#A Small Heroes Queue

[bnha-littlespace-things]

hear me out,,, Bakugou and Midoriya regressing together and just being the bestest little friends ever. theyre attached by the hip, clingy, just !! little, tiny kids

!!!! that's so cute!!! I love it!!

tw; none that i can think of! let me know if i should add something!

---

"Zu! Zu, look at this!" Bakugou ran over to his friend, who was in his All Might-covered room, holding up his new All Might figurine. "All Might gave it to me himself!"

Midoriya's eyes lit up at that. "All Mi' gave you it? T'at's so coo' Kaachan!" Midoriya shook his fists excitedly, the sleeves of his All Might onesie shaking with his arms. "Is so cool!"

"I know! Zu, where do you think I should put him? He's gotta have a special place of honor with the rest of my All Mights!"

"Oh, oh! He shou' go ri' front Kaachan!" Midoriya giggled excitedly, pulling at his sleeves and bringing one of them up to his mouth to chew on. "So eve'yone sees it! E'ryone gotsta see it!"

Bakugou nodded. "You're right Zu. Zu, where's your paci? You're gonna chew your onesie up."

"My paci? Oh! All Paci's ri' here!" Midoriya proudly showed off his deco All Might pacifier, which was clipped onto his onesie's collar.

"Well, chew on that! You don' wanna ruin your onesie!"

"I sorry Kaachan," Midoriya said, stuffing the paci in his mouth.

"You don't gotta apologize Zu! 'Is fine. C'mon, we gotta go put this figure wit' the others!" Bakugou said, standing up shakily. He was starting to slip further into his headspace, but that was okay. Because he was with Zu, and Zu and him were an unstoppable team big or small!

"Yeah! We got' go pu' i' wit' the ot'ers!" Midoriya said, struggling to form words around his paci.

And the two went off towards Bakugou's room together.

[falloutboyfan18]

Patrick Stump and Travie McCoy

[everypanelofizuku]

Chapter 53 - From Todoroki to Ida

[zappedbyzabka]

Beauty

[everypaneloftenya]

Chapter 53 - From Todoroki to Ida

[fruggin-bitch]

Cassiopeia by Sara Bareilles is such a good representation of calypso in my brain

Anchored home in her interstellar sea

calypso, stuck on ogygia with no contact with the outside world, no real way to know about anything happening, nobody to talk to other than the occasional god visiting her and a random hero that gets thrown at her by the fates.

Then: a spark from a star shooting too close They both smiled; what a day to explode!

leo, arriving and spending nearly a month (ogygia time) together getting t know each other and falling for each other because they actually know each other, not becuase of a curse (that had already been broken by this time lol)

Come on, come on, collide Let's see what a fire feels like I bet it's just like heaven"

calypso, finally getting to feel for someone who loves her back. someone who died to keep a promise to her and break her free from her island.

[corpsekiller]

i have nothing to say for myself, this is just very self-indulgent. despite it all, i still hope you like it <3 though it isn't proof-read yet, so please be kind and ignore any typos!

PAIRING. pro hero!katsuki bakugou x genderneutral!reader (barista)

WARNINGS. language, mentions of blood and scars, katsuki is sorta an arrogant piece of shit

MASTERLIST

currently thinking about pro hero!Katsuki in his early 20s who refuses to fit into social norms — he shows up to press conferences dressed in sleek black clothing, the sleeves of his turtleneck rolled up to show off the tattoos covering his scarred arms, muscles tensing and flexing beneath his inked skin as he reaches for the water bottle his assistant placed next to the microphone.

Silver rings adorn his fingers — heavy jewelry that catches the flashing light of cameras snapping picture after picture with a dangerous glint that matches the sharp smirk that tugs at the corners of his mouth when a journalist asks a peculiarly intimate question about his love life. He barks out a laugh, low and rough, followed by a careless fuck off, that's none of ya business — a reply that causes her to blush and scramble back into her seat as the next reporter gathers the courage to speak up.

When he‘s off duty, Katsuki is seen walking down the busy streets of the city in ripped jeans and heavy combat boots still stained with the blood of the villain he fought mere hours ago, the black tank top he wears stretching across his broad back and clinging to his body in a way that leaves little to the imagination.

Each movement shifts the thin fabric just enough to reveal more of the intricate dark lines of ink that trace his arms, curling up from his wrists to wrap around his biceps, traveling along his shoulders and disappearing under silver chains dangling from his neck to sprawl across his back and up to wrap around his throat.

Blood still seeps from an open cut beneath his exposed collarbone and bruises blossom on the edge of his clenched jaw, tinging the bare skin of his face in deep purple and blue that causes passers-by to gasp in mere horror. Some of them point at him, others only whisper behind raised hands, gaping at him with a hint of fear and admiration.

He only gives them a knowing smirk — the wounds he unashamedly carries from the battle are nothing but a badge of honor to him.

There‘s something so unapologetically captivating about him — a certain kind of controlled violence in every step he takes, an intensity that dares anyone to approach and promises a challenge if they do.

People scramble out of his way without even realizing they‘ve done it. Katsuki deliberately continues his path down the crowded sidewalk, casually adjusting the flannel shirt tied low on his waist before he enters a small coffee shop around the corner and ignores the crowd of fans that follows him soon after, heading straight past the queue as if the entire place belongs to him.

Perhaps it does, judging by the star-struck gazes of every customer he walks by, letting him pass without a single complaint.

"Americano," he says bluntly, voice low and rough, letting his words sound more like a command than a simple coffee order. He doesn‘t tack on a please, merely pierces you with a sharp glare as if he expects you to immediately drop everything you‘ve been doing to make his order.

Of course, he's right.

For a moment, you only stare at him. His hair is tousled, ashen strands disheveled from his fight against another villain you‘ve watched on the news earlier, but now that he‘s standing right in front of you, so close that you can see the small scar that runs along his cheekbone, you notice that his body isn‘t only decorated with blank ink.

No, there are piercings, too many for you to count in this short span of time, but the sight alone causes your knees to buckle. There's a silver barbell going through his eyebrow and two studs glint along the side of his nose, but what catches your attention the most are the delicate rings that adorn his lips, catching the light just at the corners of his mouth that are now quirked up into a devilish smile.

"Uh, coming right up!" Your voice comes out a little shakier than you‘d like and you clear your throat, quickly dropping the task at hand to busy yourself with the espresso machine and make his coffee as fast as possible, because—

Well, it's Dynamight.

You can feel his eyes on you as you work and although you don‘t dare to look up, too focused on not messing up, you catch a glimpse of his reflection in the machine — the set of his jaw, the slight furrow of his brow and the way his piercings glint dangerously when he clicks his tongue in mild impatience.

He leans against the counter, tattooed arms flexing as he adjusts the rings on his fingers and runs a hand through his hair. The fangirls behind him squeal with excitement, screaming incoherent phrases at him that not even you can decipher, though he doesn‘t seem to pay much attention to them anyway. Instead, he‘s solely focused on his order and, briefly, on you.

After a few minutes, you finish up, managing to keep your hands steady as you place the cup in front of him.

"A-Americano... for you," you mumble, trying to keep your tone even as if your pulse isn‘t racing just from standing so close to him.

Katsuki’s gaze drops to the cup, then shifts back to you, something unreadable in his eyes as he lifts it to take a slow sip, watching you over the rim. For a second, you think you catch the faintest hint of a genuine smile on his pierced lips before he carelessly tosses a few bills on the counter — more than enough — and nods, turning to leave without another word, his attention back on the door and the crowd still clamoring for a piece of his time.

Katsuki is nearly out the door when he glances back and offers you a sharp grin, letting his tongue dart out to lick over his bottom lip as he lets his eyes wander over your figure with such intensity that you momentarily forget how to breathe until the coffee shop around you begins to spin from the lack of oxygen.

And just like that, he’s gone, leaving you with the faint scent of coffee and leather, and the lingering thrill of an encounter you know you won’t be forgetting anytime soon.

Taglist: @justwolosers

[keferon]

I’ve been reading through your Spellbound AU and thought of something funny, so naturally I wrote a short story for it.

My take on how Jazz came to work for Orion.

———————————————————————

Jazz slunk across ruined stonework overtaken by forest growth. Form shifting as subtly as the shadows he crossed.

Which would it be?

Tall and slim? Nah, that one already served it’s purpose. The twins saw something lank and dark looming in the trees, and now the young knights were distracted looking over their shoulders.

A hulking brute? No, that’d inspire an all out confrontation. Jazz already had all of them keyed up to act on instinct.

The twins were easy. Young and expecting a straight fight. Pax, his target, was harder to ruffle. He had the reputation of a courageous selfless hero and damned if the mech wasn’t dedicated to the ruse.

Pax wasn’t spooked, but he did take his underlings concerns seriously. He marched forward as a pillar of confidence and safety, but Jazz caught the way his gaze scanned the ruins. His white shadow seemed indifferent, but he was just an audience member anyways, not a real fighter.

Primed to play the part. Pax just needed his queue.

Jazz got into place on his stage. He shifted into something small and weak (in appearance alone). Bent a leg at an unhealthy looking angle, and slumped like he was exhausted and chased here.

Jazz sat with his back against the wall, the partially collapsed stone room was small enough that a mech of Orion’s stature would have difficulty moving quickly. It had the nice bonus of blocking anyone else from coming through the main entry point as well.

Through a crack in the wall, Jazz watched as the leader in blue and red got closer, his “loyal knights” lagging behind. The white one lagged as well, distracted by scolding the twins for being distracted.

Jazz focused on his target. Pulled at a thread from within Pax and strung it within his own chest.

Jazz set his new voice and with all the terror and innocence he could conjure screamed.

H̴͉̮́͂͗̐͌̍̇E̸̡̞̅̎̒͗͂L̷̛̻͎̮̽̏͝͝P̴̛̭͈͌̔̃̊͛̓ ̶͉̩̖̔͛͋̃ͅP̴̫͔̖͔̼͗̑̔͘͝L̸͓̣͖̫̭͎̊́̑̀͐̈́Ḙ̶͕̪̳̟̥͂̓̈̅͂͝Á̵̖̳̱͙͋ ̸̭̤̹̔͑͒̈͆̓͘Ȏ̵̡̥͈̪̟͛́̑͆̐͜Ḣ̷̡̻̪̘̯̹̊̂́̒͠ ̷̭̭͕̙̟̬͈̇̄̌̅̂̚̕W̸̺̯̦͔̼͇̄H̷͖͛̎͐̄͊̂͝À̶̘̙̈́̎͛̒͘ͅṰ̴̻͉̜͂̐̽̀̇ ̴̬͓̝̞̀̆̕T̸̙̖̲̺̯̆͛͜Ḥ̵̱͚͕͔̆̉ͅȆ̶͙̆́́̌̋ ̵̧͔͔̰̰̰͕̿͂̆̂̅̅F̵͕̘̰͓̓̔͜͜U̵̧̝̳̔̍̇̅̿͜͜͝Ç̵͎̎̓̒̓̊̂K̷̨̈́?̶̱͈̖̺̘͓͆̄͒͋

He slapped a hand over his mouth.

Outside, everyone went deathly quiet. Jazz didn’t dare move.

“Um.” Spoke their fearless leader.

Who apparently had thing for asthmatic dragons.

“Are you alright in there?”

Movement started to approach his hidey hole. Jazz could still salvage this. He could.

The white shadow came through first. Damn it. New plan: save own life.

Jazz plucked a new voice from him and made himself look as unthreatening as possible.

“ - ?! !”

Nothing. He loves the concept of nothing. Not even a celebrity crush? A favorite singer? The sound of his own voice?

Some of the functionalists were like that. That’s probably half the reason they “allowed” him to take on their commissions. All the money in their coffers wasn’t worth this however.

The white mech frowned, scanning over Jazz with a cold blue look. He turned back to the entrance, “Sir, there is a ‘hypothetically’ injured person inside the building. Most likely they orchestrated our current circumstances in an attempt to assassinate you.”

Jazz lunged from the wall, dagger slipping between armor gaps to pierce the spoil-sports spark, ready to dash past in the resulting chaos when his lifeless body guttered before them.

And just like his voice, Jazz got nothing instead.

He gaped at the way his blade cut into hollow air beneath the plates. Numbly, he pulled out his dagger and stabbed again, like it’d do something different this time. The mech was unamused.

“Sir, the assassin is trying to assassinate me.”

Jazz pulled a working voice, “I̷͕͍̓̒͝ͅ’̵̝̂m̵̼̲̓́ ̷͚̑́͗͜n̶̢̬͈̉o̷̦̓̎͝ṱ̶̟̼͒͊ ̵̨̮̠̿̀ǎ̷̫̹n̶̫̜̚̕ ̸̹͙͐a̵̛̯̻̹s̶͍̈́s̵̳̲͎͂a̷̻͉̅͆̑s̴̛̫̞̽̈s̵̳̑į̸̝̽̊n̷̙̟̤͊!̸̪̃”. And discontinued his failing assassin attempt to cringe.

A massive hand closed around Jazz’s wrist, stopping him cold.

“Do not.” Orion lessened his grip but did not release him, “Harm my friends.”

Jazz had to crane his head back considerably to make eye contact. Orion was built like a brick house and Jazz had enough experience fighting mechs like him to know his kill window was gone.

Groveling it is!

“Į̷̧̲̍͝ ̴̟̩̗̀̿̊a̵̹͙̔m̵̠̜̳͍̀̽̾̏ ̷͕͕̔̿͆̂s̸̡͋ơ̵̦̜ ̶͍̫͔͔̒̈̈́̌s̶̻͓͔̆͜ò̸͙̥̻̀r̷̢̠̈r̵̘͑̎͂y̸̰͓͆͗̔.̵̯͇́̌͒ ̵̳̞̏̇̕I̶̦͚̦͠’̸̞̯͙̟́ḿ̵̢̜̅̍͜ͅ ̴̮̩͓̀̓̈͜j̷̻̒̀u̷̯͂͋ŝ̴̭͇̱͎͑͆ẗ̶͎̬͗́͝ ̷̥̰̗̃a̸̼̫̦̾̚ ̶͕͉̓͌͋͝d̴͖̗̰̒̎̈͘ͅe̸̗̞̤̲̽͗̈́͛s̸̖͐p̵̢̎͊e̴̢͖͉͑̿̾͘r̶̩̬̰̈́́ą̵̧̰̋̊͝t̶̻̯̞̦̆e̷̱̥̪̍͜ ̴̠̱̼̣̌̾t̴̙̐̔h̵̟̪͈͛̚ǐ̶͕ě̴̻̺f̸͕̠̯̤̀̆!̷̗̩̩̃̽ ̷̮̩̆̾Ǐ̷͍̭ ̴͕͕́ṅ̸̗̰e̸̯̱̝͚͆͂v̴̛͓͉͇̍́e̴̺̞͖͂͑̏͐͜r̶̢̼͠ ̴̗͙̐͒̋̚m̸͓͆͐e̶̱̩͕̐̚͠a̵͉͇̟̺̋̇̑n̶̢̖̙̣̾͝t̷̘̔ ̵̦̉̈́̈́͗t̵̳̻͇̔̎̃͜o̴͈͖̓ ̵̬̦̞͖͌͋͂͆h̷̲̓͑̎̃a̵̛͇̾͗r̵̠̗̩̾̏̈̚m̸̭̃ ̷̢̗͇͈͑͊a̵̧̠͑̒̚ ̵̢͉̮̌̀k̵̼͈͎̳͒̀̐͂ǹ̸̛̘͈͔í̶͓̜̜͉g̸̨̖̗̜̽͊ĥ̷͉̫͉̻̾̽̉t̵̜̣̲̹̑ ̸̡͒̃o̶̮͉̺͝r̷̬̎̓̚͝ ̵̡̠̩̓̈́̐̏ḣ̶̨͖̼̥̎́i̶̖̋͝s̷̻͍̭̒͜ ̵̢̖͓̿̍̌̾f̶̣̜̒̎r̶̝̈͊̍̋ǐ̶̝͓̱̱̆̐ẹ̷́̅n̴̢̛̘̍ḑ̷̪̈́̀͒̚ŝ̷͍̹!̷̪͙͕̬̐ ̵̨̡͆̏P̸̧̢̼̿͝l̶̡̧͔̳̍̉͋̆ẽ̶͉ȁ̸̦̜̤̀̉ͅs̴̮̙͍̘̐̂̉e̴͇͚͊̔̈́͋ ̸̧̳͒̈̃͠h̸̡̧̰͛̈͐ͅḁ̷͔̗̱̓̌̉v̸͖̼͓̜̽̏ę̵̬̤͎̄̅̓͆ ̷͍̯̗̥̋̀͛̉m̸̹͈͔̑͂͠ͅé̴͎͕ȑ̴̢̖̘̎c̴͙͇͙̤̐̔͒̕y̷̨͈͗͛͛!̶̹͝͝”

Orion cringed behind the mask.

“I- I’m sorry I don’t think I quite understood that.” He paused, “Would…you like a cough drop?”

Orion seemed to take stock of what he had on him, patting his sides with his free hand. He turned to the white mech.

“Prowl, would you happen to…um nevermind.” He turned to the twins, “Sunstreaker?Sideswipe? Do either of you have a cough drop?”

The twins searched their pockets for a magically appearing cough drop. Jazz searched for his sanity.

Jazz plucked a voice from the twins and couldn’t care less which it came from.

“Listen!” Oh thank fuck the twins were normal.

Jazz smiled while slowly uncurling Orions fingers from his wrist. Prowl narrowed his gaze at the new voice.

“You got me! I’m a thief! And I panicked! And I am so, so, so-.”

“A mimic.”

Smile frozen in place, Jazz turned his head so slowly there was an audible grounding noise.

Prowl remained impassive.

“Um.” And Orion…let him? Pull his wrist free. “Are you going to continue trying to kill me?”

Jazz snapped back to Orion, his target. The words aren’t what gave him pause, but how he said them. Like he just asked Jazz “Are you sure you want to go with puce green?” As if the mech was more concerned that Jazz was going to make a poor decision than for his own wellbeing.

“No.” Jazz said definitively. Because Primus knows he lost the upper hand now and wasn’t aiming to try again so soon.

“Are you genuinely in need of money? Food and shelter?” Orion continued, optics softening.

Jazz didn’t recognize the play. He bit his lip beneath the cowl.

Jazz decided to capitalize on whatever got him the most sympathy. He nodded seriously. “Yes. Of course. It’s not easy when the functionalists decide you’re a monster.” A bit of a lie and a bit of the truth. His favorite combination.

“Do you like your current employers?” Orion asked and Prowl started to narrow his optics.

“No…I don’t.” Jazz answered without enough dishonesty to feel comfortable.

Orion kneeled so he was on optic level with him. “Would you like to join my order?”

And when Jazz just stared at him he continued. “You’d be free to leave if you ever found it not to your liking. And your skills would be very useful in keeping people safe. And of course we’d ensure safe lodgings, fair pay and-.”

“Sir.” Prowl ground out with the most emotion Jazz had ever seen from the guy. “He tried. To assassinate you.”

“Well, he wasn’t very invested.” He shrugged.

Orion looked at Prowl. The twins looked at each other. Jazz looked at an opportunity.

“Deal.” Jazz took Orions hand, shaking it before his better thinking caught up to him.

Orion’s optics crinkled in delight. “Wonderful! Welcome to the Autobot Order!”

Prowls face betrayed nothing, but Jazz hadn’t spent his entire life studying people to miss the way something ever so subtly cracked under Prowls stoney facade.

Jazz didn’t need their Order to survive. But he had become desperately curious to know what in Pimus’ sweet name was going with those two. And more importantly, after outing him twice in a row, Jazz was going to BREAK Prowl.

“T̴͓̹̚h̸͖̘̀̈͠e̸̡̗̳͊̓͝ ̴͚̘͆n̶͉̰͐͜ą̸̦̉m̸̮͙͋é̴͉̫̥͘s̴̮̔͑̄ ̶̰̚J̷͎̀͝a̸̟͎̽̒̇z̷̰̆͑͜͝z̵̨͎̈́.̴͎́ ̷̡͉̱̒̾̕N̵̳͚̈͘i̴͙̓̎c̶̪̅̆ḛ̸̂͂ ̷̰̻̊͝ͅt̷͖̤̓͋o̴̗͇̭͑̿͛ ̴̮̹̉̃͜m̴̼͈̝̍ë̸̗̫̘́̊͌ē̸̘̹̅t̷̛̞̙̫ ̵͙̎̄y̵̩͂̓̚a̴͉̲̪͌̍.̶̖̻̒”

———————————————————————

The silent sentence was “Did you hear that horrib- Huh?! OH COME ON!”

I just really liked the idea that because Jazz talks in Shockwaves voice around Orion, the first time it happened everyone nearly shit themselves.

-SSTP

"Who apparently had thing for asthmatic dragons."

LMAO

"The twins searched their pockets for a magically appearing cough drop. Jazz searched for his sanity." AHAHAJCZTYLVXFUJKCDYKFSS HELP

Jazz, looking at OP: There is something really wrong with you. Five weirdness points out of five.

Jazz, looking at Prowl: ........I need a new scale

[fiiirsthero]

What happened next was... not anything that Link would have ever guessed could even happen. He had seen plenty of oddities in his lifetime and the concept of shapeshifting wasn't foreign to him, but to watch a full-grown man's body melt like clay and remold itself into the form of a child was bizarre.

Does he still weigh the same? Perhaps that should not have been the first thought that crept through his mind - but he was curious if the change affected his mass as well, or if he was simply more condensed.

It was only after the absurd thought flickered through his mind did Link sigh. If he was being truthful? No. There were countless faces he couldn't recall. People who should have been part of his memory forever who were now faded blurs. His parents, the townspeople, the mayor who had condemned him to a decade in prison - Link had once thought he'd be able to keep at least the ones who had hurt him engrained forever in his mind, but as the years had ticked by he had learned one simple truth:

Grudges were hard to bear. They took effort and energy and dedication. Maybe there had been a point in time where his grief and sorrow over Hylia had burned hot enough to fuel them, but what would he gain from that?

The other truth he carried with him was just a simple question: would this be truly what Hylia would have wanted?

"No." As he spoke Link slowly crouched to the ground. He would never try to say he was good with children, but he knew enough to try to look as small as possible if one was obviously scared. After a moment he went a step further, letting his legs fold as he sat back. "It was a war. We wouldn't have had any time to learn anything about the people we were fighting.

"But if you wanted to tell me about yourself now, I'd be happy to listen." Link paused a moment, hand reaching up to touch his chest. Beneath it was the ever-healing scar - was it from this ax? Or that... sword... the name started with a g but anything more escaped it. Did it matter either way? The past was the past. "Ayrin," he added on, addressing the other by name.

he frowns ... his arms crossed tightly at the chest & link looks deep into his eyes . he answers : i should be , yes .

oh .

cadell can no longer meets the man's gaze . he feels his shoulders tense & his legs refuse to move as he stares at the dirt ground by his boots . it barely feels real . if what this man says is true then ... he is the first hero . ray knows thos⸻ no . ayrin knows those eyes . he knows those blonde locks & he knows that red cape . breath leaves him for a moment as the other frowns .

we've met before ... you feel familiar .

ray buries his face into his scarf for a moment as he shuts his eyes . yes we have . doubt you remember ... he can barely remember the details . he knows the trauma but how much has been twisted in his mind as the years go by eroding his mind ? has he made it worse ? or has he downplayed the things he's gone through ? he can't tell ... all he truly knows is how much pain he was in .

his hands come up to his face & pulls ⸻ he moves his skin as if it was clay until the face is that of a young boy . his body follows suit , shrinking down to barely five foot ... a child . one link may remember or may not . a little demon so many years ago that would run through the battlefield with a wide eyed expression paired horribly with a smile . sick & twisted he would giggle with glee as he slaughtered the hylians . it was a game ! yes , how many points could little ayrin get before beating the big bad lady ...

but then when the war was over ... ah , well a tale for another time .

as he stood his tunic hung lose on his body , swallowing him whole . still he refused to look link in the eyes ... a little hand came to his chest , rubbing the scar from the goddess' blade ... he can't recall if it was link to cut him or hylia ... he just knew it hurt looking at link .

❝ this is the face you would remember . ❞ his voice is small , a child who hasn't finished puberty . one that remain that little boy . one that will forever have that baby fat still on his cheeks , tiny hands & big round eyes . ❝ a-ayrin of the demonic army . axe of lamatar whitehill ... but i doubt you or that stupid bright lady learned any of our names when you slaughtered us . ❞

[billiethepumpkin]

Miss You Too: Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

Warnings: Rated X. This content is intended for readers ages 18 years or older. If you are a minor, do not interact.

Contains: Fem!Reader. Sex toys. Masturbation. Getting caught masturbation. Husband/Wife relationship. Emotions.

Featuring: Katsuki Bakugou.

Author's Note: All characters are written to be adults because I am an old fuck :)

It was late.

It was so late. And you were so exhausted. You had so many feelings coursing through your veins. You just wanted to lie down and go to sleep.

You were finally getting tomorrow off, after having worked for eleven days in a row. You knew you didn't have to keep picking up shifts. Your husband made sure you knew, too. He made plenty of money for the both of you as Japan's #2 Hero. Shit, you would've never had to work another day in your life if you hadn't wanted to. But now, Bakugou was away. He had been for nearly three weeks, even though he had promised it'd be two. Even though he promised he wouldn't be going away for another several months. Even though he promised he'd come back to you as soon as he possibly could.

And what else were you going to do with your time? Sit on the couch and miss him? Wallow in your own self pity? Nope. Instead, you were going to work extra shifts and surprise your hubby with a nice gift when he came back. Besides, you liked your little cafe job well enough. It paid the bills before Dynamite was in the picture, and now it became your escape when things were rough at home.

You didn't even bother showering or washing your face. You just stripped down into your birthday suit and crawled into bed, leaving your dirty work clothes scattered on the carpet. You slid into the cool, smooth sheets and settled between the blankets and pillows. You rolled to your husband's side of the bed. You smelled him. His mint and musk shampoo, mixed with his natural scent of burnt caramel and firewood. You took a deep breath from his pillow. You were ashamed at the way your body came to life. Your body begged for him, seething at his absence. Seemingly on their own, your hands trailed between your legs and applied a small bit of pressure, trying to calm the aching that settled there. You missed him deeply. You couldn't tell if you would cry or cum from his scent. But when you took another deep breath and pressed your legs together, you felt the twitch of muscle and nerve at the apex of your thighs. You wouldn't be able to hold out for very much longer at all.

Back on your side of the bed, you opened your bedside table and brought out a powerful little bullet vibrator that Katsuki had bought you on his first trip out of town, right before you'd gotten married. At the time, it was only for three days, and it seemed a little bit excessive. But the trips got longer, and you only missed him more fervently as the years passed. You longed for your husband.

You turned on the vibrator and slid it between your thighs. You got right down to business. You didn't care much about how it got done. You just wanted to get it over with and go to sleep.

You felt the vibrations in your core. You thought of his arms around you. You dragged the bullet over your nerves, circling over them again and again. You remembered the way his tongue glided over your nipples. Your breathing hitched as you tried to remember the way his hands gripped your hips as he pummeled into you from behind. Your hips bucked at the thought, getting closer and closer to the edge.

As if on queue, the bedroom door opened. You stopped your motions immediately, startled by the sudden movements. You saw no shadow, no movement at first to indicate that anyone was there. And for a brief moment, you started to believe in ghosts until you saw the head of messy blonde hair peak into the room. "Damn, you couldn't wait till I got here?" he growled, a teasing smirk spreading across his cheeks.

You couldn't think of anything to say in return. What the hell are you doing here?!?! you wanted to say to him. But also, you didn't want to talk at all.

You sat up, and he tucked himself in between your body and the headboard. He was sweaty and dirty from work, but he brought into bed that same caramel and woodsmoke scent that you loved so deeply, the scent that had almost gotten you off by itself. Silently, he took the vibrator out of your hand and started to draw circles on your clit himself. You laid your back against his chest and breathed deeply, taking your time to just feel the gentle caress of his biceps around your body. "You miss me that much, huh?" Bakugou teased. He ran a calloused hand up your body and stopped on the side of your face.

"Mmhmm," you manage to hum in reply. Just then, Katsuki hit a nerve with the vibrator, and you squirmed against him, your back arching so prettily for him.

"'m gonna make you feel so good, baby," he whispered in your ear. You felt his calloused hand trailing over your body again. He pawed at the different squishy parts of your body. Your thigh, spread over his for access to your pussy. Your hips, plush and his for the taking. Your love handles and your belly. And, of course, your breasts. Katsuki took his time squeezing every part of you, as if he had forgotten what it was like to have your flesh in his hands. He continued to circle the vibrator over and around your clit.

"Pretty girl couldn't even wait till I got home, huh?" he teased in that signature growl. "Had to take care o' your pussy for me." He squeezed your breast even harder, putting pressure on your nipple and making you squirm against him again. Your back and ass pressed up against his length, and you felt him twitch to life. "Oh, honey, I'm gonna fuck you so good as soon as we both get some rest," he promised, his grip moving to your throat and your head laying back on his shoulder. "Right now, though, I just want to make you cum."

As if on some kind of timer, you felt your entire body contract against his words. Your breath got caught in your throat. Bakugou kissed your shoulder all over, and you felt his teeth graze over your skin. You let out sighs and gasps involuntarily. You fell over the edge into bliss, the sensation washing over you little by little at first, and then all at the same time.

"That's my girl," Bakugou growled into your ear, his free hand now roaming over your body, touching anywhere he could reach. You rode out your orgasm until your breathing leveled and he fumbled to turn off the vibrator.

"C'mere," he whispered as you turned around and straddled his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck and rested your head on his shoulder to come down from your high. He wrapped his arms tightly around your waist.

At this point, you couldn't even help it. Tensions were so high that you couldn't take it anymore. Your emotions bubbled over, and you felt your tears sneak out of your eyes when you took another deep breath full of his scent. You tried to stifle a sob as you admitted, "I missed you so much, Katsuki."

Bakugou rubbed your back as you cried into his shoulder. "I can tell," he teased, still wearing that same smirk he always did. You both giggled to yourselves for a moment before he finally admitted it.

"Missed you too."

[bnha-littlespace-things]

Hi hi! I was wondering if I could could please request a Little! Bakugou with a Caregiver! Kirishima?

I hope you have an amazing rest of your day! <3 :D

ofc! sorry i didn't get to these sooner ^^; hope this makes up for it!!

tw; none that i can think of, let me know if there's something i can add!

---

Sometime, when Bakugou was stressed, he would age regress. Pretty much no one knew about it, except for Kirishima.

Kirishima found out on accident, even though Bakugou had been intending on telling him. The red head started coming over and hanging around whenever Bakugou was regressed, and if he regressed during their regular hang out sessions, Kirishima wouldn't bat an eye and ask if he wanted to switch activities. Sometimes Bakugou would say yes, sometimes he'd say no. Kirishima also helped him with some of the things he struggled with doing while in his small headspace.

Kirishima becoming Bakugou's caregiver kinda just... happened. But he was a very good caregiver. He made sure to communicate as much as possible with Bakugou. He made sure the little didn't stay up past his bed time, picked up all his toys, and gave him extra treats when he deserved them or after a bad nightmare.

Kirishima was always there for Bakugou, and Bakugou wouldn't want anyone else as a caregiver.

So he wanted to do something extra special for him. Maybe it was sappy, trying to make the spiky red-headed rock a gift, but Bakugou didn't care. He needed to show Kiri that he was the bestest caregiver ever. And Bakugou didn't award that title lightly! You really had to be amazing in order to earn such high praise from him!

And Bakugou needed his gift to be just as spectacular as his caregiver.

That's how he found himself sitting at his desk, half in his headspace, glaring at the card in front of him. Yeah, it was good. It was handmade and the drawings were amazing. But a card? No, his caregiver deserved something even cooler! Though he was pretty proud of the card, so he would still give it to Kirishima. So, the partially regressed teen walked over to his bed and flopped onto it, pulling out his phone.

Kiri deserved something amazing, so he was gonna get him something amazing!

Bakugou scrolled through various Etsy stores and Ebay listings, trying to find something that was perfect. Eventually, the little found just the thing.

Gasping, he sat up excitedly. "Eiji'll love it!" he declared, not noticing how much he'd regressed already. "It's perfect! I gotta get it for him!" Bakugou quickly bought the gift, and now all he had to do was wait. And not tell Eiji! Eiji couldn't know, it had to be a surprise!

When the day came that the gift arrived, Bakugou could barely keep still. He was practically vibrating in excitement as he wrapped the gift up and place the card on top of the box. He texted Kirishima, struggling a little with typing it as he slipped into his headspace. Eiji would love his gift, he knew it!

Kirishima arrived, and Bakugou pulled him over to his desk. "Eiji! Eiji! Got you somethin'!" Bakugou said, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Woah, you didn't have to Kats."

"I know! But you the bestest caregiver, gotta show that! An' the gift is perfect!" Bakugou stated matter-of-factly.

"Alright. Well, before I open this, no doubt, awesome gift, Kats, are you little right now?"

Bakugou was about to answer no, when he realized that, yes, he had slipped. "Uh-huh! But still! Your gift!" Bakugou picked the box up and pushed it into the red-head's hands.

"Thank you, Katsuki," Kirishima said, ruffling the blondes hair. Bakugou beamed.

Kirishima teared up as he read the card. The handwriting was slightly shaky, but Bakugou's handwriting was still very neat. It read, 'For the bestest caregiver in the universe! You're the manliest!' and it had a bunch of silly, slightly childish drawings of him and Bakugou, as well as some doodles of Crimson Riot. "This card is lovely, Kats! I'm going to hang it up and keep it forever and ever," Kirishima said definitively, and Bakugou nodded.

"Yeah, cause it's the coolest! But it's gots nothin' on your real gift!"

Kirishima nodded, and delicately unwrapped the wrapping paper, doing his best to avoid tearing it. When he saw the box, he almost started balling.

It was a limited edition Crimson Riot action figurine. One that only had some ninety-seven in existence. Kirishima had tried to get one, but they were expensive and sold out extremely quickly.

"Kats..." Kirishima said, voice wavering. "Kats I love it, thank you so much...! How did you even get this?"

"Ebay!" Bakugou responded proudly. "I wan'ed to show you that you're the bestest and the coolest!"

Kirishima hugged Bakugou. "Well, thank you Katsuki! I'm gonna treasure this figurine forever!"

Bakugou hugged his caregiver back. "Your welcome, Eiji!"

[sserpente]

For Old Times' Sake

Synopsis: When your landlord drags you before Lord Gortash to settle your debts, your life gets turned upside down. It is not the fear of imprisonment that paralyses you at Wyrm’s Rock—it is him. Enver Flymm, as you’d once known him, a shy and clever boy and your only childhood friend. Will he recognise you and show mercy, help you out?

A/N: My obsession with Gortash is getting out of hand. I don’t think I care.

Words: 2853 Warnings: angst, homelessness, mentions of death and abuse

The number on your tax letter was bright red—quite possibly scribbled on there with the previous tenant’s blood. Three thousand and five hundred gold pieces. That was more money than you had ever seen in your life.

��I’m a little short.”

The half-orc—your landlord—rolled his eyes. “By how much?”

“Um…about three thousand and four hundred ninety-nine gold pieces.”

“Are you mocking me?”

“I’m not, I…I am trying to find work right now. I was preoccupied with organising a funeral and scraped together the last of my savings to buy my parents a coffin. I will start paying off the debts and all the money I owe if you give me just a little bit more time…”

The half-orc scoffed. “Funny, that’s what your parents always said too. Just a little bit more time. I’m done playing games, kid. In times like this, the Fist can’t let this keep happening. You pay your rent, you pay your taxes, you contribute to the city’s safety—and you face the consequences if you cannot do so.”

It was this new Steel Watch mainly that ate up most of the tax money. An entire Foundry had sprouted from the ground down by the docks seemingly overnight. They were rather scary automatons and they were not known for their mercy.

“It’s Friday,” the half-orc continued. “We are settling this once and for all. Your missing payments are biting a hole into my coin purse.”

Your eyes widened. Each Friday, Lord Gortash—the city’s new hero, protector, and saviour—held public hearings where citizens could voice requests, concerns, or other pleas. You’d never seen the man in person. He looked handsome enough on the posters, you’d read about his good deeds and heard about his generosity. But apart from that, he was a stranger to you. You’d known a young boy once called Enver though—Gortash sharing the same first name could only bring you luck, no?

Perhaps…perhaps it wouldn’t be too bad. You could make your case—explain to him that when your parents died from sickness, the remaining debts from all the medication that didn’t help in the end had been passed on to you.

You inherited a small house with broken windows, corroding wood and a serious rat problem in the cellar rendering food rations useless. Not that you had many to spare. You’d always wondered what a full stomach felt like.

“Will you come with me willingly or do I need to get a Fist?”

“This really isn’t necessary, saer. As soon as I’ve found work—”

“I am done making exceptions. We are leaving for Wyrm’s Rock. Now.”

You didn’t want to make a scene, not here. Not with the Steel Watchers within reach. With a sigh, you folded the letter from your landlord and handed it back to him, then followed him through the Lower City to Wyrm’s Rock as if you were walking to the gallows.

The place was packed. You’d expected little else. Lord Gortash was very much in demand. There was a long queue when you arrived, several Fists positioned at every possible entrance along with some patrolling Steel Watchers to ensure no one cut the line.

Five minutes turned into ten minutes, ten minutes into twenty. With every passing second, you felt the nervousness tightening its iron grip around you more. The punishment for evading rent was eviction, for one, and imprisonment for another. But perhaps Lord Gortash would hear you out.

It took another ten minutes before you were called up to the audience chamber. As if he was worried you’d try and make a run for it now, the half-orc grabbed your upper arm, dragging you with him. At the far end of the hall, two Steel Watchers were positioned on either side of a pretty throne in front of which stood a handsome man with short black hair and elegant black armour.

“Lord Gortash…thank you for your time,” your landlord began. He bowed—and so did you. Gortash’s eyes skimmed over the half-orc with mild interest before moving on to you. Dark orbs boring into yours, stirring…recognition within you. His face…you could have sworn you’d met him before.

“How can I be of service, hmm?” he asked with a sly smirk. Your heart almost leaped out of your chest. That scar on his chin…that little boy you knew from your childhood…a boy named Enver…

“E-Enver? Enver Flymm? Is…is that you?”

Your landlord’s head whipped in your direction, the disrespect apparent, even more so when Gortash began to frown. Who were you to call the archduke by his first name? But this…this was different. You knew him. He was…or used to be…your friend.

“It’s me!” You told him your name, excitement washing over you like a wave. “R-remember me? We used to play together as kids. You…you just disappeared one day. I never found out what happened to you and your parents wouldn’t talk to me…”

Your landlord cleared his throat before Gortash could answer—the archduke’s face, however, was painted with recognition. He did remember you.

“Whatever, Lord Gortash, this…tenant of mine has been behind with paying rent for months. I am currently missing nearly four thousand gold pieces which she claims she’ll be able to ‘pay back soon as soon as she finds work’.”

Enver knew your family was poor, they always had been. He himself didn’t have a lot growing up. While other kids would brag about the new toys that they got for their birthday, Enver got a beating out of asking for some simple tools for his special day. He’d always been a tinkerer.

“I see. I am going to deal with this. Would you excuse us for a moment?” Gortash finally spoke.

Taken aback, your landlord nodded. Dismissed. You breathed out audibly. Good, this was good. You’d get to tell him your side of the story and he’d help you, he had authority now, he had the power to…

“You have chosen a criminal career then?”

Your heart dropped. “C-criminal? I’m not a criminal.”

“You refuse to pay rent. And tax evasion too?”

“I don’t refuse. I simply…I can’t, I have no money left. You…you remember my parents, right? They passed two ten days ago. We spent all we had on medication and healers and that was after they started struggling with their health. They couldn’t work as much anymore and so we fell behind.”

“Hmm.”

He tilted his head and for just a brief second, you saw the young boy flash before your eyes again. You couldn’t help but smile despite your sad circumstances. Gods, you were a childhood friend of the archduke… Now that your parents were gone…perhaps you wouldn’t be all alone after all.

“I…I thought about you a lot. You were my only friend back then. I always assumed your parents sent you off to some private school outside the city to give you better opportunities or…or that an incurable sickness claimed you. Just earlier today I thought I once knew a little boy who would have loved these Steel Watchers. And now it turns out it was you all along. I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“I put my talent to good use.”

“You did. I remember when we were little kids we would roam the streets and search the city for old metal parts. You’d tinker away and build your own toys with them. This one time you made me a dancing ballerina, do you remember? You…you found this old music box a merchant had abandoned. The music was all distorted at first but…you made it work again. That was the best toy I ever had.” You paused. All of a sudden…you were mourning him. Mourning your childhood friend you thought you had lost for good.

“What happened to you? Where did you go?”

Gortash’s brown eyes locked with yours. But then, his expression hardened. “That matters not. Your landlord expects a solution for his dilemma.”

Your face fell. “You…you could help.”

“I could,” he mused. “But I am the archduke of Baldur’s Gate now, my dear. If I start waiving laws in favour of an old acquaintanceship, people are going to start questioning my reliability.”

“But—“

“Your landlord is in the right. If you cannot afford rent, he has the right to evict you. I am going to spare you the dungeons—for old times’ sake.”

“Enver…”

“That is Lord Gortash to you. We are not children anymore.”

Your lips parted. “Is…is that it?”

“Yes. You are dismissed.”

You didn’t even notice your tears until they wet your cheeks. You turned around without a word of goodbye, without a formal bow. Your landlord was seemingly pleased as you rushed out. You didn’t wait for Enver to tell him the good news.

As of right now, you were homeless. And even though you hadn’t seen your only friend in years, against all reason, your heart shattered into a million pieces.

You just didn’t understand. Enver used to be such a sweet boy. Innocent, full of visions and dreams, shy, quiet. Everyone who knew him including his own parents labelled him as ‘odd’ but you knew better.

Now, he was the reason you’re homeless. Wait, no. That wasn’t right. Your landlord was the reason you were homeless. Enver had simply honoured the very rules set in place before he became the archduke. Perhaps he was right and he couldn’t make an exception—it would be unfair on others. He could have sent you to prison but he didn’t. That had to be enough.

As you made your way through the Lower City past merchants, civilians, and Steel Watchers a few weeks later, wondering if you’d be able to have a meal today, the sudden tumult right in front of Basilisk Gate had you pause. You frowned, hurrying toward the crowd of people that had formed before the gallows. Three men with nooses around their necks stood on the wooden platform, in front of them, facing the citizens, stood Enver.

What in the hells was happening?

“…so let this be a fair warning. These are the consequences of disobedience. I am not going to tolerate disrespect. I have led this city to glory—and I ask for recognition and your trust in return.”

Your frown deepened when Enver gave a court nod to the hangman. The very moment the trap doors gave way under the prisoner’s feet was the moment you looked away—but not before the archduke’s eyes met yours.

“I am telling you,” you heard a citizen whisper to another, “there’s something foul about this man. He acts like a bloody Banite.”

A Banite. You swallowed. That was a serious accusation. Surely, a sweet boy like Enver wouldn’t turn to Bane worship.

“My words exactly,” the other citizen responded, “I heard he is friends with the chief editor of the Baldur’s Mouth Gazette and only what he approves of gets printed.”

A scoff. “Talk about propaganda.”

You’d heard enough. With your heart in your mouth, you stepped away, attempting to disappear in the crowd and perhaps ask for a gold piece or two. You flinched when a Fist touched your shoulder and flipped you around to face her.

“Lord Gortash has requested your presence. You will follow me.”

“W-why? What does he want?”

She didn’t respond. And if you refused to follow her? You didn’t want to find out.

You hadn’t expected to return to Wyrm’s Rock any time soon, nor that you’d be led up the stairs to Lord Gortash’s private quarters. The place was imposing. And of course, when you spotted him behind his desk, he was accompanied by two Steel Watchers.

“Ah, hello, my dear. Have you been faring well?” he mused. You could have been mistaken—but it was almost like you sensed scornfulness swinging in his voice.

“I am homeless. How do you think I’m faring?” you snapped before you could stop yourself.

“Oh, don’t give me that reproachful tone. We are all bound by laws and order, my dear.”

You blinked. “What do you want from me?”

“I have a proposition for you.”

“You do?” Hesitation mixed with suspicion. After seeing him hang people in public today…you weren’t sure a proposition would do you any good.

“It’s quite simple, really. Serve me and I shall give you a roof over your head.”

“Serve you?”

“I’ve had my Watchers keep an eye on you. It is quite noble of you not to resort to stealing. Surely, you understand why the citizens of Baldur’s Gate are becoming more and more hesitant to spare a few coins, though.”

You’d read in the Gazette only yesterday that the tax rates were going to be increased yet again starting next month. Both the Fist and the newspaper itself had become very vocal about their dismay when it came to the poor and those in need. It was concerning—terrifying, even.

“Being archduke comes with a lot of responsibilities. My hands are full with political duties, I need people around me to run errands for me and assist me. What do you say? For old times’ sake?” he continued.

“You want me to work for you?” Only weeks ago, you would have jumped at the opportunity. You and your childhood friend reunited at last. Him being the archduke, you being his assistant, his right hand. Now, however, the request left a bitter aftertaste in your mouth. You did not agree with his cold-hearted choices to hang usurpers. There was always a more peaceful solution. Imprisonment, for one.

“Do you know what people are whispering, Env-…Lord Gortash? They have suspicions you could be a Banite. You hung people for disobedience! How is that a fair judgement? How can I work for you if this is how you—”

“One of them plotted an assassination against me. You have no right to question my rule, my dear. Lest you’ll end up like them.”

Your lips parted. He didn’t even deny it. He…he didn’t deny he was worshipping Bane… Damn all appropriation. “Enver, please, what happened to you? You used to be such a sweet boy, you comforted me when the other kids picked on me, you—”

“My parents, my dear, sold me to a Warlock. I disappeared because I was shipped off the hells to serve a devil called Raphael in his House of Hope. I faced years of degradation and abuse until I finally managed to escape. I had nothing, I was nothing. The Black Lord picked up the pieces that were left of me and made me what I am today. And I am giving you a chance now. You have potential. Serve me and we can rise together.”

You blinked, processing his words. Sold? To a devil? No wonder his parents had refused to speak about him after his sudden disappearance. The torment he must have experienced…you could almost understand why a tyrannical god like Bane would infiltrate his dreams and promise him power and glory.

“I…I don’t know about this, Enver. This…this is tyranny.”

“In times like this, tyranny is what people need. They don’t listen—and they need a strong leader to help them make the choices that are best for the city. As of right now, free will is their greatest enemy.”

“Is that truly what you think?”

Enver’s expression darkened. He took a menacing step forward. All of a sudden, you felt so much smaller than before.

“I will not have you belittle my faith.” He paused. “I expect an answer. Now.”

You were torn—way too much so. This answer should be a decided No. Working for a Banite, for a worshipper of one of the Dead Three…it was wrong. It should be wrong. And yet…you were hesitant. Not only did Enver promise to end your homelessness but also an alliance. You were clueless as to how he assumed you would be of any use to him but you’d be damned if you didn’t admit that ever since he’d stepped into your life again…it felt like a part of yourself had returned to you. Against all reason, that made you happy. Relieved, even. You weren’t entirely alone—and you certainly wouldn’t be if you accepted his proposal.

You took a deep breath. “F-fine. I…I accept. I…I don’t want to lose you again.”

If he’d expected you to agree, he didn’t expect this. For just a split second, his composure faltered, surprise and something ever so soft washing over his face. It was gone again as fast as it had appeared.

“Splendid. A wise decision, my dear. I shall have one of the empty servants’ rooms prepared for you. Unless of course, you’d rather stay with me?” he mocked.

“You know, I would actually like that,” you said with a weak smile. Because you’d missed him. Banite or not, you were grateful he’d found his way into your life again. Not all was lost—perhaps you’d be able to talk to him. Help him be a better person just like he’d helped you be one when you were young. You’d find a way. For old times’ sake.

A/N: I already have an idea for a Part II.

[oatmealwrites]

A Night To... Forget? Ch. 3

Aizawa x Eidetic memory! Law student! F Reader

Part 2 | Part 4

(A night to forget masterlist)

Synopsis: You relay what Toshinori tells you about Friday night to Keigo, and finally meet with Aizawa for coffee and to pick up your jacket. Deciding to follow through on your drunk dinner plans, the both of you make a... date? Just two working adults planning dinner, nothing more.

Tags: It's getting NSFW, masturbation (m and f), mentions of alcohol, use of vibrator, horny thoughts, shower masturbation, cumming, mentions thoughts of: oral, creampie, tied up, degradation, p in v, car sex, and hickies; 18+, MDNI, plot & porn

Word count: 6.4k

(finally part 3! and it's getting steamy hehe. im planning for pt 4 to be absolute filth)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Last Friday Night - 12:13 am [Toshinori’s Recount]

The bar is blaring music while patrons are scattered around the property: the bartender is busy with orders, drunk couples are swaying to the beat, and a handful of people are smoking outside and enjoying some fresh air. Toshinori is shuffling through the jackets littered on your group’s booth seats looking for his coat while Keigo and Tsukauchi play darts, Kayama and Yamada are making song requests, and you and Aizawa are lingering at the billiards table.

King’s Cup ended around 15 minutes ago, and when everyone left the table to scatter around the bar, Toshinori was left people watching. Keigo hasn’t landed a single dart on the board since the game began, the college-aged employee in charge of the bar aux seemed to not recognize any of the songs Yamada was asking about, and you and Aizawa were so wrapped up in each other that you didn’t even notice the small and annoyed queue of people waiting for the pool table. 

Even if Toshinori wasn’t sober, it would take a painfully oblivious person to ignore the synergy going on between you both. Unlike your other friends, who hover and talk amongst each other, you have an arm wrapped around Aizawa’s bicep like you need it to stand and his eyes never leave yours as if you’d disappear if he blinked. 

“Those two sure are friendly~”

Toshinori looks up and laughs airly at Kayama who has returned from harassing the employee and left Yamada yelling his ear off about a band. She watches the way Aizawa holds your arms and stands behind you to assist in lining up a shot on the table while letting out a low whistle.

“Young love I suppose?”

“Young? That would make you old,” Kayama cackles and shoves the deflated man’s shoulder. “Cut yourself some slack.”

Toshinori shakes his head and laughs, silently wondering if Tsuakauchi would also want to leave, or if he should order a ride. 

“...it’s the best Italian restaurant nearby.”

“ –Let’s go.” 

The sound of your and Aizawa’s voice is loud enough to break him from his thoughts and he turns to observe your interaction once again. Leaning against the pool table and swaying the cue stick from hand to hand, you stare up at Aizawa with stars in your eyes. Only a blind person could miss it, and the tinge of red on Aizawa’s cheeks is enough indication that he’s effectively starstruck.

Toshinori laughs once again with a genuine smile and moves to slip on his winter coat and tug the zipper up to keep warm. Kayama leans against the table with a different kind of smile and nudges her friend’s shoulder.

“Who would’ve thought it would only take months for either one of them to make a move?”

Toshinori hums and throws a scarf Midoriya had gifted him around his neck. “Wel,l given their careers it makes sense. Heroes know how dangerous it is to love anybody… it makes them a target for villains to leverage.”

Kayama nods that she heard him, but it’s clear she wasn’t really listening. As philosophical and correct as Toshinori was, she was looking for a juicier answer. The two now watch you yelling at Keigo for nearly hitting you with a dart after he tried to do a ‘360 bullseye’ and spun around before letting go of the dart wayyy too early. 

Both Toshinori and Kayama don’t miss the way Aizawa’s hand slides from your back to your waist the moment Keigo enters the conversation. While to them, your bickering with Keigo is nearly familial, Aizawa’s gaze on the man has Kayama and Toshinori wondering if he was about to use erasure again this evening on him. 

“Well,” says Toshinori, looking at Tsukauchi who has wandered to the bar to join Yamada in ordering another round, “I’ll be heading home now. Let me know when you all do the same.”

“I can do you one better.”

Toshinori looks up from the rideshare app and raises an eyebrow at the woman; she slides her cell phone from her purse and opens the camera feature.

“It’s a bad idea–” 

“–It’s a favor! What if they don’t remember the name of the restaurant they said they wanted to go to?”

Toshinori knows that isn’t the real reason she wants to film and take photos; blackmail and torment seem much more in line with her motives. Regardless, he makes no effort to stop her and shakes his head while heading for the exit. Even if you and Aizawa happen to forget the evening due to alcohol, surely you’ll make up and resume where you left off. Right?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Current Day: Sunday, 11am

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Keigo sits lazily on your apartment couch while cuddling one of your throw pillows into his chest; he raises an eyebrow at the abrupt end to your story.

“Soooo… all Toshinori said was that you guys were grinding on each other while playing pool?”

You pause from your anxious pace around the coffee table and roll your eyes. “No. He said we were kinda touchy and made dinner plans.”

Keigo shrugs and lays down further on the couch; his back rests against the arm rest and his legs are spread with one on the cushions and the other dangling to the floor. Your hair steadily drips from your shower earlier and you’ve finally changed out of sweatpants and into a pair of jeans.

“I just don’t get why he wouldn’t bring up the dinner plans if he did remember last Friday.”

Keigo throws the pillow up above his head before catching it and throwing it in the air again. “Maybe he doesn’t remember after all?”

You continue pacing again and bite at the edges of your cuticles in anxious thought. “I mean that’s possible…but he was acting so weird yesterday. He ended the conversation immediately after I said I didn’t remember anything.”

With another bite at your hangnail your heart drops. “What if he remembers and completely regrets it?”

Keigo catches the pillow and turns to you. “Then he wouldn’t text you to make sure you’re ok. He also wouldn’t offer coffee when he returns your jacket tomorrow.”

The reasoning makes sense, but Aizawa’s behavior didn’t. Why wouldn’t he just come forward and say he was drunk and didn’t feel the same? Or if he did feel the same, why not remind you about your poorly planned dinner date?

“Ugh,” you groan, sitting on your living room floor and placing your forehead against the cool glass of the coffee table. “Men are so confusing.”

Keigo laughs and places the pillow on his abdomen while remaining in his comfy position. “Ha! Not really. Even if he is a total stick in the mud, he’s still a guy. So he’s probably after….”

You look up and place your chin on the coffee table; Keigo lifts his hands up to mimic the ‘p in v’ motion with his fingers and cackles when you throw the tv remote at him.

“You’re NOT helping.”

The man shrugs and grabs the pillow off his lap before sliding it under his head and relaxing further onto your sofa. “Yes I am. Just fuck it out of your system and move on. I’d rather talk to you about other stuff that’s not about him.”

You deflate and rest your chin in your hand while you lean against the coffee table again. “Why do you care so much if it’s Aizawa anyways?”

Keigo stretches his hands back and groans at the sensation before sitting up. “I don’t really care that it’s him–” he stops and thinks for a moment. “Ok that actually is the reason.”

You watch and wait for him to elaborate.

“I dunno…You’re like my best friend, and seeing you so hung up on a guy that is the worst at conveying any kind of emotion is fucking annoying. It’s been months without any progress too…”

You sigh and suck the flesh of your cheek between your molars and think about everything. While yes, you normally would move on from a guy that shows zero interest in you, there’s something about him that makes you wanna hold out just a little longer.

“Listen,” Keigo says, pivoting and patting his thighs, ready to stand up. “If he makes you happy then do whatever you want. I still promised I’d help you get in his pants, and I’m a man of my word.”

He shoots you a stupid wink and you roll your eyes, but feel slightly better. While getting in Aizawa’s pants would be amazing, you would still like to actually date him as well. Assuming he actually wants to date you as well. 

“Be upfront when you meet with him, yea?”

Keigo stands up and stretches from side to side before padding over to the coat closet by the front door. You watch as he shimmies on his hero jacket and places his usual shades over his eyes.

“I’ve got some meetings and parole so I won’t be around today. Call me after your coffee date~.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Monday - 12:45 pm

You and Aizawa haven’t texted since Sunday, so when he messages you the location of a nearby cafe to confirm your plans, you nearly considered canceling. To be honest, you had even considered pick-pocketing Keigo’s wallet and stealing his black credit card to just buy a new blazer rather than face Aizawa. It’s not like you were avoiding getting some sort of closure… you were just avoiding him.

Boots rocking on the escalator, you exit the metro station and peer down at the map on your phone before continuing down the street. The anxiety in your gut has been building all morning; forgoing breakfast from the nausea.

Keigo had sent you a simple ‘good luck’ text in the morning and reminded you his phone would be off until the evening when he was finished with work. Your fellow law student friends had also reached out and said they’d be in the area for lunch if you needed a quick escape if things turned south. 

Wind picks up and you hug into yourself at the feeling, the temperature dropping drastically over the past few days and causing you to wear your winter coat. Overcast clouds create a dreary atmosphere though people on the streets don’t seem to mind, walking in and out of stores and restaurants on their usual routine.

You notice Aizawa immediately when you turn the corner; dressed in a gray winter coat and black slacks with dark boots, his face immediately softens when he notices you. He slides his phone into his pocket as you walk; turning away slightly, he adjusts the fabric of his pants through his pockets for a brief moment.

Now or never…

You quicken your pace and approach the man, hating the way your heart tugs at the sight of the wind pushing his hair back. The light stubble on his face is gone, indicating he recently shaved, and there’s a light sandalwood scent in the air from his cologne. Despite this being a casual coffee and jacket drop-off, he cleans up nice.

Aside from the way your heart rate picks up, you can feel yourself clench pathetically around nothing. Maybe you really do need to get laid.

“Sorry if I made you wait long.”

Aizawa turns to open the door with the hand not carrying a paper shopping bag, and smiles gently. “No, you didn’t. I just got here a minute ago.”

A hostess from behind the coffee bar immediately greets the two of you and points to an open table to seat yourselves at. When Aizawa walks in front of you towards the table, you miss the way he calms himself with a quiet breath. With shaky hands, he pulls a chair out for you and then takes the one right across; awkwardly, you grab one of the laminated menus from the holder and stare down at the words.

“So…how are you feeling?”

“Oh, better. Not hungover, and considering sobriety for the rest of my life.”

Aizawa scoffs lightly at the joke and peers down at his own menu, the silence heavier than either of you want to admit. Nervously, you shrug off your coat and place it behind you on the chair; you tug at the collar of your sweater once before looking at the menu again.

“How are your cases going? I heard from my students you swung by and spoke with Tokoyami.”

“Yea, Keigo had sent him to pick up my files by accident.”

Aizawa looks up and hangs on to every word, a slight furrow in his brows. “Oh. Do you and...him, work on cases a lot?”

You shake your head lightly while glancing out the cafe window to watch the wind pick up and a light drizzle hit the pavement. “No, not really. He was just wayyy too fucked up Friday to tell left and right apart.”

“I see.”

Aizawa nods and waits a beat before looking back down at his menu and thumbing the edge of the lamination side to side in thought.

“I’m working on the case with Vlad King though,” the forced nature of the conversation lifts slightly to something more casual, “so I’ll be at the conference tomorrow to run over everything before the prosecution starts next week.”

Aizawa hums and nods once again before looking back down. It’s painfully obvious you both want to discuss what was really going on between you both. Though, while you sit in your chair anxiously wondering how to accuse him of remembering Friday night, he sits across from you internally preparing for a humiliating rejection. Aizawa sucks in a deep breath and places his menu on the table. 

“Listen, I want to–” “Have you decided on anything to drink?”

The waitress cuts Aizawa off and fishes out a pen from her pocket while holding a paper notepad. He coughs lightly and orders a black coffee and pauses for you to order your preferred caffeinated beverage.

When she returns to the counter to prepare the drinks, you turn your gaze back to the man across from you. “Sorry, you were saying?”

Aizawa looks at you a beat longer than natural, and blinks before turning out the window and shaking his head slightly.

“Oh, nothing.”

You swallow thickly and wince while Aizawa sits in self-deprecation for making the scene even more awkward than before. Now. Or. Never.

This is the only moment you have to get clarification, and while your ego may be bruised for 10-15 years, you can’t take another anxious sleepless night.

“Do you remember something about an Italian restaurant… from Friday night?”

Even though this is the moment Aizawa’s been preparing for since Saturday, it doesn’t calm his heart rate at all. He’s imagined this moment a million different ways for the past two days, and each outcome has him feeling more dejected than the previous one. 

Guilt weighs in his gut heavier than he anticipated, and with a defeated sigh he locks eyes with you. “Yes. Yes, I do remember that.”

You wet your lips and nod gently. “I see…so why didn’t you mention it before? When I visited the school campus on Saturday?”

He knows exactly why he didn’t bring it up, though in effort to spare his already deflated self-image, Aizawa shrugs lightly. “I didn’t want to make things awkward. Or…more awkward than they probably are.”

It’s not an outright rejection, but the uncertainty of his intentions doesn’t help you relax at all. Judging by the way he’s rubbing the back of his neck and looking out the window, he’s not showing all his cards.

“I mean…Toshinori told me vaguely about Friday. He said we spoke about going there, together.”

“Yea,” he takes a long sigh and drags his eyes back to yours. “We did.”

There’s a pause between you both as you collectively acknowledge the implication of that proposal, but neither one wants to be the first one to call it out. You pick at your nails for a moment beneath the table, palms beginning to sweat.

Aizawa takes a breath and collects himself, silently wishing this topic could’ve happened after he gave you the jacket and paid for coffee. At least that way he could leave promptly after humiliating himself. But this conversation needed to happen, he needs to get you out of his head already.

“We can still go,” you say, breaking the silence and feeling your ribs about to crack from your heartbeat, “if you want to.”

Your proposal is obviously not what he was expecting to leave your mouth. Instead of staring out the window partially aloof, he holds your gaze with his mouth open slightly and eyes open so wide he’s unsure if he even heard you correctly.

“You want to go…?”

“I mean if you don’t want to–”

“–No!” Aizawa coughs slightly afterward, cheeks twined pink in the embarrassment of his outburst. “I mean.. I want to go there, but I’m just surprised.”

Good surprised? Or bad surprised?

Regardless, you nod slightly and try to make the proposal as casual as you can muster given the situation. 

“Yea, why not? I mean, you said it’s really good and I’m curious to try it.”

Ok, casual. So casual. 

Your internal pep talk qualms your anxiety a bit while Aizawa continues looking at you in awe the proposal. His silence makes you squirm a bit and prepare to take back the offer if he didn’t want to before he finally musters a response.

“Yea… ok. Let’s go.”

A slight heat on your cheeks, Aizawa blinks a few times before his mind finally catches up with what is currently happening.

“When are you free? I’m usually out of classes by the early evening, grading papers and exams are something I can move around more easily.”

With a hum, you both take out your phones and begin examining your own schedules and the moment diffuses to a more natural conversation. Small talk about your own classes, his busier weekends when hero training happens with field trips, and your collective efforts in fighting villains flows smoothly between you both. It's the longest you’ve both gone without one of you finding an excuse to leave; well, besides last Friday night.

“We’ve got the case debrief tomorrow… Maybe Thursday?”

“Ah, I have an evening seminar that day with a guest professor… Does next Wednesday work?”

Aizawa scrolls to the next week on his phone and nods in approval. “Yea that works. I’m finished teaching by 5pm.”

You open your ‘events’ tab to insert the meeting. “Ok! Maybe we can go at 7? 7:30?”

The man across from you hums and begins typing. “Yes, 7pm works perfect for me.”

“Ok, nice! It’s a dat–”

“Your drinks! Sorry for the delay, we had an influx of to-go orders.” The waitress places two drinks in front of you both and bows slightly in apology before retreating once again.

Despite her interruption for a second time, you’re extremely grateful for it cutting you off. Date? It’s not a date right?

If Aizawa heard your Freudian slip, he makes no effort to show it on his face. Instead, he lifts the ceramic mug to his lips and blows the steam away slightly; his shoulders are relaxed as he leans back in his chair for the first time since you’ve entered the coffee shop.

“I had your blazer dry cleaned by the way. I think some of that mystery liquid from the drinking game got on it at some point.”

You lift your drink to your lips and mirror his relaxed position. “Oh, you didn’t have to do that!”

Despite your words, you are actually extremely grateful he did so; law school students aren’t exactly the most financially liquid.

He shrugs and takes a sip. “It’s no worry, really.”

The conversation flows naturally for another 30 minutes before Aizawa checks his phone and tilts his head as his lunch break is nearly over. Despite the rocky start at the beginning of the meeting, the two of you have left little silence between each other. From discussing plans you had with other friends over the weekend to sharing his life-hacks for getting better nights sleep, time had escaped rather quickly.

Before you can shimmy on your coat and dig in the pockets for your wallet, Aizawa walks over to the counter and explains your orders to the employee. Seamlessly, he offers his credit card and signs the receipt all by the time you finally make it over to him.

“Thank you! Come again!”

The wind is brutal on your face the moment you step out of the cafe with Aizawa holding the door open. You zip up your jacket better to keep warm and tuck your hands in your pockets despite the handles of the paper bag awkwardly jutting out.

“You didn’t have to pay by the way.”

“Hm?” He tucks up the collar on his coat and brings his shoulders up to cover his ears from the wind. “Just… buy mine later?”

The suggestion brings a pink to your cheeks, but the wind piercing your skin provides an excuse for it. You both walk about a block down the road before parting ways with a slight wave; even if Keigo was busy, you pull up his contact anyways and hit ‘dial’. 

~~~~~~~

The rest of Monday passed as it usually would; two afternoon and evening classes had you returning to your apartment just in time for dinner and Keigo had already inquired about everything after his last meeting ended. Sitting on your sofa and rubbing your eyes slightly from a late night study session, you consider calling it an early night.

During both of your classes you couldn’t sit still at all. Phone under the table and texting your friends updates on what happened made you feel like you were in high school all over again. Of course, neither you nor Aizawa confirmed what next week’s… meeting really was. There was no mention of it being a date, so part of you wanted to simply label it dinner with a colleague. 

It made sense rationally. Both of you adults with your own schedules and work life; it’s not like either of you had asked the other out. He had ended the jacket-drop off promising to send you the restaurant information tomorrow, needing some time to make the reservation before getting your hopes up and sending you a copy of the menu.

The only thing weighing you down was that Aizawa had remembered the initial plans and chose not to say anything. 

Sliding your textbook off your lap and standing up from the couch with a stretch, you pad over to the kitchen still considering everything. It made sense he would want to avoid mentioning it, especially if you didn’t even remember the plans. The main question you now wondered was if he remembered more of Friday than you have currently figured out.

You chew on your lower lip with your canines and open your cupboard to take out a wine glass and blow away any dust from the inside. Toshinori’s recommendation of asking Kayama still hangs in the air, but you’ve had enough stress for one evening. 

Opening your fridge, you pull out a cheap bottle of pinot grigio and tilt your hip to shut the door. You have no plans of getting shitfaced, but a glass of wine to end the evening seemed to be calling your name. Undoing the screw cap, you pour a generous glass before returning the bottle to the fridge and heading into your bedroom.

Door shut, warm floor lamp on, and wine on your night stand, the scene stirs a feeling different from sleep. Slipping under the comforter and top sheet, you lean against the headboard and pillows and consider ending your evening a bit differently than initially planned. 

You lean over and grab your current book from its spot next to you on the bed and place it on your nightstand before opening the top drawer. A familiar pink shade of silicon greets you as you reach down and pick up the vibrator from its spot. Running your hands over the buttons, you power it on and feel the vibration gently tremor in your hand with enough force to give the impression of it being half charged.

Nodding in approval, you power it off for a moment and turn to take a few long sips of wine and relax back into your pillows. Cheeks feeling flush from the alcohol and serenity of the moment, you place the glass back down and pinch the waistband of your sleep shorts between your fingers and pull the fabric down along with your panties.

Sighing at the sensation, you reach over and power on the vibrator before lowering it to kiss your clit. Fuck, you really needed this.

Keigo is the last thing on your mind, but he really wasn’t wrong when he said you needed to get laid. 

Shutting your eyes and imaging the scenario in your mind, Aizawa’s face flashes into perfect view. Long hair tousled in every direction, a body sculpted from marble from years of physical work, and dexterous fingers exploring your body have you arching your hips in anticipation. 

Just envisioning the scenario has you grinding into the vibrator to increase the stimulation on your puffy clit. Lowering the device to take some of the wetness from your cunt as lube, you bring the vibrator back up and rub smooth circles on your clit. 

It’s wrong to imagine him so objectively, but at this point you don’t really care. Would he be gentle? The strong, silent type to make love with passion? Or would he be just as sexually pent up as you? Bending you over and fucking you hard and rough while nasty words left his lips?

You’re sure he has fans and admirers; or even fellow heroes that had a much better chance of experiencing this fantasy than you. But the image of him splitting you open on the mattress while his lips suck possessive bruises into your neck make the worry instantly dissipate.

Gentle sighs leave your lips as the scene becomes clear in front of you. Normally when you have sex with anyone, it’s relatively tame and vanilla; in your head, it becomes so much more disgusting. Would he tie you up? Leave you at his mercy while he pounds into your cunt and fills you with cum? Erase your quirk and give you a mind shattering orgasm; then splay your thighs open once again because he can’t let you leave forgetting it?

The degrading thought creates a bigger gush from your pussy than your ego can ever admit. Flicking the button on the vibrator, you increase the intensity setting and grind your hips down again. Even if it was all in your head, you intend to end this evening with the pleasure you’ve been needing for too damn long.

~~~~~~~

Monday evening: Same time

AIZAWA POV

Tired eyes shut as Aizawa yawns and pushes away a stack of papers that remain ungraded. Moonlight pouring in from the windows, a single table lamp illuminates the room with a warm glow while the man leans back in his chair with exhaustion. The rest of class went as expected, his students yelling and competing amongst each other while he had to use all the willpower in his body to remain calm despite being anything but that. 

Lazily opening his eyes and looking around the lonely apartment that he occupied within the dorm building, Aizawa can’t help but pull out his phone to confirm once again, you both had scheduled a date. Well, neither of you had agreed it was a date, but he swears he had heard you call it one back at the cafe.

Of course, he would still be seeing you in between then and now; a case debrief tomorrow and most likely bumping into each other on UA campus while you worked with other heroes. He was more surprised you had wanted to actually go anywhere with him. It’s not like he was the most conversational guy out there, and considering your best friend was adored and extremely popular, it made little sense you’d want to accompany him to dinner.

Aizawa had been a nervous wreck this morning, giving his students group tasks to keep busy and arriving at the coffee shop 20 minutes early just in case. His students had even noticed the slight change in his appearance, but chose not to say anything out of fear. It’s not like he shaves or tries to clean up very often. 

He pushes his chair back and heads to the sink to fill a glass of water, his throat feeling dry and a heavy weight lingers on his shoulders. He still should’ve come clean when you first approached him on campus; he knows it. He also knows it’s only a matter of time before you figure out the rest of what happened that evening, and get frustrated at him for once again not being 100% honest. 

Though that’s a bridge he’ll cross when the time comes. 

For now, he’s more than delighted by the possibility of there being a chance. A chance you may actually reciprocate a fraction of the feelings he’s been harboring despite his cold shoulder to you for far too long. 

Aizawa sips the water and wipes off the drops that escape his lips and glide down his chin. He should shower and try to clear his mind before seeing you tomorrow; take the rest of the evening to relax and sleep.

Placing the glass in the sink, he resolves to do exactly that; walking to the bathroom and sliding open the glass door of the shower to start the water. Leaving it to warm up, he carefully strips down and places dirty clothes into the hamper before opening the sink cabinet to look for a new bottle of shampoo. 

Without thinking, he pulls out the spare bottle, but his eyes catch and linger on the familiar clear container that sits in the back of the cabinet. Immediately, his cock twitches slightly and the bathroom begins to fill with steam as hot water pours from the shower head. 

He reaches back and pulls it out along with his shampoo before standing upright and thinking it over. Though his body doesn't need any convincing, Aizawa always feels like shit after jerking off to the image of you. It’s more than your body that he’s attracted to, but late evenings and long periods of not getting any action leave his cock slowly stiffening like clockwork.

Immediately, his mind drifts to you and the array of images he’s cultivated in his mind despite his best intentions. The times your blouse has separated at the buttons and given him peaks of your lace bra, the times you’ve leaned over a desk to reach documents and showed off the swell of your ass, and the entirety of Friday night leave Aizawa sucking in a breath as his dick hardens in arousal. 

Opening the glass door of the shower and lowering the heat of the water, Aizawa furrows his eyebrows together and rubs his face. He felt like a horny teenager when it came to you. It was so fucking wrong considering you were essentially just work colleagues, who happened to agree to getting dinner. 

Aizawa doesn’t appreciate your company simply because you sexually interest him; your charm, wit, and intelligence were more than enough to have him completely at your beck and call if you ever tried. Though the way you purse your lips in thought make him wonder what they’d look like around his cock, the way you tug at the neckline of your sweater make him imagine his own hand around your throat, and the way your thighs look in that professional knee-length pencil skirt leave him envisioning bending you over and hiking the fabric to your waist while he pounds into you. 

It’s the same thoughts that pollute his mind more frequently than he could ever admit, and running his head under the water doesn’t dull the painful ache in his cock for relief. Letting the water fully saturate his hair, Aizawa slicks it back from his forehead to remain out of his face while he opens the clear bottle cap.

Reaching up, he pushes the shower head to face the wall slightly and negate the amount of water hitting him before pouring a generous amount of lube into his hand. Snapping the bottle shut and placing it on a ledge within the shower walls, Aizawa reaches down to give himself a few slow pumps.

The sensation makes him sigh and a few pearls of pre cum ooze from his tip as the image in his brain comes into a clear view. It’s the both of you in the back seat of a car, your lipstick smudged from making out, pupils blown with desire, and windows so foggy no one can see inside. Aizawa unbuckles his slacks and tugs the material down to his thighs along with his boxers while you hoist your dress and move to straddle him.

“Fuck..”

Giving attention to his swollen tip, he rubs the large vein on the side of his cock and moves to pump himself more steadily. Hand tight, but not too much pressure, he tugs at an even pace and tries to envision it’s anything but his hand making him feel good. 

In his mind, you’re whimpering as he stretches you out so nicely. Tits basically pouring out of the fabric you dare to call a dress, Aizawa keeps his hands steady on your waist to set a rhythm the same speed of his hand right now. That sweet and friendly smile is long gone as you furrow your brows and grind up and down like a needy slut. 

“Haaa… nngh”

Shallow pants leave his lips as the vision gets clearer and his hips jerk forward to meet his strokes. As degrading as it was to envision you as sexually desperate as himself, the image was too hot to shake from his brain. The idea of you being as needy and deprived as him, makes the image that much better.

Using him to get off while he enjoys the view of you being so desperate for him and his cock make Aizawa bite his lip and increase the speed of his hand. Fog still pouring from above the shower walls, he moves to better massage the tip and increase the pressure a tad. Balls feeling heavy and hips twitching slightly, the familiar coil in his abdomen begins to build.

Where would you let him cum? In your pretty hands that he’ll pay to have manicured if you ask? On your face; cum staining your cheeks and strands of your hair? Or maybe your mouth? Sticking out your tongue to prove you swallowed it all.

“Oh… f-fuck… y/n..”

Your name leaves his lips in messy mumbles while hand moves to increase the speed and focus on his tip as pre cum drips down pathetically onto the tiles. Maybe you’d let him cum inside? Let him be the only guy that gets to stuff your little cunt and see it slowly seep out while you lay in a fucked out haze.

“Haaaa…. Shit–”

With an almost pained sigh, Aizawa twitches his hips erratically to meet the thrust of his hand and cums. Hard. Hot ropes of semen ooze from the tip and paint his hand, part of his thighs, and the tiles of the shower floor. The heat from the cum is noticeable despite the warm water temperature, and the sensation of his orgasm leaves him leaning against the wall.

Cool tiles bring comfort to his skin while he catches his breath and tries to ignore the guilty post-nut clarity washing over him. He never felt relief or contentment after jerking off to you; it only made it worse. Aizawa couldn’t be satisfied with his imagination, he needed to know if you were just as amazing in real life as in his horny fantasies. 

Coming down from his high and reaching up to tilt the shower head back onto his body, he sighs and washes off the evidence from his skin. Once it’s all effectively drowned down the drain, he reaches for his usual body wash and suds up while exhaustion washes over him.

Scars and bruises litter his torso, and washing off the soap makes him momentarily self conscious for the state of his own appearance. The thought passes, having no solution to remove scars and accepting them, but his gaze lingers on his softening cock.

Dark hairs litter his navel and descend into a relatively untamed bush that spreads around the base of his shaft and balls. He doesn’t expect to get lucky at all during this dinner ‘date’. But…he supposes cleaning up wouldn’t hurt and makes a mental note to purchase a new razor for his body.

Finishing up his routine, he shuts the water and steps out in the bathroom to dry off and wrap a towel around his waist before stepping into the bedroom. Steam pours out of the room and creates a slight fog while the overhead lights from above the sink illuminate his room in a dull glow. 

It’s not messy, though several dishes, coffee cups, and papers litter his desk and floor. Once again, he doesn’t expect anything from this dinner, but the moment leaves him a mental note to also clean up and change his sheets. Stepping to his dresser, he tugs out a pair of Calvin Klein boxer briefs and sleep pants before stepping into them, forgoing a shirt.

Flipping the towel over and shaking out the remaining water from his hair, Aizawa throws the cloth over his bathroom door and shuts off the lights. Crawling into bed and shivering at the cool temperature of the sheet on his bare skin, guilt still gnaws at him. 

You would never see him in the same pathetic way he was mentally tortured to see you every evening. You were friendly and respectful, giving him chance after chance to explain himself despite his dishonesty. He sighs and leans into the pillow before wrapping the blankets around him similar to the way a sleeping bag would. 

Be professional. A case debrief and casual dinner the following week. Don’t get ahead of yourself.

Sleep finds him easier this evening than he would expect; relief on his shoulders as he imagines the reason you offered dinner was because maybe you did feel the same.

Ty for ur patience on this series! I have the plot and smut all planned out, but traveling and laptop issues have delayed it a bit ;-; also the next chapters will keep getting steamier so buckle in ;)

lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist! & happy new year!

comments/likes/reblogs are all appreciated! ╰(´︶`)╯♡

-oatmeal

Tag list: @idkidk32 @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @aizawasbaeee @smashley351

[momolady]

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If you have a story idea, please include a few sentences of plot for me to work with. The more details the better

If you wish to include your OC please provide references so I can do them justice.

All characters must be 18+ for nsfw content.

All payments must be made in USD, & invoices will be sent upfront.

I have the right to refuse commissions

Discussion will take place via email or through discord if requested.

You will receive commissions through email unless requested otherwise.

Changes can be made, but there is a limit of 2 revisions. (I’m soft though so who knows if I’ll keep this up.)

All stories will be posted to my Patreon, Tumblr, and maybe ko-fi. OC can be changed upon request for public stories. You will always have the original story.

My stories can not be posted anywhere else.

Longer stories may receive an increase in price. (Under 10k words is usually fine. I enjoy longer works personally.)

Stories take anywhere from one to three weeks to complete once started depending on length, detail, etc. Feel free to ask for updates, previews, etc.

East Commission Form:

What is your budget (or desired word count):

Genre/Universe/Theme:

Reader Character Gender:

Reader Character Description:

Monster Character:

Monster Character Description:

Is this NSFW or SFW?

Any kinks, tropes, or specifics?

Story Outline:

Other thoughts or comments:

What You can Commission:

All monsters and creatures from media, folklore, myth, crytozoology, etc. (Within the bounds of cultural sensitivity.)

Horror stories. This can be straight horror, romance, smut, etc. Slasher, Lovecraftian, weird, etc.

Magical girl stories. Heroes as well.

Original Characters are always welcome.

Legally distinct characters are okay. I don’t write fanfic, but I’m happy to build your dream character with an existing character as reference.

If you need an idea for character or plot, I will brainstorm with you. I also will do free reign stories for a small discount.

Continuing stories from my masterlist is also accepted! I enjoy revisiting beloved characters.

Plotting help for your own stories such as outlines, character bios, etc. (This is new dunno where it’ll go.)

Moodboard can be requested upon story completion if wanted. Otherwise it will be seen on Patreon first.

Themes:

Smut of course. Other NSFW themes can be done upon approval. (No under 18 or dub-con themes.)

All romance of course. Ranging from slow burn, enemies to lovers, one bed, etc.

LGBTQIA+ themes are always welcome.

Classic tropes:forbidden love, fake dating, friends to enemies, hurt-comfort, stuck together, cafe au, etc.

Horror stories, romantic or not. The weirder the better.

Fantasy: can include anything from DnD themed, urban fantasy, future, past, other worlds, etc.

Fluff: domestic bliss, confessions, dates, proposals, etc.

Platonic stories.

Plot heavy.

PWP

[astrophysician]

hi there! i don't talk about this much online but i have used the last of my savings on rent for this month and it's. a new feeling. so i feel like if there's any time for this it's now. things are looking up though, and i'm feeling confident that i'll be in a much better place by the end of the month

however in the meantime i could use all the help i can get, so if you enjoy my work i would be incredibly grateful if you'd consider donating to my Ko-Fi.

i also have commissions open there (and on my pinned), so if you've been considering getting one now's a good time. with my current queue and the pace i work, i think the most i'd feel comfortable taking on this month is 3 slots, though i might adjust that depending on how things go. or if you want to be my hero, i definitely wouldn't mind taking a character illustration <3

here's some of my recent work, including a couple of commissions i never posted from @futuristichedge and @cat-dragron

thanks for reading, and happy december!

tldr: commission info | ko-fi | portfolio

1/3 slots

[yaboiyandere]

Yandere Miguel O’Hara

-If it were up to you, anyone other than you would be the web-slinging hero, but at times like now you realize not anyone should wield the great powers you’ve come to call your own.

-You’ve been your city’s wall-crawling vigilante for a couple of years now, and not to brag, but you’ve been doing great! Ever since you lost your husband, Miguel, to a lab accident that got you your powers, you’ve been trying to keep the city as safe as he wanted it to be. For him, and your daughter.

-It’s been harder to be a single parent and a webhead, especially as Gabriella has gotten older and more aware of your absence. Being an arachnid is busy. Then comes Gabriella’s elementary school graduation. You were so excited and promised you’d make it. The city can be fine for a night, right?

-That’s why you’re sitting in an elementary school cafeteria, on one of the comically small benches, proud as can be, when all of a sudden the room shakes with a sudden crash. parents and children scatter, adults, swarming the stage and grabbing their kids. Caught under some debris, you’re last to reach the crowd of distressed citizens. A slimy tentacle peeks out through the wall.

-you quickly find your daughter hiding under one of the tables and try to pull her out and towards the nearest exit. “No! It’s all my fault! If I didn’t make you come here tonight then this never would have happened!” She cries. your heart hurts for your daughter. Did she know? For how long? You sigh shakily and hug her.

-“Yknow, I became Spider-Man for you.” She sniffs. “Really?” “Well, also your dad.” You both go silent. “I don’t want you to end up like him” “dead?” “…yeah.” “I know.” “I guess you know a lot more than I thought, huh?” She giggles, tears still in her eyes.

-A scream is let out, causing both of you to snap your heads toward it. “That’s my queue.” you joke. You pull your formal wear off, revealing your spider suit, and pull on your mask. “Keep those safe for me, will ya? That’s my only good-“ your spidey senses trigger, but a tentacle quickly wraps around your leg and yanks you back. The man connected to the tentacle is seemingly dressed as a pirate, and the tentacles protrude his legs are supposed to be.

-“Gross gross gross! How do you even pee man?!” You yell, only to get slammed against the ceiling. You immediately start tying his tentacles together with webbing only for him to slip out due to their slippery texture. You’re about to call it quits and just start biting them off, after all, they serve calamari at fancy restaurants, right? And this is like the same thing-

-your thoughts get interrupted by a blue-clad man bursting behind your attacker, and clawing at his head. He quickly yanks his head back and bites at his neck. You’re in shock at the sudden attack and worried this might be your next opponent. As the pirate falls, the man squints at you, or at least you think so, hard to tell with the mask. “I like your mask” you joke, as he approaches you. “Got one just like it at home”. He silently stands in front of you, looking at some hologram watch. You gulp. You suddenly feel something grab at your leg, and look down to see Gabriella crying. “Don’t hurt my (parent)! Please” she sobs.

-Just like her father, trying to protect you. And possibly about to get killed for it. You put a protective hand on her head. The blue man stares at her, his holographic screen disappearing. You all stand there for a minute, quiet, except for your daughter’s choked sobs.

-“…are you scared of me?” The man asks her. She’s still hiding behind your leg but nods. You unconsciously nod as well. He sighs and seems regretful. He looks at you. “What’s your name?” “Ah, that’s kinda classified.” “Fine” he presses something on his suit and the mask dissolves, revealing his face.

-your dead husband’s face. “My name is Miguel O’Hara, and you probably already knew that.” You stutter out a yes. “Good, that makes this much easier.” He smiles, and hugs you. You’re too shocked to hug back, essentially seeing a ghost. So shocked you think your spidey senses are just because of your emotions, and not the incoming fangs in your neck. They’re just a prick, but your body quickly sags.

-“Daddy?” “It’s me, sweetie” this Miguel, this evil Miguel coos at your daughter. She sniffles and hugs him and you. You want to cry out, tell her to run, but you can’t. He picks you and her up. “Lyla, let’s bring these two home.” “Can do, boss” You’re quickly swallowed into an orange hole.

-that was three days ago. You’ve been trapped in this minimalist nightmare of an apartment, in this futuristic city. At least you get a good view of this place. Your daughter has been taking it well, considering she just got her dad back, but you?

-Miguel hugs you from behind. “How are you, mi amor?” He kisses your neck. You’re silent. He sighs on your shoulder. “Look, I know you miss swinging around town, but this is safer. I can’t lose you again.” You stay silent.

-“I don’t like this attitude” he grumbles. Now it’s your turn to sigh. He’s about to start again when your daughter rushes in. “Look what I made, Daddy!” She sits next to you two. It’s a scribbly drawing of the three of you, all happy. Not a spider, or mask in sight. You tune out Miguel’s compliments and stare.

-Maybe, you could leave the web-slinging to someone else from now on. And be just as happy as you look in the drawing. Something about the smirk you feel on your neck from Miguel tells you that you don’t have a choice.

(might continue or write from Miguel’s POV)