and stupidity, the way you’d only just noticed his prosthetic leg— at the mention you can feel miscellaneous fish brush against your own, scales shining through the transparent waters. You can’t help but smile too, wiping it away with the back of your water-draped forearm. Fuck.
It’s only been a month and you’re smitten. He’d left you in favor of your father again, and all you can do is giggle about it.
There’s not much you know about the man— now that you think about it. There’s been a brief drunken mention of him having kids of his own, a little girl, you think. Maybe a son? Despite his affliction for quiet, Aizawa looks as though there’s more he wants to say. To share, to tell. Your father must know it all, seeing as they grew up together, and part of you can’t help but feel a bit jealous.
Hmph.
“What’re you sulking for?” His voice has broken you out of a daydream, turning your body to look him in the eyes. The man of the hour— Shouta. You almost hate how quick you are to melt under his gaze, squaring your shoulders with the stability of poorly glued popsicle sticks.“That ball bounce off your head, too?”
“I’m not sulking.” You watch him walk around the perimeter of the shore, slow and calculating, with his hands balled up in the fabric of his black t-shirt. He pulls it overhead, tummy contracting and biceps rippling— it still manages to catch you by surprise, how much muscle he’s hiding under his baggy clothes. Your brain sets off a symphony of ooh’s and ahh’s, unable to tear your gaze from the light rise and fall of his chest.
Your eyes trail back up, past the bend of his collarbones, up the display of stubble on his throat— he’s staring right at you.
“Uh — I wasn’t. . anyway. . What’re you looking at?”
His lips twitch, briefly pressed together before relaxing as he steps into the cold water. He’s slow, hair rippling just as smooth as the ocean, the further he moves forward. And, despite that, he slowly curls a finger to and fro, as if he’s talking to a small kitten. “C’mere.”
You’re frowning when you trudge forward, hesitance in your step. “Mr. Aizawa,” you grumble, still something of a cute little sound, using the prefix your father introduced him with. Something about it makes Shouta’s frame stiffen— the title, or maybe the pettiness behind it. It’s not like you call him that when you’re in a particularly good mood. “You didn’t seem to want me around earlier.”
“Quiet,” He tuts, clicking his tongue as if he knows the game you’re playing. But despite the curt, clean-cut execution of his tone, his thumb finds your cheek with the same gentleness as a spring breeze. “Your parents were always around earlier.”
Oh.
You play off your surprise well enough, swatting his hand away with a deep grunt. Sure, it feels good. His hands on your skin— such rough palms that cover your body — but you’re not desperate. Not entirely, not even when he fixes the twist of your face with a quick look to your furrowed brows. You settle for a sigh, grumbling, “They don’t have shit to do with me.”
“You’re, what, twenty-five—“
“Twenty three.” You interject, almost proud you can correct him. Rivulets of water trail down your arms, and his gaze seems to follow its motion.
“Twenty three,” He echoes with something of a breathless sigh tilting his voice. For a moment you think it’s the interruption— he’ll work on it later. Maybe he’s been struck by just how much younger you really are. “They have everything to do with you. You’re still their kid, I doubt they’d be enthusiastic about leaving you alone with an older man. A stranger, at that.”
“But they did,” You look around, as if to prove your point. Shouta’s never been one for dramatics, let alone those fueled by snappy attitudes and rolling eyes, but it looks cute on you. Maybe even cuter if it were accompanied by tears. “They left us alone. . . Half naked. . . At a beach. . . Alone..”
“I get it. We’re alone,” Shouta’s voice has always been so deep, rumbly and tired and smooth in your ears but even more so when he’s irritated. “Drop the attitude.” It’s different in a way. Leaves no room for argument, though you still feel the overwhelming need to stomp your foot and keep on pressing. You can’t help the shudder, nor the goosebumps crawling up your thighs. It’s just so fun to push his buttons, to watch his passive face twist for a split second as he processes your words.
It’s not exactly hard when he allows it. Shouta lets you push until your heart’s content, only reprimanding you with a glance or cleared throat— and it’s almost eerie. You can’t help but feel
like you should be anticipating something, even as you stand flush against his thick body in lukewarm ocean water and he looks at you with contentment.
Then it occurs to you. . . He’s letting it build up.
“And you’re not a stranger, Mr. Aizawa.” Obviously you’re softening the blows, so he watches you step forward, arms crossed over his thick, plush chest. You’re just so cute, brushing past his overwhelming seriousness with a smile— albeit sly. He can’t stay mad forever. It’s not fair, how cute you are, with lips stretched out and teeth on display, with the apples of your cheeks rising, and the cutest little twinkle in your eye. He wants to kiss you. . . He wants to kiss you so bad it’s starting to hurt.
Especially when you lean forward, sunlight bouncing off the ocean surface and across your body— painting you in pretty, golden slivers of glow. Across your face, your chest, your stomach, your thighs. It’s been a while since he’s felt his skin against your own. Since he’s run his large, calloused hands along your body.
“What happened to ‘Daddy’?” He asks, absentmindedly.
“What?” You break his trance, looking down at yourself with a hint of something Shouta can’t quite place. Uncertainty, perhaps? Vulnerability, maybe. It’s odd, you usually prance around so confidently. You wear the tiniest— tightest— clothes known to man, have the smartest mouth, egg him on day in and day out.
That’s not it. You look smug. You’re playing him for a damn fool.
“Nothing.” Aizawa sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut. It’s wrong— it’s cliché, maybe even taboo. He wants to wipe that look off your face. He wants to kiss his best friend’s son stupid. The man he’d just shared parenting advice to, the man he’d spent years upon years of highschool, college, divorces, with. It’d been so innocent when he’d visit— maybe he should’ve never stopped. Maybe he shouldn’t have come back to see you in full bloom, so handsome and lithe and sweet.
“ ‘Nothing,’ ” You echo, snarky as you mimic the flat, detached tone of Shouta’s voice. If you weren’t sulking before you definitely are now, readying yourself to push past him like some spoiled brat who was just denied their favorite candy after being caught trying to steal it nonetheless. So He holds onto your bicep, squeezing the flesh as it flexes with your feeble attempt at struggling.
“Are you done yet? Or do you need a minute to calm down?” He shifts his weight, voice calm and level as he holds you still despite the straining. Not a single hair on him is out of place, his tranquility almost alarming.
“Let go, old man!” He has to ignore the rush of adrenaline the back and forth gives him— the way he has an incessant urge to squeeze your jaw just a bit tighter.
“Hey,” You watch his lips curl to coo, a tone somewhat akin to a parent shushing a fussy child. Your face is turned to face him directly, “How many times do I have to talk to you?” Then impossibly close as his warm breath pans over the expanse of your face, “What’d I say about the attitude?”
“I don’t care what you say about it.” Your face is squished against his palm as you go to squirm your way out of his hold, but with the way his head angles down toward your face— you can barely get the words to sound convincing. There’s a giggle in your voice, like you think his frustration is amusing.“You like it, don’t you? Forget strange, you’re dirty!”
He’s the only thing keeping you upright, eyes narrowed and lidded, “Stop fuckin’ playing with me, little boy.”
Tumblr media
“Dad never lets me drive the boat,” Though the man can sense your whining from miles away, it still manages to catch him off guard. Shouta quirks a brow in questioning, hand hovering a polite foot away from your calf as you stand to walk along the wading boat floor. “Destroyed his last one when I was a kid,” (He doesn’t have to know you were actually nineteen when you did.) You speak in a tone that makes him think just maybe you consider it more your father’s fault than your own. “This one’s nicer anyway.”
“That’s wasteful.” Aizawa bites the inside of his cheek, brows furrowed into a familiar line. Had one of his kids done that it’d be a completely different story. Surely one they wouldn’t be proud of telling either. Through the corner of his eye he watches you dig into the cooler, scrabbling past the beer bottles and iced hennessy, to pull out an ice cream.
“To you,” You spare him a glance before finally plopping down in the passenger’s seat with much more force than necessary— especially when sitting on a boat. “I did him a favor.”
The cooler did a poor job— your ice cream is already melted and soft once it’s unwrapped. Thick, velvety cream that you lap up with your tongue dribbles down your knuckles. He should find it gross, but your pretty eyes flickering upward to meet his own as you take one long, slow lick up each bend of your fingers has done the complete opposite. Fuck. It’s hot— your sticky fingers and messy lips, your pinched brows and tiny, pleased whines.
If only it were his cock.
Shouta’s thick. Much thicker than your ice cream, he’s sure you’d feel a good stretch to your lips if you wrapped them around the head of his cock. You’d probably whine about how hard you have to try, how heavy it is on your tongue— how much it’s stuffing you full when it hasn’t even slid down your throat yet. You’d cry too, maybe, with drool slicking your chin and coating his dick in a pretty, shiny layer of thick saliva.
“Want some?” You lean uncomfortably forward, though your legs are over the arms of your seat and draped across Shouta’s lap. Already close, Shouta can smell the oreo on your tongue and vanilla cream by the corner of your lips. “You’re staring pretty hard.”
“Sit up,” The deflection is an answer in itself, yet the dark-haired man can’t find a reason to look away. “Before you hurt yourself.”
Instead, you take his wrist, thick and decorated with a long vein, to fiddle with his fingers. They’re long— healthy, strong, clipped haphazardly— big. He watches you split his fingers apart, lacing your free hand with his own— and though he remains with all five fingers up, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel the urge to close them around your much smaller ones. Shouta clears his throat while you hum, lapping at your ice cream before pressing your lips against his knuckles, “Want you to hurt me instead.”
“Hush,” There’s a sharp intake of breath, dark lashes fluttering as multicolored eyes glance past your shoulder. It’s evident he wants to say more— in the way he shifts his weight to lean outward. “You hardly know me.”
Your foot nudges his upper thigh, pressing into the firm skin as the boat moves further toward the horizon. It feels more secluded that way.. Private, even. As if there’s only the two of you left on the dreamy island. Your face looks a bit exasperated, like you’ve never had to work so hard in your life, and he has to admit it— it’s cute.
“I know you grew up with my dad,” He ignores the venom behind your tongue as you mention your father, letting out a low hum of confirmation. “I know you have two kids— adopted, right?”
“Hitoshi and Eri.” He interjects, voice soft and fond. You’d never noticed it before, but now you’re acutely aware of the gentle presence of breeze and rippling waters. Shouta’s relaxed face is much sweeter, still creased with age but not quite as deep. The cute, pinched dips between his brows are gone, but you know how to bring it back.
“Lucky. Wish you were my Daddy instead,” Aizawa isn’t sure which word he���s more hung up on, nor how it's so easy for you to completely twist his words— but as much as it rushes to his cock, gets him twitching in his pants and throbbing all the way down his heavy shaft— he doesn’t like it. You talk entirely too much. With lips much too sweet and sheen with cream. With a tongue that flicks and presses against your teeth when you smile. With a pretty voice he could listen to, all day. Something that’d sound better through choking and gagging—ragged and crackly and used. Your lashes flutter, soft and gentle against your cheek. “How old is Hitoshi? My age? If he takes after you, then. . .You’re just—“
“Listen to me,” Perhaps it’s not very characteristic of him, but he just can’t stop. Shouta moves without thinking, pressing his fingers into your cheeks until your lips are puckered. “For as long as I’m here,” he offers a squeeze. “For as long as your father is here,” then another, “Turn. It. Off.”
Your face melts into something floaty and distant, the smirk melting right off your face into something much more preferable. His thumb is so close, so close to your pretty lips. You blink once— twice, even— before regressing back into a grin, lips pressing against his long fingers. Fucking brat.
“I’ll just have to hit up Hitoshi sometime, then.”
The persistent comment nearly knocks him over, straight off the boat and plummeting into the cerulean depths of the sea. Instead, Shouta finds it better to step on the gas. . . To ignore the prickling heat in his blood, to ignore the easy taptaptap-ing of your fingers against the screen of your phone. It’s so easy for you to say anything around him— like a deliberate disregard for his reaction. His fingers thrum against the tiller, then wrap around its leather exterior to squeeze, and he doesn’t miss (not even for a second) the glance you give him through the corner of your eye.
The silence is almost painful. The motor speaks for you, loud and rushed and heavy. Aizawa’s jaw sets, clenched at each chiseled edge. His eyebrows furrow deep, angry, and his lips remain tightly shut. You can’t help but stare, watching his hair whip in the wind, dreamy and mellifluous. Not a moment of eye contact is shared, and you feel yourself slinking back into the white leather of your chair for the first time this evening.
Come the wooden dock just adjacent to the shoreline, Shouta’s throwing away wrappers (they’re all yours) and unbuckling his seatbelt. Your arms cross, a pout heavy in your lips as your eyes flutter closed. . Almost as if you being unable to see him makes him unable to see you.
“C’mon, baby.” You both miss the nickname, and despite the tension, it feels so natural dripping from his tongue.
Still, you whine. Mind occupied by your nearly offset tantrum prior to getting back at the dock. “I’m staying outside.”
“You’ll get heatstroke.” Shouta sighs, stepping back to lift you into his arms not even a moment later. You consider it ironic, for a moment, he always wears black despite the scorching heat. Bent at the waist as he leans over the open inside of the boat to unbuckle your seatbelt, his face remains stoic as your arms flail and fly to push him away. Your pretty face morphs into a nasty scowl, grumbles and mumbles toppling from your lips— you’re embarrassed.
He sets you down on the creaking wood, hands placed steady at your waist and shoulder to keep you upright— in your feeble attempt at escapism, your last result was simply going limp.
You just won’t budge, standing planted at the end of the dock despite the tugs to your biceps, forearm— hands, wrists. Your last attempt at pushing him away ends up in stumbles, nearly tripping over your own feet as you stomp down the polished dock, eyes hardening with the contact of deep, dark pools in Aizawa’s irises.
You were holding hands.
Tumblr media
It’s been days. You haven’t left your room in days. At first, Shouta doesn’t worry. He doesn’t think twice about it, doesn’t question why you don’t come downstairs. When he asks your parents about it it’s always the same thing— ‘That’s just how he is when he doesn’t get his way,’ or ‘He’ll come around.’ The more he asks, the mode suspicion, More questions, mostly wondering why he’s so enamored by their son— even if he had been closer to you when you were younger. But that was long ago, and you hardly remember.
And that isn’t even it.
He starts to worry, to feel bad, on day six. Not a single sound that even points to your presence. No creaking floorboards, no music playing from your old, antique and overpriced record player, no sounds of muffled laughter. It makes him feel out of his skin, like a bystander watching the inhabitants of this very beach house go about their day like nothing is wrong. But this wrong, so very wrong—
He wants you. His boy, his brat, his best friend’s son. It’s wrong and it’s taboo, but so help him, he yearns.
His feet had carried himself upstairs before his mind could, following after you a good half-hour later. You heard him on his way in, the shuffle of his slipper-clad feet from the outside of your door. Still, you’d made no effort to move, no effort to free yourself from the cocoon of your childhood blankets, no effort to open the door despite his gentle knocking.
“You ready to talk yet?” He was willing to brush it all aside. The pushing, the persistent flirting, the slight disregard for his feelings, the mentions of his son. Really, he was jealous. Maybe it’s unsavory for him to admit, maybe he shouldn’t think of his son as competition. And he knows, of course, there’s nothing there— he’s only ever competing with himself. He just can’t help it.
Maybe he’s a bit spoiled too.
“I don’t like being ignored.” Your voice was small, but he could still hear it through the door. He heard it all, every implication. His sweet boy, his spoiled brat. You froze, just briefly, before he let himself in. The door creaked slowly with its open and close, a gentle click of the lock as the air grew thick.
Your old bed is small and creaky. Almost as much as the underused floorboards, your old bedroom screams with just as much personality as it does neglect. There’s tiny figurines, posters, awards, memorabilia— but it’s all too clean. Even if it has collected dust, not a thing is out of place. Pristine. There’s a few scattered photos— awkward haircuts, familial pets, the works. . Unapologetically you, maybe when you were just a tad bit more naive— but you nonetheless. It even smells like you, just with a hint of sea salt and warm, summer-y vanilla. Shouta wants to bury his nose in it.
“None of my fancy college boyfriends liked it here, Maybe ‘Toshi would.” You shift your weight as Shouta sits at the edge of your bed, the springy mattress creaking ever so slightly. There’s something left unsaid between the small string of words— and it’s sour. Twists on Shouta’s tongue, like he’s bitten into old bread, and it’s not just the mention of past boyfriends. Sure, that’s not exactly what he’d call this. . . relationship, but it’s not like it’d feel wrong. And he’d certainly feel bitter if his son were in his shoes. “Guess my sheets weren’t silky enough. Can tell you what was, th—”
“I like it.” It’s simple. The admission— simple and sweet, like it’s obvious. Shouta watches your lips part for a moment, just to close again, like a fish out of water. You look so small when you’re caught off guard, glancing to the side and shifting your weight onto your palms as you sit in the comfy middle of your bed. He knows what you’re doing— redirecting the conversation by flirting (it does get his heart beating, he’ll admit it)— and it makes you seem softer, almost.
He watches you sniffle for a moment, a quiet sound as you shift your knees with exuberating coyness. Your eyebrows furrow, cheeks puffed into a pout because, “That's it? You just ‘ like ’ it?”
He’ll give it to you, you never give up. He’d been warned, he was skeptical, and he’s been proven wrong. And, in the brunette’s head, you’d tallied over three strikes. Perhaps he was being too lenient. And now, Shouta, the weak man that he is, simply wants to indulge.
“What else would I say?”
“That it’s nice,” You cock your head to the side. “That you’ve never seen a room so nice. Which m’sure is true, anyway. . Are you low income, Sho? I can’t imagine what it’s like being a single father of two— or one, since Hitoshi moved out forever ago.”
The older man takes a breath through his nose, and out through his mouth. Pretty irises flicker down to meet the rise and fall of his chest, the way his fingers pinch the bridge of his nose. Then, like the tidal wave of emotion has washed away back into shore, his voice is level as he speaks, “You spoke to him.”
“You ignored me,” You say it as if it’s obvious, simple, that if you can’t have Shouta you’ll have to settle for the next best thing. And though it’s not entirely true, you only really stalked his social media to learn more about his father, you don’t think your heart can stomach seeing pride swell in Aizawa’s chest. “Wanted your attention, Daddy.”
There’s a sharp intake of breath through his teeth, cold air rattling the bones as he watches you stare up at him. Your eyes look softer, boyish, wider at this angle. His pink tongue darts over his equally pink lips, “You don’t know what you do to me.”
“Show me.”
Tumblr media
“Shh, sh, sh,” Shouta’s cock slips down your throat with a low grunt, the slippery walls clench around the fat head of his cock. Just as he imagined it, cutting off pretty whines and gasps, head bobbing back and forth— like you can’t tell whether it’s too much or too little. There’s a slight burn— the stretch of his thick, sticky cock nestled against your throat— but it feels good, heavy and throbbing in a way that makes your brain shut off so quickly you drool. It sticks to his shaft and slides down his balls, painting your chin in a syrupy-sweet layer of saliva, but you’re too far gone to wipe it away. Such a good boy.
He must’ve said it aloud, because there you are nodding, lazily bobbing your head as he grinds in and out of your mouth. There’s a loud, sticky sound coming from your throat, squelching and soaked, obscene in a way that makes you whimper around your heavy mouthful of cock. He’s quick to correct himself— you only ever seem to behave when you’re stuffed with his dick, and he can’t have you thinking your behavior is acceptable. With a grunt, deep and velvety, Aizawa pushes deeper into your mouth until you gag— tight throat convulsing and quivering around his shaft.
You slurp loudly, choking and gasping as you struggle to pull back. His balls hit your chin, heavy and sticky and so fucking good as tears stream down your face. You’re starting to get into it now, making a mess of yourself as you stick out your tongue to lick along the prominent vein on the underside of his cock, eyes focused on the rings of saliva holding you together. Shouta pulls out to let you breathe, his cock quickly liding upupup your throat and past your lips until all you can do is whine and lean forward, lips wet with spit as you chase after what you’ve been wanting for the past month.
“Stop fuckin’ moving. Let Daddy use your throat, wanna hear you cry on it,” The bulge of his fat cock shows in your throat, in and out, in and out, in and out.
You want to whine, to beat your fists against his thighs, and kick your feet— it’s all so much. He has you by the hair, big hand pulling and tugging, lifting you on and off his cock like a warm, tight fleshlight. You fail to bite back a growl, though it emits more as a cute, pathetic sound, glassy eyes focused on his cock being shoved down your hot, wet throat. It’s so easy to press your lips against the darkness of his pubes, to smear pre along your pouty lips and cheeks. His cock jumps in your mouth, thick and long and curved, leaking at the tip.
It’s hard to adjust to the stretch, sputtering and gagging with such cute, greedy sounds. You’re getting ahead of yourself, eager, tongue lapping at the achy underside of his dick, pressed against his balls. And, with a gasp, Shouta pulls out, huffs and unintelligible groans filling the air. The blushing head of his cock taps against your cheek. Once, twice, again and again. “C’mere.”
And yet, despite all that bark, your eyes barely make contact with the ones above you. Instead they trace the pulse of his shaft, how heavy his cock hangs between his legs, how it makes his long fingers almost smaller in comparison. The way pre dribbles from the tip, sticky and warm and oh, so inviting. It’s as if he can read your mind, knows how badly you miss the weight of his thick cock stretching your throat, “You can do better than that," and you almost can't believe it.
Better? Your eyes flicker to the saliva dripping from your chin, suddenly aware of the slick pre smeared across your pretty cheeks and the heavy pants leaving your lips. What gets better than this? You let him use your throat like a new fleshlight, cried on his cock and muffled the sounds in his pubes. Ignored the aching of your own cock just to focus on his own, absentmindedly bucking your hips into nothing, even if it made you look like a pathetic puppy. Fine— you can show him better. You can break him first.
You blink rapidly, tears clumped in your pretty eyelashes, lips parting to, indubitably, sass the older man. “What, need help gettin’ it up? Fuck you, can do it m—”
Prideful boy. Shouta will have to fix that.
“— I wasn’t asking.” You really fucked up now, eyes wide as you’re lifted up by your throat and manhandled into Shouta’s strong arms. He smells good, and just as strong, as your face is pressed into his chest and your tiny, tiny shorts are pushed past your thighs. The air is cold, it spreads goosebumps along your skin, and you’re sure Shouta can feel them along his palm as he grabs handfuls of your ass. He ignores your off guard ‘Hey! I wasn’t done!’, ignores the squirm of your waist, ignores your poor, weeping cock.
Being the smooth, calculated man that he is, you’d expect Aizawa to put a rhythm and pace to his spankings. But no, there’s nothing for you to latch onto but the bundles of his hair as he hands out sporadic, random, and hard smacks along each globe of your ass. There is no back and forth, no favoring one over the other— it’s just where he wants, when he wants. If he wants to watch your thighs convulse and jiggle beneath his heavy palm he will, and if he wants to smack your hands away from his wrists as you tug and tug— he will.
Shouta groans when you let out a particularly pathetic cry, biting your lip and whimpering into his warm skin. You can feel his big hands part your cheeks, squeezing the skin until it spills over each finger and your ass has turned tender and sensitive. He coos, feeling you squirm and wriggle against his hold, “S’it too much? Daddy’s poor baby.”
It shouldn’t sound so sweet coming from his lips, even when it’s condescending and rough, even when he’s cracking his palm down again and again despite your kicks and squeals.
But it does.
“Da—ddy. . !” your voice quivers, hips rocking to an uncoordinated tune. So little contact and yet it feels like so much, his hot palms against your warm skin. . . The tears rolling down your darling face. . . The way your cock throbs against your tummy, your mouth aches with emptiness, your hole twitches beneath the weight of his fingers. The thought makes you want to whine all over again, body squirming and trembling as he holds and kneads the flesh of your ass.
“Quiet. I should shove my fingers down your throat to shut you up,” Shouta murmurs, so unnecessarily mean, kissing the dampness of your forehead before his hand cracks down against your plush ass three, four, five more times. You try to keep up your resolve, pretty legs trembling and knuckles clenching— but it’s just so hard. Being a brat is easy— it’s fun— you’ll give up a few tears, cry and pout, get your way. Easy. So you won’t break and give him what he wants. He’ll have to work for it, get a taste of his own mean, mean medicine.
Delayed gratification.
Wet llips open to speak, something smug and almost smart, but it’s reduced to a wet moan. You feel it—fingers spreading apart the globes of your ass, and more cracking down between them, on your empty, pretty little hole. For a moment your brain slips out of your body, thoughts static and turned to mush, fuzzy and convulsing where you lay. You process the sound of hushing, the feeling of wetness, the sound of slick spit against your skin. . . Thick, merciless fingers rubbing and tapping and sliding against you.
“Oh, god,” You sob, eyes fluttering shut and eyebrows pinching the second more pressure builds and— oh, a finger slips inside. “Fingers— that’s, oh god..” Inching in slowly, rubbing against your velvety walls and so fucking slick you’re beginning to see stars. Whatever you had your mind set on earlier flies straight out the window, your brain short circuits as your sopping hole flutters around his fingers, sucking them in.
“Fuck, baby, look at you clench on Daddy’s fingers. Want Daddy to finger-fuck this cute little cunt silly?” If you could see his face you’re sure he’d be smiling— an eerie thing, eyes trained on his fingers getting sucked back into you. Such a needy boy. “C’mon, say it. Tell Daddy you want his big fingers in your sweet, greedy little pussy.”
You can’t help it, hole throbbing rhythmically along his long fingers, squelching and gushing with stickiness. The swell of your ass ripples as you wiggle your hips, rising and falling to grindgrindgrind. “Fuck me already, c’mon, old man.”
“That what your little ‘boyfriends’ do?” Your lip quivers— he hadn't even flinched at the sass— and instead used your own words against you. “Oh, baby. They didn’t give that little boycunt the attention he needed, hm? That why you throw so many tantrums?”
Your hand finds his wrist, fingers wrapping around thick and strong limp just enough to get his hand moving, trying to guide him deeper, faster, harder. He should reward bratty behavior, but the words spill from his mouth almost immediately, “That’s it, just needed something to fill you up, nice and full.”
It’s ironic— he says it just before pulling out his soaked fingers. And, at your nightstand, opens the drawer to retrieve lube. You watch him pause, eyes scanning the contents of the drawer until his lips quirk downward. Lollipop wrappers. An ungodly amount— you really went on a hunger strike because he ignored you? For six whole days?
“What am I gonna do with you.” He sighs, but grabs a sucker regardless, tearing open its pretty, pastel blue packaging to reveal its red, shiny hard candy. He pops the treat into his mouth, holds it on the right side with his teeth, and squirts a generous amount of lube over the globes of your ass. His hands slip and slide as he guides it around, watches it dribble down your thighs and relishes in the way your hole opens up for him, soaked and sticky.
Your eyebrows pinch, hips wiggling as he pulls the lollipop free from his mouth and directs it against your own, “Suck,” He murmurs, but it’s forced past your lips before you can process the demand. Here come more tears, burning your nose as you hiccup out a tiny, overwhelmed, “Daddy?”
“It’s okay, I’m here,” He coos, circling the pad of his thumb along the rim of your hole. Even as your feet instinctively kick, there’s no reaction from him, just a pleased hum. “Keep sucking, atta boy.”
His thumb feels like a lot, makes you squeal and shiver as he presses it inside, and something hot and wet accompanies it. That's good, the heat of his tongue licking and sucking at your throbbing rim, bubbly spit dribbling down his chin and caught in his stubble. One hand is focused on fucking your boyhole raw, till your brain goes numb and you’re incoherent. His palm presses into the small of your ass, tongue working hard until your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, and your mouth flies open in a silent scream. He takes the opportunity to snatch the lollipop back, keeps his tongue pressed against your walls until—
He trails the glossy sphere of the candy down to your sloppy little hole, nudging and prodding until he slowly works the lollipop inside. “You can take it,” He growls, eyes trained on your fucked-out face. He can feel it, the tightening of your balls, the way your hole aches and pulses with the treat inside you. “That’s it, sweet thing. Wanna make this pussy cum, give it t’me. Let Daddy have it..”
He murmurs, and suddenly, instead of the treat that he’s popping back into his mouth, there’s the head of his perfectly thick, so big, cock pressing against your slick, thoroughly fucked-out hole and—
Oh.
“Sweet.”
You sob into nothing, back arching and spongy walls clinging down on Shouta’s cock as it’s worked inch by inch into you and— you can’t fucking believe it. You fought for so long, put on a bratty attitude and stomped your feet. Why would you ever push Shouta and his cock away for so long? Your breaths are short. Tiny little gasps as his large hands grip your ankles, spreading your legs open to get a better view of the thick dick pumping you full. Your pretty little hole, sheen with spit and lube, exposed and on display for him and his cock. And, yeah, this is everything you’ve ever wanted and more. . . You want him to break you.
“You’re— fuck, you’re so gross, Daddy,” Shouta grits his teeth, “Ohh, havin’ your best friend’s son on your fat cock, fuckin’ my pussy so full. . !” You’re straight up babbling, cross-eyed as each thrust knocks coherent thoughts out your brain. A real, proper slut, desperately humping upupup to fuck yourself on his dick. With this position— knees to your ears and holes on display, you barely have the control to move— but it’s cute to watch you try anyway.
“Shut up and take it,” He rasps, voice deep and scratchy in a harsh whisper as his hips snap back and forth. “Don’t want mommy and daddy to hear their son calling someone else daddy, do you?”
“Daddy— Daddy, my pussy—“ You’re babbling, it’s all you can do since Shouta is all force with his thrusts; takes what he needs, feeds you his cock good and so, so deep. Over and over, you let out broken whines, desperate for it, looking down as best you can to watch your own cock bob and jump against your tummy, thighs sticky with spit and lube. You can hear the sound of your slutty, pathetic moans, the wet plaplaplap of skin, lube trailing and frothing between your bodies as Shouta fucks into you. You can’t stop twitching— your legs, your hole, your cock.
“This is Daddy’s pussy,” He corrects, angling his hips just right, the heat of his cock pressing against every special spot you’ve got. Every bundle of nerves, every silky, spongy wall you’ve got wrapped around him. “Just like that,” You’re gagging for it, pouty lips parting with open-mouthed pants as he continues to watch your hole tighten around his thick, veiny cock. He has to swallow down his own drool, reaching deeper into you, your body jerking back as he pounds, and pounds, and pounds. You may not be a good boy, but you’re a damn good slut.
“Uh-huh, uh-huh. . .” Your breath is caught in your throat, and if you could, you’d scream, your body tensing as your cock throbs and bounces, cum spraying across your bare chest — stickiness shooting out your spent cock until you’re twitching, handsfree and body set ablaze. Shouta shows no signs of stopping, instead keeping his cock inside you as he flips you around, eyes narrowed. He fucks you through it, watching more cum squirt from your cock, leaky hole milking him for all he’s got.
“Dumb sluts love cock, baby. S’that what you are?” His voice is a low purr, pressing your face into the mattress, watching your ass fall back onto his cock until he feels himself aching hard, hard enough to start cumming inside you.
“Yeah, mhmm,” You drool into your pillow, absentmindedly fucking yourself back onto him. You’re desperate to chase after it, the searing spiral of pressure growing in your stomach, tight hole bearing down on his cock. “Daddy’s slut, s’me!” For a minute you think you’ve passed out, everything going dark as you ride out his hard thrusts, offering tiny movements of your own, up and down to satiate the erratic spasming of your hole, to feel his balls slap against your thighs.
“Good sluts take Daddy’s cum,” Your eyes, so glassy and empty, is what gets him, groaning loud as he pumps a load inside you. “Take it, boy. Let Daddy knock you up.” It’s messy, and downright pornographic watching his cum leak out of you, just for him to fuck it back in with the head of his dick. Shouta’s cum starts to kiss your insides and spurt straight onto that small bundle of nerves— fuck, it’s so deep. His thrusts are erratic and sloppy, thick rope after thick rope frothing around his shaft as he fucks it deeper inside. You never want it to stop, not the groaning or moaning, not the filthy sounds, not the cum filling up your hole till you can’t move.
He ignores your needy, overstimulated whines when he pulls out completely, his spent cock hanging heavy between his thighs. Even when you’re limp and boneless, body trembling violently, you want more.
“Da— Da—ddy,” You sob, eyes squeezed shut as strong arms pull you up and into even stronger thighs. Sitting on his lap now, Shouta coos hums, basks in the sight of his pretty boy’s afterglow.
“Daddy’s here. I’m here, I got you.” He whispers into your shoulder, and that’s all you need to hear. The thought of his best friend melts away— you’re more than that. You’re not just his best friend’s son. . .
You’re Shouta’s boy.
Tumblr media
Summer is coming to an end.
There’s a seasonal chill in the air and it’s getting dark in the early afternoon. The beach has switched its course, currents changing direction and fish disappearing from the shoreline. The weather is turning, branches are starting to grow bare and bloom in color, the wind picks up, and the clouds have yet to dissipate into the sky. . Shouta helps you pack, grumbles when you press chaste kisses against his skin the whole time— shuts down the stomps of your feet while you whine, “I don’t wanna leave.”
“Spring break,” Is all Shouta says, his mismatched eyes downcast in a way that highlights his long, pretty eyelashes. Then, voice barely audible, he whispers, “I don’t want you to, either.”
Your body visibly straightens, giddiness painting your boyish face as you smile wide and big. The older man almost regrets saying it, huffing with you lean impossible close to hug him tight. “Will you call me?”
“Whenever you want,” He says, as if it’s the most simple thing in the world. You watch as he throws your large bag of lollipops into your carry-on backpack, but not before plucking a treat free from the others. “You know I will.”
And that’s all you need to hear.
5K notes · View notes
imagination-mess · 1 year
Text
Reality Show: Pro Heroes Wives (Aizawa Shota Edition)
Reference to Rika from Bakugou and Pro Hero from Kirishima and Midoriya
*mentions you have 3 children (Eri/Shinsou/your own with Aizawa)*
________________________________
There is a reality show where pro heroes' wives are on television and paid to be there. It is filled with juicy gossip and pure drama. There are few wives in this second season who were kept out of the spotlight which adds mystery and theories to be created about who they were married to. 
The same winners who were in the group that couldn’t be identified are back this season as a surprise challenge.  Unlike last season, it wasn’t told in the very  beginning of this reason already revealed which Pro Heroes Wives will be featured
There are only a few left remaining without being matched, which were mostly underground heroes who people don’t typically pay attention to. Half of the cast already knew each other because their spouses have interacted on more than one occasion and are disqualified from participating in the weekend challenge of the show for those spouses. The others who do not know have to identify them, but the others did not spill any things that would clue who their spouse was. 
This weekend's challenge was the ones who didn’t get their rating from the public are put to guess their opponent chosen by the directors of who their spouses are, people are having a hard time guessing at home as well. These wives have pictures of other pro heroes which confuses the public about who their spouses were. It was a friendly picture to professional pictures that had been taken. 
The two members, Rika, and Pro Hero [Blank] who were also voted off from the show by their peers had made their decision. They make this decision based on their friends and notes taken throughout the show. 
 It was you, they had to guess who your spouse is. The two ladies stood on the platform while you were sitting on the red couch seat with a wine glass in your hands. There was a screen behind you with a black box with an enormous question mark. You were confident they wouldn't be able to guess correctly. You have been on the hot seat a few times. You also know they wouldn't be able to because they have very little information about underground heroes, which you have been told by your husbands’ former students' wives. 
“We chose Pro Hero Mindjack,” Rika speaks into the microphone while the screen reveals the pro hero at the latest picture of the Hero Gala beside them. 
There was an immediate reaction from you which was coughing on your wine with eyes widened. Your facial expression shows how shocked you were. and the crowd who were within the circle of the pro hero were screaming “HOW” to cough on their drinks.
“Based on the comment you mentioned this week was that your husband's quirk involves a specific muscle in the body.” Pro Hero [Blank] adding an explanation. 
“What do you say to that? Miss [Former Last Name]?” The host asks for your input. 
“Mindjack is a very handsome man, but he is way too young for me. Here is a clue,  I am a mother of 3. I am confident my oldest son is having some sort of reaction to this but don’t expect a reaction on social media. You are not going to find it. Additionally, my oldest son is around his age.” 
Meanwhile, on social media, people were going crazy about the fact you looked younger than your age to be a mother of three. No one could find the children that related to you, because you never did post them on your social media including your spouse. It was a very professional account which disappointed some fans of the show. They aren’t able to figure out who your spouse is.
Proherofan34 tweeted: All I am hearing is that [Name] is milf. 
Uravityfan89 tweets: I need her skincare routine! *attaches its mighty need. * 
There are videos of you including from seasons 1 and 2 clips of you with the audio sound of Mommy, sorry to step on me. Other videos of being a collaboration of your top moments of being unbothered along with your greatest comebacks from season 1. You humbled certain younger women. There were old videos of you throwing a man twice your size out of a nightclub along with videos of being a momma bear to those who needed help at the nightclub circling the internet. 
There were multiple pictures of you and younger Shinsou with a few others such as Bakugou, and Kaminari at different metal musician group concerts that circled around the interest taken from the Pro Hero Chargebolt account.
The clue you had given to the cast and to the public had narrowed the options to two options the Pro Heroes who have 3 children had mentioned in interviews and such. 
Pro Hero Eraserhead, Pro Hero Hawks, and Pro Hero Gang Orca. 
Meanwhile, Eri is holding out her hand out at Hitoshi who was pulling out his wallet for the money. He has lost the bet. Eri is glued to the show and watching too intensely to the point that she is rambling about her theories with her brother and father. 
Shota is just staring at them silently in disbelief with the toddler sleeping on his lap. 
‘I am not gonna even ask.’
Pro Hero Deku Edition
Pro Hero Dynamight Edition
Pro Hero Shoto Edition
Pro Hero Red Riot Edition
Pro Hero Hellfire (Touya) Edition
Pro Hero Mindjack Edition
Reality Show: Unmasked Pro Heroes
2K notes · View notes
amaya-writes · 1 year
Text
Day One: And Then There Was One...Bed (BNHA x Reader Smut)
Day One of Amaya's New Year's Event
Summary: After a tiring day assisting your hero at the commission's Christmas party all you wanted to do was collapse in your hotel room and sleep the night away, however, things take a surprising turn when you find out each agency was only given one room...with one bed.
Warnings: smut!!! NSFW, MDNI!! sub Hawks, oral (both receiving), raw sex, dom reader, dom Aizawa, use of words like kitten, fingering
Characters involved: Hawks, Aizawa
Keigo Takami (Hawks)
You shouldn't be doing this.
A small smile tugged on your lips as you allowed your fingers to card through his feathers, the action eliciting a shiver from your pro hero as he leaned further into your touch.
The sight made your grin widen as you felt Keigo trail his hot fingers across the swell of your ass, causing you to softly grind against his touch as you allowed yourself a quick peck before completely pulling away from him.
"We really shouldn't be doing this, Keigo."
Other pro heroes would have taken your words as a reason to stop and never look you in the eyes again, but Keigo was different. He was young. You and stupid and everything you thought you left behind after graduating from UA.
And he was needy. So, so needy.
It was why he allowed a small whine to slip past his lips as Keigo's grip tightened on your bare skin.
Stay, he said. And you listened.
You listened even if you knew better than to kneel between your pro hero's legs and slot his dripping cock between your lips, you listened even if you knew a pro hero's position wasn't between his side kick's legs sucking at her core.
Low groans and moans echoed through the hotel room as the two of you made love to each other. Because that was what this was. Not random sex, but making love.
He caressed your body with the hands of worship and you tainted him with a sinner's touch.
Keigo was clumsy, and clearly didn't know what he was doing. He couldn't have had sex more than a handful of times, not with the commission breathing down his neck day and night, but he was eager. Eager and so ready to learn.
He didn't say anything when you tugged at his blond strands and pushed his mouth close to your core. He didn't protest when you told him to sit up against the headboard and climbed on his lap.
The only sound that escaped his lips were moans of pleasure as he egged you on with his words.
Don't stop. So you didn't. Let me cum for you. So you let him.
You wanted to be meaner, to pull away at the last second and make him whine for your touch. But you couldn't. Not when he was looking at you like you hung the sun in the sky.
He looked at you with the eyes of worship, you looked at him like you wanted to severe his faith.
Nobody would know about what transpired between the two of you that night. But nobody needed to know.
Because Keigo Takami might have been the powerful number two hero to the rest of Japan, but to you, he was the pro hero who fell to his knees for his side kick.
Even if it was just for a night.
Aizawa Shouta
It'll be fine he said. We're mature adults who can handle ourselves, he said. I'll be asleep even before you realise it, he said.
Yeah, right.
Aizawa Shouta might have been a pro hero who prided himself on his self-restraint and poise, but the way his lips trailed hickeys down your neck while his fingers curled into the waistband of your pyjamas certainly made it seem otherwise.
It had been hours since the two of you first stumbled into your hotel room tired and ready to collapse, but neither of you had gotten a wink of sleep since the second you lied down beside each other.
At first, he had used the blaring red 2:00 am on the hotel's alarm clock as an excuse to strike up a conversation about how both of you wouldn't be able to get any work done the next day if you didn't sleep.
Then came the cuddling because it was cold enough for you to feel like your toes were going to fall off.
But somewhere between the clock striking three and your lips find his, the two of you had found yourself tangled in each other's limbs with a salacious need gnawing at your mind.
This was wrong. Both of you knew it was.
Pro heroes weren't supposed to spend their nights with their fingers stuffed into their side kick's pussy. And side kick certainly were supposed to jerk off their heroes at three in the morning.
Especially not when you were on a trip organized by the hero commission and in a hotel surrounded by dozens of heroes who could easily hear you through the thin walls.
But neither of you seemed to care much about that. Not when every fibre of your being just screamed for that delicious release.
"Shouta- I-"
You wanted to say something, anything at all. But it was hard to do anything but muffle your moans in the pillow beside your head when Aizawa was curling his fingers up into you so perfectly.
"It's okay."
He placed a chaste kiss on your jawline as he spoke, causing a small smile to tug on your lips.
"You ready to go all the way, kitten?"
You silently nodded along to his question, allowing your hand to fall limp around his length just as you felt his hand pull away.
As you watched Shouta shift so that he could tower over you with one hand pressed into the mattress and the other stroking his leaking cock, you couldn't help but feel a sudden sense of yearning consume you.
It made you whine in annoyance at the lack of his touch, a sound that elicited a chuckle from Aizawa as he reached down to finally slide his tip inside you. And then more, and more, until you could feel him bottoming out with a loud groan that drowned out your own moans.
The mattress squeaked below the two of you as you felt him began to pull out and slide back in at a painfully slow pace.
"Shouta!"
This time your call was one of desperation, the sound making him smirk against your neck as he trailed kisses down your hot skin.
"Be patient."
"But-"
He pulled away from your neck at the weak protest, choosing to stare at you with a raised eyebrow even as his hips rolled against yours.
"Trust me, kitten, I know what I'm doing."
He dropped down to place a quick peck on your lips as he spoke, the gesture causing a small smile to tug at the corner of your lips as you silently watched Aizawa reposition himself above you.
"Now, let your pro hero take care of you."
2K notes · View notes
cefni · 6 months
Text
The Cloth that Binds - NSFW
Tumblr media
Characters: Shouta Aizawa
Last Proofread: September 22, 2023
Concept: Sugar daddy Aizawa request!
Warnings: Unprotected sex, vaginal penetration, bondage, choking, brat taming.
Tumblr media
When it came to your relationship with Shouta Aizawa, you were an absolute brat. A spoiled brat that some wondered why he would tolerate some of your more public behaviors. The mouthiness in public where you would give him a snarky response and he would simply seem to ignore your response after fixing you with a look for a brief second.
This was one of those times where you were secretly dancing on every last one of his nerves and you knew it. You knew where to find every single one and you knew how to get what you wanted. You knew that you would have to 'pay him back' for what you were doing, but you were enjoying it while you had the chance.
Every store you two went to in the mall, you would ask his thoughts on an item. Though when he gave it, you gave a snarky response back to him countering his response. When you were in the shoe store in particular, he was helping you pick out heels and trying them on, but every pair you tried on, you found something wrong with it.
"Ummm... nah." You then said again, taking your shoe off and tossing it at Shouta. You then waved your hand at him as you were dismissing him and the shoe. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught the look that meant you were dancing on the nerve you wanted to. "That's not the exact style I want, Shouta." You said, your attitude becoming very haughty.
Once you had found a pair of shoes that met your expectations and you batted your eyelashes sweetly at Shouta to pay for them, you lead him out of that store and into the jewelry store next door. Starting the process all over again. First speaking sweetly to convince him to let you buy more things on his dime, asking him to pick out something to his taste, reject the item and pretend he's beneath you, dance on his nerve enough to get a couple of reactions out of him, then pick an item, bat your eyes at him again and speak sweetly to him, let him pay, then move on to the next store.
By the time that you two had finished shoppoing, you had been able to thoroughly flex your boyfriend's wallet and been able to purchase several nice itesm. Shoes, jewelery, clothing, got your hair done, got your nails done, picked out some intimate wear. All while dancing on his every last nerve and letting him continue to spoil you rotten. He took it all silently.
For now.
Tumblr media
You were in trouble. Oh, you for sure knew you were in trouble. Shouta didn't have to say a word about you for you to know how much trouble you were in, and the fact that he was no longer even giving you the look meant that you were really going to be in for it when you got back to his place.
You had thought about this before hand though. You had made sure to bat your eyelashes at him when you asked him to carry your bags for you to his apartment. The very bags that you were about to return your payment for, but you had a plan.
Once you had unlocked the door, you instantly dropped kicked off your shoes and dropped your purse to the floor. Dashing quickly into the apartment to get a head start. You heard Shouta mumbed 'you fucking bitch' as he closed and locked the door behind him before his own heavy foot steps started chasing after you.
You knew that the first thing that he would go for would be his capture weapon from his hero wardrobe and you beat him to it. Snatching it off of where he kept it on top of the dresser as you continue to work on evading him through the apartment. You could hear him tearing ass behind you and cussing as you cut him off to his scarf.
"You're going to regret that!" Shouta growled as he chased you back into the living room. When you went to run around the coffee table and couch, he cut you off by stepping onto the table and then his next step was on the couch. He made a quick lunge that you weren't expecting and he almost tackled you to the floor.
Almost.
As he hit the floor chest first, he was able to take your legs out from under you by grabbing one of your ankles as he slid. Pulling your feet out from under you in the process. With a quick twist and kick of your free foot at his hand on your ankle and you managed to free yourself. You then scrambled back to your hands and knees as you tried to get away from him.
In your fumble, you had made one crucial mistake. You had dropped his scarf and as you reached for it, he also had reached for it. Though his arms were longer and he managed to grab it sooner. "Shit!" You shouted, trying to get as far out of his reach as you could, but you were already fucked.
Just as you were about to round the corner of the door way to get out of his direct line of capture, you felt it around your neck. The capture weapon was wrapped around your neck and you felt it jerk you backwards back through the door way.
"You're mine now." Shouta growled as he pulled you back to him. Once you were close enoguh, he snatched you up with his hand in your hair. "You've been an absolute brat all fucking day." He growled out as he picked you up off of the floor by your hair. He was pissed and he was about to take it all out on you as he dragged you into the bedroom.
"Yeah?" You questioned snarkily, grabbing onto the edge of the door frame as you fougnt him. You knew he was going over power you, but that didn't mean you were going to make this easy for him. "What are you going to do about it, old man?" You questioned, getting in the barb about him being older than you. You felt his hand tighten in your hair as you got a rile out of him.
Tumblr media
"That's enough out of you." Shouta growled, pulling harder on your hair and pulling you through the door way into the bedroom. He shoved you onto the bed and locked the bedroom door behind him. He watched where you were on the bed, now moving to your all fours as you prepared to fight him some more.
This was all part of it though. This is what he got for tolerating your bullshit all day. This was the sugar that your sugar daddy wanted in exchange and he was loving every minute of this.
Shouta pulled off his shirt over his head and grabbed a hair tie and slowly tied his hair back into a pony tail. Keeping his eye contact with you as you both slowly moved around the room. Watching the other for the next move.
You watched as he kept his eyes on you while opening the the dresser drawer and pulling out a silk blind fold from it. He pushed the drawer shut before beginning to play with the cloth between his hands. "Let's see how mouthy you can be when you can't get any words out." Shouta growled at you, slowly adjusting his body language preparing to make a move towards you.
You watched him with a smirk on your lips. "You sure your old body can still move quick enough?" You taunted him, your tongue slipping out to lick your body lip in a tease. You barely got an eye brow to slightly raise before you had to leap back off of the bed as he lunged for you.
There wasn't much room in the bedroom for you to get away from him, so you didn't have much room to move around. So when he did snatch you up by your, you still attempted to put up a fight. You ripped your dress in the process, but you knew that he would just buy you a new one. He got the cloth into your mouth and tied behind your head with a fair bit of practiced ease even with your struggling.
Shouta tossed you around on the bed like it was no effort to him to do so. With your mouth now gagged, all you could do was to struggle as much as possible. He kept you pinned with his body, his hips stradling you he held your arms and began tying your hands to the bed posts.
Once he was done with your hands, Shouta started shifting his body down yours. Using the weight of his body to hold your legs down. He brought his hands to your cheeks and squeezed. "What? Nothing smart to say now?" He taunted you back, smirking as you gave him a glare and mumbled something through the gag.
"Oh? What's that? Must not be important if I can't hear you." He said, smirking again as he resumed moving down your body. He took the chance to tie your legs up to. He didn't bother taking our underwear off. Instead, he waiting until you were completely tied up, so he could rip the underwear to remove them.
"You bought a lot of prettying things today, kitten." Shouta commented as he now took his time, slowly undoing his belt and his pants. Freeing his hard cock from it's confines as he shoved his pants down his thighs. "I hope you're prepared to pay for your pretty things." He chuckled, holding his cock in one hand and stroking it through your folds. Collecting your lube with his pre-cum before sinking himself deep into you as he bullied his cock into you.
You were going to be spending the rest of the day paying your price for all of your nice things.
Tumblr media
249 notes · View notes
xacatalepsyx · 6 months
Text
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Acting on a whim
*My Hero Acadamia
•Shouta Aizawa x Reader
-When Aizawa acts in a sleepy whim, yous both get more than you bargained for.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tumblr media
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You raise a hand to stifle the yawn escaping you as you make your way down one of the many hallways of UA.
You’d just released your students was determined to get back to your own dorm and get some paperwork out of the way so you could relax for the rest of the night before your kids assessment tomorrow.
You were proud of your students, and you knew that they would do you and the Support & Business department proud, so you’d let them away an hour earlier for the day in order to better prepare themselves for tomorrow.
With the practical side of things caught up with today, it would give them longer to focus on their theory and coursework.
An unexpected buzz from you back pocket has you stopping in your tracks as you reach back and pull out your phone. You’d placed it on do silent for your class earlier, and weren’t surprised to see a few notifications waiting.
They were from a shared chat group with your two childhood friends, you notice all the messages are from the same person, and your finger moves to click into it.
Though just as you go to do so, your attention is pulled elsewhere.
The sound of your name being called from somewhere down the corridor had your head turning, the very familiar booming voice of your childhood friend Hizashi Yamada echoing through the corridors in his search for you.
“(Y/n)!”
You wince at the volume, long since used to his presence and antics, you briefly wondered what it was he could be after. Knowing Hizashi it could be anything from lunch plans to the vast unknown.
You place your phone on do not disturb and turn it off, before placing it back into your pocket knowing you’d be face to face with the sender in no time.
Just as you open your mouth to reply, guessing him to be nearby due to the sound of his closer proximity, you’re abruptly cut off.
Before you could even think, you suddenly found yourself unable to move.
A pressure, similar to that of a snake’s coils curls round your body, your arms and legs effectively pinned to your sides as you find yourself yanked to the right and into the imposing darkness of a vacant classroom.
Your startled yelp is the only thing left echoing in the hallway before the door slams shut behind you, and you find yourself leaning back against it.
You hadn’t even noticed that the door had been partially open, not that you were being watched on top of that.
Despite your wide eyes struggling to adjust to the sudden darkness of the room, you can just make out a darker shape in front of you, a silhouette to be more specific.
An instinctive fear washes over you at the thought, though just as quickly as it came, it was gone at yet the sound of another familiar voice.
“We need to talk,” were the four measly words offered to you gruffly from the man before you.
“Oh my god Shouta, you could’ve asked!” The back of your head hits the large door behind you with a dull thud as you take a breath to try and calm your rapid heart.
“You nearly gave me a damn heart attack,” you huff out as your eyes close to help yourself focus on calming your racing pulse..
As you flex your arms you find them still pinned to your sides, and it’s here you realise that the snake-like pressure you’d felt earlier had been his scarf.
Your eyes blink open and you can make out his shape now, though given he stood a few feet from you, you still struggled to make out his features.
Though you did notice the lack of fabric around his neck.
“Honestly, between you and Hizashi I’m going to find myself in an early grave.”
As though summoned by his name, the man himself made himself known once more, this time his voice seeming to come from the other side of the door you were leaning against.
“(Y/N)? Shouta? Where you guys at?! Helllooooo?!” You didn’t think in all the years you’d known the pair of them you’d ever had a normal day.
By the sounds of things he hadn’t seen you get pulled into the room, nor did he seem to be aware that either you or Shouta were here to begin with.
Just as you open your mouth to respond to him, you’re once again stopped, though you didn’t need the hand against your mouth to keep you quiet.
Your gaze darts from the door to the man now stood directly in front of you, your nose twitching from the hairs on the back of his calloused hand as he held it gently against your lips.
He raises one hand near your head to support his weight against the door, as he focuses on your mutual childhood friend on the other side.
“Aww jeez, come on you guys, this isn’t funny!” Your blonde friend forlornly calls as his footsteps can be heard moving down the corridor and away from your vicinity.
It isn’t until everything once again falls silent, that Shouta drops his hand from your lips, though the lingering warmth leaves a tingling sensation on your skin.
You can’t bring yourself to look away as he stands over you, not that you think you could.
His scarf was still enfolded round his hand with you held securely in place on the other end, and you could now make out his masculine features.
Your breath caught in the back of your throat at the realisation that you were alone in a dark room with Shouta Aizawa.
A man you may or may not have been having not so platonic thoughts towards, more so lately than ever.
He seemed to tower over you as his chest held steady mere inches from your own. You could just make out his scruffy cheeks, and the messy mane of black hair hanging loose around his shoulders.
Had he alway been so tall and imposing?
He had yet to say anything else to you, and the tension was driving you crazy. You squirmed in your bindings, your action only resulting in a slight tilt of his head.
In all the years you’d known him you don’t think you’d ever been quiet as aware of him as you were in this moment.
“Shouta, is everything okay?”
“Yeah, I just…” as his voice trailed off, you narrow your eyes him, “wanted to talk.”
You feel his fist tightening on the other end of the scarf through your connection, and your anxiety unleashes butterflies within the confines of your tummy.
You mentally shake yourself, cursing your heart for playing tricks when your friend was clearly unsure about something.
“Shouta,” you mumble as you take a step from the door in his direction, leaving the support it offered you in favour of checking on your friend, ignoring how close it brought you.
“If somethings going on, I’m happy to listen.” You’re close enough now that each of his exhales ruffles the loose hair of your fringe.
You’re momentarily distracted by the scent of his cologne and something unique to him, though before you can become lost in your thoughts, you find your limbs suddenly free.
The scarf slithers down your body and pools at your feet in a heap, ankle-deep on your smaller stature.
“Yeah, I know. Sorry about the…” his voice trails off in a bid to find the right word, and in an attempt to lighten to mood you you teasingly offer.
“Abduction?”
He snorts in response, though you pick up on the humoured undertone.
“Yeah, I wouldn’t have gotten a chance had Hizashi seen you.” No you certainly wouldn’t, you endearingly muse to yourself.
“I acted without thinking. Did I hurt you?” The sudden concern in his voice has your head tilt ring up towards him.
“No, I’m fine, was just a bit of a fright is all, I wasn’t expecting you.” As you glance around the room, you ask, “were you taking a nap?”
It was the only reason you could think of as to why he’d be here alone during the day.
In answer to your question, he glances over towards where the desk would be, and you just make out the shape of what you assumed to be his large sleeping bag, confirming your guess.
“Ah I see, what’s on your mind then?”
He bows his head as the words leave your lips, the hand which had previously held his scarf now raising to scratch at the back of his neck as he seemed to search for something to say.
Unbeknownst to you, from the second he brought you in here, he’d been lost for words.
When he’d been awoken to Hizashi’s insistent messages on his phone, it was safe to say he was less than pleased to have his nap interrupted to abruptly.
As he wiggled his way out of his sleeping bag, he nudged it towards the vacant desk as he dragged a hand down his face in an attempt to clear his blurry vision.
As he turned towards the doorway of the empty classroom; the only source of light being the sliver of afternoon sun that had managed to makes its way into the room from the cracked door.
For a second, he’d thought he was seeing things when he spotted you standing in the warm glow. You were the last person he had been expecting to see standing in the empty corridor.
His irritation had quickly been cast to the side at your appearance, sleep now forgotten at the thought of you and not for the first time.
You were the last thought on his mind at night and the first when he opened his eyes, he’d envisioned the day he worked up enough confidence to tell you how he felt.
Things just never seemed to be right, he worried his hero career would endanger you, or that he’d ruin your friendship; something he held dearer than you could ever comprehend.
So many times had the words nearly left him, but you’s were never alone long enough to have a private conversation, between your conflicting class schedules, students, work and even with Hizashi on the prowl… well things never worked out.
He loved his job, and his students, and Yamada. The man was like a brother to him, and he would do anything for his blonde friend, but he sometimes wished for more time with you alone.
And just as the thought crossed his mind, he had you ensnared and in his grasp. He’d acted entirely on a whim, his sleep-addled mind clouding his judgement in a moment of desperation.
And now that he had you before him, tucked away from everyone and everything, he found himself once again, lost for words.
He was painfully aware of the silence between yous, though you didn’t seem bothered in the slightest.
“If you’ve changed your mind Shouta, that’s okay. We can sit in here for a little while if you need some time.” You offer gently in a bid to support him with whatever it was he was battling.
Though much like Shouta, you were warring with yourself, your thoughts and emotions like a hurricane within the confines of your mind.
“Shouta-“
“I don’t know what to do about you…” he mused soft enough that you nearly missed it despite your close proximity.
You brow quirks at his confession, lips parting to reply, but you didn’t know what to say. It was said with an emotion you couldn’t quite place, but you could tell there was no malice or irritation to his words.
You briefly considered playing it off with a joking comment, but there was a certain gravity to the atmosphere that made you rethink that idea.
You remained quiet in the hopes he’d explain himself, his confidence seems to have dampened somewhat since you first entered the room, but you know if you have him time he’d come round.
His gaze lazily rises to settle back on your own, and you found yourself rooted to the spot. Your stomach flipped as his dark orbs glinted with something you couldn’t quite place.
You swallow thickly at the realisation that you were on new territory with the man before you, you never had a such an experience with Shouta. Never in all the years since you were children yourself sitting in these classrooms.
One part of you is curious to see where it will go, but another part of you feels apprehension with the situation, though not an entirely bad sense.
For the first time in a long time, you didn’t know what to expect with him, and that was unsettling.
You instinctively felt as though a boundary was being crossed, and your dread warred with anticipation in your belly.
“I haven’t seen you in a platonic light for some time now. I don’t know when it started, or how, but you’re someone I’ve come to see as… more.”
Your breath caught in your throat at his admission, eyes widening and lips parting as he contributed.
“I don’t want to ruin what we have, but you’ve monopolised my thoughts for some time now. If you don’t feel the same, then I’ll respect that. I’ll put my feelings to rest and we can forget about what I just said.”
How could you ever forget about this?
For so long now you’ve tried to fight back your own romantic feelings, and to find out that all this time he’s been going through the exact same thing…
You swallow thickly at the thought, all that time wasted, if you’d been braver yourself… if you’d just acted in a little bit of confidence like he had.
You didn’t realise that you’d become lost in thought, not until he dropped his head and looked to the side.
“You don’t-“
“What if I don’t want you to?” You felt a slight lang of guilt for interrupting him, but the words were out your mouth before you could stop them, though he didn’t appear bothered.
His head whips back to you, you could make out his wide eyes and parted lips in the dull light, and you knew you’d caught him off guard, just as he had you.
You decide to shove aside your anxiety and worry, and bite the bullet, just like him.
“I don’t want to forget about this, I’ve-“ you suck in a shuddering breath as your gift clench at your aides.
“I’ve felt the same way about you for so long, I was always just… I was worried you never felt the same way, that I’d ruin everything.”
You’d had your suspicions that a shift had occurred in your friendship, that he might’ve considered you as more, but you’d never dared to let yourself believe it.
You blink open your eyes when you feel a warmth engulf your fist, you don’t know when you’d closed them, but your eyes fluttered open as you looked to find Shouta before you.
You glanced down to your hand in his, and a wave of energy sparked at his touch.
“You could never ruin anything.”
Your breath catches in your throat as a shiver makes its way down your spine. He had a glint in his eye you couldn’t quite place, and that paired with the intensity of his gaze and the huskiness of his tone made you weak in the knees.
A part of you had always felt guilty for wanting more with him, you’d always stomped down the intrusive thoughts that flooded your mind when he’d get to close, or you’d see him do anything that remotely peaked your interest.
“If you’re having second thoughts, nows the time to say it.” His voice was like music to the ears, and as the words registered in your mind, you only shook your head.
You nervously lick your lips as you feel the air shift, and the action has his eyes darting downwards, an action you don’t miss. You feel the heat in your cheeks, and you only hope he doesn’t notice.
“I’m a selfish man (Y/N),”
Goosebumps erupt along your arms as he raises both his arms up your own, before coming to settle upon your face.
“I don’t think I could let you go so easily once it’s official.”
Your heart skips at his words, your heart rate once again picking up as he leans closer towards you.
His nimble hands cup your cheeks as his face stops and hovers a few centimetres from your own.
“I wouldn’t want you to.”
As the words leave you, you briefly hear the catch in his breath before he finally closes the distance between yous, his lips capturing yours as swiftly as his weapon had with you earlier.
You both lean into the contact, exploring this new experience together, an eagerness building as yous get lost in the moment together.
One of his hands drops to gently squeeze your waist before settling on your lower back, pulling you closer is possible.
Your breath catches in your throat as you tilt your head, your own hands scrunching in his rumpled shirt. His beard tickles your cheeks, and you kick yourself for waiting so long.
You take a step back to study yourself as he leans into you, and just as you do your foot catches on the scarf around your feet.
However, before you could loose your footing, Shouta was moving.
Quicker than a cat, the hand encircling your waist held you close, pulling you into him as he catches you both with his outstretched spare hand.
He makes contact with a sharp thud on the door, jolting you slightly, the impact pulls a grunt from his throat and your ears prick at the sound.
You look back up to him only to find yourself engulfed in his presence, and you find you don’t mind at all.
You grin up at him, and the usually stoic man smiles back down at you as you breathe a laugh.
“My hero,” you murmur affectionately, a nickname that his him humming in response as he leans down to rest his head in the crook of your neck.
He nuzzles into you like a big cat, his breath seeing another shiver down your spine as you bask in this new affectionate side of him.
“Always,” he vowed solemnly, and you could only lean into him in response. Yous both savoured the moment, a comfortable silence falling over you, though it was long before he spoke up.
“Sorry I got carried away.” Your brows furrowed for a second, lost for a a second before you realise what it was he was referring to.
Your cheeks warm at the reminder, though that didn’t stop you from teasing back, “Didn’t hear me complaining, did you?”
He pulls back once more to look you in the eye, before raising back to his full height with a mischievous smirk pulling at the corners of his lips as he eyed you, “no, I don’t suppose I did.”
Your sudden spark of confidence was quickly doused in the moment, anticipation of the unknown causing a buzz to ignite in your veins as he zeroed bock on your lips.
Though just as he dips his head and you raise to meet him half way, an obnoxious ringing suddenly shatters the moment.
Yous both pause, and you watch as a line appears between Shouta’s brows as the noise continues.
You drop back onto the flats of your feet as Shouta takes a step back and pulls out his phone.
The sudden brightness of the screen has him squinting to make out who exactly was calling him, and you find yourself amused as he squeezes his eye shut with a sigh before holding he phone away and hitting answer.
You could guess who it was with the action alone before you hear the unmistakable voice of your best friend.
“Shouta my man! Do you have any idea how long I’ve been looking for you?!” Shouta rubs at his forehead, though you’re guiltily grateful he’d left it this long to get in touch with yous.
You pull out your own phone as Shouta attempts to calm down your extroverted friend, and notice he’d messaged you a few times as well; though given you’d left your phone on do not disturb you’d been ignorant of his plight.
Guilt nips at you again, you felt bad that he’d been trying to get in touch for so long, but another part of you was glad that you’d been able to have this moment with Shouta.
You raise your attention back to him as you put your phone away, only to find that he’d turned his back to you as he spoke, “yeah yeah, I’ll be over in a minute.”
You could still make out the distinct tone of Yamada’s tone, though couldn’t quite make out the words given he’d lowered his voice somewhat.
“(Y/N)?” You attention zeros in on Aizawa as your name falls from his lips, and in that moment he turns a to look at you from over his shoulder.
“I- she might still be in her class. I’ll stop by on my way over.” He offered convincingly.
“Yeah, it’s not unlike her to turn it off whilst teaching.”
Ah, you realise Hizashi must have asked after you, and you again felt a mix of guilt and gratitude at the lie.
“Yeah, yeah I’ll see you soon.” And with those parting words, he said need the chat and closed his phone.
Yous were once again plunged into darkness, and you could still make out his silhouette facing your direction.
“Sorry I lied, I thought it would be easier.” His hesitant tone pulled a small smile from your lips.
“That alright,” you soothed, “it’ll probably be better to explain in person once we’re ready, no?”
He once again hummed in agreement, before walking over to collect his sleeping bag.
“He’s in the teachers lounge waiting, said he’s wasting away on his own.”
You chuckle at his words, a vivid picture of Hizashi and his dramatics painting your mind. He was the biggest goofball in the world, and never failed to make you smile with his antics.
“Gotta love him.” You beamed affectionately, whilst bundling uk his scarf from the floor before waiting patiently for him by the door.
Tough Shouta shared the same opinion, he couldn’t help but feel somewhat frustrated at the interruption, though he agreed with you none the less as he closed the distance between yous.
You arrange the fabric in such a way that he’d be able to one again wear the material, and as he comes to stand next to you, you raise it up for him to do so.
He bows his head towards you so didn’t have to reach so far, and given his hands were full with his sleeping bag you were happy to oblige.
As it once again settles on and around his shoulders, you smooth out the fabric for him so it didn’t affect his vision.
“Perfect,” you crooned thoughtfully as you take in your handy work.
When you turn and move to pull the door handle, he once again reaches out and takes hold of your hand, cradling it as he lifts it closer to his face.
Just as you begin to wonder what he was doing, he places a tender kiss to the back of your skin.
“Can we talk more later?” The soft hopeful note in his voice had you melting.
“Of course, though we can maybe leave the lassoing aspect out of this time.” You tease playfully, earning you a boyish grin.
“As you wish,” he chuckles in response. It wasn’t often the man laughed, and when he did it never failed to catch your attention.
He releases your hand and reaches out for the door himself, pulling it open and holding it there for you to pass through first.
You duck beneath his arm with a quick thank you, eyes squinting with the sudden change in light. You briefly wondered how long yous had been in there together, as you hadn’t thought to focus on the time when you’d checked your phone.
Though as Aizawa fell into step beside you, the back of his hand brushing against your own, you found your mind wondering to what had occurred in that time instead.
Yous could discuss the intricacies and decide on the best way to share your news later, but for the time being, you were happy to remain drunk on the fuzzy feeling within you.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Shortcuts!
If you’re interested here you’ll find a quicker path to my Masterlist!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thank you so much for taking the time to read this story, I hope you enjoyed!
Love,
Acatalepsy xx
@band--psycho
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
149 notes · View notes
urfavslav · 1 year
Text
shouta idealizes taking night patrols so he can come home to you on a sunday morning cooking his favorites. he thoroughly enjoys when you brush through his hair. yes he can do it himself. (not like he has the time with hero work) but he craves your gentle touch. whether it's during that show you love watching and he prioritizes hearing your commentary over the actors voices. or whether it's right before you two go to sleep for the night while (he's supr greatful both of your work schedules line up) sleeping and taking it super easy during the day.
★ all works belong to @urfavslav , do not repost on anywhere else with or without credit, do not plagiarise. thank you !
213 notes · View notes
faulty-writes · 8 months
Note
Hi, hello!
I found your blog on accident, but it was a really good accident. I love how you write for bnha boys and girls, haven't seen that of an accurate descriptions in a while! It's really enjoyable.
Could I request a female reader with Stymphalian Bird like quirk? Like reader has big wings with very sharp, metal feathers that she can use as blades or just shoot them out. She also has sharp claws that administer poison to the wounds and sharp teeth. Because of that, as her quirk is pretty deadly, she became a villain due to harassment and bullying, but she never kills or severely injures anyone, mostly just destroying property and stealing. However, due to the scale of the attacks, she is considered dangerous, high ranking villain.
But she does it rather to spend her anger and survive rather than actually trying to hurt anyone.
For the Bois Like Hawks, Aizawa and Izuku?
You don't have to write it if you don't want to, I tend to overcomplicate things 😅
[ I'm happy it was a happy accident for you! Apologies that this took longer than expected. Life sucks sometimes. But I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. ]
Tumblr media
It didn't take a genius to figure out that while you were a high-ranking villain, you never actually shed the blood of the innocent. That's what he found most peculiar, and after months of hounding Madam President, he was finally assigned to apprehend you. Of course, he'd use that as an excuse to find out more about you and more importantly, why you spared innocent lives.
"Sorry there," the sound of your metal feathers crashing against the vacant building was a sound he wouldn't forget. "Guess I'm just a little faster than you, nice try though," he said at your first meeting. He recalled the way you growled, staring up at him with those intense eyes before again trying to strike him down.
Connecting with you was more challenging than he thought. This was even after expressing his interest in getting to know you. He even ventured as far as trying to gain your sympathy by sharing a little bit of his past, namely that his father was a villain and that's why he could understand where you were coming from, but you knew the real reason he told you this was because he hoped you'd open up. But no, you were stubborn and refused to tell a "hero" anything.
"Even with those sharp claws and teeth, you can still be a hero!" He yelled one day while engaged in another furious battle with you. His body had received a few scratches but nothing lethal, of course even if it were, he wouldn't care. He only wanted to convince you that you could still save yourself from this villainous path.
"Heh, well, it looks like you caught me," he joked, daring to smile as you pinned him against the wall with a satanic snarl. "But what's this? Not gonna use your poison, what gives? Or are you just too scared to use it?" His words sent a violent tremble through your body and as capable as you were of poisoning him, you backed away.
"You know, not that I'm much for looks even though I'm considered gorgeous by most, but you should smile more. You'd look even more beautiful than you are." You weren't sure if he meant that to be insulting or not, but why would you smile when you had sharp dangerous-looking teeth?
Tumblr media
The two of you were locked in a fierce hand-to-hand combat session when you first met. You scared some innocent civilians and panic arose. Shota was the first on the scene and made the first move. However, he ultimately ended the fight because there was no illegal quirk usage on your end and that meant no crime was committed. You thought that would be the last time you'd see him.
He recognized your potential from the start, and while your skills could be used for a heroic purpose you were still a villain and one, he intended on stopping, yet he wasn't beyond trying to reason with you. He'd always say something along the lines of "I could care less about detaining you, but you could channel your quirk for a greater purpose." Often his words were met with more retaliation.
He taught his students about the dangers of vigilantism. There was no excuse for what they did. They were criminals, and yet he couldn't help but compare you to a young man he met years ago. He was a vigilante, but Shota let his antics slide and never thought he'd let that happen again but something inside him kept calling him back to you.
He knew it was foolish and dangerous to track you down, and he'd never forget the feeling of your claws digging into his flesh and the sickening feeling of his life slipping away because of the poison that ran through his body. Yet, even as he lay in the hospital bed, he knew that your intention wasn't to kill him and that he'd pursue you again.
You weren't sure if you were angry or relieved when he ambushed you in the alleyway. However, how he smirked at you when you pinned him against the wall with your feathers made you feel uneasy as did his words. "You didn't intend to kill me. If you really want a change in perspective, Yuuei can help you." He acted as though he cared, and you hated that.
"Don't just stand there, we may be heroes, but we all agreed to help you, and in exchange, your villain record will be erased." This was the compromise you had reached with Shota after months of arguments and being at each other's throats, you finally agreed to at least see the world of heroes. In return, Shota had promised no harm would come to you, and it was almost funny or pathetic that you believed him.
Tumblr media
"I...I just w-want to know more about y-your quirk!" His words were coated in fear, and his eyes were fixated on your claws that were mere inches from his face. But his words also made you stop and think for a moment before declaring him a fool and shoving him to the ground.
His frequent visits quickly annoyed you, so you decided to poison the annoying pest to finally make him leave you alone. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case. Izuku returned after being released from the hospital. "I k-know you didn't mean to kill me! A-and that means t-that you have c-compassion!" His words were greeted with laughter. Yes, quite a stupid kid he was.
"W-why did you become a villain? Your q-quirk may seem dangerous, b-but if…if you really want, I can s-support you because I think…I think you'd make a wonderful h-hero!" A small amount of blood was shed when your claws swiped across his face, but you knew no matter how much pain you inflicted on him, he'd keep returning.
"Here, I t-thought you might be h-hungry!" You weren't sure if you were hateful or grateful because Izuku brought you food. "You n-need to eat! Even v-villains…n-not that I think you are o-one, need…need to eat!" You could hardly believe that you thanked him for said food, but hell…it was less work on your part. Villains didn't exactly get a paycheck, so you mostly relied on stealing and scaring others to get food or material means.
When he showed you his notebook and all the details, he had written about you, it changed something. It made you think and wonder why he was so interested in a villain like you. However, thinking back to your previous encounters, you realized it wasn't because he looked at you as a villain but as a person with a troubled past.
When he started bringing his "friends" to you to prove that not all heroes would judge you, there was a certain rage that seeped deep inside you. The last thing you wanted was more annoying brats around, but to your surprise, they were curious and accepting about you and spoke highly of Izuku and you almost hated yourself for agreeing that the once annoying pest was…pleasant to be around.
64 notes · View notes
neesieiumz · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
basorexia: chapter 2; a devotion
professor!Shouta Aizawa x teaching assistant!reader x professor!Keigo Takami
series warnings: 18+, smut, power imbalances, dumbification, blackmail, yandere tendencies, you’re probably not gonna like Hawks in this one, miscommunication, angst, stalking, dub-con, black-coded reader, hopeful happy ending, soft-dom!Aizawa, power-dom (I don’t know if this is what you call it, but he relishes the power he has over you.), love corner (because it’s two people liking one person, making it a corner), hopeful happy ending.
series summary: Living on the edge, sleeping, and having a relationship with your boss was never on your bucket list but here you are. Locked within a tangle of arms together, you thought nothing could touch, but soon one will find out how much obsession can open all secrets. For both you and everyone around you.
Tumblr media
Chapter summary: you meet up with your cousin for lunch, a glimpse into your study group, a faculty meeting, and a night that ends in bliss... or does it really?
Chapter warnings: smut. 18+ soft/service-dom!aizawa. cunnilingus. praise kink.
wc: 4.2k
Tumblr media
The restaurant was a hole-in-the-wall type of place, a small restaurant/pub that’s been passed down from generation to generation. Rumi, who most people know as Miruko, took you here when you first arrived in the city, all the way back during the beginning of your undergrad. Your mothers were sisters and the two of you basically grew up to be sisters, which was why when you got into Yuuei University, it was an easy decision to move in with her. While you pursue a career in neuroscience, she had a tenacity for exercise, making her up as a celebrity personal trainer, helping the top within the entertainment industry. She was constantly traveling, so even though you moved in with her you would barely see your cousin which was what made this lunch even more special to you. 
Opening the door, you waved over to the bartender on duty, an older man who’s been here since before you arrived in the city. You glanced around the room seeing the familiar long platinum-white hair pulled up into a high ponytail. Rumi was looking down at her phone before she noticed you approaching. She smiled, standing up and walking to meet you halfway, She wrapped her arms around you, with you doing the same, enveloping you in a tight hug. She smelled of blackberries and soft vanilla. The two of you let go of each other, before settling into your respective seats. You took your jacket off, placing it on the empty chair beside it along with your bag. Immediately a server walked over to you, placing straws down and asking about drinks. Rumi ordered a Shirly Temple and you ordered a simple Sprite. 
“So, how long are you back in town till the next celebrity?” You asked her after seeing what you want, placing the laminated folder down. 
Miruko sighed, leaning back into her chair, “I’m taking a month off, I’ve been running ragged going up and down the country these past five months.”
You raised an eyebrow, “wow, last time you took a break, you only took a week off. Is there something else going on?”
She shook her head, pressing a hand towards her temple, “nah, just looking out for myself before i have a mental breakdown.”
You nodded your head, but before you could say anything, the server came back with your drinks. You thanked them before they asked if you were ordered. You ordered one of their spicy chicken sandwiches, your usual when you came here with loaded fries. Miruko ordered a big ass burger, also with loaded fries as well. The server smiled, before walking away to put your orders in. Once they were gone, you looked back towards your cousin, concern etched around in your eyes. 
“Is everything okay, Miruko?”
She nodded her head, “I’ll be cool, just overdue for a well needed break, You know how I can overwork myself.”
She suddenly slammed her hands on the table, the bereaved look on her face disappearing, “enough about me! How about you? Anything new? Anyone new?” She wiggled her eyebrows on the last part, making you roll your eyes. 
“Nothing new going on in my life,” you fibbed, glancing around, “just been going to class, being a teaching assistant, nothing new.”
Miruko didn’t accept that, leaning in closer to you, eyebrows curling up. 
“Come on, you can tell me,” she nudged you, full on smirking at this point. 
You rolled your eyes, but your smile still showed up,  “there’s no one new, but if there is, you’ll be the first to know.”
She didn't believe you, judging by the way she looked at you but she dropped it, instead changing the conversation to your work during school. Your food soon arrived, the plates still steaming hot from the stove and oven. The two of you indulged into the food, conversation easily flowing between the two of you. You spent up to two hours there with your cousin, reminiscing on the old times when you two were growing up together. 
The time went past the two of you, and you both had separate appointments to get to. Your cousin didn't want you to take the bus, so she dropped you off on campus. You had a study group to get to, with other people in your class in the library. You said bye to your cousin before heading off, seeing her luxury car speed away. You headed inside the library, walking past the receptionist at the counter towards the elevator. The study/project group was with some other people in your class, who were in the same master program as you as well.It was only five of you, including yourself. 
Walking down the hall, you turned a couple of corners to get to the study room, the same one you had been using all year as well. You opened the door, smiling at the rest of the groups who seemed to have gotten started without you. You placed your things down before wrapping your arms around the person beside you, who immediately hugged you back. 
“Oof, I’m glad you could actually make it, that teaching assistant job of yours as you are so busy!” One of your peers and someone who you could call a friend, Akira. 
You shook your head, “sorry guys, things have been really hectic, but I’m finding a balance!”
Another one of the group, Takamori, who most just call Mori, shook his head, “don’t sweat it. Despite not showing up for a couple of weeks, you still get more work done than good ole Zenko over here!”
Mori slapped Zenko on his neck, who hissed and yelled a “hey!”, rubbing at the sore spot. You shared glances with Akira, before rolling your eyes at the same time. 
You sat down in your seat, glancing over at the last person in the group, Hikari, who kept mostly to themselves. They looked up from their computer, seeing you and giving you a wave. You waved back, with a smile before looking up at the tv which was hooked to Hikari’s computer, containing your currency 35 slide PowerPoint. You took your jacket off, putting it on your chair before grabbing your laptop and iPad out of your bag. The air soon settled amongst you all, getting into a working mode to hopefully finish the rest of the representation. It wasn't due for another three weeks but you all would rather not have to worry about your hectic schedules. 
Time passed once again as conversation flowed, a rhythm you all found while working together. You only had the room for two and a half hours, which gave you thirty minutes before the faulty meeting you were required to go to. 
You said goodbye to everyone, giving hugs and kisses to Akira and making plans to hang out next weekend should your world allow it. You split ways, with you headed right back to the swanky new science building. You entered the building, going up the long stairs and turning away from the main lobbies to the hallway where the huge conference rooms were. The meeting consists of all the sciences faculty, including teaching assistants. Aizawa was the only teacher teaching Anatomy so he was expected to be here. You were his lone teaching assistant, you couldn't help but smile at that, this meeting was also required for you to be here. 
Arriving at the conference room, you waved to some of the other professors, taking your seat in the furthest corner in the back of the room. Towards the front, you could see that familiar mess of dark hair, sitting alongside a blond man with long hair. The two of them were speaking, whatever it was you couldn't hear. You immediately pulled out your phone, and scrolled through your phone, looking through Twitter as the rest of the science professors filed into the conference room. Once all the professors filed into the room, the head of the science department, a very sweet lady by the name of Kayama, began to speak, flicking through the PowerPoint, focusing on the details of this semester and next semester. 
Jumping, you felt a pinch at your backside, turning around only to be staring into golden-brown eyes. Hawks winked at you and you gave him a small smile and wave before turning around and continuing to pay attention to the meeting. Professor Kayama continued on with her presentation, with other professors chiming in as well. You kept quiet, taking notes on things you needed to do for the rest of the semester and what was to come next semester. 
“We’ll also be introducing a new grading system next term, and we want to prepare you all for it!”
You took bullet points on everything you saw, listening to all the different questions other members were having. The meeting took well into the night, considering that today was Friday and they would like to intrude on people’s quality time with their families or loved ones. 
Soon the meeting ended, and you walked out of the building, heading down the street to the nearest bus stop. As you walked down the street, a cold breath blowing right in front of you, a car slowly came to a stop right beside you. The horn caught your attention, turning toward the car only to find Shouta parked right beside you. Blinking, you took a few steps towards him, leaning into the rolled-down window. 
“Can I help you sir?” you asked him, sticking your head into the window. 
The car was dark, dark leather, the dashboard and everything dark matching the seats. It was decently clean, save for a few things in the back seat but that was probably things from the job. You looked back at him, cocking your head to the side a bit. Aizawa glanced over one time, before jerking his head to the side, motioning for you to get in the car. You stepped back a bit, opened the side door, and slid inside the car. You threw your bag into the back seat, buckling up before Shouta zoomed off into the night, probably towards his house. Relaxing into the chair, rolling your neck, releasing all the tension. 
“How was lunch with your cousin?” He asked you, taking a left. 
“It was really good, I hadn’t seen her in so long despite me living in her house,” you said, a soft smile appearing on your face. 
He huffed, “hope she doesn’t mind me taking you away for the night then.”
You laughed at that, “stealing me away for the night? Should I be scared?”
You looked towards him as he huffed out a laugh, “yes, you most definitely should be scared.”
You rolled your eyes, a playful smile on your face as you reached in the back for your phone, pulling it out of your tote bag. Unlocking it, you pull up your messages with Mirko. 
Spending the night at a friend’s place, be back tomorrow.
M: I knew it. Just a “friend” huh?!
You rolled your eyes once again, placing your phone in your lap and looking straight ahead. The two of you soon arrived at his home, a small three-bedroom home out in the suburbs of the city, away from all the bright lights. He pulled up into the driveway, using the garage remote attached to the sun visor of the car. Shouta pulled up into the garage, immediately closing it after he did. Then you got out, with you grabbing your bag from the back seat. You entered his home through the garage door, following right behind him. The garage door entered an area right beside the kitchen and the stairs to the second floor of the house. You placed your bag on the counter right side of the door, to the left, slipping off your shoes as you did. Shouta put his things on the island of his kitchen. 
This wasn’t the first time you’d been in his house, so you knew most of where everything was. You followed the tall man into the kitchen, seeing him pull out different ingredients from the kitchen. You came up right beside him, seeing all the different ingredients being pulled out. 
“Help me out here,” is all he said before you went into gear. 
The two of you entered into a flow, with you working with the cold ingredients while he focused on actually cooking. It was quiet between the two of you but a very warm silence, as the two of you worked. The idea was a red pasta with pan-fried chicken. Cooking together was probably the second-most intimate act between the two of you, other than sleeping together. You smiled to yourself, seeing his hand place a wet towel down as you grabbed an onion to chop up. 
As he finished cooking, you prepared the dining table which was also in the kitchen. You grabbed the re-corked bottle of white wine and placed it on the table, along with two of his wine glasses. Using the tool, you pulled the cork out. As you sat, pouring the wine into the glasses, Shouta began walking over, holding two plates in his hand. He placed one in front of you while taking the other one in the space right beside you. Thanking him, the two of you soon began eating.
Soon after dinner, you grabbed the plates, taking them over to the sink. Shouta went to the bathroom as you began to clean up, washing up the glasses as well. Focusing on the items in the sink, you didn’t notice the footsteps coming up behind you until you could feel hands suddenly wrap around your waist. Gasping, you were suddenly turned around, facing Shouta who pressed you against the sink. His hands sunk down, grabbing you underneath your thighs and pushing you up, so he could wrap your legs around his own waist. Giggling, you reached behind you, turning off the water tap before placing your arms up around his neck and shoulders. Nails weaving into his hair, pushing his head down towards your own. 
He pressed you against the sink counter, lips roughly pressed your own. Your grip on his hair was harsh. You whispered a ‘fuck’ as he let go of your lips. His hands went from your waist, grabbing the bunched-up fabric of your dress, slowly peeling it up. Shouta tasted of wine and tomato sauce, you probably tasted the same. Lifting your arms up, you allowed him to take the rest of your dress off, leaving you in only your thong. He threw the fabric in some obscure corner, hands coming right up to your breasts. Your hands left his hair, going down to his black shirt. As you began to lift his own shirt up, he started to leave kisses all along your neck. He moved his hands, allowing you to get his shirt off before slowly throwing it somewhere. He attached himself back to you, his mouth moving to your titties. 
Gasping, your nails dug into his back as he sucked away at your nipple, his other hand squeezing and holding the other one. You choked on your own spit, intensity overwhelming at a rapid pace. His touch and actions were familiar yet had you going senseless every time. God, you’ve never met a man like Shouta Aizawa, you doubt you ever find someone that makes you feel intense passion. From the moment you met, till now, your life has been a set trajectory with his every touch leading the way. 
“Shouta,” gasping, hands basically ripping down his back. 
You could feel him smirk against you, taking in every detail of you. He soon let go of your breasts, leaving a wet kiss along your stomach to your abdomen, and soon reached in between your thighs. His hands slid down your things, slowly sliding the pink velvet thin cloth off your body. As it pooled on the floor, he kneeled right over, face right there in between your thighs. His hot shaky breath caused sent trembles up your body through your spine. Moving his hands to your inner thighs, he separated them placing his tongue right on your clit. 
You screamed, hearing yourself echo through the otherwise silent kitchen. Your hand flew to your mouth, covering up the onslaught of moans that were coming about. Almost immediately his hand left your thigh, flying up to your covered hand moving it from your mouth before diving in deeper. 
Backing arching, you shook against the counter from his actions. His lips wrapped around your clit, sucking away endlessly. Bracing yourself, you could feel the cold of the metal sink as he pushed back against you. The way he commanded your body, in just a few months you two knew each other. The way he paid attention to every gasp and shiver, the way you moved within his hold. 
“So good, oh my god,” the last word extended as you could feel him sink two fingers into your wet, glistening heat. 
He kept going on and on, your rash movements and thrashes unmoving to him. The two of you locked eyes for a moment, and you can feel him smirk against you. Shouta took pride in the way he manipulated your body, and that moment was one of many that confirmed that. As Shouta continued, you could feel your lower abdomen begin to shake, your legs shaking with it. That titillating, familiar beginning to rise and rise quickly. Shouta kept his pace steady, inserting an extra finger inside of you as well. 
Holding yourself was too strenuous, your head and shoulders falling into one side of the sink. You screamed at him that you were almost there, that you were gonna come soon. Your hands could no longer reach over to him, the limbs falling right by your side. 
With a final moan, back arching once again, you reached your peak, everything crashing all at once. 
Gasping heavily, you lifted your head up as Shouta stepped away from you for a moment. He gave you a single moment to reprieve, before picking up your body with ease. Immediately you latched yourself around him. In between the time he pressed me against the counter to now, he had lost his sweatpants. Legs wrapping around his waist, you pressed your lips against his own, indulging in your taste. As you kissed him, his one hand held you up as the other lost the boxers he was wearing. He pushed you up, angling your body well. Gasping as you felt that familiar pressure, throwing your head back as he pressed himself into you. Letting go of the kiss, you pressed your cheek against his shoulder as he lowered down further and further. 
“So, so soo big, fuck,” panting, tongue out and drolling as he stretched you out, filling you to the brim.
His deep raspy chuckles rattled your body, his mouth right near your ears, “just a little more, angel.”
You could let out shaky moans, nodding your head whilst laying it down on his shoulder. With one last thrust, he was all the way in. With little to no remorse, start lifting your body up and down with an intoxicating speed. You braced yourself within his hold, curling within his touch as he continued to hold you up and move within you. Your eyes were drooping, overwhelmed by his movements, your ears, and your mind buzzing with white noise. 
“Keep your eyes open, baby, look at me.”
Gasping, pulling yourself out of the trance, you moved your head to be able to look at him. 
“Yeah, yeah that’s it, keep your eyes right on me.”
Your body was sticky with sweat, the atmosphere was heated all around you, and you could barely breathe as he rocked you. You tried your best, your hardest to keep your eyes right on him. The grunts resonated in your ears as he picked up his pace, continuing to reach deep within you. He was dangerously close to your cervix, pressing just closer enough for it to hurt just right. 
“Shouta,” you convulsed in his hold, body twitching with euphoria. 
He says nothing as he continued to fuck you, finding his fast pace and sticking to it. Gasping as he leaned in close to you, placing wet kisses all over your neck and shoulder. The sudden closeness caused him to penetrate deeper inside you. 
“‘s too deep, fuck so deep Shouta,” you cursed, head thrown back. 
Your body began to quiver and shake, choked sobs making their way up from your throat. You were close, so painfully close. His movements and thrusts forced your back to arch, curling more and more into the impending climax. 
“Gonna come, fuckfuckfuckfuck gonna come.”
He smirked, continuing his brutal thrusts, with no intention to let you up.
“Go on, cum for me baby.”
 With those words, a final single cry erupted out of your lips, you writhed in his hold, pussy dripping all over him, dripping right onto the floor. Heaving, letting out a heavy gasp, your body went slack, all muscles within your body unresponsive. SHouta'’s grunts became louder and rougher, his thrust becoming erratic. However, you could barely even process anything that happened after you came, his hands being the only thing that's holding your body up. 
With a final thrust, Shouta came deep within you, not even bothering to pull out like other times before. It was silent except for his heavy breathing and your slight pants. You were floating, your mind, it was out of this world, like many times before. You could feel your body moving, him slowly pulling you off of him, the sullen feeling with the sudden emptiness. You could feel all that was happening all around you. Shouta carried you within his arms, moving you around to carry you around like a bride. He left your pile of clothes in the kitchen as he walked up and out the kitchen, up the stairs to his bedroom. Doors opened and creaked as he stepped in, sudden light flooding your closed eyes. 
He took a few steps, before kneeling down slightly and reaching for something, resting you against his thigh. A rush of water, his bathtub, you could slowly deduce within your state. He waited for a moment, for the water to be a bit sallow and warm enough before slowly placing you inside. As the water fills, the heat brings your mind back to earth a bit, boring your eyes to look up at your lover. You gave him a weak smile, pulling your hand out of the water to feel for his face. His scruffy beard and the familiar scratchiness brought a weak smile to your face as you pulled him down, placing a soft kiss on his lips. 
As you let him go, he gave you his own soft smile, before getting up, and going over to the small basket of body care he leaves near the bathtub. He grabbed it, walked back over to you, and placed it right near the tub before getting in himself, lifting you up before sitting down and placing you right on his lap. Together, the two of you cleaned each other up, rinsing off the sin of the previous activities.
As soon as you were clean, you were more grounded, following after him to the two towels he laid out for you. The two of you dried off, you get dressed in one of his thin t-shirts, and him getting into another pair of sweatpants before guiding you out of the bathroom. You climbed into his bed, with him following in right after you. The two of you got under the covers, snuggling right near each, his arm right on top of your whole body. Taking a deep breath, you smiled, easily falling into a deep and peaceful sleep. 
You woke up with a gasp, the sudden feeling of pressure within your bladder, and no, not the good kind either. Grimacing, you pushed away Shouta’s arm, holding your stomach as you pushed yourself off the bed. He was an extremely heavy sleeper, not waking up as you walked around the bed, and towards the bathroom. Glancing to your left, you noticed a familiar bag sitting against the wall near his nightstand. Smiling to yourself, he must have gotten up and gotten it as you were asleep. Then you were reminded of the impending danger that was coming. Quickly, you grabbed your phone out of the tote bag before heading right inside the bathroom. 
Scrolling through Twitter as you did your business, cleaning up and washing your hands. You were about to head back outside when you noticed two email notifications come in at the same time to your phone, one addressed to your personal and your school. You ignored the personal one, you could see that one tomorrow, but you checked the school one, making sure it was that one professor that constantly got back to you at odd hours of the night. 
Your heart stopped. Blood went as cold as a snake. 
Your ears began to fill with white noise, and your heart raced faster and faster as you scrolled through what you were seeing. Tears were welling right in your eyes, 
On your phone screen, were pictures of you and Shouta, not only from today but from days, even a date night he surprised you with a month ago in a whole new city during a school break. 
At the end of the email, was the only words within this world-shattering email, 
I know your secret Angel…  ;-) <3
taglist: @deegausserr @ryutotsukai0824 @lik0 @yaygurist @megnotfound
Tumblr media
previous part. masterlist. next part.
308 notes · View notes
aaakikoo · 8 months
Note
could u do a uni professor aizawa and a student reader where she goes to a cafe that’s not well known sometimes and orders something and sits in the corner and just breaks down once in a while late at night (the cafe is 24/7). And on one of those nights her professor (aizawa) comes in and takes to her and tells her to let it all out on him and pretend she doesn’t know him.
GRADES
an -> this is shit but whatever lol, first time writing for Aizawa so, enjoy. (Long and outstretched and annoying)
another an -> a song I was listening to while writing, live love laugh, Lana del Rey🫶🏼.
paring -> s.aizawa x f!collage student reader
warnings -> cursing, crying, mentions of death, blood, (sleeping around?), tell me if I missed any!
———
“Alright, that’s for todays lecture, make sure to study see you after the weekend.” Your chemistry professor said as he closed his laptop and walked out the room.
The hall was filled with bunch of students, just like you who had each their dreams. You want to become a perfumer. You loved beautiful floral scents the most, you had your own collection of perfumes in your dorm, you just loved the idea of creating and smelling perfumes.
But things weren’t so easily for you lately.
“Hi y/n do you wanna join us? We are going to the corner store to get snacks then we are heading to the cinema!” One of your closet friends tapped you on your shoulder waiting for your replay as the rest of the group are looking at you.
“It’s fine Denki, maybe another time.” You smiled at him and waved the group off.
You headed back to your dorm to finish your assignments, they’ve been building up on you. You entered and shut the door, you took a quick shower and got ready to binge do 3 assignments so they can get off your shoulders.
Few hours later you finished, you decided to head the cafe shop you loved so much. It was peaceful place you where you could just let your mind run free.
It was a short walk too, as you entered the owner nodded while smiling at you, knowing you’re her most loyal customer. You smiled back and sat in the usual place.
It was nice to sit in a small cafe that doesn’t have many people. The owner came to you and placed an americano infront of you, “here you go, dear. Enjoy your drink.” She smiled and walked away.
“Thank you.” You said taking the drink and taking a small sip. You sighed as you realized that you had no more assignments on your shoulders anymore.
However, there has been something else on your mind.
Your family.
Ever since the attack that happened a year ago, things weren’t the same.
Before attending collage you were just in an ordinary high school. Heading back home after the last day of school, excited to tell your family that you had graduated.
On your way there was a lot of running in all directions, children crying, and loud noises. You didn’t know what was wrong until a man came to you and said, “run! There is a villain.” Your heart sank knowing that you were standing in your streets.
You ran home as fast as possible to see that your house was standing, you entered and nobody was there. You heard crying from the bathroom, you entered and saw your little brother shivering under the sink.
“What happened?” You asked and he was too traumatized to give you an answer. “Let’s go!” You carried him and ran out the house. As you were running down the streets with him, you saw a figure covered with blood on the road.
You quickly covered your brother’s eyes as you came closer the body, only to realize it was your own mother. You heart sank and your eyes widened at the sight.
No way right…
There is no fucking way…
She was covered in blood, head to toe. Grocery bags filled with previously fresh fruit now being covered in dark red liquid.
You couldn’t control your body as you had collapsed.
Few hours later you were in bed with your little brother right next to you in your room. You quickly covered his small frame and ran downstairs to see hero’s, policemen, and the ambulance outside your house.
You walked outside to see two paramedics carrying a figure on a stretcher, they had covered it with white sheets. It doesn’t require math to figure out who it was.
You couldn’t believe your eyes back then.
The ambulance drove away along with the hero’s.
The police shoved the villain inside their car and drove away as well.
You ran and hugged your father only for him to give you a cold stare. “Get back inside your room.” You didn’t mind him, you thought he would act this away. Traumatized by what happened probably, or that was what you thought until a few weeks after you caught him making out with another woman in your living room on the couch, the same place where your mother sat.
You haven’t spoke to him since, you’ve been living in the dorms and your brother had been with your grandparents since.
“Dear are you okay?” The sound of the old lady caught you off guard. “Yes I am okay.” You replied to her as she looked into your eyes.
“You spaced out so I thought something was wrong.” You shook your head at her statement. “Nothing is wrong, I’m just a little bit tired.” You assured her as you stood up from your seat.
You walked to the cashier and handed her money, “thank you, see you next time.” You waved and left the store heading back to your dorm.
You woke up the next day very late, but who cares it was a Saturday. You did some reading and you relaxed. You went to the mall to get a few things and on your Rey back, you saw your professor shopping.
He noticed you and gave you a gentle nod and you nodded back.
When you came back, you made yourself a simple dinner as you read for a bit more and headed to bed.
Sunday, the day after. You usually make it your study day. You got up, ate breakfast, took a quick shower, and turned on your laptop.
You did the usual, reading, taking notes, and finishing off a short assignment. You need to get the best grades for the final exams.
The day went by quickly and you headed to bed again. You woke the next day fresh, you made your way to the hall and it was emptied than the usual.
“Good morning.” Your professor said, and you replied back. “Morning Mr. Aizawa. Where is everyone?” You asked as he rubbed the middle of his eyesbrows. “Those brats are probably late.” You nodded and took a seat.
You couldn’t really focus during todays lecture that your professor had to call your name a few times. By the end of the day you were pretty tired. You decided to head to the only place where you could clear your mind.
As you made your way there the owner greeted you like usual and placed a cup of latte this time in front of you. “Thank you.” You told her and she smiled at you.
You opened your laptop and rewind todays lecture since you didn’t really pay attention.
After a little bit of reading and taking notes you felt confident that you are sure of the topic.
You closed your books and laptop as you started drinking from your coffee cup.
The door bell ringed alarming the lady that a new costumer entered her cafe, you looked up and to your surprise you saw your chemistry teacher entering.
The older man noticed you and made his way to you. “What are you doing here?” He asked you.
“I come here very often, it’s my favorite place.”
“Ah, I see. I see you did take some notes, that’s really good y/n.” He smiled and took a seat infront of you.
“I see that your grades have improved a lot since the mid terms. You’re working very hard on yourself but make sure to not overwork yourself.” He told you as the owner came and took his order.
You finished your drink just when the she served him his. “Get me another drink for her.” He told and she nodded.
“Ah thank you.” You said, “I really want to get the best grades and I want to graduate knowing I’ve achieved my dreams.”
“Big dreams huh? What’s on your mind lately.” He asked but before you could answer the owner came and gave your and your professor your orders as she muttered an “enjoy” and left.
“I Uhh, as I’ve said I want to graduate with the best grades and work my dream job.” You took a sip. “And I want to give my little brother the life he deserves.”
“Your little brother? May I ask, what is your purpose.” Your professor asked and your dad eyes trailed down the table.
“It’s because uh, our mother isn’t here anymore, because of a villain, she passed last year. And our father well, he, isn’t in the right state of mind at the moment, all he does is drinking and clubbing, and meeting young women.” You said as your eyes began to water.
“It’s been really hard to both focus on myself in school, work 2 part time jobs, and visit my brother who lives far away at our grandparents house every know and then. So I am overwhelmed by my entire situation.”
You left Aizawa speechless. The man didn’t know what to say.
“Y/n I must say your very strong, I can’t help but admire you.”
You started packing your stuff, “I’m sorry, I think I should leave. See you tomorrow.”
“You don’t have to me. You clearly have a lot on your mind, tell me and let me see if I can help you. Forget that I’m your professor right now, y/n.”
Just like that you started complaining about everything and everyone to your teacher, it felt weird that you shared private issues with your professor but you didn’t really care right now.
“How about I help you by moving your late Friday lecture to Tuesday afternoon. That way you can work your partime job without have to come to school after?” Your teacher suggested and you smiled.
“That would be nice.”
“I’ll move your Thursday early lecture to Monday, that way you only come to school for 3 days and you have both Thursday and Friday off, in addition to Saturday and Sunday. 3 days school, 4 days work and you can take from Thursday till Sunday off every once in a while to visit your brother, how’s that sound?”
“Sounds amazing, thank you so much.” You thanked the man again as he smiled.
You both looked out the window and it was beginning to rain. “I’ll drive you to the dorms, cmon.” He said.
As you got in the car you couldn’t help but admire it. It was so like him, both from the outside and the inside.
“Don’t tell anyone about this, I might get fired for driving you.” He said as he began driving.
“I won’t.”
A few minutes later you were in front of the student dorms, “have a goodnight y/n. See you tomorrow.”
.
49 notes · View notes
secretqueennacho · 2 years
Text
Teacher's Pet
charecters : aizawa , you
Summary : a small fantasy of yours changes into reality with your teacher or more specifically aizawa
You sat there, the sound of the A.C drowned out the other noises in class. you bit the end of your pen slightly as you tried to concentrate on the notes Mr. Aizawa was writing on the board.
Your eyes trailed over his face, following every feature; from his stubble to his scar, nose, lips and eyes.
Black eyes stared at you as you snapped out of it and wrote down what he finished writing.
You felt your heart racing as you realized you got caught staring at him; not writing down the notes but staring at him. your cheeks bloomed a pink colour as you continued to write.
(Y/n), since you were obviously distracted, would you care to tell the rest of your peers, the third rule for this semester's lesson course?"
He stared at you, a subtle smirk formed and disappeared the next millisecond.
He raised an eyebrow at you, waiting for your response. Your mind went blank, you realized you never wrote down anything at the beginning of the lesson. Your eyes went wide as you stared at something that was next to him.
"U-uh... i don't.." you trailed off and felt really stupid as to why you didn't write anything down.
He sighed and looked directly at you, "Next time pay attention. Or you'll be staying after class as detention."
He turned back to the board.
You didn't really think not paying attention would cause you to actually be in detention.
Yea, not so long after Mr. Aizawa called you out for not paying attention you managed to get in trouble.
You facepalmed and stared at the class door knob, debating to actually go forth and stay in a classroom where you and this desirable man are alone for a whole 2 hours. Yea, nothing like 'Pure' thoughts.
You gulped and knocked on the door.
"You, wanted to see me, Mr. Aizawa?" You questioned as you walked into the classroom, you felt your breathing hitch as you seen him leaned over the desk working on yesterday's papers.
The top part of his hair tied into a small messy bun with a few strands, eyes lowered with a tired glaze and his forearms showing from his sleeves being rolled up. "yes, it's a few things actually.
I want you to see these, come closer." His tired voice. heightened your senses. You walked over to him and sat as he gestured you to. He went through the work, and you saw no actual problem to it.
After staring at the problem, you noticed how quiet it was from his side. You looked at him and seen his eyes bore into yours.
"You, wanted to see me, Mr. Aizawa?" You questioned as you walked into the classroom, you felt your breathing hitch as you seen him leaned over the desk working on yesterday's papers.
The top part of his hair tied into a small messy bun with a few strands, eyes lowered with a tired glaze and his forearms showing from his sleeves being rolled up. "yes, it's a few things actually.
I want you to see these, come closer." His tired voice. heightened your senses. You walked over to him and sat as he gestured you to.
He went through the work, and you saw no actual problem to it. After staring at the problem, you noticed how quiet it was from his side. You looked at him and seen his eyes bore into yours.
Your cheeks flared, and you cleared your throat to speak but got cut off by a paper being shown to you. It was writing about Mr. Aizawa and how he caused you to catch feelings for him.
"Care to explain?" You stayed still and looked back at him. "It was a joke." You blurted out then cringed after, God how fucking stupid are you?! You thought.
He smirked and moved a bit closer, his breath on your lips as your eyes stayed on his. "It took a while to understand how you acted different towards me from the other students."
He whispered in a sultry voice as he placed a hand on your thigh, you blushed and on instinct you squeezed your thighs together. His lips barely touching yours but just enough to feel the feather touches of his lips.
"You- BUrP BURPbURP'
You shot out of bed with sweat on your face and looked around. You stared at your MHA posters and facepalmed. "No more fanfics before bed......." You muttered and slammed your face back into the pillow.
490 notes · View notes
Text
Aizawa/Pregnant! Reader - More Domestic Life
Takes places after Aizawa and Toshinori go around to all the families and get the kids in the dorms. They kinda...skipped over how heavy that moment must've been in the show from what I remember. So hopefully this does it justice. I also had a request for Aizawa and a pregnant s/o so 2 birds one stone. Reader is gender neutral - apologies if any gendered language is used. Of course TW for pregnancy and mentions of babies kicking in the womb.
Tumblr media
His favorite part of his day had always been when he was able to return home. 
Crossing the threshold and having the world shut out for even a few hours had always been something Shouta treasured. Being in his own space and able to do things at his own pace was a luxury he was rarely afforded due to his line of work, both in the classroom and out. 
The relief and comfort of home had grown in recent years as well. While Shouta never cared for having his sanctuary  invaded by others, you had always proved to be an exception. It had taken some adjustment, as living with another person always does, but Shouta couldn’t imagine these small moments of peace without you now. 
On a regular day the tension in his shoulders would ease away the moment he opened the door to the small apartment that you both shared, the troubles and stress of work melting away to be addressed for another time. 
No such luck today. His brain was still buzzing with all of what needed to be arranged to ensure his students safety in the dorms as he entered.
“I’m home,” he called, kicking his shoes off and setting them neatly by the entrance. He noticed the faint scent of the house cleaner that you loved so much and nearly rolled his eyes. 
He had told you to wait until he returned to get to work on packing and deep cleaning. 
“Welcome back,” your voice called from the living room. Shouta wasted no time in making his way over to you.  
Half packed boxes and piles of both of your belongings were strewn about the apartment in an organized chaos that he’d learned years ago to not bother attempting to understand. Normal logic and reasoning never seemed to apply to you anyways. 
He found you perched on the couch, a book in your lap and a smile on your lips waiting for him. He couldn’t help the roll of his eyes as you made a show of scooting over and patting the space next to you, as if he needed the extra convincing. 
“Don’t remember giving that to you,” he said, brow raised in question as he gave a pointed look  to the oversized clothes you had on that looked suspiciously familiar. 
“What’s yours is mine, right?” you questioned, looking up at him through your lashes with a slight pout on your lips in some faux display of innocence he’d become all too familiar with. 
“Did I say that?” you huff as he pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms around your middle with hands flat against your stomach in hopes of feeling the fluttering movements of the baby. It had been a few weeks since you both had first felt the little kicks and he hadn’t been able to keep his hands to himself since. He hadn’t been very good at it before, as evidenced by your current state, but the comfort of having undeniable proof that his child and partner were both alive and well was something he found himself needing more often these past few months. 
“Everything go well?” As much as he’d deny it, you could read him like a book. He tried to shield you from his job as much as he could but lately it had become unavoidable for you to be entangled in his professional life. There’s no way around it when you’d be moving into the dorms with him and his class. 
“As well as they could,” he answered, fingers tapping against your stomach. If you bothered to pay attention to the rhythm you’d recognize it as morse code. “All of the parents agreed it was the best decision. It went much more smoothly than I expected truthfully.” He didn’t voice that he couldn’t understand how his students’ parents could trust him to protect their children after he failed them so miserably. He didn’t have to. 
“Hey” your said as you grabbed his hands in your smaller ones, “stop thinkin so hard when you’re off the clock.” He’d never been able to hide much from you and even less so now after you’ve spent so many years picking up on all of his microexpressions. While somewhere deep down in the most selfish depths of Shouta he may admit to being thankful that you were there to share his worries, he mostly feels guilt as your eyebrows knit and your smile dim. It’s not fair that he brings this stress home to you and the baby. 
It had been a conversation the two of you have had over the course of your relationship that has ramped up in recent months. Shouta always struggled with the knowledge that he could never keep you entirely protected from hero work. It was a messy business that he could never just dump at the door and forget about. It would stick to him, stick to his clothes, the corner down the street - it bled into all aspects of his life and by extension yours. 
The guilt would eat him alive if you let it. 
“Sorry,” he mumbled before pressing a kiss to your temple. 
“None of that now, there’s nothin to be sorry for,” you were soaking in his touch as you leaned further into him, “look, everything will be alright, you’ll see. I got parent’s intuition, I know these things.” 
“Do you now?” The smile is small, the curve of his lips would’ve been mistaken as a twitch of a facial muscle by anyone else, but it was more than enough to lift your spirits. 
You gave a soft hum in affirmation, “it’s a packaged deal with the morning sickness,” your hands move back over his own, the baby tapping its own reply to Shouta’s message. 
“You’ll see, all your kids are gunna be fine, they got you lookin out for them after all”
_____
Some HCs for this cuz I couldn't get it to flow right in the actual story
Aizawa's pretty clinical and analytical in his thinking so while he feels guilty about the stress he put you through before you got pregnant it's next level now. Stress on the pregnant parent can cause so many issues for the kid so while he's excited to be a parent it's really eating him up that something could happen to the baby and you because of his work
he's pretty upset that y'all have to leave your home and move into the dorms too - it's the logical thing to do and the safest option for sure but the home you two had made just felt so perfect to him. You both had met on the cafe down the street, the owner of the family run restaurant on the block always engaged with some small talk with you. When Shouta had to start doing pregnancy craving runs to the place the family always checked in to see how you were - he appreciated that others in the community were looking out for you. That's hard to find these days. Y'all had made a home for yourselves and he was a little annoyed the kid's first months wouldn't be in that home.
the book mentioned was a baby name book. things had been so hectic the last few months that y'all haven't really had a second to even think about names so that night you both toss some back and forth while cleaning and packing
the purples fabuloso is what he smelled when he walked in. IDK if they got that in japan but that's the only smell i've ever associated with a deep clean before so that's what it is
220 notes · View notes
dabisbratz · 1 year
Text
do it again ; aizawa shouta x himbo!male reader
w.c: 0.8k
cw: mentions of creampie(s), large chest (pecs), teasing, anal, headlocks, fingerhooking, drool/spit, dumbification, veryyy minor dirty talk
a/n: i tried really hard to add a read more tab but whenever i do it deletes half the drabble ): i’m so sorry!
himbo!reader who takes pride in his appearance and makes sure to look good every day. Polar opposite to your boyfriend, Aizawa, who slaps on a routinely black on black attire and calls it a night. But he likes that about you, your handsome face always so soft and your lips always so plump and moisturized. Kissing you feels like heaven, and Jesus weeps when your soft lips are wrapped around Shouta’s cock, sloppy and clumsy and so, so messy. He wants to ruin you, until your perfect hair doesn’t look perfect anymore, until your lips are swollen and kissed raw, until you can’t stand on your feet.
himbo!reader who brightens up the room the second Aizawa walks in, a smile weaving across your face as you wave at your boyfriend despite being the only two accompanying the house. You sit under the kotatsu, crisscrossed and eager as Shouta places a kiss to your forehead, holding you in place with a big hand to your throat. You whine and cry when he pulls away, following his movement with your lips until you can feel him again.
himbo!reader who agrees with everything his ‘Sho’ says. He hands you a shirt much too small for you, holding it up in your hands is almost like holding junior clothing, but you put it on anyway because you can’t wait to see how happy it makes your Shouta. Plus, it looks a bit like compression-wear. And it does— it makes him so happy he can’t help but grope the pillowy skin of your pecs, your nipples hard and poking straight through the thin, silky fabric while you keen and your brain shuts off at the contact. You think it looks good, it compliments your body well, and onlooking strangers seem to think so too. Their gaze glued to your chest confuses you a bit, but there’s nothing wrong with admiration!
himbo!reader who doesn’t realize just how much of a pervert his boyfriend is. He watches your pecs bounce when you wiggle in excitement, his gaze lingers on your lips when you lick them to keep them moisturized, he claims to be keeping you on a steady path when he walks with his hand in your back pocket, but he’s really just squeezing the flesh of your ass so he can feel it can jiggle against his palm while you walk.
himbo!reader who’s eager to please. You let Shouta play with you whenever he wants, whether it’s fucking your used, sensitive hole in the middle of the night because your big chest squeezed so tight against his got him hard, or because he woke up that way. You lay on your tummy, ass exposed and propped up with a pillow as he presses his cock inside you, easily sliding right in while you moan at the sensitivity. He holds you open, watching the rim catch on his head and suck it back in, fluttering around him while you squirm with overstimulation. Sometimes he’ll fuck his cum back into you, “Y’gonna take it f’me? Let me use you when I need to release some stress, shit, gonna let me take it out on you? Good boy— good booy, keep my cock warm.”
himbo!reader who’s too dumb to do things for himself, he always needs his boyfriend's help. Your capable, of course, but a little floaty, your brain clouded with thick fog that only Shouta can get to. He helps you with cooking, he helps you setting up gym equipment because every time you try to read the directions you do so upside down, and he helps you cum, when your brain shuts off and all you can do is drool onto your chest and buck your hips up pathetically. As Shouta puts it, “You’re smarter when you think with your dick.”
himbo!reader who doesn’t mind his mean boyfriend, his boyfriend who teases him within minutes— almost makes him cum in his shorts three times while he whispers mean things in his ear about how much of a dumb cockslut he is. You can shake your head, ‘S’not true, Sho!’ but the second his hand is squeezing your body your pout is gone, your eyes glazed over and you can’t help but repeat everything he says back while he coos in approval.
himbo!reader who giggles when Aizawa manhandles him, his hands digging into his hips until he’s bent in different positions. Sometimes your legs are over your head— or just one. Sometimes your hips are raised in the air until your knees nearly hit the ground, Shouta’s tongue fucking into you while your toes curl and you sob. And, sometimes, Shouta fucks you in a headlock, hooking his fingers in your mouth so you can drool all over the place, your tongue rolled out of your mouth while your hips rock to and fro. You’re the perfect fucktoy, Sho’s personal onaho.
2K notes · View notes
darkchocolateoreozfox · 6 months
Text
Tumblr media
the pier - shouta aizawa x f!reader series interest check - please rb if interested
ratings: 18+, minors dni
notes: based on a very odd dream, journalist/aspiring author reader, organized crime/gangs/yakuza, murder mystery, fantastical elements (mostly monsters and the like), no smut, shouta is married with children, the lov is shouta's ragtag group of criminal underlings. not possible without inspo from @fontanacollymore (ilysm girl)
warnings: dark content, horror, attempted sexual assault and murder (not by shouta), kidnapping and actual murder (by shouta), mentions of suicide that does not happen on-page, use and trafficking of drugs, lots of talk of violence and crime from various characters, mentions of psych wards character came from, probable but not explicitly stated age difference between shouta and reader, shouta is married to nemuri kayama but it's complicated on both sides
The constant, breathy roar of the waves and the layers of dark clouds overhead made the helicopter hard to see and hear. That and the unaffected stares of your companions made the helicopter seem insignificant, as mundane a part of the sky as the gulls, but it was all you could focus on as your heart quickened in your chest.
“Do you think it’s looking for me?” you asked despite yourself, willing your hope to not reach anyone’s ears. Your fingers itched for the manuscript in your desk drawer.
“It could be,” Shouta said, not taking his eyes off of the dark sky, his dark pupils following the circling helicopter, “but we get these all the time.”
“So don’t get your hopes up, little lady,” Dabi said with a grin, leaning back against the white-painted railing and taking a drag from his cigarette. “It won’t land. They never do. They know that Shig, Jin, and I would be on ‘em in a second.”
You didn’t doubt it, and that’s what made your heart sink. Shouta probably had too many connections, too many deals with the government for anything bigger than a lonely helicopter to fly in, and no pilot would be stupid enough to land alone. The island was too dangerous, too mysterious, too unfamiliar… and much, much too far away from safe land.
Your hands came up to rub over the goosebumps peppering your arms as you remembered something very important, something so odd of you to forget. These men, the ones who’d talked and laughed with you on the beach, and the one who’d smiled so softly at you as you played on the floor with his daughter, were the same ones holding you captive. This island, so strange yet so beautiful, was the cage Shouta held the key to. You took note of how they all stood: Shouta to your left, Jin in front of you, and Dabi behind; all within perfect distance to spring on you if you ran out into the open, calling out to the helicopter’s pilot.
Would being seen even make a difference?
As you watched the helicopter turn around and slowly fly back towards the horizon, you realized that leaving the island and publishing your manuscript was not a matter of when, but a matter of a very, very big if.
~ excerpt from part one: so i'm telling you that you'll be safe with me
9 notes · View notes
fantasies2paper · 2 years
Text
Aizawa was sitting at the dining room table in the living room grading papers. His hair was half up giving me a good look at his profile from where I sat across the room, openly gawking at him. The sleeves of his grey shirt were rolled up, exposing strong forearms and ending in long lithe fingers. 
He'd been so tired from teaching at UA and being a pro hero this was the first time I'd seen him doing regular adult tasks. I was afraid I'd spook him so I sat quietly and sketched his features. His strong jawline and dark eyes were the only thing that filled my sketch book. 
I had to find other things to occupy my time since sex had pretty much left the room after he started teaching. I wasn't upset about it, just a little sexually frustrated but it wasn't anything a few batteries and an Aizawa spank bank didn't fix. So my drawings eventually got very good.
The oven beeped to tell me it was ready and preheated so I set my sketchbook down on the kitchen table and started putting dinner together. Placing my earbuds in my ear I absently danced around the kitchen as I chopped potatoes and marinated steak. The next song started with a slow sensual beat as I placed the potatoes in the oven.
I jumped when I felt a hand on my hip before Aizawa took an earbud out of my ear. "Oh shit, baby, I'm sorry. I didn't bother you did I?"
He'd placed the earbud in his own ear as he still moved my hips with the music, his own movements mirroring my own. His eyes were closed and he was humming along with the tune, so I did the same and continued moving my body. He followed every roll and swivel of my hips, glad I'd chosen yoga pants as I could feel him pressed against me.
"You didn't interrupt me, y/n," he said quietly as the song ended, leaning down to brush his lips against my neck. "I just didn't want to let a beautiful woman dance by herself. What are you making, kitten?"
It had been awhile since I'd heard him call me that and it went straight to my core. His voice always had a way of stroking my deep secret places. It was like melted chocolate or a warm cozy fireplace during a cold snowy night. I rubbed the gooseflesh on my arm.
"You finished grading all your papers?" I replied, my mouth suddenly very dry. "I think I'll do some grilled steak once the potatoes are close to being done. I had a taste for meat today."
"I can help with that craving, kitten." He said in between each kiss he placed on my neck, grinding into me with the rhythm of the next song that was coming through the earbuds. "I've been neglecting my kitten for too long and it's time to rectify that. You've been so patient with me even though we both know I don't deserve your time and attention."
"Mmm you do deserve me so stop being silly," I commented softly. My eyelids fluttered closed when his warm breath ghosted across my skin and I reached my hand up to grab his hair. His fingers tightened on my hips as I grinded against his hard body. "You also haven't been neglecting me, Shouta. Why would you think that?"
His strong forearm snaked around my waist, pulling me closer. Following the beat of the song with his hips flush against mine was really clouding my mind. He'd always had that effect on me but it had been a few months so it somehow seemed more potent. I could feel the heat rolling off his body and warm my skin, my nipples hardening against the thin f/c tank top. I almost didn't notice as he turned off the oven and stove, a tingle shot through me at the implications.
"I found your toy in the bedroom. I think it's really sexy." He growled softly before dragging his tongue up the curve of my neck before blowing on it gently. "When did my kitten use that sinful little toy? While I was gone protecting the city? Or maybe while I was at UA you were home with that toy deep inside of you, moaning my name?"
He smelled so good. A heady dark scent like woods and just pure man. It was distracting me and coupled with the heat from his hard body and his growl in my ear if someone asked where I was I don't think I could've answered.
"Sometimes." I answered honestly, my lips were parted and I was panting softly while I tried to focus on his questions. "Sometimes we would be in bed and I wouldn't want to wake you so I would slowly fuck myself with it."
I felt his arm around my waist flex at my admittance and his other hand reached up to grab my breasts through my shirt, tugging at my nipples. My pants were getting deeper and I could feel him hot and heavy against the curve of my ass. I could cum right here, just like this if he didn't stop playing with me.
"Mm I'm sorry I didn't realize how badly you needed me, kitten." He spun me around to face him, one hand pressing against my lower back and the other squeezing my ass. "Look at you, already putty in my hands aren't you? Let me kiss it better, kitten."
His soft lips pressed against mine and my core clenched, soaking my panties. I wrapped my arms around his neck as I slid my tongue into his mouth, humming softly at his sweet taste. His tongue swirled around mine before sucking on it softly, gripping my ass roughly in his hand. He greedily swallowed my moans while he kissed me, hot desire clenching in my lower belly almost painfully.
Shouta pulled away so I could breath, his lips trailing down my chin to my neck. It took a second for my brain to kick back on and listen to what he said.
"It's not your fault," I gasped out as his teeth grazed my neck. "You're keeping everyone safe and teaching new heroes. Don't worry about me, daddy."
My fingers found their way in his hair as he bit my neck, making me cry out. He was right though. I was completely putty in his hands. If he stepped away from me right now I would've fallen to the floor. I felt my back press against the kitchen wall, not knowing when we moved. 
The sound of ripping fabric went straight to my core as he tore my shirt off of my body. I would've chastised him but I couldn't find a single fuck to give at that moment. I settled with grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling it off in one swift move, biting my lip at the sight of his hard body. His muscles had gotten more defined since I'd last seen him, all the extra training with the students and his normal pro hero regimen clearly working in his favor and mine.
"I love when you look at me like that, kitten." He groaned softly, his hands tugging and pinching my nipples. "Show me how much you missed me."
"Gladly."
I kissed my way down his chest, dragging my tongue along every line and curve of the muscles on his chest. Hooking my fingers on the waistband of his sweatpants, I settled myself on my knees and kissed just under his belly button. I slowly revealed more of himself to me as if I was unwrapping a present slowly to savor the moment.
Once I finally had his pants out of my way I placed a kiss on the head of his cock. The long thick shaft was already impossibly hard and licked the tip to collect the thick, creamy precum that gathered at the tip. I noticed the music continuing to play in my ear. The beat was slow but steady giving me the idea to follow the tempo.
I slid my hands up his thighs, lightly dragging my nails against his skin as I slid him into my mouth. He groaned long and low, his fingers moving to my hair. I slowly bobbed my head to the sensual beat, swirling my tongue around the tip on every up stroke. I gripped his ass to help control the pace as I felt his body tense up.
I had no intention of letting up. I planned on savoring every noise, taste, and feeling as I bobbed my head slowly. My core ached for him to fill me up while I clenched around nothing. Both of his hands tightened in my hair as his moans grew louder.
"Don't swallow your milk, kitten." He growled out through clenched teeth, his head falling back as a deep moan left his throat. It was my only warning before his cum coated the inside of my mouth, hot and thick. I moaned softly at the taste, sucking his cock clean before looking up at him. "Show me what a good little kitten you are."
I opened my mouth, moving his cum around on my tongue. Shouta had a way of making me think about only pleasing him, embarrassment be damned. He bit his lip as he watched me play with my food, his eyes growing darker from lust.
"What a pretty fucking kitten you are. I think I should walk you upstairs." He said slowly, rubbing the head of his cock against my lips as his scarf floated around me. The fabric secured one end around my throat and the other was securely in Shouta's hand. "Take your pants off….leave your pretty f/c panties."
I did as I was told, not being able to remove my pants fast enough. After I took off the offending fabric I got on my hands and knees, excited for what was coming next when the sexy male towering above me pulled on the makeshift leash. I meowed softly and began crawling beside him, my hips swaying side to side slowly.
Shouta let me lead the way, my panties soaked and clinging to my sex as I felt his eyes on me. Low growls left him as he leaned down to caress my ass before smacking it, a sharp sting tingling the abused cheek. 
"Such a good kitten deserves a reward." He growled out approvingly as I crossed the threshold to the bedroom we shared. Pulling me to a stop, his palm cupped my sex roughly. "I think I wanna string you up, kitty. With your legs spread so lewdly." He dragged his tongue up my cheek, slowly. "I think I should fuck you with your naughty toy while I bite that pretty clit." He pressed his palm more firmly against me making me mewl, pitifully. "Then I want to pump you so full of my hot milk you have my pups. I want to watch my hot milk slide out of your slutty hole until your crying, kitten."
I was squirming at his words, desperate for his hand to move against me. I tried my best to beg around the delicious cum that filled my mouth.
He chuckled softly at my attempts before he lifted me up. His scarf attached to hooks we had placed in the ceiling, for obvious reasons, draping to create our own person swing. He set me down on the swing before moving over to the dresser where he retrieved my toy and the choke collar he had made for me.
I watched him as he fastened the collar around my neck, the anticipation making my clit twitch. Shouta trailed his fingers down my neck to my breasts, pinching and tugging on my nipples and earning a throaty moan from me.
"Keep my milk in your mouth, kitten, or I'll leave you just like this with no relief." Shouta teased before nipping at my skin with his teeth.
I had no time to respond before feeling the tip of the dildo slide up and down my slit, parting my lips achingly slow. A strained sound left my throat as I watched Shouta, his eyes fixed on my sex as his pink tongue darted out to wet his lips. He locked eyes with me before a slow smile spread across his face as he leaned in. He made sure I was watching him as his tongue flicked against my clit.
Sparks lit underneath my skin at the touch, nearly making me swallow his cum. I couldn't stop myself from tangling my fingers in his hair from such a small touch. I felt him chuckle before he closed his lips around my clit, sliding the toy in deep and slow at the same time.
The mewl that fell from my closed mouth sounded helpless and lewd to my ears, my thighs trembling as he sucked on my clit and fucked me. I wasn't going to last long. His wet lips sucked my clit into his wet hot mouth, his tongue abusing the small bundle of nerves as he slid the toy in and out of my body. 
I nearly choked on Shouta's cum, earning an approving groan as he devoured and teased me. Pulling the toy out of me he chucked it across the room, replacing the silicone cock with his tongue. The wonderful little muscle danced and swirled inside of my hole and it took all of my control not to scream his name.
Shouta panted and moaned as if I was the best meal he'd ever had, slurping up my arousal with fervor. His fingers squeezed my thighs as he tried to bury his face farther into my sex, the stubble on his chin adding a delicious sensation.
"Swallow daddy's cum and squirt in my mouth, kitten." Shouta growled against my slit before burying his tongue as deep inside of my body as it could possibly go.
I swallowed the cum and drool before I screamed his name, my back arching as I squirted into his waiting mouth. Hearing him choke around my arousal nearly brought me to the edge again. Nipping and sucking on my inner thigh before he pulled away, the look in his eyes excited me.
His lips were shiny with my arousal. His eyes were feral and full of lust as he grabbed the chain attached to my collar and pulled me to him, his lips crashing against mine. I moaned as our flavors mingled on my tongue and his hard cock pressed against my slit. The hard length snuggled between my lower lips.
I moaned as he moved his hips back and forth, coating himself in my slickness. I purred softly against his lips, falling back into the swing and lifting my hips. Shouta was impossibly hard and hot against my wanting body, more soft mewls falling from my swollen lips.
"Does the slutty kitten want my fat cock?" He growled, still sliding back and forth with strained control. "You want it so bad your little pussy keeps trying to suck me in. You feel so fucking good."
"Pl-please, daddy." I whimpered softly. "Fuck me silly."
He grinned as if that's all he'd been waiting for and slammed into me, his loud groan mixing with my scream of bliss. He stretched me to the point of breaking, my body twitching at the feeling of being so full. 
"Fuck, kitten." He growled out through gritted teeth. "Such a tight fucking fit. Oh shit!" 
His fingers dug into my hips, the pleasure and pain mixing until I couldn't tell the difference. He began to move, the swing helping the fluidity of his thrusts. I dragged my nails down his chest, angry red lines appearing in their wake as a feral moan tore from me. All of my sexual frustration and desire pouring out of me in that one sound, earning a hard thrust from Shouta.
"That's right, kitten. I want all of it. Give me everything you've got!" He groaned as he thrust hard into my body. He punished my pussy with his hard thrusts and I loved every second of it. A slow smile spreading across my face as I moaned my pleasure, nearly screaming as he used my body.
"Daddy yes!" I screamed as my head lolled back, one of his hands sliding up to grip my neck while the other kept a firm hold of my hips. The leverage from him holding my neck made his thrusts harder and faster, the tingles and shocks getting stronger in my slide belly. Every thrust brushed against my cervix, my legs trying to spread wider so he could get closer. 
Shouta's thrusts began to become erratic, his moans growing wild and loud. His hand left my hip and slid between us so he could pinch my clit roughly sending me flying over the edge with a scream. I squirted as I came all over his hard cock, my body trembling with aftershocks. He came shortly after, moaning my name as he filled my body.
We stayed like that, panting and exhausted. After a moment he lifted my body from the swing and laid me down on the bed, snuggling beside me and covering both of us with a fluffy comforter.
"I'm not done with you, y/n," he said softly before kissing my forehead. "But you can rest for now."
"Yes, sir." I sleepily chuckled as I nuzzled against him and drifted off into a resting sleep
164 notes · View notes
cefni · 7 months
Text
A Jealous Daughter - Part 2
Tumblr media
Characters: Shouta Aizawa, Vlad King, Sen Kaibara, Yosetsu Awase, Tetsutetsu TetsuTetsu.
Last Proofread: September 4, 2023
Concept: Shouta Aizawa's daughter struggles again in her relationship with her parents.
Warnings: Yelling, some swearing, reference to smoking.
Tumblr media
After your last massive fight with your father, you started trying to be more discreet with yoru smoking than as putting yourself and your friends in danger of being found out. This time, you had decided to hide up on the roof of the building in order to smoke.
Instead of pot this time, you were smoking cigarettes though. So you weren't worried abotu him catching you high. Regardless, when your father found you on the roof as you were re-watching a video you took of your friends when you were goofying off during training.
It didnn't matter to him that you weren't doing anything or that you weren't hurting anyone, but he was pissed to see you smoking and thusa nother fight ensued.
Again.
"I can't believe you!" You screamed at him, shoving past him to head back down the stairs from the room. "You just follow me around so you can yell at me!" You accused him, not looking back at him as you descended the stairs.
You knew he was following you, you could hear the foot steps behind you. "It's not my fault that every time I find you, you're doing something that you're not supposed to be doing!" He yelled back at you from behind. You heard the roof door slam behind.
"Waht do you even care?" You yet again accused him, now taking the steps quicker as you retreated to your dorm. "Why don't you focus more on your little projects since they make you oh so proud!"
"Considering that they're not sneaking around smoking pot and cigrettes, yeah, they do!" There was a voice in the back of Shouta's head that told him he shouldn't of said that. He regretted the words almost as soon as they left his mouth.
By this time, you had reached your dorm room and this was the first time that you turned to look at him. You hadn't expected him to admit it, and now it hurt worse. "I fucking hate you! I wish I never even came here!" You responded, slamming the door shut in his face and locking it. Instantly turning the music up as loud as you could in your room. Drowning him out on the otherside of your door.
Tumblr media
"Aye yo, you got a letter!" Sen's voice caught your ears while you were eating lunch with the class in the dorm. Playfully, he dangled the letter just out of your arm's reach and would joking pull it back. Giving everyone a quick laugh.
Once you had it in your hands, you checked the postage to see who it was from. It looked like it was from your mother, so you wondered waht she could of sent you. It was getting really close the holidays, so you guessed it had to be something close to that.
Tearing it open, you found a personalized Christmas card. Right there, on the front, was a picture of your mother, her husband, and your two half brothers. It was a family christmas card wishing a Meery Christmas from them as a family.
You nearly choked on your food as you spit it out so quickly in anger. You felt Tetsutetsu thump you on your back and helped you cough up the food that had choked on for a moment. You quickly thanked him before snatching up the neatly typed out Christmas letter that was included in the card.
Just as you had suspected, but feared, there was nothing about you in it at all. There was plenty of stuff in there about your two half-brothers who were purebred and how they were coming in in their sharingan training, but nothing even acknowledging your exsistence.
You just saw red as you took both in your hands and shredded them into pieces.
"Whoa, dude." You heard from Sen as he and the others watched you shred it up into a million pieces. You could feel a growl of anger in your throat as you gathered up the pieces and threw them in the trash can.
"Someone can have the rest of my lunch, I'm not hungry anymore." You tried not to growl the words out to your friends, but you know that some of it did come out as a growl.
You stomped your way up the stairs to your dorm. You could feel the heat in your eyes and refused to look behind you at your friends. You were barely able to slam your door shut before the first tear ran down your face.
Tumblr media
After you had disappeared from sight, Tetsutetsu calmly walked over to the trash can and began pulling the pieces out. Yosetsu and Sen both began to help him putting them together as they discussed what it possibly could of been that upset you like this.
Yosetsu was the one that realized what it was first. "Yikes." He mumbled, shaking his head at the image before him on the table. You were justifibly upset and he then went into friend mode.
Going over to the fridge, Yosetsu pulled out a new quart of ice cream and grabbed two spoons from the drawer next to the fridge. Bumping the freezer close, he then made his way up to your dorm.
"Shit." Sen mumles as he messes with the pices on the table before them. He always felt bad for what you had to go through with your mother's family. He couldn't image what it was like for you. "What do you think we should do?" He asked, looking over at Tetsutetsu.
For a moment, Tetsutetsu just looked at the picture and the family holiday letter. Contemplating what would be the best action to take in this sitauiton. "I'll take a picture of it and see what Kirishima thinks." He then decided. Taking out his phone and snapping a picture of both.
"You sure that's the best idea?" Sen questioned, being very aware of how you had got into yet another massive fight with your father earlier in the day. "She might be mad at us if we get her father involved." He reasoned, not exactly being convinced.
"Kirishima should have a better idea. He knows Eraserhead better than we do." Tetsutetsu reasoned as he texted the pictures to his class 1 A friend.
Tetsutetsu: (Image) Tetsutetsu: (Image) Tetsutetsu: Sorry to get you involved in the drama, but she got these today in the mail. Tetsutetsu: Do you think Eraserhead could do something to help? Tetsutetsu: She's really upset. Kirishima: Oh shit. Kirishima: Yeah, I'll go share this with him and see what he says. Kirishima: I'll let you know.
Tumblr media
While he knew that you and your father fought a lot, Eijiro never realized why exactly these fight occured. He always had a good relationship with his family and most of his friends, even Bakugo, also had good relationships with their parents. However, seeing this, he kind of understood that there was a bigger issues than you and your father that was feeding the fights.
Approaching his teacher's door, Eijiro knocked on the open door as he stepped into the office. "Hey Mr. Aizawa." He greeted, his usually smile not evident on his face. Being an good indicator that this was not a pleasant visit.
Turning away from his computer where he was grading papters, Shouta caught the look and instantly knew something was up. "What's wrong, Kirishima?" He asked. What he wasn't expected was to be handed his cell phone opened to the text messages and images from Tetsutetsu.
"Tetsutetsu asked me to show you these." Eijiro explained, tapping on the first image of the 'family' christmas card that you had recieved from your mother. When Shouta took his phone, he stuffed his hands awkwardly in his pockets. "I'm guessing that she ripped it up, not him." He added, watching as he switched over to the second photo.
Shouta sighed as he read the important parts of the letter that your mother had sent you. He knew that you were feeling isolated from your mother's side of the family and he knew that it wasn't just your feelings. He was fully aware of how your mother's family was. This was a whole new issue though.
Handing the phone back to Kirishima, Shouta pulled out his own phone. "I trust to keep that to yourself." He said as he flipped through his phone contacts, looking for your mother's number. "I'm don't think she'll want everyone to know." He said as he found her in his phone, but paused before hitting the call button.
"Of course, sir." Eijiro responded with a nod. He deleted the text messages right away and the images from his phone before locking it and putting it back in his pocket. "Please let me know if there is anything I can do." He offered, before taking the hint to leave the office. Closing the door softly behind him.
As much as Shouta's class could frustrate him with their teenage hormones and bonehead decisions, he apperciated how supportive they were of each other. Turning back to his screen, he hit the call button on his cell phone. This was a rare phone call where he was about to tear your mother a new asshole for her treatment of you.
Tumblr media
It was later that night after dinner with Shouta showed up at your dorm. He had made it a point of going to pick up your favorite movies and snacks for you hoping that it would help to cheer you up. Instead though, he was met by Yosetsu in the common areas on the first floor.
"Mr. Eraserhead, sir." Yosetsu greet him, intercepting him before he made it to the stairs. He didn't like feeling like he was getting involved in your relationship with your father. "I don't think it's a good idea to go see her right now." He honest didn't think that she could handle more.
Shouta apperciated your friend's concern for you and the heads up that he provided. "I apperciate your warning, but I'm going to check on her myself." He responded with a nod in his direction. Watching as Yosetsu stepped out of the way and watched him ascend the stairs.
When he got to your room, Shouta was about to knock when he heard your sobs coming from throught he door. Hearing you crying through the door put a knife in his heart and twisted it. He never wanted you to ever feel like this. Your parents were supposed to make you feel unloved.
It made Shouta feel like he wanted to throw up. Yosetsu was right. He wasn't what you needed right now and it sounded like Tetsutetsu was in there with you right now. It was your friends that you needed, not him.
With a simple sigh, Shouta turned around and headed back downstairs. When he saw Yosetsu, he waved him over as he set the bag down on the table. "Can I get a pen and some paper?" He asked.
When he was given the items by Yosetsu, he took a couple of quick minutes to write a short note before folding it and putting it in the bag. "Please make sure she gets this." He said, handing the bag to Yosetsu before leaving the dorm.
Tumblr media
I'm sorry for our fight earlier. I overreacted and shouldn't of been so upset. I love you and I'm always here for you. No matter what. Love, Dad
Tumblr media
[Part 1] [Part 2]
122 notes · View notes
imperatorkhaleesi · 2 years
Text
Sunday
Shouta Aizawa x Reader
The second of three for @spacelabrathor and @titan-fodder's Better Than Fiction Collab!
The category is ✨A Typical Sunday✨
“Sho,” you murmur, softly. “You’re grading.” He nods, mouth working it’s way down to your jaw. Then your throat.
“Just a minute,” he bites, soft and slow against your jaw, along your neck, your collarbone—
And you get a handful of his hair and tug, hard enough for his head to tilt back and his eyes to meet yours.
“A minute always turns into at least an hour with you,” you whisper. Shouta tilts his head, smirking. You don’t realize why until you feel a soft breeze across your stomach and pressure on your pelvis, underneath the fabric of your shorts, tugging the waistband of your underwear out of the way— “Sho, you better not be doing what I think you’re doing.”
He chuckles, twists his head out of your grip and leans into another kiss.
“You started it, baby,” he murmurs.
Content Deets!: afab!reader, black woman reader, she/her pronouns, established relationship, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, fellatio, fingering, somnophilia, dirty talk, some praise, porn and slice of life plot, some hurt/lots of comfort
7,969 words
Tumblr media
Check out the Better Than Fiction Collab for more fics!
12:03 pm
“Mm,” you yawn, softly. Shouta pulls harder and you roll over to your other side to face him, your noses brushing. “Time is it?”
“Noon,” he murmurs. “I started lunch.”
“Mm.” It only registers when you don’t hear Babs yawing for food and you try to sit up. “Noon?” Shouta nods, stilling you, dropping soft kisses along your collarbone.
“I got up early and cleaned the kitchen,” he murmurs. “I even did it without waking you up with gospel.” You smile, softly whacking at his shoulder.
“Should’ve stayed in bed,” you sigh. He shakes his head, then kisses your shoulder. “Have school—”
“We have a late start tomorrow. Admin stuff,” he adds, off your confused expression. Then bites along your skin and smirks against your neck when you shiver. “And I miss you.”
“Miss you too,” you sigh. And you do.
Shouta smiles, softly, and leans down to kiss you again, your mouths pressing close and soft. He reaches down, slowly dragging your sleep shirt up your body, fingers ghosting across your hip—
Fuck. He breaks away from your mouth to look down at your body, at the massive, dark bruise across your side where he just touched you, then back at your still grimacing face.
“You didn’t say it was this bad,” he says, evenly. You shrug in response.
“Doesn’t feel as bad as it looks.” He tsks, sitting back on his heels. Then softly nudges the massive bandage on your bare brown thigh, just beginning to turn slightly red.
“Looks like it feels pretty bad anyway. I’m gonna get you more meds. We’ll change that when I come back.” You grab his sleeve before he can clamber off the bed.
“Noooooo,” you whine. “M’fine. Miss you.” Shouta lets out a soft chuckle, then takes your hand, leaning back into you.
“You’re still having a lot of trouble moving, I see,” he murmurs. “Forming full sentences seem to be an issue too.” You spent most of the past 4 months investigating a villain syndicate knocking over banks. You’ve been in at least 9 fights in the past week, 4 of them happening in the last 96 hours. The toll it took was intense, more so than usual, and the crash on Friday night when you got home was proportionate. Yesterday was spent passed out either in bed or on the couch with your feet in Sho’s lap. To be fair, you were feeling much better today, but…that’s still not saying much.
“Feels better than it looks,” is all you can say. Fuck you’re still tired. You feel so worn. You’re not as young as you used to be; recovering feels harder right now than you remember it being, even just a few months ago.
“D’you wanna visit Recovery Girl later?” You shake your head.
“It’s nothing I can’t take care of myself.”
Shouta leans over you then, and presses a soft kiss to your forehead.
“Go back to sleep then. You’ll heal faster if you rest,” he murmurs. Noooo, you can’t. You probably should, you know he’s right…but you fucking miss your baby. 4 months working so obsessively meant 4 months of the two of you being ships in the night, texting a lot, talking a little, but not much, and then passing out almost immediately after you see each other. Even your Sundays hadn’t been the sanctuary you were used to them being for a while.
So you twist your fingers into his shirt, and drag him closer; your lips meet.
“Don’t wanna. Miss you.” Shouta lets out a soft chuckle.
“You’re very needy today, I see,” he murmurs; his big, solid body shifts over you, then curls in, pulling you close to rest against his muscular chest. You tilt your chin up, and Shouta’s mouth finds yours, tongue licking across the corner of your lips, then tangling with your own. You let out a soft moan, and he mirrors you when your right hand finds the crown of his head, tugging on his loose, soft hair. His fingers curl around your bicep, gently, below a smaller, but still painful wound, and tug your arm back down to rest against your body, and you tsk into him.
“I can take it,” you huff. His lips slot over yours—fuck does this man know how to kiss. Overwhelming, all-encompassing…fingers raking through your braids, and he tilts your head a little further back, and his mouth finds your neck, and he alternates, biting and sucking and licking across the skin there.
“Don’t try to goad me into fucking you stupid when you’re hurt,” he chides. “It won’t work. Can you lift your leg?” You nod, and he hooks your right leg over his, and props them open against his. “Comfortable?”
“Fuck’s sake, Sho.”
“You’re being a brat.”
“Because I want you to fuck me like one.”
“No,” he sighs, kissing you gently. “Open.” You oblige, smirking up at him when he curses at the feel of your tongue swirling slow around the rough tips of his fingers. He kisses the corner of your mouth as he slides them out, then reaches over your hip, tugs your sleep shorts aside, and you exhale, slow and breathy as his fingers work your clit in a slow, steady circle.
“Shouta,” you sigh; he’s so hard for you, you can feel it as you try to grind back against him, and he hms gentle and sympathetic as his fingers creep down to your soaking pussy. 
Your breathy sighs harmonize as he slips three of his massive, pretty fingers into you. He wants to move, really move, just say fuck it and stuff you full of cock, you can tell, but he’s holding back for your sake. And as annoyed and needy and punishingly horny as you are, you’re also a little grateful right now. Between the physical toll your quirk takes to keep in check, plus the the number of stakeouts and skirmises you’ve dealt with over the past 16 weeks, plus the full-on fights…you’re gonna be down for the count until Shouta goes downstairs and gets you more ibuprofen.
But until then—
“Always so wet for me, baby…so tight and warm…”
“Need your dick, Sho, please,” your hands claw into his arms, weakly tugging at his sweatpants, but he doesn’t relent.
“Gonna have to wait a little longer, my girl,” he sighs. “Just a little longer until you feel better?”
“So just the tip?” you murmur, huffing a soft laugh. He licks along your neck and rolls his hips, just a bit, hissing when you clench around his fingers, and pumps into you, a little harder, a little faster.
“We both know this is slightly more than just the tip. Right?” He curls his hand and the heel of it presses to your clit, and you shiver, squirm, twisting underneath his unforgiving grip. “Right baby?”
“Okay…okay….mm, shit…okay,” you breathe. He laughs, then draws his fingers out of you, doesn’t give you a moment to fuss before he’s working your clit between his slick fingers again. It’s a slow creep to the edge, little fits and starts, small crests; Sho’s mouth leaves your favorite kinds of bruises along your jaw, your throat, your shoulder, he whispers, low and filthy into your ear, rolling his hips slow against your ass, fingers working your clit, the steady and heavy rock of a piston until you unravel under him, breathiness of your release barely hitting the lowest notes of your voice, your body too tired to seize, so you just have to take it, let it rattle through you.
His fingers slip from between your legs, he tucks you back in, and he’s rocking you awake enough to take two pills what feels like hours later, before he murmurs a soft “rest” into your edges and you drop back off into sleep.
Sundays are the best, for two reasons. The first being because (barring recent developments) they’re nearly always an off day. And the second being, the two of you actually get to spend time at the apartment together instead of you having to bundle Babushka into her carrier and sleep over at the school dorms every other day.
Weeknights are a no-go; you’re on patrol at many random points during the week, and Shouta is usually too tired from teaching, so you feel bad pestering him. He usually spends all of his Friday night and Saturday afternoon working on grades and checking in on his students, so Sundays are specially preserved for just the two of you and Babushka. Mostly him and Babushka — by the end of the week she’s very tired of seeing just you, and curls up with Shouta the minute he gets home and collapses across the couch.
And cleaning.
Yes. Cleaning.
Because despite how grueling your schedule is, getting to sleep in and do nothing on Saturday gets you very motivated to wake up at 10 am and clean the next day. Shouta hates it; hates having to be up that early on the weekend for any reason. But he learned to indulge you. He even started curating the cleaning music for you, because he’s not wrong; you’ve accidentally woken him up with The Family emphatically singing “rain” more than once, so you can’t blame him for not wanting to be gospel-yelled at on his one real day off.
Most of his musical choices were like Nujabes and FKA twigs to start with; things he knew you loved that he could still sleep through. You think he may have started getting music recs from Hizashi and peeking at your playlists, because after a while he’d mix in Lous and the Yakuza and Outkast, Khruangbin if he was gonna get up and help you. And wasn’t as if he was opposed to gospel; your favorite Sunday was when he’d come into the living room at 9 am on the dot while you were plugging in the vacuum, expressionlessly talked the opening of ‘Revolution’ over the music at you, complete with the adlibs, then whispered “no one will ever believe you,” as the choir started before gently pecking you on the lips and lightly pushing you so you’d fall over the back of the couch, laughing as you went. The whole rest of that day were certified classics; Anita Baker and Keith Sweat, Bobby Caldwell and the best of Motown, songs that your mom used to play for you growing up, that you didn’t even know he knew.
For a month after that, he would get up with you, sometimes a bit earlier, and scrub down the kitchen, then feed Babushka before starting lunch, and dinner prep. And you’d notice, when you and Babs came to stay the night at the school dorms on Tuesday, that he’d be passed out before 8 pm, and irritable all day Monday, according to Nemuri.
“Go back to bed,” you murmured, six Sundays ago; he squinted at you through the curtain of his bangs, a dust mop in one hand, wet pads in the other, Babs winding around his ankles, trying to adorable her way into snuggles.
“I need to start the kitchen, the oven’s a disaster.” You reached for him, curling your fingers into his shirt, pulled him toward you, and tilted up on your toes, gently kissing him.
“I already turned on the self-cleaning. You need to sleep, Sho.” You rubbed your palm along his spine, pressing into his shoulder and dragging down, and he melts, softly groaning as he buries his face against yours.
“Miss you. Don’t want you to clean by yourself.”
“Another hour, then,” you whisper; he sighs, almost moans when you dig the heel of your hand into his lower back. He must’ve been exhausted if his back felt like literal marble. You popped up on your tiptoes again, and kissed him deeper, licking along his bottom lip when he let out another soft sigh. You tug his hair loose from the messy bun at the base of his neck, then lay another small peck on his lips.  “One more hour, and then you can get back up and start dinner. If you feel like it.” He nodded into another soft kiss, and let you go, then stooped down to lift Babs to his shoulder.
“She’ll keep trying to—”
“Eat the mop,” you finished in unison. He pulled you into him again, kissing you on the forehead before trudging back down the hall, drifting until he hit the wall just before the bedroom door.
“You didn’t see that.”
“I was too busy staring at your ass,” you replied. He slapped himself across his right cheek before he turned the corner, winking at you as you let out a sharp laugh.
1:35 pm
“Why’d you kiss me, Sho?” He pauses in the middle of wiping down the coffee table and looks up at you at the kitchen island, chopping vegetables. An hour after Shouta finger-fucked you back to sleep, you woke up and fussed (read: connected your phone to the Bluetooth downstairs and played One Direction as loud as possible) until he came back upstairs, wrapped you in his housecoat, and stationed you at the kitchen island in the comfiest barstool to prep dinner, under the condition that you’d not try to do anything else. 
“Well, in my limited experience, generally the people you love enjoy being kissed if you love them back,” he shrugs.
“Quit being a smartass,” you sigh. Shouta rises from the carpet then, gives the coffee table a final wipe-down, then stacks your photography books back, the neat stack of (still ungraded) assignments, the tissue box and remotes, and mail, then wordlessly scoops up Babs as he walks toward you. Pulls the two barstools on the opposite end of you out, sets Babs in one, and sits, staring at you intently.
“What the hell are you talking about?” You shrug, your eyes intent on the knife in your hand.
“When you kissed me the first time.”
“You mean in high school?” You nod; you’re not looking at him, but you can tell by his tone he’s smiling. “Are you feeling shy, baby?”
“Maybe,” you mumble. Shouta’s Babs-free hand presses into yours, the one holding the knife, and you look up at him.
“Any reason why?” You shrug.
“I…I guess I’ve always wondered. We were classmates for three years, and you never even looked at me.”
“Oh, that’s not true,” he says, scratching behind the ears of the purring calico next to him. “I looked at you all the time. A lot, actually. And Hizashi made me.”
….huh?
“He…made you?” He made him. “What do you mean he made you?”
“I mean he made me.” What the fuck?
“You’re going to need to elaborate before I go upstairs and start packing,” you say. Shouta snorts.
“Right,” he lets Babushka hop from the stool, and leans along the counter. “Sorry. Truth is I had a major crush on you since first year. He and…Oboro, um, were always on my ass about not just asking you out, so our last semester, Hizashi got tired of me staring at you all the time and ignoring him, so he made me ask you out on our last day of classes.”
“But,” you lay the knife on the counter and meet his gaze. “You didn’t ask me out. You waited until like…4 years after that.”
“Cause I panicked, baby,” he says, flatly. “I got wasted to work up the courage, but I couldn’t get the words out, so I kissed you and ran.”
He had been wasted for the record — completely fucking wasted, to be precise. You’d never seen Shouta wasted before. It was kind of cute, to be honest. Between the three of them, two of them at that point, Hizashi was always the one to hit that level when your class hung out, and Shouta was the responsible one, shepherding his friends from party venue to their homes with nary an incident. It was kind of wild to see the inverse happen, to be honest, but it was also kind of…cute?
You were also kind of smashed too, so you took Shouta’s state in stride at the time. He was way more gregarious and friendly than usual, and considering what he’d been through, (and considering this version of him was kind of fun) everyone let him have it.
And now that you think about it, he’s right. He never would’ve been brave enough to grasp your hand in the middle of the kitchen at some classmate’s random house party, yank you into him, give you the best (up until that moment) kiss of your life, mutter ‘sorry. I’ve been thinking of doing that for years,’ and run off to find Hizashi, if he hadn’t been.
He’d kissed you like he had a fucking point to make, and to be honest, it landed. His lips pressed sharp to yours, so fucking urgent it startled you, and of fucking course, your mouth opened, and his tongue slid against yours, and…it was just so close and sweet and hot and perfect. You’re sure you’d shared fewer than 20 sentences between the two of you your entire school career, so the fact that he kissed you like he wanted to tear your clothes off right then and there when he’d been so shy and cagey with everyone for so much of high school was startling to say the least.
He made you feel so small as he stooped down to kiss you too, pressing your back against the smooth silver of the high-end fridge, his hair shiny and beautiful under the warm fluorescent light. The callused tips of his fingers scraped across your neck, sending a shiver straight down your spine and directly to your core.
And then he just…stopped. He let you go, and held your face in his palms, the rough pad of his thumb stroking across your full bottom lip. Then he took two steps back, not meeting your eyes, softly apologized, and then—this is what fucked you up honestly—he stared at you like he wanted to pin you to the counter and do some absolutely out-of-pocket shit to you for a moment, and ran out of the kitchen before you could even catch your breath.
You spiraled out over that kiss for six weeks straight, thinking about how he’d wrenched you against him, one surprisingly solid, built arm wrapped around your waist, his other hand gently cradling your cheek. Thinking about all the times you spoke over your school experience. Thinking of all the signs you may have missed. ‘I’ve been thinking of doing that for years’???? YEARS? Like multiple???
“Sho,” you bring your hands together, and meet his gaze evenly. “Do you understand that the entire time between our last year of school and you finally getting your shit together asking me out, I thought you like, hated me?”
“Why would you think that?”
“Because you ignored me for 3 years straight, then got drunk, kissed me, ran, and then avoided me at all costs for another 3 years. I saw you on the street once when we were working adjacent patrols, and you turned around and scaled a building. What other conclusion was I supposed to draw, my boy?”
“Yeah. Sorry, baby. I was embarrassed.”
“Fuck’s sake, Sho,” you sigh, shaking your head. “You could’ve said something.”
“Like what? We weren’t friends in high school, and I had no fucking idea how to explain that to you in a way that wasn’t batshit. So I just…never brought it up.”
“Until now,” you reply pointedly. Shouta slides out of his seat, a smile on his face as he rolls his eyes at you.
“Honey…” he huffs as he comes behind you and scoops you up. “You brought it up.”
“Shut up, Aizawa.” He snorts as he walks to sit you on the couch and pointedly presses the remote into your hands.
“Oh no, the last name. How could I possibly recover. Gonna start the laundry.”
“You are fucking intolerable.” 
“I love you too, sweet girl.”
4:16 pm
“Hey baby?”
“Mm.”
“What did I say about not overextending yourself this weekend?”
“I don’t know, I wasn’t paying attention.”
“That’s not funny.”
“I’m fine.”
“Do you hear me?” Fuck. He’s mad. He’s got his teacher voice on. You set down the pillow you just got into a freshly washed case and fluffed, and turn to take him in at the doorway of the bedroom. He has the hamper with the rest of the laundry on his hip, (suspiciously devoid of the soft grey king sized sheets you have piled up on the mattress next to you) and a very annoyed furrow between his brows that kind of makes you relieved that you’re not one of his students. You’re not sure how you’d survive if he glared at you like that all the time and you weren’t able to suck his dick. “You got hurt very badly and you need to rest. Let me take care of the sheets.”
“You’ve already cleaned the kitchen, living room, and the bathroom. You even mopped and did the laundry. Let me at least change the sheets, Sho.” He drops the basket on the floor in front of the closet and sighs.
“I don’t want you to open up your stitches,” he says.
“I know,” you pick up the next pillow and shake another pillowcase open. “But if you want me to lay down, these sheets are gonna need to be put on the bed. And you were busy with dinner.”
“Now I’m not. Sit.”
“On a mattress with no sheet on it? I thought you knew me.”
“There is a window seat right behind you.”
“That we have all of our bedding and pillows stacked on. Which brings us back to the original issue.”
“Baby—”
“Sho. Let me take care of something,” you huff. “It’s not even about me not knowing how to relax. Not being able to clean is just stressing me the fuck out okay? I need to be able to do one thing.” Shouta rolls his eyes as he moves toward you, stooping down, wrapping his hands around the backs of your thighs, and lifting you before you have a chance to stop him. He cranes his neck up, lips brushing against yours as your arms go around his neck to steady yourself.
“Fine,” your back presses into soft plushness, and you huff as Shouta digs a cocoon in your comforter and sets you down on the window seat. “You put the pillowcases back on the six million pillows you have stacked on our bed, and I’ll put the sheets back on.”
You already know that this is an argument you won’t be able to win, so you sigh, loud and dramatic, and reach for a squished pillow sitting next to you.
“I’m not made of glass,” you murmur.
“You scared me.” Your gaze cuts up at him, and you know he can feel you staring at him as he shakes out the fitted sheet. “You got hurt worse than I’ve ever seen, and I wasn’t there to protect you. I don’t know how you expect me to just live with that and not fuss over your recovery.” Fuck. 
You can’t deny that he usually doesn’t fuss over you like this - you have more experience working as a hero on the street than him at this point, and he usually trusts you to take care of yourself. Usually.
He ruffles the fitted sheet open over the king size bed, and your hands fall idle as you take him in. The training that he’s drilled (and continues to drill) with his capture scarf constantly bleeds over, in the most unexpected of places - you’ve never been able to get a sheet to lay down in the right spot, and he’s always managed to do it perfectly on the first try. You watch those beautiful, dextrous hands, as he shoves his hair away from his face, rubs his slender, soft neck, and he turns his back to you, sauntering to the other end of the bed.
He’s sincerely one of the most graceful people you’ve ever known; he doesn’t seem it, but there is so much unexpected about him that only you are allowed to know, specifically because he wants you to.
You give him a moment to put the sheet on and tuck it on the opposite side of the room, before you reach out to grab the back of his henley when he passes the window seat to get to the side of the bed closest to you. You tug softly and he turns his head to look toward you.
“You can’t protect me all the time, Sho,” you press a kiss to the top of his hand. “This is part of the job. Besides,” you add, grinning as you rise to your feet. You gently touch the scar underneath his eye. “You don’t have the monopoly on worrying in this relationship.”
“Fair,” he huffs. “But I just want to point out that you weren’t getting hurt like this when we were patrolling together.”
“You weren’t getting your shit rocked by Nomu either, so—” Shouta lifts you, fast, and you let out a loud, surprised laugh, which spikes into a shriek when he begins to tickle you.
“Oh you’re funny, you’re hilarious,” he grunts.
“Stop!” You gasp; your legs go around his waist, and you try to twist away from him, but you know it’s futile. You’re no slouch, but Shouta’s much stronger than you on a good day, so all you can do is wait for him to get tired of torturing you and set you back down on your feet. He presses a kiss to your forehead, and you catch his arm as he tries to retreat.
“One more,” you say, eyes wide and pleading, tapping your cheek. He rolls his eyes, but you can feel his lips curling into a smile as they press against your cheek.
And you can feel his surprised inhale against your jaw after you lick your palm, slide your hand into his pants, and wrap your fingers around his still half-hard cock.
“Oh fuck,” he sighs; his hands grasp at your shoulders, his forehead dropping to yours. “Baby—”
“You’re gonna let me take care of something, Sho,” you murmur. You press your mouth against his, kissing his softly, then sinking back into the window seat.
He pounds his fist against the wall next to you when you take his hard, pretty dick into your mouth, groaning as the taste of his precum hits your tongue.
“Fuck,” he gasps; his palm finds the back of your head, fists in your braids, trying to pull you off, but your tongue swirls around the head of his dick, and you pull him toward you, gagging slightly when the tip of him hits the back of your throat, your nose grazing the hair at his crotch. He tries to pull your head back, but you reach under and cup his balls, rubbing them between your palm and fingers until he nearly collapses above you, hips jerking softly into the heat of your pretty mouth. 
It doesn’t take long; he was already on edge from earlier, and you fucking love his dick, love how he makes you work your jaw, love how fucking hard he gets for you, love how, as gentle as he tries to be with you, he can’t help the impulse to fuck into you until he comes down your throat, fingers splayed on the window behind you, chest heaving above the crown of your head.
“Fuck, too much, too much,” he gasps, tugging your head back until you release his cock from your mouth, licking across the tip of him one last time before he jerks back from you. He takes a moment, catching his breath as you swallow, lick your face clean, tuck him back into his sweats, and he obliges when you tug his shirt so he’ll stoop down and kiss you. “You’re fucking ridiculous.”
“I love you too,” you smile. “Get those sheets on.”
“We’re not fucking until you eat at least.”
“Why!”
“Because you need to rest a little longer, and after that, so do I,” he snorts.
“…Fine.”
7:38 pm
“Next episode?” You yawn; you poke Shouta in the hip with your heel, and he grunts, flipping a test onto the coffee table before him — based on the distinct lack of red marks on it, you assume it’s Katsuki’s or Momo’s, maybe Tenya’s? — before shooting you a look.
“Do I have a choice?” You grin, softly.
“You do. You’re just smartly choosing not to exercise it,” you fire back. His smile matches yours, as he leans into you, and kisses you so slow and sweet.
“In that case…I don’t care,” he murmurs. He rocks back on his hip but you stop him, pulling the front of his sweater, and meet his lips again, sighing into another.
“Fine,” you whisper. “Next episode. Back to work.” Shouta’s arm goes around your waist, and yanks you tight, pulling the remote out of your grip with his other hand and setting it next to your dirty plates on the table.
“Later,” he bites into your bottom lip and you melt.
“Sho,” you murmur, softly. “You’re grading.” He nods, mouth working it’s way down to your jaw. Then your throat.
“Just a minute,” he bites, soft and slow against your jaw, along your neck, your collarbone—
And you get a handful of his hair and tug, hard enough for his head to tilt back and his eyes to meet yours.
“A minute always turns into at least an hour with you,” you whisper. Shouta tilts his head, smirking. You don’t realize why until you feel a soft breeze across your stomach and pressure on your pelvis, underneath the fabric of your shorts, tugging the waistband of your underwear out of the way— “Sho, you better not be doing what I think you’re doing.”
He chuckles, twists his head out of your grip and leans into another kiss.
“You started it, baby,” he murmurs. The tips of his fingers glide across your clit, a warm sharp lightning bolt sliding down your spine and directly to your core, and you keen, shivering.
“I know,” you whine. His mouth finds yours again, his scruff scratchy as he bites your bottom lip. “But you need to give those back tomorrow.” His fingers dip into you, and he swears into your collarbone, pulls you closer, nudges your legs wider with his thighs, his perfect muscular thighs, fuck—
“How do you expect me to stop when you’re still so wet for me?” He groans; your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer. “Do you want me to?”
“No,” you groan; his fingers snake up your back, across your torso, tugs your shirt up— “But you need to finish that stack now or you won’t finish it at all tonight.” Shouta huffs, licks across your sternum, his fingers slide deeper into your aching cunt, and he groans when you clench around him, gushing around his callused fingertips.
“I can finish them—”
“Not later. We still need to—”
“Clean the oven,” he murmurs against your chest, in unison with you. “I can do that in the morning before I head out.”
“You won’t wake up,” you moan. His lips seal around a nipple and he bites, gently, licking across it, bending his fingers, pressing into the spongy softness of your g-spot. you let out a loud whimper before you can suppress it and he chuckles, staring down at you sprawled underneath him, riding his fingers, grinding your clit against his palm, holding his shirt in a death grip.
“If you play ‘Melodies From Heaven’ as loudly as you usually do, I will,” he replies, smirking.
“It is not that loud,” you gasp; Shouta scoffs.
“The upstairs hallway echoes, baby,” he sighs, slowly kissing a line down the center of your body. “And you put the volume on MAX.”
“You sleep like a rock,” you moan.
“I stay awake after you get out of bed.” Fuck.
“M’sorry,” you slur; his thumb rocks against your clit in slow, easy circles, and your sight goes hazy at the corners. You know you should make him stop, but it’s too good, the way he touches you. He’s always known how to. “I don’ mean to. Want you t’sleep…”
“S’not your fault,” his mouth comes to your belly button, lips ghosting against the soft curve of your tummy as he adds, “miss you too much to sleep well when you leave me.”
“Sho,” you gasp; your fingers wrap around his wrist, fist in his hair, and you shudder when he stops. “You need to finish—”
“You first.”
“Work first,” you moan. Shouta groans, raising his head and setting his chin on your chest.
“You sure you wanna bust up our good time?” His thumb swirls around your clit again and his eyes slip closed as you clench around his fingers. “You’re making this real hard, baby.”
“I know,” you sigh. “And I definitely know you’ll be kicking yourself tomorrow morning when you have to set another assignment and you haven’t handed these back.” Shouta lets out a soft huff, then climbs up your body, pressing another soft kiss to your lips, the corner of his mouth quirking up as he leans away from you, biting back a blue streak of curses as he watches your expression shift as he pills his fingers out of your soaking pussy.
“I love you too,” he whispers. And he sits up, climbing over the back of the couch. “I need to wash my hands, and you’ll need more meds soon.”
11:49 pm
Because of course he passed out on the couch with the tv on the minute he finished grading. He turns over in the flickering light of the spotify playlist onscreen, Babushka sliding off his chest and leaping to the floor with a sleepy ‘mmrp?’; the table is clear of your dinner plates, the spot where he left the papers is empty, so of course, the next place he looks is over to the side table by the door, where you put his satchel, the graded pages sticking out of the front pocket. God, he loves you. 
He sits up, folding the throw blanket you put over him and laying it across the back of the couch, then begins the slow march up the stairs, Babs curling up to sleep in the warm spot he just vacated.
He smiles as he comes to the bedroom door, taking you in as you lay sprawled across the bed in a deep sleep. The scent of your citrusy body spray, your cherry almond lotion, still clings to the air, wafting from the bathroom next door.
You’re so pretty. Unsurprisingly, this was the first thing he noticed about you on your first day of classes together. You’re an honest-to-goodness fucking stunner, if he’s being honest, but that wasn’t where the attraction came from.
You didn’t start out as the strongest in your year; you had a very hard-to-manage quirk, and you spent most of your first year trying to learn how to use it without hurting yourself or anyone else. But you were ranked third by the end, and the only reason you weren’t first or second was because you blew off the PR classes and started your hero internship early. He didn’t just admire your strength; he admired your tenacity, especially since you’d never asked him to use his quirk to help you. You just did it, and you made it look extraordinarily easy.
But it wasn’t; he didn’t really understand the toll all that work took on your body until he saw you naked for the first time. He remembered kneeling in front of you once he stripped you out of your tight, slinky minidress after your third date, taking in all of the scars and marks on your body - the signs of training yourself so obsessively for so many years. He could feel you trying to shrink away from him, but he wouldn’t let you, holding your hips, eyes taking in your stretch marks, the lightning bolt-like scars carving across your stomach and thighs, up to your chest, crawling under your earth-shatteringly sexy bra to your shoulders.
“It’s my quirk,” you said, softly. “It um…I’m sure you remember it…it used to be pretty rough on my body when I got too emotional.” He ran his fingers along the side of your hip, along a long jagged one, light brown stripe wrapping from your back down to your knee, bright against your deep brown, gorgeous skin. “It’s…um…you don’t have to—” He leaned into you then, kissing the soft swell of your tummy, pulling you tighter to his mouth as your breath hitched, as you tried to flinch away from him.
“Don’t be ashamed of something so beautiful,” he whispered.
His lips remember his favorite course up your body so easily; he’s mapped it out so many times since that first time he could do it in his sleep, nevermind yours. First the swell of your right calf; he kisses a big brown raised scar there, tracing around to your shin - your first training injury from your first year of school, your pretty skin there a midterm casualty, a rescue mission exercise, if he’s remembering correctly. The backs of your knees next; you’re ticklish, wiggling when you’re awake, but now you just fidget, shifting a little - his throat dries as he watches his houescoat slip a little off your body, revealing more of your soft curves.
You’re not wearing a bra; he’s surprised you’re even wearing panties. He tugs your nightgown out of your slack fingers and tosses it over to the window seat, watching the silky material slide off the plush cushion and down to warm wood floor. And he turns back to you, brushes his lips against your warm, pretty thighs; he feels his scruff scratch against your thigh and you flinch, shifting onto your side. But you don’t wake up.
And you’ve had a stressful, hard couple months, a worse week, and honestly, he’s so hungry for you he couldn’t look at you all day without his fucking mouth watering.
He licks a slow stripe across your left inner thigh, away from the now-smaller bandage, where a villain sliced deep through a constellation of brown freckles, right across Shouta’s favorite spot to lean and kiss softly while you read. Then shifts to your other thigh, teeth scoring and biting down, before licking softly, further up to where your thighs touch.
He runs his hands up your legs, over your hips, and pulls when he reaches your waist, tugging, shifting you until he’s sliding your underwear off, pitching them into the now-empty hamper in the corner by the closet.
You shiver underneath him, letting out a soft moan when his mouth finds your clit, his scruff scraping along the most sensitive bits of skin, but his fingers spread across your thighs and presses you down.
Your skin glistens under the low moonlight streaming through the window - soft, pretty, deep brown and incredibly warm. And he pushes your legs wider, licking a wide stripe across you again, mouth pressing tight against your wet opening.
You let out a moan, shifting, rolling your hips, and he rides the move, licking your clit steady and slow.
“Sho…” you sigh. His eyes flicker up to you, to take in your gorgeous expression, closed eyelids fluttering, lips twisting as you let out another moan.
He just…fucking…snaps.
He hauls you to his mouth, tight, and you gush around his tongue, whimpering, hips writhing in his steady grip. You taste amazing, soft and earthy and sweet and so fucking wet he can feel you dripping down his chin. He wonders what you’re dreaming about - how you’re envisioning him taking you down, whether he’s on his knees for you, or fucking you through the mattress—
You suck in a sharp inhale, and he grins.
“Sho…fuck—” your hand brushes along the top of his head, “Oh my God…what’re you…” his tongue circles around your clit, and you flinch against him, gasping. You’re close, he can feel it, you’re all twitchy, fighting him even as you roll your hips into his mouth, squeezing his head between your thighs, but you woke up already too far gone, your hold on his hair still sleep-drunk, your moans so low and desperate.
He loves how you come, how shivery you get when it’s really good; how your legs tremble around his head, those pretty, whimpery sounds you make. This time is no exception - the way you beg for him, say his name, ragged and breathy, makes him so hard for you he can barely fucking think straight.
“Oh fuck, Sho,” you sigh, trying to catch your breath. He kisses the tip of your clit, softly, and you flinch. “That was so good.”
“You liked that?” He sits up, leans across you, down to kiss your hipbone, the swell of your tummy, across another pale and jagged scar. Fucking perfect; every time he looks at you he just cannot fucking believe you’re with him. He watches you nod against the silk pillowcases, eyes trailing along you, watching you squirm under his gaze.You’re smooth, dewy and soft, and he tsks.
“You got in the shower without me?” He tugs you toward him, reaches for the sash of his housecoat still wrapped around you, tugging it loose until you’re completely, beautifully bare below him.
“You were busy,” you reply. “Grading.” He presses a kiss into your stomach and licks a long, slow line up your torso, huffing a laugh as you shudder under him. He lays another kiss along your collarbone, then pulls you up to straddle his waist. Your right leg curls around his him, and he stops your left, brushing his palm along it, extending it behind himself, then softly squeezing a spot just below your bandage.
“Well, now I’m not. Nice work,” he pats your bandage, kisses you soft and sweet, tilting his head up to meet your gaze.
“Learned how to bandage from the best,” you reply, licking the corner of his mouth. His hands slide under his housecoat and brush down your body, thumbs gliding down your sides, fingertips spreading across your back, until he reaches your ass, and squeezes, pulling your legs further apart to get you more settled in his lap. Your breath hitches, and he smirks, groaning into a kiss. He knows you can feel how hard he is under you, can feel it as clearly as he feels how wet you are, how you’re grinding your hips down against him.
“Am I ever gonna get this robe back,” he sighs against your mouth, shoving the housecoat off your shoulders. You follow suit, reaching between you to tug his shirt up and off, your mouths finding each other after you fling it down.
“Yours is warmer than mine,” you bite into his bottom lip, softly and he growls.
“You’re the one who went for form over function,” he replies, licking into your mouth. He catches your hips and drags you along his cock, back and forth
“You…mm, fuck, don’t even wear it all that often anyway,” you breathe. He chuckles, wrapping an arm around your waist, and lifts you, just enough to press the tip of his cock to your opening, and you gasp into each other’s mouths when he slides into you, inch by inch.
“Fuck,” Shouta grips at your ass, but you beat him to the punch, squeezing your thighs around him, lifting and rolling your hips back down to his. Your legs are already fucking burning, but the way that Shouta bites your earlobe, splits you open on his dick, grips you close and tight and rolls his hips up into you, is devastating, makes it so fucking worth it.
“I’ve been…fuck, thinking about this pussy all week,” he groans.
“Show me,” you lick across his lips, tasting yourself on him. “Show me how much you missed me.”
Shouta is a very quiet man, everywhere else in his life. Most people, when then found out, find out that you’re with him, are first shocked, because he doesn’t appear like the kind of person that could handle a girlfriend with such a big fucking personality. A friend, certainly, but you? No way.
But hell. They’ve never seen you two at home.
And for the people who have seen you at home…well.
They’ve never seen Shouta when he fucks. Because this man can be a damn menace.
“I’m going to ruin you,” he says, and he fucking means it when he says it. His hand spreads further across your back, grips you ass tighter, and bounces you, gaze locked on your expression, the corner of his mouth curling as your voice pitches higher. “You like that?”
“Yes, Sho, oh fuck, please—”
“What baby?”
“Too much, fuck—”
“You wanted this. You said you could take it, sweet girl. You’ve been begging me all day.” Your nails drag along his neck; you’re still trying to take control, rolling your hips down to meet his.
He shifts, pressing you between the headboard and his chest, your sweat-drenched bodies grinding against each other’s, as his forehead drops to your shoulder — he licks your collarbone, and takes it down, eases his dick into you slow. “Is that good? Hm? That feel good?”
“Mm, fuck, yes,” you exhale; your gaze meets his, and fuck you for how you look at him when he fucks you like this, all cock-drunk and desperate for him.
“You feel so fucking good, baby,” he bites. You clench around him, and he laughs. “I know my little brat loves praise. You like when I tell you how tight your pussy is? So warm and sweet for me, my girl. So easy to get you dumb on my dick, baby. Fuck.”
“I can’t come again today, babe, oh my God—” You spasm around him so quickly, Shouta curses, trying to keep it together while you whine, rolling his hips harder into you. “Please…”
Shouta’s mouth finds yours, his hands spread across your hips, and he drives into you, quick and heavy, and overwhelming, and you curl around him, holding for dear life.
“Come on, Sho,” you whisper. “Fuck me like you mean it. Like you hate me.”
He gasps, hips stuttering, still going, still fucking into you—
You get a handful of his hair, bite into his neck, and it’s instantaneous, he shatters above you, spurting deep into you, rolling his hips against yours, slow until you both sink back into the pillows.
“Fuck.”
“Mm.” He shifts, his weight off you, rolling to the side, pulling you into his chest, and tugging the covers up from where you rolled them down before your shower.
“Still good?”
“Yeah, babe,” you smile up at him, sleepy and pleased. “Missed you.”
“Go to sleep,” he laughs. 
“I was, but then someone fucked me awake.”
“If you’d seen what I saw, you would’ve done the same. You have done the same.”
“…you right.”
“Babe,” he says after a minute; he’s sure you must be asleep, but your head tilts up. “Did you set the alarm? I gotta do the—”
“I already turned on self cleaning,” you yawn.
“You’re a fucking marvel.”
“I love you too.”
319 notes · View notes