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chiyuuchu · 6 months ago

Note

I love ur posts! Can u do more bakugou content?

weight of the world upon her voice <3 (7th August 2024)

Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Prompt! A mute girl with the loudest voice

a/n my second ask! i’m so glad

Bakugou sat in his usual seat, arms crossed and eyes closed, trying to tune out the usual morning chatter of Class 1-A. The door slid open, and Aizawa-sensei walked in, followed by a girl he hadn’t seen before. She was petite with expressive eyes and an aura of quiet determination.

“This is Y/N,” Aizawa announced. “She’s new to our class. I expect you all to help her adjust.”

Y/N gave a small bow, her hands moving quickly in a series of gestures. The class looked on in confusion until Bakugou, surprisingly, stood up.

“She says, ‘Thank you for having me,’” he translated, his voice gruff but clear.

The class murmured in surprise, not expecting Bakugou to know sign language. He glared at them. “What? You think I’m an idiot or something?”

Throughout the day, Y/N struggled to communicate with her classmates. Kirishima and Mina tried their best, but the gestures were foreign to them. Bakugou, however, stepped in frequently, translating her signs with impatient ease.

“She’s asking if you can pass the salt,” Bakugou snapped at Sero during lunch.

“Wow, Bakugou. Didn’t know you could sign,” Kaminari said, impressed.

“Yeah, well, now you know. Pay attention, idiots.”

Y/N smiled gratefully at Bakugou, who simply shrugged it off with a grumble.

When Aizawa announced battle training for the day, everyone was curious about Y/N’s quirk. She’d been so quiet, they wondered what kind of power she possessed. Paired up against Kaminari, she stepped into the training arena with a calm expression.

The match began, and Kaminari launched his electric attacks. Y/N dodged gracefully, her movements precise. Then, she stopped, her eyes locking onto Kaminari’s. Her lips moved, but no sound came out.

Kaminari froze, his eyes wide in shock. He dropped to his knees, clutching his head. “What’s going on?” he muttered.

“She’s... speaking in his mind?” Midoriya realized aloud.

Y/N’s quirk allowed her to project her voice directly into her opponent’s mind, issuing commands that they couldn’t resist. Kaminari, under her influence, stood still, unable to fight back.

“Her quirk’s incredible,” Todoroki said, watching intently.

Bakugou smirked, crossing his arms. “Told you idiots she was tough.”

After the match, Y/N approached Bakugou. She signed a quick thank you, but this time, she added something more.

“You’re welcome,” Bakugou replied, then translated for the rest of the class, “She says she’s grateful for my help and that she’s glad to have met all of you.”

Y/N looked at Bakugou with appreciation. They had a unique understanding, a connection that didn’t require words. For Bakugou, it was more than just knowing sign language; it was about recognizing strength and resilience in someone who communicated differently.

As the weeks passed, Y/N integrated more into the class, with Bakugou often acting as her unofficial interpreter. Despite his usual rough demeanor, he showed a softer side when it came to helping her. The class began to respect him more, seeing a new dimension to his character through his interactions with Y/N.

In Y/N, Bakugou found a kindred spirit. She was quiet but powerful, and her presence challenged him in ways he hadn’t expected. It wasn’t long before their classmates realized that this unlikely friendship was built on mutual respect and understanding, making their bond unbreakable.

During a lunch break, the class gathered around a table, curiosity written on their faces. Kaminari was the center of attention, animatedly describing Y/N’s voice to those who hadn't experienced her quirk firsthand.

“So, what’s her voice like?” Mina asked, leaning in closer.

Kaminari smiled, recalling the battle training. “It’s really soft-spoken and gentle. It feels like someone whispering directly into your mind. It’s kind of surreal.”

Uraraka's eyes widened. “That sounds amazing! I wish I could hear it.”

Jirou nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I’m curious too. We should ask her to use her quirk again.”

Later that morning, as Y/N entered the classroom, she was met with a sea of eager faces. Bakugou, noticing the unusual excitement, raised an eyebrow.

Kirishima approached her with a gentle smile. “Hey, Y/N. We were all wondering if you could... use your quirk so we could hear your voice?”

Y/N blinked, surprised by the request. She looked around at her classmates, who all nodded encouragingly.

“Please?” Mina added, her hands clasped together in a pleading gesture.

With a shy smile, Y/N nodded. She focused her energy, her quirk activating as she prepared to speak. The room fell silent, everyone leaning in with anticipation.

"Hello, everyone," her voice echoed softly in their minds, gentle and calming. "It's nice to be here with all of you."

A collective gasp of awe filled the room. Uraraka's eyes sparkled with delight. “Wow, that’s incredible!”

Tsuyu nodded. “It’s like she’s speaking directly to our hearts.”

Bakugou, who had already experienced her voice during spar one time , watched the reactions of his classmates with a tiny smile. He was proud of how far Y/N had come in earning their acceptance and admiration.

From that day on, the class felt an even stronger bond with Y/N. They appreciated her uniqueness and the effort she put into communicating with them. The more they learned about her, the more they admired her strength and resilience.

And for Bakugou, seeing Y/N become a cherished member of their class only deepened his feelings for her. She wasn’t just a girl with a powerful quirk; she was someone who brought out the best in everyone around her, including him.

As the days turned into weeks, the class gradually began to pick up bits and pieces of sign language. Y/N often found herself smiling at their efforts, touched by their willingness to communicate with her.

During lunch one day, Kirishima approached her with a hesitant smile. "Hey, Y/N," he said slowly, his hands moving awkwardly but clearly. "How... are... you?"

Y/N beamed and signed back quickly. Kirishima's eyes widened, and he turned to Bakugou for help.

“She said, ‘I’m good, thank you. How are you?’” Bakugou translated with a roll of his eyes. “Seriously, shitty hair, try to keep up.”

Mina joined in, her hands forming the sign for “friend.” She looked to Y/N for confirmation, who nodded enthusiastically. “Friend,” Mina repeated, grinning.

During a lesson, Aizawa decided to incorporate sign language into their curriculum. “It’s important for heroes to communicate in all forms,” he explained. “Today, we’ll learn some basic signs.”

The class was eager to learn, and Aizawa taught them common phrases and terms related to their training. Y/N stood at the front, demonstrating each sign with patience.

“Hero,” she signed, her hand forming an ‘H’ and making a motion over her chest. The class mimicked her, some more successfully than others.

“Villain,” she signed next, her expression serious. Again, the class followed her lead.

Midoriya was particularly focused, taking notes and practicing diligently. “This is really useful,” he muttered to himself. “I’m glad we’re doing this.”

During the break time in class, Uraraka and Tsuyu approached Y/N with shy smiles. “Can you teach us how to sign ‘good job’?” Uraraka asked.

Y/N nodded, demonstrating the sign. Uraraka and Tsuyu practiced a few times, then turned to each other and signed, “Good job.”

Y/N clapped her hands, proud of their progress. Bakugou watched from a distance, a small smile tugging at his lips. It was gratifying to see his classmates making an effort for Y/N.

In the common room one evening, the entire class gathered for a movie night. As the credits rolled, Y/N and Bakugou found themselves sitting together, the glow of the TV illuminating their faces.

“Hey, Y/N,” Kaminari called out from across the room. He made the sign for “thank you,” albeit a bit clumsily.

Y/N giggled and signed back, “You’re welcome.” Bakugou translated for him, and Kaminari grinned, pleased with himself.

As the night wore on, more and more students tried out their new skills, creating a sense of unity and understanding within the class. They were no longer just learning a new language; they were building bridges and forging stronger bonds with Y/N.

And for Bakugou, seeing Y/N become an integral part of the class was more satisfying than he could have ever imagined.

One evening, the Bakusquad gathered in Y/N’s room for a study session. Textbooks were spread out across the floor, and the air was filled with a mix of chatter and the occasional groan of frustration over complex problems.

As the night wore on, one by one, the others began to leave. Kaminari was the first to go, complaining about needing sleep. Kirishima left next, followed by Mina and Jirou, until only Bakugou and Y/N remained.

Y/N glanced up from her notes, watching Bakugou as he continued to read his textbook with intense focus. She hesitated for a moment before using sign language to ask him a question that had been on her mind.

"How do you know sign language?" she signed, her hands moving gracefully.

Bakugou looked up, surprise flickering across his face. He hesitated before responding, his voice quieter than usual. "My mentor, Best Jeanist, taught me."

Y/N’s curiosity was piqued. She signed back, "Why?"

Bakugou sighed, running a hand through his hair. "He said if my quirk keeps damaging my ears, it could lead to deafness. He wanted to make sure I could still communicate if that happened."

Y/N's eyes widened with understanding and empathy. She reached out, placing a hand on his arm, offering silent support.

Bakugou looked down at her hand on his arm, feeling a warmth spread through him. For a moment, they sat in silence, the gravity of his words hanging in the air.

"You’re amazing, Bakugou," Y/N signed with a gentle smile. "Thank you for sharing that with me."

Bakugou’s usual scowl softened slightly. "Yeah, well, don't go spreading it around," he muttered, but there was no real bite to his words.

They continued studying together, a comfortable silence enveloping them. In that quiet room, with only the sound of pages turning and the occasional scribble of a pen, Bakugou felt a sense of peace he rarely experienced.

As the night grew darker, Y/N yawned and stretched. Bakugou glanced at the clock and realized how late it had become.

"You should get some sleep," he said, his voice gruff but caring.

Y/N nodded, signing, "Thank you for staying."

Bakugou gave a curt nod, gathering his things. "Yeah, yeah. See you tomorrow."

As he left her room, Bakugou couldn't help but feel a deeper connection with Y/N. She understood his struggles in a way few others did, and that made their bond even stronger.

By their second year, Bakugou's hearing had worsened significantly. He had always been stubborn, but now, it was taking a toll on his mental state. The once vibrant and fiery Bakugou had become distant, pushing everyone away, including his closest friends.

His friends tried to reach out to him, but he brushed them off, too scared and ashamed to admit what was happening. His depressive and anxious episodes grew more frequent, leaving him isolated and conflicted.

He hasn’t even built the courage to tell his parents that he was deaf and in need of hearing aids.

Y/N had noticed the change in Bakugou from the beginning of the semester. The distance between them hurt her, but she respected his space. However, she couldn’t stand by any longer, knowing something was seriously wrong.

One evening, she found Bakugou alone in the training room, sitting on the floor with his head in his hands. Taking a deep breath, Y/N approached him, her heart pounding.

"Bakugou," she signed gently, trying to catch his attention. "What's been going on?"

Bakugou looked up, his eyes filled with a mix of anger and despair.

For a moment, he didn’t respond, but then, hesitantly, he signed back, "Don’t tell anybody..."

Y/N waited, her heart aching for him.

"I'm deaf," he finally signed, his hands trembling slightly.

Y/N was taken aback by his admission, but she quickly composed herself. She knew how hard this must have been for him to share. Opening her mouth, she used her quirk to speak directly to his mind, "Can you hear me?"

Bakugou’s eyes widened in shock. He nodded slowly, relief washing over his face. Tears welled up in his eyes, and for the first time in a long time, he felt understood. Her voice had been the first thing he could really hear in a long time.

Y/N knelt beside him, her presence a comforting balm to his troubled mind. "It's okay, Bakugou. You don't have to go through this alone," she continued using her quirk, her voice gentle and soothing in his mind.

Bakugou shook his head, frustration evident on his face. "I hate feeling weak," he signed back, his movements sharp and angry.

"You’re not weak," Y/N responded firmly, her voice steady in his mind. "Admitting you need help takes strength. Let me help you."

For a moment, Bakugou was silent, his internal struggle clear on his face. Finally, he nodded, the walls he had built around himself starting to crumble.

"I’m scared," he signed, his vulnerability raw and painful.

Y/N reached out, placing a hand on his. "I know," she said softly. "But we’ll face this together. You’re not alone."

Bakugou squeezed her hand, a sense of relief and gratitude washing over him. For the first time in months, he felt a glimmer of hope. With Y/N by his side, he knew he could face whatever challenges lay ahead.

As they sat in silence, Bakugou suddenly realized something profound. Despite his hearing loss, he could still hear Y/N's voice clearly in his mind, thanks to her quirk. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. No matter how deaf he became, he would always be able to hear her.

"Y/N," he signed, his eyes intense. "Your voice... I'll always hear it, won't I?"

She nodded, understanding dawning in her eyes. "Yes, Bakugou. My quirk allows me to speak directly into your mind. As long as I'm here, you'll always be able to hear me."

Bakugou's heart swelled with a mixture of relief and gratitude. The fear and despair that had plagued him began to dissipate. Y/N wasn't just a friend or a crush—she was his lifeline, the one constant in his world that he could always count on.

"I don’t deserve you," he signed, his eyes glistening with emotion.

"Yes, you do," she replied, her voice firm in his mind. "You deserve all the happiness in the world, Bakugou. And I’ll be here with you, every step of the way."

Bakugou pulled her into a tight embrace, feeling the weight of his fears lifting. With Y/N by his side, he knew he could face anything. Even in the silence, her voice would always be there to guide him.

#bnha x reader #bnha #bnha fluff #mha #katsuki x y/n #bakugou katuski x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x y/n #bakugou fluff #bakugou x reader #bnha bakugou #bnha x fem!reader

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randommisci · 6 months ago

Text

Whos the kid here other than Izuku?

Its very awkward when your child attends the same school as your most hated enemy's child. Even more so when the two kids are best friends. ( ◡̀_◡́)

#Toshi is being so good about not pummeling AFO right now #He deserves to be praised for that #Good job Toshi #erasermight #dad for one #dfo #inko midoriya #all for one #all might #aizawa shouta #eraserhead #yagi toshinori #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #my art #august 2024

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bookvvitch · 1 month ago

Text

How To Make Two Lovers Of Friends

Words: 11,569

Synopsis:

Aizawa is taking a much-needed break after the war with Shigaraki and All For One. He isn't looking for anything in particular; that is, until he spots you in a goth themed coffee house. A whirlwind romance ensues in this one shot, filled to the brim with sexual tension, fluff, and smut.

Alternative/goth fem! Reader

Fair warning, this one is the first fic I'd ever written, so it isn't my best work. It does hold a special place in my heart though and I hope it's enjoyable for someone!

Morning light came dappled through the windows as you took your favorite seat at the coffee house, just like you did every morning to start your day. This coffee shop went by the name Bauhaus; probably a nonsequedor to most, but a familiar homage to a band for you. It had this witchy aesthetic, filled with books and old vinyls that made you feel at peace. You never really saw places like this when you still lived in America, at least not in your neck of the woods. How absolutely lucky that you lived just a few blocks away!

You ordered yourself the special for this month: The Headless Horseman, an iced pumpkin and caramel breve to celebrate the upcoming fall season, a welcome respite from the August heat. Smoothing away the creases on your black velvet dress, you thanked the barista, who you typically made small talk with but were not quite on a first name basis with just yet, and took your seat once again to finish reading your book. The leaves rattled in the wind outside and rapped against the building like old bones in a wooden sarcophagus.

"A storm is coming soon," you say quietly to yourself.

Gentle thunder thrums in the distance like the soft beating of a lambskin drum, and a small grin makes itself at home on your lips.

Perfect reading weather.

Adjusting yourself on the bench beneath your legs, your mouth curved at the edges, eliciting a slight hum from your lips.

Ah.

Spooky, scary peace.

Outside the confines of the coffee house, though, the weather was much less enjoyable. The heroes Eraserhead and Present Mic both trudged through heavy raindrops, soaked like wet dogs, caught off guard by the sudden change in weather. Aizawa scowled at his mess of dark hair getting drenched.

"Damn, this weather is nasty!" Said Mic, voice unintentionally booming.

He looked around and scouted for shelter as the thunder rolled, and settled on the closest bit of light he could see, pointing his finger at Bauhaus so as to motion for Aizawa to head that way.

They stopped at the overhang to dry off a bit before entering when Aizawa got a peek inside the shop. He took note of the band posters and bookshelves littering the walls, the violet-hued plants hanging from the ceiling and shelves, the generally alternative vibe that exuded from the place.

"I don't know, Hizashi," he stated hesitantly, shifting his weight to his good leg.

"What's the big deal? It's not like you'll look out of place," Hizashi was frank, opening the door with no apprehension. He gave a quick chuckle that sounded like taps on a hot microphone.

It was true, Aizawa typically dressed in all black. Now that he was taking a break, though, he didn't always have his capture weapon on him. He was instead accompanied by a patch over his eye and a prosthetic leg. He felt like he usually stood out like a sore thumb these days, which was problematic for someone who had always tried to keep such a low profile in the past.

Aizawa fiddled with his eyepatch and thought about how nice it would be to blend in once more. He had always tried to stay out of the spotlight, but after the intense battle with Shigaraki, it was harder to avoid the media. Maybe a place like this wasn't such a bad idea. He continued to zone out as Mic spoke much too loudly for the space they were in, as usual, and talked (mostly to himself) about if he should get a coffee or a smoothie.

Aizawa grew slightly embarrassed by his friend's actions as he looked around the room to see if his boisterous voice was bothering the other patrons. It was 6am, still early, so Bauhaus was lingering with the vestiges of sleep, waking with the rest of Musutafu. There was a green haired person on their laptop in the back corner, tucked away, uninvolved in the rest of the shop and seemingly unbothered. Empty seats. A full cup on a table that meant someone would be right back.

Then there was you.

Right beneath the window seat near the front of the shop, a purple vining plant hanging above you, crushed velvet bell sleeves rested upon the table as your fingers gripped the pages of a well-worn copy of To Kill a Mockingbird. Your face was aglow like the moon, scattered with a few freckles that danced across rosy cheeks, long lashes that arched over your half-lidded eyes. The bass of the music swelling over the speakers seemed to engulf Aizawa, thumping in his head, your silken locks being brushed to settle behind your ear as his mouth suddenly dried.

Then, as if on que, you looked up at him just in time for him to hear "oh Lucretia, my reflection", and everything seemed to stand still. He could feel his pulse in his fingertips. You had these gorgeous doe eyes, these pouty little lips that gave a gamine smile to him while he held his gaze for much too long, he was sure of it. You were a vision. A blooming Queen Of The Night. A siren out in the storm.

"Quit staring at her and tell me what you want to drink!"

Aizawa was snapped out of his delusion. Flustered at the comment, he groaned, his eye twitching. Unwilling to break the eye contact with you just yet, your smile grew, and you exchanged glances with him again, causing pink heat to bloom over his face. You sat down your book and made your posture more swanlike as you maintained eye contact with him. His breath hitched at this.

You snuck looks at him for the rest of the time the two were in the shop. You weren't enough of a go-getter to approach him--nor were you brave enough to blatantly ask him out--but you really hoped that maybe he would come in again.

————

As mortified as he was by Mic's statement, he knew he had to try to see you again.

Not because he wanted to get to know you or anything.

No.

You just seemed... interesting. You seemed interesting and he felt very comfortable in Bauhaus. In fact, it probably had very little to do with you at all. He was more than likely just transferring these feelings of comfort onto you. After all, it's been a while since he's been able to go out and not feel like he was the one being stared at.

Yes.

This is rational.

This is why he needed to go back. You were just there by happenstance.

Every single weekday morning--and on weekends when he wasn't watching Eri--for an entire month, he was at the shop.

That's just how comfortable he was there. That's how good their plain black coffee was. That's what it meant to have a routine.

It was just a coincidence that he couldn't help but to notice you.

You were always there in that same cozy nook. Some days you were dressed in a band t-shirt and jeans. Some days you were in a plaid skirt and combat boots. Some days you were in a mossy green dress that went to the floor. Some days you wore causal yoga pants that were surely comfortable but made him sweat like a sinner in church. He never knew what exactly he would see you in next, but it was usually the same kind of style. And you always had a book to read, which Aizawa greatly admired. You were studious and attentive with your literature, but also a little bit goofy, judging by the laughter between you and the barista when you picked up your drinks.

But he had also come to find that you were very kind. Although you didn't appear to be a hero, you helped in other ways. You would pay for people's orders if they didn't have enough to cover their purchase. Twice, he watched you pay for the food of a homeless man, and then you sat with this man as an equal, outside on the curb, as the two of you ate breakfast sandwiches and talked. You were softspoken and gentle in your manner of speech, making him feel as though you were reading him to sleep as you talked between bites of food.

He noticed you had the biggest soft spot for animals, though.

You would watch out the window at around 6:15 to see if your little cat friend would show up that day. You would give them a drink of water from your own bottle and cap, offer them bits of bread and meat, and coo at them in a lovely sing-song voice as they ate. The cat didn't want to be touched, they were scarred and matted all to hell; but you were patient every single time. What a beautiful soul you seemed to have.

Aizawa was normally pessimistic, but you made him feel hopeful in humanity. He was certain that you had flaws, as people do, but your acts of kindness always made sure he had a good start to his day. He was always ready to protect you if you ever needed it. The world could use more good people, after all.

One morning in particular, as Aizawa picked up his drink, he noticed a man lazily stroll up to you at your regular nook. This happened to you every so often now that you were in Japan. You were approached by men, and very occasionally other women, maybe a handful of times in your entire life back in the United States. Your best guess is that here you were considered "exotic" since you looked different from most. You almost never saw someone with features like yours, and you were certainly taller than most of the women here, with noticeably longer limbs; all things that weren't exactly beauty standards in America but seemed to garner attention in Japan.

Unfortunately, the attention wasn't usually the kind that you enjoyed, and this guy was no different. He was dressed in an athletic shirt and basketball shorts. Not that you were one to judge, because hell, sometimes you showed up in pastels if the mood so struck you. People weren't bound to the confines of fashion. However, in your experience, men dressed in this clothing who came into Bauhaus tended to be... unsavory. Usually someone looking to fulfill their fetishes.

"Ooo, Cara Mia," he taunted as he approached you.

An Addams Family reference would have otherwise been right up your alley, but when he said the quote, it felt icky somehow. You knew he had to have kept this line in his back pocket regardless of who he came across, anyway. You were in a long sleeved sheer top with a lavender camisole and pair of black bell bottoms. More Stevie Nicks than Morticia Addams. So you did the rational thing and ignored him. You weren't there to be someone's Big Tiddy Goth Girlfriend.

He didn't like that much.

"Hey. I'm talking to you," he spat his words at you with barely concealed contempt.

"I heard you," you flicked your eyes up at him sharply.

Aizawa's body tensed in preparation to spring into action, taking a step forward in your direction. Who the fuck did this guy think he was?

"I was just being nice. Not like anyone else is going to talk to your ugly old ass," his words were meant to bite at you, but you didn't budge.

"Old? Why, because I dared to live past 16? God, you are disgusting," you sat down your book and shook your head disapprovingly, "creeps like you are always projecting your own insecurities. How sad for you. Fuck off,"

He looked shocked, furious, like he was about to scream something in your face--but stopped abruptly when you started to hum. It was a haunting melody, something akin to a nocturne.

"I think you should go now," you stated plainly.

With this, the man walked out the door in what appeared to be a fugue-like state. And you calmly went back to your book.

Huh. Maybe you didn't need Aizawa's protection.

You just kept getting more and more intriguing.

On his fourth straight week of coming in, a Friday in early September, you decided to finally talk to him since it seemed like you were both regular patrons of the shop now. You made sure to finger-comb your hair before you turned to look at him. He was in his usual black on black sweatpants and sweatshirt, this time with his hair pulled back to reveal his jawline. He was very handsome, you thought.

"Hey there, you," you said after he placed his order of a single black coffee.

He turned around, a bit shocked at the sudden start of such a casual conversation.

"I see you in here a lot lately. I'm not sure if you have the time, but would you like to come sit with me?"

You smiled delicately in an attempt to seem welcoming.

"It would be nice to have some company for a change," you say.

His dark eye bore into you like a bullet coming straight for your gaze. After a moment of collecting his words, he finally settled on replying back:

"Yeah, sure. That would be fine,"

Aizawa tried his best to remain calm and cool, stoic even, refusing to let something so nonchalant shake him.

However, truth be told, you felt a bit shaken yourself. You weren't sure if he would accept your offer or reject it and then stop coming in. You could be so straightforward sometimes, and you felt like you could accidentally make things awkward. But you had a feeling he might at least be interested in getting to know you after your initial interaction with him.

You introduce yourself as you stirred your latte with a tiny silver spoon.

"Shota Aizawa," he gave in return.

"Nice to finally meet you," you say with a slight tease in your inflection and a mischievous look.

A blush crept across his face. God, of course you remembered when you two first saw one another. It felt as if he were sitting on pins and needles thinking about it.

"Do you like sitting under the stars?" You ask to cut the silence.

Aizawa looked perplexed. It seemed like an odd thing to ask him. Maybe you liked the outdoors?

"I've never actually been camping. Never really seemed that fun to me," he was eager to continue talking to you, though he wasn't sure exactly why.

You had this glint in your eye, like you knew the punchline to a joke you hadn't even told yet, along with a playful smile. Setting down your cup, you pointed up. That's when he noticed that the ceiling was matte black and painted with silver glittering stars.

"It's one of my favorite things about coming here," you disclosed this information to him, almost as if it were a secret.

It was then that he knew for sure that you weren't like most people.

You two met like this, discussing books and hobbies and music, for another month and a half. Every morning at 6am you could expect to see him waiting at Bauhaus for you, rain or shine. You would get some kind of breve or latte and he would get a strongly brewed black coffee. Sometimes you spoke for an hour before one of you had to go, sometimes you two were there until you were both hungry for lunch. Although the days all started at Bauhaus, occasionally, the day would take the two of you to a nearby ramen shop, a corner store, or a short walk down the block. Anywhere you wanted to go, he was there.

————

He now knew that you liked horror movies and would read just about anything you could get your hands on, that you loved animals, you moved here two years ago to help with the mental health crisis in Japan as a grief counselor, and you thoroughly enjoyed humor.

You came to know that he liked cats, was a teacher, liked the smell of rain, he was generally pretty introverted, read comic books as a kid, and had a liking for dark jokes. He had mentioned that he was a hero, a pro hero actually, when the shop was empty one morning. You said that was "so cool" and beamed with pride that you knew him, but you seemed unfamiliar with the Erasure Hero.

You continued to treat him exactly the same.

This was mesmerizing to Aizawa.

Today was one of the days that stretched on like a sleeping cat in a sunny patch. You'd already met once in the morning, breaked for work, and then met again in the late evening. The golden-hour sun was pouring in its warm light, backing you like some kind of seraphem, and painting him in a spreading halo of honeyed peach. The way the flecks of rainbow from the slanted glass flitted over his skin bewitched you.

And you, there at your place, drenched in marigold light that kissed down upon your flawless skin, made him shudder. Your eyes nearly glowed in the light. You appeared fragile, breakable, like spun glass; though he knew you were sturdier than your languid demeanor would let on.

He stuffed down the feelings he was starting to have for you like a snake eating a too large mouse. This was more than just lust, infatuation, or attraction. As scary as it was, he liked you. The butterflies stirred in his belly when you called his name from your window nook and the moths fluttered in yours when he said "I thought I might find you here, y/n," with the slightest upturn of his mouth. You were both nervous about this tension that was building between the two of you, but he was more reserved, whereas you tended to wear your heart on your sleeve. You knew that you would have to be the one to address it.

"Aizawa," you say to him, circling the rim of your cup with your fingertip as you place your other hand in front of his on the table, "I have some errands to run tomorrow... would you maybe want to come with me? It can be hard for me to carry heavy things all the way into my place on my own, and I really want to get some pumpkins to carve,"

This seemed utilitarian enough that he might feel more at ease accepting the invitation, but still deliciously domestic.

Aizawa felt the breath leave his lungs. Going to a pumpkin patch? Carving pumpkins? Like a cute little date?

"You don't have to, if you don't have the time," you stated reassuringly.

"Oh, no. It's nothing like that," His voice broke as he uttered out an answer, "I can go. I'll make the time if I don't have it,"

"Great! Can we meet up around 10?"

"I'll be there,"

"You always are,"

The air hung around the two of you with a lightness for a few seconds. Aizawa could see his reflection in your big glass-like eyes, causing his heart to beat wildly in his chest. You gave a small laugh, crinkling your nose, very aware of the closeness of your faces. He felt like maybe he should kiss you. But did you even like him that way? You could just be friendly and kissing you would be a huge mistake. Everything would come crashing down if he did that. Your trust would be gone. You would be gone. He couldn't take that risk.

But oh, how you wanted him to lean in and touch his lips to your own. You wondered how his stubble would feel against your skin, and if he would taste like that black coffee he was always sipping on. A knot formed in your stomach, this familiar aching, a longing, a fear of the unknown feelings he had for you, and excitement that he might feel the same way. How long had it been since you felt this way? Was it ever this intense?

You bit your bottom lip in anticipation, your heart racing. You could feel that something was bubbling up. Something was about to happen. You were going to lean in closer when the door to the coffee house flew open, and in walked Hizashi.

"I thought I'd find you here, Eraser! You sure love this place lately!" His voice nearly shook the entryway.

Tension gone.

Goodbye, mood.

Aizawa sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, fully aware that Mic was about to say something daft.

"Watcha got here?" Mic asked enthusiastically, gesturing toward you with a gloved hand, "Shota, do you have a girlfriend you never told me about?"

Fucking Mic.

Aizawa looked pale, sick even.

Of course he wanted you to be his girlfriend. Especially when he was about to go to sleep, or saw some stuffed animal he knew you would like, or when he was in the shower and thinking of how he'd like to see those sultry eyes looking up at him as you put your mouth on his...

"Hizashi, for someone who's entire Quirk is based on sound, you are so damn tonedeaf," Aizawa cut his thoughts loose with this retort.

"Woah, easy there," Mic continued, "I didn't mean to ruffle any feathers. If you guys aren't hooking up, how about I shoot my shot then?" He waggled his brows at you.

Aizawa gritted his teeth and his eye twitched. Like a deer in the headlights, stunned at this brazen show of complete and total assclownery, he sat still in his seat as Hizashi made fools of them both. The lanky devil just didn't know when to stop tap dancing on his last nerve.

Present Mic leaned over the table as you furrowed your brow in response.

"Wanna see why they call me Magic Mic?" He gave a wide grin with this question.

You made a sound somewhere between a scoff and a laugh.

"Why, did I pique your interest when you saw me bathing on the roof? Did my beauty and the moonlight overthrow you?"

"Bathing on the roof, you say!" Another waggle.

"Careful there, Sisyphus. That boulder's heavier than it looks," you chime back, scribbling something on a napkin.

Aizawa was amused at your quip. It was impressive how quick on your feet you were in conversation, and how well you handled yourself. He knew that Mic was blabbering on in the background, something about alternative chicks and their spicy attitudes, but he couldn't concentrate on anything other than you.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Aizawa," you stated while getting up from your seat, "here's my number. Text me and I'll send you my address so you can meet me at my place, okay?"

Aizawa swallowed the lump in his throat and then nodded in agreement. He took the napkin in his hand and noticed you put a little heart next to your number.

Fuck.

Please let this be a date.

————

The next morning, at 10am sharp, Aizawa reached the front door to your apartment. He didn't even need to look at the number when he saw the fall wreath, covered in leaves and mini pumpkins, suspended from its metal hook. He slicked back his raven hair with his palms, attempting to keep his locks captured in a ponytail, all the while his stomach churned in anticipation. He gave a knock at the door, and you were there almost immediately. Had you been waiting for him?

In reality, yes, you had been. You were ready by 9:30 and then paced around your room before you sat by the door and waited for him to show up. You gave him a big grin as you greeted him, admiring his forearms with his sleeves rolled up. You looked him over, half covered in the shade of your awning, hair pulled back, his trim figure cut well in his dark jeans and gray sweater. Oh my god, he even shaved! That was so cute to you. He shaved for your pumpkin patch adventure. You swooned and felt that tension in your belly build back up. It made you feel like a teenager again, having a crush like that. You kicked at some rocks on your porch in a bashful display.

God how he wanted to put his hands on you when he saw you stepping out of your doorway. You were wearing a burnt orange sundress, a black cardigan with pumpkins lining the bodice, thigh high black pantihose, with black Mary Janes and a wide-brimmed felt hat. You always knew what flattered your figure, what colors brought out your eyes and complimented your skintone. He felt so typical, like such a stereotype, because that sundress was doing something for him.

"You okay with me driving?" You asked, taking a step closer to him.

He tensed at the prospect of being touched by you, and nodded in agreement. Grabbing your keyfob, you pressed twice to start your vehicle, a completely black car with darkly tinted windows. It was very bold, very dark, and very you.

"You can mess with the volume however you'd like. I don't mind," you told him as you started flipping through your music on the car's touchscreen radio.

Aizawa took note of how eclectic your music was. You seemed to like songs with lots of bass and rumble, and you listened to plenty of Sisters of Mercy, but you also had music that took him off guard: hyper-pop, musical numbers, heavy metal--a smorgasbord of songs on a hodgepodge of a playlist. He could never quite pin you down. As soon as he thought he knew your next move, you pulled an Uno Reverse card, and it was enthralling. He liked a challenge.

He was captured by you as you settled on Love Me by The 1975 and enthusiastically sang along to every word, miming exaggerated faces when the beat picked up. You rolled the windows down and threw your hat in the back seat to feel the wind through your hair.

You glanced over at him briefly as you sang, smiling, glowing, just letting loose with him in a way that felt more intimate than he would've imagined a car ride could feel. Your hair flipped, twisting around your face in the breeze.

He noticed how careful you were with your car, how gingerly you braked at stoplights, and joked "I think my grandpa might actually drive faster than you do,"

"Hey," you replied "I pay a lot of money for this car," you felt a bit embarrassed tagging on the next part of "besides.. it's important to follow traffic laws."

He couldn't help but admire how pragmatic you were about this. You were so soft. Willing to stand up for yourself, but always making sure everyone else was safe. You had a hero heart.

You went back to singing to music, this time Can't Hold Me by Emily King. You always seemed so in your element when music was involved.

"You have a really nice voice," Aizawa stated without thinking. It rolled off of his tongue in an easy sort of way that didn't normally come naturally to him.

"Oh, thanks. It's part of my quirk I guess,"

"You have a quirk?" It was more of a statement than a question. He was pretty positive he'd already seen your quirk in action.

"Well, yeah; but I don't use it much. It's one of those quirks that when you tell people about it they think you're a villain," your voice trailed off a bit and he looked at you with one raised brow.

A sigh escaped your lips.

"If I sing a certain melody, I can make people do whatever I want. They become really pliable and easy to manipulate. But I can only use it on one person at a time, and it's only the one song, and you would know if I was using it," you tried your best to make sure he knew you weren't using it to make him talk to you, or to make him come with you today.

"Quirks are what you make of them. And I don't think that you would ever purposefully hurt someone, y/n. You're better than that,"

On impulse, upon parking the car at the pumpkin patch, you grabbed his hand with Eat Sleep Wake by Bombay Bicycle Club playing softly in the background. The first real physical contact you two had that wasn't accidental. It was warm, and sweet, and electric. Breathing felt like there was a weight on your chest when you realized what happened, and it caught in your throat when he squeezed your hand back.

Eat.

Sleep.

Wake.

Nothing but you.

God, please just kiss me, you thought. Kiss me. Better yet, take me into this pumpkin patch and peel these pantihose off with your teeth. You were getting to the point where all of this constant winding you up had you wanting him to fuck you absolutely stupid.

Aizawa felt warm, feverish. Like he was going to melt through the seat of the car and burn to cinders on the ground. He was smoldering like a pile of ash in your hand. Goddamn it was hard to concentrate now. Where was he at? Was there a world around the two of you? Did he even care? He wasn't sure if it was right to think of you like this, though, and it happened nearly every day since meeting you. That part of him had been lying dormant for what felt like years and now suddenly these feelings were coming for him with a vengeance. He wasn't sure what to do.

"We should.. we should grab some pumpkins. Do you... like the lumpy ones?"

Shit. Did he really just ask you that? God, you must have thought he was stupid.

But you didn't. You were eating this up.

"Dude. I love me a lumpy pumpkin," was your reply.

The two of you took in the crisp autumn air and October's bright blue sky as you sipped on a warm apple cider from the drink stand. Much to his initial disapproval, you finally got him to take a sip from your cup. His heart skipped a beat drinking from the same spout where your mouth had been just a few seconds prior. You took two small pumpkins from the display they had on top of some hay bales, slipped them into a big burlap tote bag, and then headed to the field to pick out bigger pumpkins for carving.

"Do you think frogs have friends?"

"I... what?"

He wasn't sure if you were being genuine with this question.

"Well, cows make friends, and.. I don't know, I was just thinking about how maybe when frogs start to get ready for the cold weather, they find another frog that they like, and then they hibernate next to them in the mud," your statement was matter-of-fact, "or I guess technically the frogs we have here go into a state of topor, not full hibernation. But still,"

Aizawa was taken aback at this topic. You were actually wondering about the loneliness of amphibians.

"Y/n, I don't think frogs get lonely. I doubt they have high enough brain functioning to care,"

"Or maybe they do, and we'll never know, because nobody stopped to find out,"

He enjoyed that you always spoke your mind. Even if someone didn't like what you had to say, you just started a conversation based on whatever thoughts you had in your head. You were smart, but whimsical. It was so easy to talk to you and have a logical dialogue without feeling like it was getting stale.

You kicked at rocks, marveled at the fall leaves, and had this general sense of wonder. Aizawa found it fascinating how dichotomous you were. You were kind of mysterious, but you still had this youthful charm about you. He found himself to be more apathetic than anything. It wasn't necessarily that he didn't see the beauty in the things around him, he just didn't tend to pay attention at all. He was always burning the candle at both ends and pushing himself to his absolute limits, so what was the point? Who cared of frogs had friends?

"I wish I shared your passion for life," he commented.

"My grandparents were like this, and they raised me, so I guess it rubbed off. Actually, they're kind of why I came here. My grandpa always spoke about how beautiful Okinawa was. After they passed, I jumped at the opportunity to come see Japan for myself,"

You hadn't talked about anything that wasn't skin deep in what seemed like an eternity, and you felt like he was really listening, processing your words.

"Oh!" You stopped in your tracks, "I can't believe I forgot to give you this,"

From the bottom of your burlap sack, you pulled out a bag of salty black licorice.

"This is for you,"

His favorite snack.

Aizawa reached out his hand and took it delicately, as if it were precious to him.

"How did you know?"

"I saw you eyeing some once at a corner store. When I saw they had some here, I had to get it for you. They make it in house, so I bet it's delicious!" You sounded so excited over a bag of licorice.

Feeling a bit silly over frogs and candy, you blushed, cheeks already slightly ruddy from all of the walking.

"But we should probably go back to picking out some pumpkins, I guess," your words came out much smaller than you intended them to.

His heart swelled. You were paying attention to him, too.

The gourds were all shapes and sizes, all the colors from striking persimmon to pale yellow, from perfectly round to as lumpy as the night was long.

Clearly, you picked the lumpiest.

Loading your goods into the car, a flash of color at another stand caught Aizawa's eye.

"You stay here. I'll be right back," he commanded.

"Okay. Just let me know if you want any help,"

The stand was full of handmade trinkets: wooden hair combs, decorative mirrors with widdled handles, and silk kimonos. One garment stood out to him--emerald green with goldenrod flowers patterned over it--that, for some reason, made him think of frogs. This would do nicely.

Upon his return, he found that he really wasn't sure how to give you a gift. This was certainly not his forte. He couldn't even remember the last time he gave someone a present. Then again, he couldn't recall that last time he had received one before this day, either. Besides, you were worth the uncomfortability.

He opened his mouth to speak, but the words wouldn't form. You looked slightly amused, which made him even more nervous.

"I have something for you. To repay you for the gift you gave me earlier," his voice uttered out much smaller than he remembered.

The joy that spread from cheek to cheek was practically tangible for him as he handed you the paper bag. Your eyes were alight like fireworks.

"You got me a present?"

You felt a fluttering in your chest. You didn't even care what it was, he explicitly thought of you, and that made you happy in earnest.

The container was compact enough that you figured there was some kind of candy to be retrieved from it, but you opened it to see green and yellow fabric. You were stunned when you recognized it from the stand you two had passed on your way out. It had to have been expensive.

"Aizawa.. this is too much. I-I can't accept this," you stammered.

"Yes you can. Like I said, it's for the licorice,"

"This isn't exactly in the same category as candy, though, I--"

"Just try it on," he interrupted you, his hand raised as if to stop any further protesting.

And you thought about protesting--you really did--but caved, knowing he wouldn't give up until you accepted it. Your attempts to dispute his gift would be futile. So you marveled at the silk garment, feeling its slick material between your fingers. You'd never owned something like this before. You took off your cardigan and draped the kimono over your body, savoring how soft and airy it was on your skin, feeling like a princess.

"I'm not sure if this is a color you like, so if you don't like it, we can go exchange it," his voice had a hushed tone.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes.

"No. No, it's perfect. I absolutely love it. Thank you so much, this was so sweet of you," your words rang out like a bell.

The breeze picked up and blew the soft locks of your hair as you stood there in your gown, picturesque, cottony clouds lining the skies.

You looked like a painting.

"Alright then," you said with vigor, "takoyaki is on me!"

————

When you returned home, you carved Aizawa's pumpkin together (a very classic orange pumpkin, perfect for Jack O Lanterns), swatting your cats off of the counter as they came to sniff at the seedy innards laid out on a sheet of parchment paper. You felt at home like this. You felt safe, content, like this is how life was meant to be.

You watched him as he placed the carved Jack O Lantern out on your porch, and took notice of the strands of raven hair that were falling out of his messy bun, delicately sweeping over his strong jaw and neck. The knot in your stomach returned, and with it came a sensation like you were on the downhill slope of a rollercoaster. It was a feeling of passion welling up inside of you, ready to tear open at your seams.

And you wanted more.

You wanted him to want you.

Worried that he might go home now that the sun had set, you asked if he would want to watch a movie with you. He was elated at the idea of cuddling up with you on the couch. How could he say no to that?

"Okay. What did you have in mind?"

"Have you ever watched Hocus Pocus?"

"No, never heard of it,"

"What?! It's a Halloween classic! I'll change into some house clothes and then we'll get started. Be right back, Shota,"

A chill ran down his spine, prickling the back of his neck at the sound of you saying his name. You called him Shota. And now you were comfortable enough with him to change into pajamas. He felt almost floaty.

Aizawa was expecting you to come out in sweatpants and a t-shirt, something comfy, something plain. He enjoyed the prospect of you coming out in soft pants and fuzzy socks. There was something so heartwarming and cozy about it that he--holy fucking shit.

You came out, as casual as humanly possible, in a pair of tiny little sleeping shorts and a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles t-shirt with no bra. The shirt was soft, but snug, and showed off every curve of your body through the semi-sheer fabric. He had already gotten a good look (or ten) at your ass in a nice pair of pants, but this.. were you trying to kill him? You were already all legs, and now the shorts... Aizawa scanned your body to see that you were wearing stockings that hugged your legs and made divots in the plush flesh of your upper thighs. They were Ninja Turtle green and woven like a tubesock.

Of course you were wearing these fuck me socks. That way, you could definitely say that you were completely covered from head to toe, that these were normal house clothes. Nothing here but regular old pajamas. And look, see, you totally did like green!

Your couch was small, but Aizawa sat on one end, hoping that you would sit alllll the way on the other end so that he could curl up as much as possible and you wouldn't see... things. But you weren't having it. You wanted to be able to cut the tension with a knife. You wanted to make sure this sexual frustration was palpable until it drove him to action. So you snuggled up next to him and rested your head on his chest.

He took notice that the shorts nearly disappeared when you sat down, and thought about what they might look like if you were bending over. Your tits looked great through your clothes, but your ass drove him wild. He wished for the TV to mess up somehow so you would have to get down on all fours to fix it, maybe even spread your legs just enough that your sex would peek over the side of the material, sopping and messy and begging for him.

Oh lord Jesus, Vishnu, Thor, whoever the fuck was up there just give him strength. Give his waistband extra elasticity and give his poor heart a rest so that maybe you wouldn't hear it pounding through his chest. But you did hear it. You knew exactly what you were doing when you placed your hand on his thigh and traced your fingertips down to his knee while you stared ahead at the TV screen.

Under the guise of laughing at a witch riding a vacuum cleaner, you squeezed his leg, and he jumped in his seat.

Oh.

This was torture for him.

And you liked that.

A lot.

He made a pathetic attempt to stealthily lean into you, just enough so that he could get a better whiff of your hair. You smelled like vanilla and something a little floral and spicy, like a jasmine rice desert. The thought crossed his mind that you might taste just as sweet.

"Doing okay, Shota?" Your voice this time was chesty, sensual, almost like an invitation rather than a question, and you could feel him shudder in response.

There it was again. Shota. He fucking loved the way his name dripped from your lips like honey. He nodded in agreement and you patted his leg to let him know you felt the nod.

You could feel your shorts heating up and your breathing changing pace when you heard him let out little sputters of air at your touch. It was intoxicating, hearing him get excited, smelling the sweat building between the two of you in this blissful hell of your own making.

Small beads of liquid made a wet spot up near his waistband while he took in your body heat, trying his best to focus on the screen and not the friction of you against him, or the fact that he could see your nipples plainly through your shirt. Readjusting yourself, you stretched and let out a whine in the process, and your elbow brushed up against something in his lap.

With a quick grunt, he stood up suddenly, and said "I need to use the restroom. I'll be right back,"

You gave him an "okay", and paused the movie for him. Maybe it was just in your imagination, but you could swear you saw a tent in his pants when he got up.

What you wouldn't give to toy with him for just a little while longer.

He shuts the door behind him slowly, calmly, before he's pawing at the buttons of his pants. A curse leaves his lips as he wrestles his leaking member from the confines of his boxers.

"Little fucking cocktease," he grits, burying the words into his lower lip.

God, he just couldn't take it anymore. He thought about you moaning, whining, mewling into his ear, your bodies entangling. How would he take you? If he had the option, he thinks he'd really like to watch you ride his cock, see the look on your face when you take all of him inside of you.

"Gonna have you begging for it. Fuck, do you even know what you do to me?" His voice trails into a groan, and he folds forward, bucking into his hand and holding onto the sink to steady himself.

A few whispers of your name fall from his lips, and he swipes at the slit of his aching length, smearing his precum along his shaft for lubrication. He's close. In an embarrassingly short amount of time, he's already feeling that knot within him frayed, about to snap. Just a few more strokes and he's jerking back his head, ropes of his release now dripping across his palm.

He finished in record time, expecting to have a sense of relief, but only finding that he craved more. Guilt took ahold of him when the thought crossed his mind that he shouldn't be thinking of you this way. This was so shameful, what he just did, making his hand all sticky from thinking of you. He rinsed his face with cool water to get rid of some of the sweat, and exited, stating that he needed to head home due to not feeling well.

Your heart sank, and the realization hit you that you may have made him uneasy with your forwardness. Maybe he didn't like you that way after all. You hoped that you hadn't just ruined things between the two of you.

Aizawa didn't want to hurt your feelings, and he could tell that he probably did; but he needed to get out of your apartment before he bent you over the couch.

So he left your place after an entire 12 hours together, beating himself up for not making a move, harboring resentment for his own lack of initiative. He was used to coming after villains, but this whole "love" thing really scared him. Love? He mulled the word over in his head. Worried it between his teeth. You two hadn't spent a single day without seeing each other in like two months. And he sure as hell didn't see himself picking out pumpkins with Hizashi any time soon.

He laid there in bed, trying his best to fall asleep, but the day just replayed in his head on a loop. His mattress was normally soft and welcoming, something that could easily lull him to sleep, but tonight it felt empty. Tonight, he felt alone. Until his phone buzzed from his nightstand.

You: is it too soon to text you?

Him: it's never too soon for you to talk to me.

You: good :) I was worried when you left in such a hurry.

You: and I miss you already.

Aizawa sat up in bed after reading your most recent message. You... missed him. He wasn't sure if he was reading that right. The blue light from his phone illuminated his face, now standing apart from the inky blackness of his room. He could feel you radiating from it.

Him: maybe you should stop by my place tomorrow afternoon then.

You: I'd really like that.

You: good night, Shota. <3

Him: see you soon.

————

He made sure to take care of himself in the shower before the next afternoon, not wanting a repeat of the previous night. Best case scenario, now he would last longer if you two ended up fooling around. He even double checked that Eri was in the dorms at UA again today. That was just wishful thinking, though. Sex these days would probably only come from pity for him. Poor washed-up hero, missing an eye, missing a leg. That's the last thing he needed right now.

He cleaned up around his apartment, wiping down the counters and making the area look welcoming for you. Why did he want to impress you so badly? Ugh, this was so embarrassing. He never worried about what people thought of him in any other scenario, but now, here he was, fluffing his brand new throw pillows and applying cologne to his neck and chest.

You knocked on the door, straightening the skirt of your dress, the same one you were wearing the morning you two first met. Aizawa answered the door in a gray t-shirt and black sweatpants, his hair loose and his eyes heavy-lidded when he looked down at you. That dress again. Clingy, short, nipped at the waist to show off your curves. Christ, you were beautiful. He welcomed you in, the smell of bergamot wafting from him.

His apartment was bigger than yours by quite a bit. It had a floating island in the kitchen, slate colored walls, a black sectional positioned in the living room atop a white shag rug, and circular lights that were recessed within the ceiling.

"Wow, your place is so nice. Shit. I'm sorry I made you come to my hovel last night," you partially joked, impressed with how well his home was put together.

"That's stupid. I liked being at your place,"

You saw something moving out of the corner of your eye through the doorway of the other room.

"Is that a punching bag?" You asked with a wry smile.

"Gotta keep myself in shape. Want to give it a go?" His voice was low, almost challenging you to take him up on the offer.

"Oh, I don't know. I lift weights but I don't really do a lot of cardio. I'd just end up humiliating myself, honestly," you said sheepishly.

"Come on, y/n, spar with me. I'll go easy on you,"

"Okay, okay," you gave in and walked toward the next room, which you could see upon closer inspection was full of gym equipment. You felt out of your element, but you were willing to make yourself look like a fool if it meant he was enjoying himself.

You gave the bag a light punch as Aizawa held onto it, half afraid that you would mess it up somehow, or maybe even break your damn hand. It felt like it was full of some kind of particulate. Maybe sand? Oh god, you probably looked like some kind of lazy sack, not even knowing how to punch a fucking bag.

"I know you can do better than that. You've got more power in you. Come on,"

You punched again.

"Harder. Don't hold back!" He growled.

That was really fucking sexy, actually, and now you were a little distracted. You balled your hand into a fist, made sure your thumb was facing outside, and used all of this pent up frustration to wallop the daylights out of the bag. Your knuckles made contact with a padded thud, and you let out a small grunt.

"Atta girl," he praised you, his voice like whisky.

God, hearing him say that was like a dopamine hit. You were disoriented. You were already clumsy, and now your brain felt like a can of cranberry sauce splattered out onto a plate.

Aizawa stepped away from the bag, a terse expression plastered onto his face.

"Now act like I'm coming after you and try to pin me. Remember, it doesn't matter that I'm bigger than you. Use strategy to overpower me,"

You mustered up all of your strength, all of your courage, and leapt toward his torso. He didn't try to block you, so you knew he was going easy on you... but you also knew you didn't do it right when you went off to the side and started to veer straight for the wall. He grabbed you by both wrists and wedged himself between your legs in order to cushion your fall, and you landed upright, straddling him as he lay on his back.

You were both panting, eyes dilated, a wildness boiling within you like animals. He let go of your wrists and your hands softly found their rest on his chest as it heaved.

"Y/n," he laughed, "that was awful,"

You rolled your eyes and shifted your weight into less of a stiff position.

"I told you I was bad at this. I am a lover, not a fighter," you pressed your hand to your chest as you spoke.

Moving ever so slightly on top of him, you saw his eye widen, his lips parted to let a small gasp escape from them. Panic has set in.

"Get up. Please," his tone is highly-strung and fearful.

He looks genuinely terrified, scrambling beneath you, the only reason you're still in his lap like this due to his apprehension to hurt you by accident.

"Shota, wha--" your question is cut off by the feeling of something poking against your clothed sex.

Oh.

A red hue painted his entire face at the realization of the situation he was in, his blood pulsing through his body rapidly, the sound of it rushing in his ears.

"Why," you said breathily "don't you want me?"

Overstimulated, his brain didn't process what you'd just said to him.

Your lungs feel like they're about to lunge straight out of your chest, your core aching to be filled. You'll have to make sure that he really gets the point. Now was the time to be honest with him, maybe even be a little dirty. It's now or never.

"I want to know.. I mean.." talking felt hard. Your blood supply seemed starved from your brain.

"Do you touch yourself when you think of me?"

He was trembling like a leaf beneath you, caged in by the plush of your thighs. Was this a trick question? Yes, he just fucked himself to you this morning, AND last night in YOUR bathroom. Is that what he was supposed to say? He swallowed thickly, clamoring to gather up some kind of sentient thought to say to you.

"I do," you filled the gap of silence, "I think of you that way. A lot, actually,"

You ground your pelvis up and down his length, the fabric of his pants rough against him, eliciting a grunt through his gritted teeth.

"I.. f-fuck, I-I dunno how to.. answer that," he's been reduced to this mumbling mess on the floor, that silver tongue suppressed by the sweet press of your warmth to his cock.

You took his shaking hand and placed it between your thighs, right on the dampness that was spreading at your center, sopping through what little material covered them.

"I want you, Shota. I want you bad," your words were like poetry spouting from your lips.

He rubbed you through your wet panties, soaked and clinging to you like a second skin. Were you this wet for him? He delights in the way your breath hitches, how you squirm atop him, your eyes heavy and lustful. Shota gives one last languid stroke up the lace and then pulls them to the side for easier access to your clit. He rubs light circles around it and watches you writhe, taking in the noises you were making, so painfully hard he felt as though he would cum in his pants just from watching you. He stopped his teasing and placed both hands on your hips, the pair of you frenzied for more.

You crashed your lips to his, both of you giving in to a hungry kiss, passionate and blistering with heat, tongues swirling and teeth clashing. You cupped his face in your hands, pulling him into you, starved for his taste. He keened into your touch as if it would soon disappear. Leaving the rough stubble of his cheeks only to grab a handful of his mussed hair, you tugged at it, causing him to moan into your mouth, and you swallowd down each noise greedily. He explored your body with haste, grabbing your ass, sinking the pads of his fingers into your skin. You could feel him throbbing underneath you, so you palmed him through his pants, and with a swift jerk, he threw his head back onto the floor, not even caring to register the pain of it.

"Fuck. Y/n. If you keep going..."

You tugged at the waist of his pants, then dragged featherlight touches across his exposed cock teasingly. He felt you smile against his skin as you nuzzled the crook of his neck, and he lets out a muffled groan that tapered off into a high-pitched whine, desperate and needy.

He let out an involuntary whimper, almost pitiful with how much yearning was within it.

"You gonna cum for me already? Hmm?"

That was it.

He couldn't fucking take it anymore.

Something within him snapped and a growl poured from him, rumbling up from somewhere deep in his chest.

With hurried hands, he pulls your dress over top your head, revealing that you were wearing nothing but lacy black panties underneath. You were stunning. Like a Greek statue of Aphrodite herself. He was never able to fully imagine your naked form before, and this was a perfect frame of reference for later. He wanted nothing more than to get absolutely drunk off of you. And he gets you all to himself. He can't hardly believe his luck.

"Tell me what you want me to do to you," his voice was raw and saturated with desire, a gravel to it, burning like whisky.

"I want you to touch me," you murmur, suddenly feeling shy in the sweltering heat of his gaze.

"Touch you?" Aizawa said with a chuckle, "I'm going to devour you,"

Before you were given the chance to react, he bucked into you, then slid you from his lap and onto the floor, gripping your underwear and throwing them off on your way down. He took off his shirt expeditiously to reveal his muscular form, and you admire the lines that bisect his abdomen, eyes nearly rolling into your skull when they land at the tent in his pants. He looks big. Like, concerningly big. You ran your fingers across the scars on his chest, which gave an almost tickling sensation, all the way down to the hair that trailed from his naval to his pants. He was beautiful. So fit that he looked like he could play himself in a movie.

Casting the clothing aside, he lays you flat onto the floor, kissing from your lips, to your neck, to your nipple where he sucked and flicked his tongue, using his free hand to caress the other, groping hungrily at your plush flesh. You moaned, breathy and meek, at his touch. Separating from you, his pupil was blown out as your pheromones hit him in the face, and he pulled your legs apart to fully expose you.

"Look at your pretty little pussy,"

He slipped a digit inside of you and did a curling motion until he found the spot that made you whimper underneath him, watched as your face went from shocked to a look of pleading for more, lashes fluttering.

He clicked his tongue.

"And look at you. So fucking needy. So ready for me to take you,"

He removed his finger and used it to play with your clit, making waves of pleasure shoot through your body, a white-hot coil tightening in your core just above where he was touching.

"Sh-Shota... please, fuck me," you begged, nearly mewling.

He hissed through his teeth, peering down at you as if you were prey. The look on his face is wolfish, starving, nearly pained to be holding himself back. There's a wilderness within him that begs to be let loose. You want nothing more than to be destroyed by it, left a carnal mess upon the floor.

"Oh, I'm going to fuck you. I'm going to fuck you until you can't even sit without thinking of me," he taps your clit with his fingertips, "But first, I'm going to make you cum on my tongue," he was serious with his words, meticulous, making sure you knew exactly what he had planned for you. Sweet, slow burning anticipation sent tingles up and down your spine.

He put your legs on his shoulders and went back to the spot inside of you that made you cry, this time sucking on your clit in tandem, fully encapturing it within his lips. Your mouth was now agape in a breathy scream as you clamp down on his fingers, moving your hips in time with him, riding waves of pleasure as he brings you closer to the edge. He lets out an appreciative groan as you say his name, the noises coming out of you so lewd and sinful that you hope the neighbors don't call someone for a wellness check.

Aizawa absentmindedly pressed himself against the floor, nearly frantic for some kind of touch while he watched you squirming beneath him, but it does little to quell the ache he has in his center. You tasted like sweet tarts and made these lustful gasps, and it drove him absolutely mad to know he was doing that to you, that these reactions were from his own touch.

"Say my name," he speaks this phrase into the throbbing bud at your apex, and you shiver, close to careening off of the edge he'd just brought you to.

"Shota.. fuck, keep going, please," you mewl, rolling your hips.

He nips at your inner thigh, velvet flesh pillowing between his teeth, and then drags the length of his tongue up your clit in one torturously long stroke.

"Louder. I want everyone to know who's about to make you cum," the steel in his gaze is sharp enough to slice you.

So you oblige him, moaning his name, chanting it like a mantra as he continues to lap at you once more. You can feel the pressure building, building, building until it finally spills over like a dam. He moans at the realization, feeling your pussy spasm under his tongue.

"Oh my god.. Oh fuck, Shota!" You cry out for him as you melt into his mouth.

He's breathless as he pulls himself away from you, mouth slick, still slipping his fingers in and out of you in an allowance to ride out the rest of your orgasm. He looks feral. Like he could tear into you. Destroy you.

He drags his cheek across your thigh.

"Good girl," he grunts, "good fucking girl,"

You look up at him with your mouth partially open, your eyes heavy with want, and with one fell swoop you sit up and pull down his sweatpants to reveal his throbbing cock, wet and dripping from the tip. You take the whole thing into your mouth, sucking, swirling your tongue, cranking your hand around his shaft like you're ready to milk the soul straight out of him. He gasps, moving his hips to pump into your mouth as you open wider, holding out your tongue so you can take in as much of his length as possible. He brought you closer until you were practically flush against him, all the while you were committing the look on his face to memory.

You can tell this is about to break him, so you tighten your grip in a pulsating pattern, moaning on his length to send vibrations through him. His movements are becoming erratic, fervent, and you cannot fucking wait to see him come apart at your doing. You run the flat of your tongue across a particularly sensitive spot along his shaft, your arousal building once more when you see the way he pinches his brows together, how he ruts into your mouth like some inexperienced virgin. You just feel too fucking good.

Suddenly, he pulls himself from your mouth with a vulgar pop, and you're gasping for sweet breaths of air after some of the sloppiest head you've given in your life.

"I knew you'd be good at that," Aizawa chokes out, his dick bobbing in front of you, "but we're not done yet,"

He lightly pushed you back onto the ground and placed your ankles up onto his shoulders, putting his tip right up against your entrance. His muscles twitched in anticipation and you reveled in his godlike form.

"Is this okay?" He asked you, gently.

You laughed a bit at the question.

With all the heat and want you can channel, you look up at him from your place on the floor and rasp "ruin me, Shota,"

He gives you a wicked smile, one you've never seen him wear before, and pushes himself inside of your aching pussy, holding onto your leg for leverage. You can feel yourself stretching to accommodate him, a bit unprepared for his full girth inside of you. It doesn't take long for you to start moving along with him though, and he begins to thrust harder, pounding into you like his life depended on it.

Biting your lower lip, you throw your head back, attempting to keep from screaming as he delves into you. He removes his hand from your leg to grab your jaw, and locking eyes says, "Eyes on me. I want to see the fucking look on your face when I make you cum,"

This coaxes a moan from you, and he gives a gutteral response to his cock being squeezed.

"Good girl. You're taking me so well. God, you're so tight, fuck," his voice is husky and deep.

Your cunt hugs him tighter with every word.

He needed more.

Aizawa takes his free hand and starts to rub your clit in circles, still sensitive from your previous orgasm, and you can feel that knot in your stomach forming again. You're about to come undone already, and he can feel you clamping around him like a vice.

"Fuck that feels so good," your voice is heady and needful.

His pacing became erratic once more and his ministrations on your clit became almost desperate. He was barely holding on, whimpering, sweat dotting his brow.

"I knew you were fucking teasing me. Coming out in those tiny shorts. Know what I shoulda done? Should've fucked you right there on the couch. Should've bred your tight little cunt," he leans down to fill some of the gap between you, a few tendrils of his raven hair falling to cling to his face.

He pistons into you harder, "Swear to god, I'm gonna fuck every single thought out of that pretty little head. Wanna tease me like that? Take your fucking punishment. I.. f-fuck!" He feels you come unraveled all over his cock as you ride him from there on the floor, making sounds that hitch in your throat like ragged bleats. He made note of your blissed-out expression and then let out a sharp gasp, your walls almost too snug for him to handle.

You whined in a small voice, still finishing, your gaze not breaking when you tell him, "make a mess in me,"

That's all it took for him to lose it, giving into his pleasure and allowing himself to fill you up with what felt like gallons of cum, letting out strangled moans as his entire body throbs.

Panting, he pulls out of you, watching as his release leaks from between your legs. He wasn't usually interested in sex at all after getting off, but seeing you like this, glowing with sweat and hormones, covered in him. It made him weak. He pulls apart your cunt with his thumbs, watches your glistening sex twitch, cum dripping. He's going to remember this if he ever needs to get off in two seconds flat.

The two of you lay in the floor together, floating, riding the high in a breathless haze.

"Be my girlfriend, y/n," Aizawa was the first to speak.

You were taken aback.

"What?"

You never thought him to be the type to be alright with labels.

"I like you. Not just in the way that I want to have sex with you. I want to make love to you. And I want you to be my girlfriend. Will you be with me?"

You ran your fingers across his jawline as a warm smile spread across your face.

"I'll be your girlfriend. But there are stipulations,"

"Anything. Whatever you want, it's yours," Aizawa hopes that his longing isn't too obvious, that he isn't too eager, but another part of him doesn't even care anymore.

"You have to be my boyfriend," your words are like a breeze through a windchime.

His eye takes purchase in your face as he leans into you, the kiss he offers you this time languid, lazy, loving instead of a mess of teeth and lips.

I love you, he thought, pulling away enough that your foreheads touch. God, how I love you. Just allow me to worship at the altar of your body once more.

Before you can stop yourself, and as if you can read his mind, you speak to him in a voice that's almost a whisper, "I think I love you,"

He looks dumbfounded, awestruck.

He finds his voice enough to say, simply, "I love you," followed by a kiss pressed to your nose.

The day that follows is soft and halcyon. You bask in one another like the afterglow is your lifeline, here in your own private world, all stardust and warmth. You don't know what the future holds. You stopped living in a world of 'what ifs' a long time ago. But you know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, you'll be there with him.

And he'll be there with you.

Like he always is.

#fanfic #fanfiction #mha #boku no hero academia #aizawa shouta #aizawa x reader #fem reader #smut #smut writing #mha smut #aizawa smut #goth reader #fluff #romance #mutual pining

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vlrspace · 2 years ago

Text

territorial, midoriya x reader

cw: nsfw themes, MNDI!!!, swearing

wc: 3.4K

part one, part two

at last, territorial. everyone learned not to trigger that side of him, ever again.

the hot summer nights are coming to an end, meaning you’re halfway through the school year. by now, everyone can feel the fast approaching graduation season and how else would it be best way to celebrate, before all you can think about is studying and training, if not with a party?

everyone agreed that it’d be a good way to blow of some steam before the big hurray. mina, kaminari and sero took it upon themselves to ask for permission from aizawa, but iida and momo went along as well to reassure your sensei that there will be nothing illegal involved. besides, your class doesn’t need alcohol or drugs to make the party better, not when you all know how to keep the good mood.

the party is set to happen on the last weekend of august, the invitations had been sent out two weeks before, all is left during the day is to decorate the common rooms and the garden and prepare snacks with drinks.

and when the day comes, you all are rather nervous but filled with excitement and joy.

“i will burn your hair off sweets if you don’t stop moving” you gently tell momo, who’s feeling quite anxious, wanting everything to work out well tonight. you’re on hair duty for the girls and you’re about to finish with curling momo’s hair but the usually calm and collected girl is rather bouncy today.

“i’m sorry (y/n)! i’m just very nervous about tonight, i want everyone to enjoy themselves” she beams at you apologetically from the mirror and you squeeze her shoulder.

“you, mina, eiji, denki, hanta and tenya put all of your efforts into making today happen and as far as i’m aware, it’ll be a blast! don’t worry your pretty head about anything, we will have one of the best nights ever” you reassure her with a warm smile before letting go of her and curl the last bits of her hair. “done! you look stunning” you exclaim, spraying her hair for it to stay in place during the night and momo excitedly hugs you.

“thank you so much! would you like me to help you with your hair?” she asks politely and you shake your head lightly, telling her that your hair won’t take long to get done. momo thanks you one more time before exiting your room and you lay down on your bed for a few minutes.

reaching for your phone, you check the time and you thank god that you still have an hour left to get yourself ready. though your peace is broken when you hear mina yelling your name from the hallway and you begrudgingly stand up to open your door for her. she comes in with her huge make up bag and sets it down on your table.

“i got the perfect idea for tonight that goes just right with your dress” she winks and starts pulling out different brushes, powders, etc. you sit down in your chair with a smile and you let her take over your face.

by the time the clock strikes 8pm, you’re standing in front of your mirror, smoothing out the creases on your dress, feeling confident in yourself and the knock on your door slightly startles you, not expecting anyone. midoriya stands with his fingers fiddling with each other, feelings his face heat up when he sees you. he’s absolutely mesmerised by the way you look, the green dress you’re wearing hugs your curves just right and shows of your legs nicely.

“wow” is all he says and you let out a giggle. he’s matching you with his green dress shirt that looks a little tight around his muscles and the black jeans do no justice for his legs. however, your brows furrow when you see his shoes.

“where are your shoes?” you blurt out and he laughs. you look back at him and he’s warmly smiling down at you.

“i thought it’d be nice if we matched” he explains as you let him in your dorm. you closed the door after him and he sat down on your bed, while you pulled out your white converse, the same one he’s wearing in men. “i swear i didn’t know what exactly you’d be wearing just the colours!” he frantically explains with his hands wailing and you laugh at his antics.

“it’s okay izu, i think it’s awesome that we are matching” you smile and stand in front of him. “do you uh, do you at least like what i’m wearing?” you ask nervously and one of his hand trails up along your thigh to your waist while the other one holds your hand.

“i think you look beautiful” his tone is gentle, green hues are clear as day and swims in love and adoration, only for you. you bite your lips when he pulls you a little closer by your waist, turns you slightly, before pressing you down to sit on one of his thighs. “we don’t want your pretty dress to be all wrinkly, baby” he murmurs, hands holding you tightly and he presses a kiss to your lips, then two, then three.

“we should go” you stop him before he could give a fourth one and untangle yourself from his hands to put your shoes on.

“let me tie them for you” he quickly says and you sit down on your bed while he kneels down and ties your laces, not too tight but secure enough to not fall off your feet.

“thank you izuku” you press a kiss on his cheek, the two of you are ready to join the party and you ask him in the elevator to pocket your phone.

different voices fill the common rooms when you exit the elevator, many people are scattered around and enjoy the snacks that’s been prepped, while others are holding a drink. you’re sure the garden looks almost identical, though you don’t have a chance to see it for yourself because camie jumps at you out of nowhere and embraces you tightly. you smile apologetically at midoriya who only sends grin your way as inasa and many others crowd around him.

an hour later, you had your own circle of people to talk with, such as nejire, kendo and momo. your conversation never stayed on one topic, which made it so much better because no one felt left out. midoriya wandered out with a bunch of boys to the garden, where they had more space for everyone.

later on a dance off broke out and the four of you curiously joined everyone outside. there were two groups named A and B but it was mixed with people from both classes and people from outside of ua. camie decided to join in as well, leaving you with momo and kendo who were fine with standing a little away from the sidelines so none of you get squished. to your surprise, sero got iida and todoroki to join as well and it was one of the best things you’ve ever seen.

afterwards, calmer songs were played and many couples filled up the dance floor after the dance off. you couldn’t find midoriya wherever you looked so you decided to head to the common rooms, since your phone was with him.

you were just inside, fetching some apple juice when you felt someone lingering behind you. shindo was someone you never really felt comfortable around, his whole fake being nice act to find any weaknesses in other people just made him more unsettling.

“(l/n), haven’t seen you in a while” there it is, his sickly sweet voice, filled with honey which makes most people stick to him right away like flies. “how have you been?” you turn towards him, forcing a small smile on your face before answering.

“good, yeah, very good” you say, not letting yourself stammer because you know he’d pick up on your nervousness around him right away. “you?” you ask, sipping from your cup to soothe your nerves.

“better than ever. i’m preparing to be a sidekick at best jeanist’s agency” he says and walks beside you to pour some soda into his cup. “i could make that happen for you too, if you want” he sends a wink your way and you try your best not to grimace and hum instead.

“‘m not too sure where i want to go yet” you shrug and turn to look for a snack and to your annoyance he follows after you. “there are many options, you know” you explain, hoping he’ll drop the subject and you altogether.

“for you, it’s just one word and i’d make anything happen” he’s suddenly behind you, grabbing your wrist and you freeze up at his touch.

“let go of me” you hiss, trying to free yourself from his grasp, but it only gets tighter.

“midoriya doesn’t even know how great of a treasure you are, i could take better care of you” shindo continues and you give him a sceptic look.

“oh really? i doubt a boy like you could do anything without playing dirty” you spit and he yanks you towards him, making your wince.

“you bitch-“

“i think that was enough” a third voice cuts in, deep and filled with anger.

three things happen at once, you’re swiftly pushed out of the way by midoriya, before you hear the table set up for snacks crash against the floor and midoriya is on top of shindo, beating him up.

at the loud noise, everyone is alarmed and rush in, you’re suddenly moved behind kaminari’s back, kirishima, bakugou, todoroki and iida are trying to break up the fight, but it turns out rather hard because shindo doesn’t go down without throwing a few punches. yet, your boyfriend is proven to be stronger, staying on top, growling at him.

“she’s fucking mine, you asshole” and lands another punch straight into his nose. after a while, shindo doesn’t have the chance to say anything because midoriya became increasingly stronger, faint green lightings surrounding him. bakugou finally gets a good grip of him and flips him off of shindo, kirishima gaining a grip on your boyfriend drags him away along with bakugou towards the elevator.

“what on earth happened?” iida is the first one to speak, demanding an explanation from you, but you just stand behind kaminari, eyes wide and still in shock.

“tenya i think that can wait for later” kaminari cuts in, turning around to face you, before pulling you to his chest and your tears run wide with your sniffles. “there, there. it’s okay, you’re okay” he soothes you and his hazel eyes find uraraka’s, motioning for her to follow the three up the elevator to see what’s going on, which to she silently nodded and scurried away.

shindo’s been taken away towards the bathrooms to clean him up since he got pretty messed up before his friends took him home. you were sitting on one of the sofas during that time, looking out on the window, while the girls tried to comfort you.

your mind kept replaying what just happened, the way midoriya moved you out of the way before he jumped at shindo. the way he protected you and stood up for you, almost using his whole quirk on the brown haired boy, it felt somewhat scary to watch your ever so sweet boyfriend get so angry. you weren’t scared of him, but you weren’t sure how to feel right now, too shaken up by shindo’s antics towards you as well to think clear.

yet, at the end of your thought process, you could only find yourself to blame. you should’ve been stronger and stand up against shindo without causing any harm and now midoriya will probably get into trouble because of you and you just stood there watching while he got hurt.

“this is all my fault” you sob into your hands and curl up against the cushions, wanting to hide away from the world. at your words, the girls around you started to coo and reassure you that you shouldn’t blame yourself at all for what happened.

kirishima was the first one to come up to you since they disappeared with your boyfriend, a faint smile grazing over his face. “he just wants to see you. he’s very mad at himself right now for acting like that” his voice is warm, hoping to soothe you and you stand up from the couch with a nod and follow him.

when you arrive to midoriya’s room, he sits on his bed, face buried in his palms as his shoulders shake with his cries. uraraka sits next to him, rubbing his back, while telling him that he isn’t a bad person and that you still want to be with him after all that. bakugou just stands across from him with a first aid kit, long gave up on tending to midoriya’s wounds.

“izu?” your voice is small, but you catch his attention right away, looking at you with eyes wide, red and teary, while his nose is bloody and so are his lips. midoriya stands up abruptly, hesitantly walking closer to you and the other two leave the room, closing it behind them. “oh my god, it’s all my fault that you’re hurt” your own tears are falling down on your cheeks and you’re wiping nose with the back of your hand.

“no, no princess, it isn’t your fault. don’t say that.” he’s voice is broken, raspy and deep. he steps in front of you and reaches towards your cheek with one hand to wipe your tears. “no one is allowed to treat you like that and get away with it, not on my watch” midoriya grumbled and you cup his face with both hands, thumbs caressing the skin.

“thank you for jumping in and protecting me” you whisper as you stand on your tiptoes to press a feather light kiss on his lips, not wanting to make it hurt any further.

midoriya on the other hand has other ideas and wrapped both arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him, deepening the kiss. you felt him lick at your lower lip and you let him in, tasting his blood, while he walked you backwards to make you stand between him and his door. you pull him towards you for more after a short break and he picks you up to pin you against the hard surface, his hands slide along the underside of your thighs before slipping underneath your dress, squeezing your butt and a moan erupted you.

“you’re so good baby, so good and all mine” he murmurs along your jaw and neck, pressing kisses on the skin between words and the straps of your dress are hanging down, while the end is rolled up around your hips. your fingers find the buttons of his shirt, taking it off of him and after all comes undone, he throws it on his floor. your fingers run through his muscles and they tense underneath your touch.

you feel him suck on different spots of skin on your neck and you bury your fingers in his green curls, bringing his head closer to you, while his hands remain your butt, his semi hardened member presses against you through his jeans and you can’t stop the moans leaving your hips.

suddenly, he moves you to his bed, laying you on your back and he unbuttoned his jeans, slightly pulling them down. you bite your lips from the sight and he lets out a short chuckle. your eyes move to stare up at midoriya, who’s eyes are darker, filled with lust and adoration. he sneaks a hand up the underside of your boob, squeezing it slightly and a sigh leaves your lips.

midoriya takes in the way you look below him, how your breathing is heavy, your eyes are teary from minutes before, lips plump and reddish, your hair is a mess underneath you. the skin on your neck is littered with two darkening spots and there are two more on your collarbone. you reach for him to give another kiss and he knows that if the two of you don’t stop stop soon, he won’t be able to control himself. not when, you’re laid down under him with your dress rolled up to your hips, thighs bare and look up at him longingly.

his hips moved without thinking, gently humping against you, thin layers of clothing acting as walls between the two of you and midoriya starts to feel his mind growing foggy as more seconds passed by. your lips clashed against each other with more and more passion and you forgot why the two of you were in midoriya’s room in the first place.

“you’re mine baby, please tell me you’re mine” he pleaded, getting closer towards his white bliss and it felt like yours was approaching soon as well, with one of his hand kneading your boobs through your dress and the open mouthed kisses he left all around your neck and collarbone.

“yours, yours” you babbled before you feel a knot come undone in your belly and something wet coats your panties, you came with a moan of his name. midoriya seeing this followed you a few seconds later as you felt him twitch as came with a groan, hiding his face in your neck.

while trying to even your breaths, you brushed through his green curls softly and a few seconds later, he pushed himself off of you with a tender smile and looked at you with so much adoration, you felt yourself tearing up. midoriya stroked your face before getting up and opening his wardrobe, grabbing clothes for both you and himself.

“you can take the toilet, i’ll change out here” he gives you a set of clothes to change into and you thank him with a grin before you close the door behind you.

it takes you a few minutes to process what just happened, because in your opinion this is a wide step in your relationship with midoriya. you’re thankful he gave you one of his boxers, so you can take of your panties that stuck to you as you took it off and you nearly folded it into your dress after you changed into a set of joggers and hoodie that were too big on you, though it didn’t matter.

you ask if you can come out when you’re done and when he answers with a yes, you exit his toilet. midoriya is sitting on his bed, only wearing a pair of joggers as he wraps up his knuckles, that you haven’t seen the bruises on yet. “do you need help?” your tone is tender as you sit down next to him but he only shakes his head with a smile, finishing up then turning towards you with a baby wipe.

“you got some of my blood on you” he stammers out, feeling embarrassed about it and you tilt your head with a grin, letting him wipe it off. “there” he says quietly and you take a look at him. there’s dried blood on his top lip and nose and a growing bruise under his left eye.

“can i have some?” you motion towards the wipes and he passes it to you, then you begin to clean his face. “i don’t think it’s necessary to wrap these up izu, makes you look like a badass anyways” you giggle and midoriya joins you as you’re done. “we should go downstairs, so the others don’t worry too much” you add, to which midoriya only nods and pulls a white shirt on.

hand in hand, you two exit his room and join the others downstairs who are running up to the two of you, checking if everything’s okay.

“i think we can all note to ourselves to never make izuku mad and jealous. shindo looked wrecked” sero grimaces at the end, remembering how the brown haired male looked, many around him agreeing with the tape hero.

“girl, you really gotta stop collecting those mosquito bites, we will run out of make up” mina giggles and put your hood up, pulling at the strings before disappearing behind your boyfriends back, making everyone laugh.

“it’s okay mina, i’ll fund her make up spendings as long as everyone backs off of what’s mine” midoriya replies with a smirk and you’re glad that your face is barely showing because it feels hot.

an: the end :))

#bnha x reader #midoriya x reader #izuku x reader #deku x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #midoriya izuku x you #izuku x y/n #izuku midoriya x reader

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masterfuldoodler · 1 year ago

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Shouta swallowed. He had come this far easily, driving the conversation by the central points of his convictions. But he did not immediately know how to respond to this.

"And I know I'm in the way!" Midoriya blurted, "I know I'm not doing any good. I think maybe you should just arrest me, because if I'm locked away I can keep caring and keep trying to do things and I just won't be able to get anywhere. I can be safe and quiet like everyone wants. My Mom would be happier even—she loves me so much—she wouldn't be happy if I got all sad and dried out inside. I could send her letters probably, and—"

Illustration for @granny-griffin's fic rice water, vigilante Izuku and dadzawa fun. This scene is so good hhhh y'all should read it!

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sepptember · 6 months ago

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and yet you didn't even include your message before that ......

um… okay @sepptember

#august reblogs.#aizawa is so FINEE HRGHHHH #i want him your honor

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plusultraetc · 2 months ago

Note

I'm gonna NEED you to go on that rant about Shinsou's epilogue look. I'm gonna need that right this minute. (When you get a minute.)

THANK YOU BECAUSE TBH I ALSO NEEDED TO GO ON THIS RANT. It's been percolating for days at this point. I apologize if this is a little (okay a lot) chaotic and disorganized, but I worry that if I nitpick it too much I'll never post it. Hard side-eye @ my inbox, etc.

I should start by saying: I really love Shinsou's epilogue look. Like, enough that I'm already making plans for a second, post-canon shinsou hitoshi expansion pack (current name ideas include: shinsou hitoshi expansion pack ii, 2 shinsou hitoshi 2 expansion pack, and shinsou hitoshi dlc). I love the long hair (he does look darling!! I personally always imaged his older self with shorter hair, but after the first image of him as a pro came out back in August I was sold); his eyebags + eyebrows remain immediately recognizable; and tbh I didn't even realize that he might indeed be wearing some kind of eye mask in that group panel but if he is I love that so much. I know that opinion isn't universal, and that's totally okay!! This is just an emo little ramble about why I personally enjoy a lot of the character design choices made for Pro Hero Nighthide.

Side note: I still can't believe we know his hero name. It was one of the only (realistic) things on my second epilogue wishlist, but honestly I was 50/50 on whether or not we would ever have it confirmed. And yet!! Not only do we know his hero name, but much like @greenhappyseed said in her post, 'Nighthide' reminds me very much of 'Nightwing,' who happens to be my Favorite Superhero Of All Time. So like. That item got two checkmarks on the wishlist. I'm obsessed.

OKAY NOW LET'S TALK ABOUT THE LOOK ITSELF.

The thing is, it should be gimmicky, shouldn't it? Not only does Shinsou have the same support item as Aizawa, and use the same combat style, and have a similar costume, but the hair? At this point, it feels like the story is leaning hard on The Dadzawa Of It All for a near-comedic effect. And it can be comedic! And also adorable! But it can also reinforce not only a recurring theme throughout MHA, but also Shinsou's own character arc at the same time.

There's a post--or possibly tags of a post--buried somewhere on this blog about how Shinsou's original hero costume is a really interesting combination of elements from both Aizawa's and Midoriya's suits. I've seen & loved posts about how his costume is, like, the perfect 'child of erasermic' costume, but as much as I love a good Mentor Mic moment, he and Shinsou don't really interact in canon. Aizawa and Midoriya are the characters who canonically have had the greatest influence on Shinsou's journey to the Hero Course and beyond. The similarities between his original costume and theirs is in keeping with the MHA tradition of creating a visual link between characters who inspire and characters who are inspired by them--Shirakumo and Aizawa, All Might and Midoriya, and Crimson Riot and Kirishima are just a few examples. That being said, having Shinsou's final hero design lean even harder into the visual similarities with Aizawa just makes sense. It continues the inspiration/homage trend, but it also serves as a reminder of Shinsou's series arc.

A few days ago, I saw some posts on another platform that essentially said that Shinsou's original purpose as a character--to draw attention to and subvert expectations surrounding so-called 'villainous' quirks--had been watered down while he himself was reduced to a mini-Aizawa. And I totally get where op was coming from--there were a lot of potential directions MHA could have taken Shinsou's character, and all of them could have been really interesting, but they all would also have required Shinsou to not be a side character, especially in a show with, like. More side characters than episodes. If we wanted to really delve into quirk discrimination via brainwashing, for example, Shinsou would have needed way more focus that he was just never going to get. THAT BEING SAID, I don't think this means his original purpose was forgotten, or that his taking after Aizawa watered his character down in any way. In fact, I would argue that the exact opposite is true.

Because here's the thing about Shinsou's infamous-to-me, largely-off-screen character arc: it's over in season 5. Obviously, Shinsou continues to be an impactful, important part of the story after the Joint Training Arc, but if you want to get technical about it, Shinsou achieves his aforementioned purpose/goal in as much depth as it will ever be afforded in season 5 when he is accepted into the Hero Course and set to transfer at the start of his second year. Shinsou's motivation is to prove that he can be a hero with a 'villainous' quirk; the concrete way for him to get there is to transfer into the Hero Course, graduate from UA, and become a pro. And in that arc, he takes that first, most important step, from which it is safe to assume that he will continue down the path to success. If we had never seen him again after the training exercise with 1-B aside from the occasional panel to remind us that he's still out there somewhere, waiting to transfer, it would have been both a huge bummer and a waste of his character and quirk, but he still would have had a complete arc. His purpose was never forgotten. It was just fulfilled.

AND YET X2. Shinsou sticks around, big yay, etc. He shows up again with a cool new costume, and then he shows up again again with a new haircut and a cool name post-timeskip. And yes, it's all very Aizawa-inspired, but that's because following in Aizawa's footsteps is exactly how Shinsou achieved his goal!! He wasn't turned into a mini-Aizawa for no reason, or for The Dadzawa Of It All--he was turned into a mini-Aizawa deliberately because that's how he becomes a hero. Shinsou has to approach his goals differently than his peers (see: the Hero Course entrance exam, which they passed & he failed) because his quirk is both viewed differently from theirs and must be used differently, much like Aizawa's. So those visual links hit twice as hard, because not only is Shinsou inspired by Aizawa, but he is quite literally and necessarily following the path Aizawa forged. (The capture cloth is actually a very literal manifestation of this--it took Aizawa five years to master, but he tells Shinsou that it will take him less time because he has someone to teach him. It's the same for every aspect of his hero career--including the social aspect. @bfire92 made a really sweet post about this as well, and I have Many Thoughts and Like Four Drafts about it, but that's a different rant lol)

TL;DR Shinsou looks a lot like a mini-Aizawa, but imo it's a natural continuation of both his character arc and MHA's thematic and visual trends. Also, he just looks cute. That's my son & I'm very proud.

#TYSM FOR ASKING #HAVE A THOUSAND WORDS OF OVERTHOUGHT SHINSOU WORD SALAD #I AM SO PROUD OF THAT KID #shinsou hitoshi #liza blather #ask #final volume spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha spoilers #manga spoilers

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happyk44 · 2 years ago

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Man, one of those AUs where the HPSC demands that Pro Heroes (or certain pros) have kids to ensure that they pass on their powerful quirks. Most pros do end up having families but there's Pros like Bakugou who have zero interest in any of that because their career is their focus

So by the time Bakugou is in his 30s and in the top three, constantly alternating with Deku and Todoroki (and Momo a couple times), the commission is getting on his ass about having kids.

If he won't settle down, fine, they'll hook him up with someone to fuck and he doesn't have to be involved at all.

Bakugou despises the thought of being a deadbeat. Or having a kid out there he doesn't know. He'd fucking bite the chord and ask one of his friends. But they're spread out all over the country with their own lives and families, either current or planned and he has no interest intruding in their lives to save his own ass.

The Commission gives him a year. He tries to date. It's hard. He's always been bad at it.

Emotions and shit are difficult. Hooking up at a bar is easier, fucking someone and leaving in the morning, but he's not gonna thrust a random pregnancy onto some drunk fling.

So he's coming up on a year with no luck and a headfast refusal to ask his friends for help, drowning his sorrows in whiskey and trying to consider what it would be like to be a single dad.

Or co-parent with a potential stranger.

If the commission will even let him keep the kid. They might have the surrogate pop out the kid and hide it away in some secret facility somewhere.

Ugh.

"Don't you have an early patrol tomorrow?"

Bakugou snorts into his glass and leans back to eye Aizawa who slides into the booth easy. It's a secret little speakeasy Aizawa introduced him to years ago. Well, introduced Shinsou to, who dragged Bakugou along one night after a nasty mission together. It's quiet, populated but not crowded. The alcohol is good and no one ever stops by for an autograph.

"The Commission wants me to have a kid." He locks his head back and stares at the ceiling. "They're threatening my license if I don't agree. Gave me a fucking year to find someone but if not-"

He growls under his breath and chugs the rest of his drink. When he signals the bartender for another, Aizawa rolls his eyes and snags the drink before it can get to him.

"Drinking is not the way to solve this."

Bakugou glares at him. "Says you. you've never had to fucking deal with this shit. A bunch of uppity assholes wanting to milk your dick for future profits." He scowls then laughs under his breath. "Well, not your dick."

Aizawa levels him with an unamused look. "I would certainly need to have one first, wouldn't I?"

"How'd you even get past it anyway?"

"Who says I did?" This time Bakugou gives the unamused look. Aizawa shrugs. "My Quirk has never been the flashiest thing. And I helped with the development of quirk canceling restraints. And agreed to teach the new generation of heroes-"

"And expelled half of them," Bakugou mutters into his empty glass.

Aizawa ignores him. "Anyway, not everyone gets targeted. There are metrics behind who they do and don't pick. Most heroes hit by those metrics have long since started family planning by the time they're your age. So there's not much to push on. Unless they're you."

Bakugou swears at him half-heartedly and then sinks into his chair. After a moment, he asks, voice croaky and nervous, "Do you think they'd let me keep it? The kid?"

Aizawa's eyes are dark and quiet. Bakugou wants to curl inside himself and cry. The silence is deafening, hanging heavy.

"I don't know," Aizawa says eventually. The words crowd against Bakugou's thoughts and drown him.

He'd never really wanted kids before but.

If they were his, he would do everything he could to take care of them. He's hit number one enough times to feel comfortable pulling back a little if he had to. His parents would certainly be happy to help.

He could do it.

If they let him.

But Aizawa's gaze is painfully neutral and he knows they won't. They'll take his sperm, throw it in a dish or stick it in some rando and that'll be it. His hands shook of the responsibility.

He wants to scream. This isn't fair! Why couldn't he just wait until he retires and adopt some scrawny argumentative twig from foster care or something? Experience a Disney movie moment or some shit.

Why did it have to come from him and why now?

"You could impregnate me," Aizawa says and Bakugou chokes on his own spit.

"What?"

Aizawa's face remains passive when he speaks again and Bakugou wonders if this is a dream. If he passed out drinking whiskey and is now slumped on a seat, dreaming about his teacher offering to fuck him.

"I never got rid of my ovaries," he says. "Estrogen is good for bone health. And there are quirks out there that can replicate a temporary uterus for the extent of a pregnancy if need be. Besides." He shrugs. "Eri has wanted a sibling for a long time now."

"How do you- what-"

Aizawa sips at the drink he stole from Bakugou. "My doctors like to keep me up to date on all the latest in reproduction technology and quirks."

"Why?"

"Did you think my adopting a six year old meant I wasn't interested in having a family?"

Well, he had him there. Bakugou leans back. He feels more sober than he's been in hours. "Okay. So how would it work?"

"Coparenting obviously. We'd work up custody arrangements and-"

"No! I know about that shit, obviously, but-" He licks his lips. "How would you want to… do it? Surrogacy? What?"

Aizawa pauses. Then, "You should fuck me."

Bakugou is not drunk enough for this conversation. He holds himself back from screaming and breathes slowly through his nose. "Explain your stance."

Grinning wryly over the rim of his glass, Aizawa teases with a gentle, "Remembering your anger management classes, I see."

"Just shut up and explain your reasoning. I mean. You're already missing the equipment so why would you-" He crosses his arms and finishes with a little huff.

"I'm missing the "equipment" as you put it because I had to do a lot of sketchy shit working underground and didn't want to come out of it pregnant at 23," Aizawa replies dryly. "That doesn't mean I've never wanted to get pregnant."

Bakugou sucks his teeth.

"Besides, we'll both have better luck with keeping our child if I actually carry it. Knowing the Commission they already have someone they think is perfect for you lined up and they likely won't accept a surrogacy option if it means they can get their ideal Quirk mix." Aizawa leans across the table. "So are you interested in my offer or not?"

Bakugou shoves an angry hand through his hair. "Yeah, yeah. I'm interested. Fuck." He sighs and tries to calm down. "How long will it take you to get your shit together? I have another two months before I'm jacking off into a cup."

Snorting, Aizawa scratches the back of his neck. The motion nudges the loose bun he'd done up until it's partially spilling over his shoulders. "Mmm, I could probably get my doctor to help me out by end of next week."

It's too fast and somehow not fast enough. Bakugou is teetering off the edge of a pounding heart and not sure if any of this is real. But nonetheless he pulls out some bills and slides out of the booth with a, "Call me when it's set." He slaps the money down on the table. "I'll see you then."

The rest of Aizawa's hair cascades down over his shoulders. It looks soft. Smooth. Bakugou is almost tempted to run his hands through it but refrains.

Aizawa smiles, easy, and says, "I'll see you then."

#dated august 17th 2022 #from the twitter archives #aibaku #my writing #my fanfic #aizawa shouta #bakugou katsuki #happy talks mha #i should get back on this one at some point

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uhzuku · 1 year ago

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Day 1 of asking for more catzawa content

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔. | 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮-𝐧𝐲𝐚.

𝐂𝐖 ‼️ | hybrids, hybrid au, no quirks, biting, some angst, biting as a fear response, cat hybrid aizawa, blood, slight gore, self loathing, catzawa being emo.

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: as someone who’s been attacked by a dog, i can guarantee this is actually exactly how it goes dhcbdhbchf that medical emergency i mentioned back in august was oiterally me being attacked by a dog and having my hand uh. annihalated a lil 💀💀.

Honestly, it was all a complete accident, really. One moment you’d been easing into joking with the hybrid you’d gotten three weeks before, and the next he was tearing into your hand and sending blood across the couch and floor.

It was, at most, your fault, and you knew that — you’d touched him before he was ready, and on his blind side as well, so you should have expected it. In your core ( and at the back of your mind ) you knew that it was a freak accident though. You’d nearly slipped off the couch due to your socks not having a grip on the hardwood floor of your living room, and in an effort to save yourself you’d grabbed his shoulder on his blind side — and the rest was a blur of snarling, blood, and the sound of your own screeching. He’d turned in an instant, burying his teeth in your hand and jerking his head violently enough that you could almost swear you’d heard your own flesh tear ( but wasn't that dramatic? surely you couldn’t actually hear such a thing ). You’d lost focus for a second, shrieking at the pain of the torn flesh as well as the stabbing cold air on parts of you it wasn’t supposed to touch, and your shrieks were seemingly what woke Shouta up — at least, it’s what you believed.

Really it was the taste of iron on his tongue. Your screams were nowhere near piercing enough to break through the way he’d blacked out from fear — there was always screaming, after all: in the shelter, in the fight ring his first owners had kept him in, in the two homes he’d had when he was young, and now here — but the taste of blood, your blood, was enough to jolt him out of the blackout, and that’s when your screams reached his ears. He had enough mind to unlock his jaw and stop jerking his head, spitting out your hand and leaping away as you stagger back away from him, your eyes as wide and panicked as his own.

“I — I — I-!” he whimpers, unable to get his words out. No, no, no, no, no! Shouta hisses in his mind, his eyes wide as he stares at the blood running down your hand. Drops were quickly puddling on the floor, building in size until you’d clearly lost an amount that was alarmingly substantial. Shouta wanted to help, but God, what was he supposed to do? This was his fault — fuck, he was going to go back to the shelter. You’d report the bite, he’d get a bite record and be labeled aggressive, and with how slim his chances were before with how old and mangled he was, he’d never be adopted again. He was going to go back, and he was going to die in that place.

“F-Fuck, that’s a lot,” you whisper breathlessly, shaking him out of his shock, and he starts to tremble at how hollow your eyes look. He sees you swallow hard, and he fights the urge to cower. “Fuck, okay. Okay. We’re gonna — stay here, okay? I need to go to the hospital, this is… this is not good.”

You stagger away from his crumpled up form and into the kitchen, not doing your usual check in that you did when he’d occasionally cower as you grab a hand towel to wrap around the gushing wound, and as the door closes behind you, he’s left in a silence permeated only by the scent of your blood. He trembles from his place pressed back into the corner by the entertainment center, but nothing happens, not yet anyway.

Shouta knew what was going to happen. You would be fixed up at the hospital, then return with hybrid control, who would take him back to the shelter in a muzzle that would cut his jaw up again. If you miraculously didn’t demand euthenasia he’d be written up with a bite record and placed in the very back room with a muzzle on at all times, clipped with a padlock all the way around his skull so he couldn’t remove it on his own. At best he’d be sold to another fight ring, at worst he’d die alone in the dark, and all the while he’d know it was his own fault. You were falling, not attacking. Why did he have to be so fucked up?

After another moment of silence Shouta flees to the bedroom you’d given him, worming his way beneath the bed and hiding. He knew he was too old for it, but his remaining eye stung with unshed tears and his body shook slightly from fearful trembling. He didn’t want the shelter, he liked it here — but he’d ruined everything.

It’s four hours before you return, and Shouta’s dozed off in his little hiding spot by then, but he wakes up immediately as the door opens. He can hear someone talking to you at the front of the house, but the strange voice disappears and the door closed immediately after, so he can only assume that it’s whichever neighbor you’d had drive you to the hospital — likely the old, tall, and skinny blond man who adored his garden that you were fond of, he seemed to have a soft spot for you.

A half hour passes. Shouta listens with ears twitching between being pinned back and pressing forward a little as you putter around, and then the safety breaks.

“Shouta? Where are you?” His one eye flashing with panic, Shouta pushes himself further back against the wall the bed was against; you couldn’t send him back if you couldn’t find him. “Shouta?”

He can hear you creeping closer to his room, and his heart pounds ruthlessly in his chest. You’re going to find him and hate him and send him back — God, he can’t go back, he’ll die-

“Are you in here?” you ask through the door, and he doesn’t reply. After a moment, you continue. “I’m assuming you are… Yagi and I brought dinner home on the way back, so if you’re hungry you can come get some.” Ha! Likely. Shouta plays with the claw on his left index finger with his ears pinned back nervously, and after another while you sigh. “You aren’t in trouble, Shouta. And I’m not mad at you, I promise.”

I wish I could believe you.

“I’ll be in the living room if you need me; I’m off work for the next month or so, so it’ll just be us here — I hope that won’t bother you too much.” Your voice is sad, Shouta notes, and his eye stings again in time with his bottom lip trembling a little. What was the real point of putting it all off? Once you were tired of this hide and seek game he’d started you’d just have hybrid control forcibly remove him — maybe it would be easier if he just… accepted it, and went out.

After all, he was hungry…

Swallowing hard, Shouta hauks himself out from the cramped spot under the bed, shaking the dust bunnies off, then carefully pads out, following the faint smell of takeout. He passes by the living room, and he can see you sitting on the couch, but you don’t acknowledge him as he passes by, and — oh.

The blood he’d spilled that had been cast all over the floor was cleaned.

A new surge of guilt fills him. You’d cleaned all traces of his mistake up — or maybe Yagi had? He wasn’t in here for long though… Regardless, he should have been the one to clean it, and he’d left it to you. No wonder he was being sent back to the shelter.

He really was a bad fucking cat hybrid.

He worms his way into the living room, half to eat with your silent permission and half to assess the damage to your arm — but upon entering, you’ve moved, and you’re staring him down. Unlike the last time, his freeze response triggers, and he stands there staring at you while his breathing grows heavier and heavier.

God. You look so tired.

“Are you okay?” you finally ask, breaking the silence, and it stuns him for a moment before he shakes his head to clear it.

“I — what?” he asks, voice slightly gravelly from disuse, and you take on a look of concern.

“Are you okay?” you repeat, your brows furrowing. Shouta shakes his head violently. He doesn’t understand.

“Why are you asking if I’m okay?! I ripped you up!” he snarls, tossing his plate onto the table next to him, and you nod for a moment as he calms himself down after the outburst.

Once he’s calm, you ask, “Did you start the day off intending to?” and it makes him freeze, his brain metaphorically stuttering.

“N-No, of course not—!”

“Then that doesn’t matter,” you say, shrugging. “What does matter is you being okay — I scared you when I grabbed you, and I hope I didn’t accidentally hurt your shoulder too,”

“… You… You didn’t…” Shouta whispers, borderline mystified that you somehow… aren’t angry with him.

You nod with a sigh through the tiniest of smiles as you cradle your bandaged arm in your lap. “That’s a relief.”

The two of you go silent for a moment, and Shouta’s mind races. Somehow you weren’t angry with him, even though he deserved it, and you’d still fed him and hadn’t yelled — but oh, maybe this was a fucked up way of giving him a last meal before he returned, and you’d never been one for raising your voice anyway…

“When will I be going back?” he finally asks, a thick sense of half-grief settling in his chest.

He’d miss it here.

You look confused. “Going back? Where?” you ask, and Shouta sighs; you were really going to make him say it out loud; how humiliating.

“The shelter,” he grits out, his tail tucked and food forgotten as he stares down at his feet.

“Why would you ever go back there?!” you exclaim, sitting up abruptly with a half hidden wince that he doesn’t miss.

“I — You don’t want me anymore?” He can’t help that it comes out as a question — Shouta’s so fucking confused. “I hurt you.”

You shake your head at him, seemingly in disbelief. “On accident! And it was my fault, you told me the day I got you that you don’t like being touched.”

“But I bit—“ he argues, and you interrupt.

“On accident. Right?” you ask firmly, and he nods hesitantly.

“… Yes,” he whispers, “but—“

“Then there was no problem,” You say gently, then tip your head ever so slightly away from him. “Now come watch TV with me — your favorite is on.”

He does nothing but stare at you for a moment, your warmth and gentleness alien to him. Shouta knew humans, he’d been around them since he’d been born, but you? You were so different than every other human he’d come across — you didn’t hit, you didn’t yell, you didn’t threaten. You fed and you clothed and you comforted — and Shouta truthfully did not know what to do with that. All his life he’d been treated like a fighting mutt and like a useless object to possess, and now suddenly he was worth something to a human who treated him well? How was he supposed to easily process this? None of these thoughts, however, stopped him from obediently ( albeit hesitantly ) stalking fully into the livingroom and nestling himself against the far arm of the couch to watch television with you.

If you weren’t going to be rid of him yet, he might as well enjoy the time he had left.

#shou_nya.♡#shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #bnha x reader #my hero academia x reader #mha x reader #tw hybrids

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scarletsky153 · 3 months ago

Text

(another) continuation for that another plot bunny,,

Part 1 | Part 2

a bit time-traveling fic of our favorite white hair menace, his three crazy first years students, and the reluctant SIkuna aka hawkuna who just want to rest and enjoy his fourth life without chaos

in which i cant stop thinking about the five menaces travelled forward in time to about a year after hawkuna died and got even more confused (and a bit uncomfortable) about sukuna's third life.

this happened after season 1, around late august/early september, so sukuna already spent two months in the past inside yuuji and being trusted Very Reluctantly by megumi and nobara. not yuuji, bcs that pink haired sunshine incarnated trusted SIkuna more, and not gojo, bcs two months are not enough to erase nearly three decades worth of mistrust and apprehension against the King of Curses.

some villain in the future probably has a time-related quirk and SOMEHOW got hold of hawkuna's old feather, and when he (and yuuji) got pulled into the future, the others around him also got pulled bcs they're all near him.

they arrived on a dim-lit old warehouse in a middle of a summoning-like circle, with the villain behind them and, surprise surprise, aizawa and shinsou in front of them. megumi quickly incapacitated the villain while hawkuna yelled at yuuji to switch with him quickly (and yuuji complied which unnerved gojo a bit).

sukuna somehow slide into becoming hawks so smoothly, too smoothly. maybe because he remember being hawks more vividly than being ueno keigo and even sukuna-the-sorcerer, even thought now he has reincarnated as sukuna again. maybe he somehow is more comfortable being human than being a curse.

(but alas, whatever he thought or felt, he is a curse and one day, these sorcerers will kill him for sure. for the survival of itadori yuuji, he will welcome that death. maybe there will be no fifth life for him, and isn't it great to finally rest?)

sukuna : "wait aizawa, shinsou! we're not villains!"

shinsou : "who the fuck are you?"

sukuna, ignoring shinsou bcs he knew his quirk : "aizawa, you still remember protocol TRT, right? this one is TRT situation 02B, you know how to proceed."

aizawa, who regret even leaving his bed this morning : "the fuck did you do, problem child? i thought those protocols are jokes."

sukuna : "one, bold of you to assume that i didn't joke about it, and two, I'M NOT A FUCKING CHILD and not your student either!"

shinsou : "wait, hpsc hidden protocols? they're real?"

sukuna, so done with everything : "yes they're fucking real so can one of you please tell me what year is it now?"

gojo and megumi, having a war flashback : "ugh here we go again."

aizawa : "about a year after your death."

sukuna : "wait aren't you around 50 now? what the fuck are you doing on the field, aizawa?"

shinsou : "he owe me and are you really going to ignore me?!"

aizawa : "it's fine, shinsou, that's definitely hawks. also, i'm not that old."

sukuna : "i know your tricks, shinsou, i help refine some of them. also five years ago you got drunk so bad and complained about your prosthetic, that's why i recommended you as UA's principal."

nobara, so done with everything : "do i have to kill someone to move this conversation to other, more sanitary place?!"

so while aizawa contact hpsc and shinsou took care of the villain, megumi slide closer to hawkuna/yuuji and ask about their power, because they remembered the conversations about curse energy and quirks. gojo, who with his six eyes also saw how curse energy behaved weirdly around the two heroes, as in they pooled behind aizawa's eyes and around shinsou's throat, also very interested with the answers.

sukuna, who knew the two heroes' quirks are public information to some extend : "aizawa can turn off someone's quirks with his eyes, shinsou can brainwash anyone who answer his question. the answers didn't need to be a complete sentence, a simple hum will do."

nobara : "shit, that's powerful as fuck."

soon a big suv arrived and they escort the four time traveler to hpsc side building for interrogation, which sukuna told them if they believe him to be hawks he did remember everything with the exception anything they change after his death, and then he berate the hpsc officer who he also knew about this loophole, and during his rant shinsou laugh because yeah, that's hawks alright.

shinsou : "ah, hawks-senpai, i miss you! life's too dull without you, no one can gang up on bakugou with me like you do."

gojo : "so we knew how hawks like in the past, can you show me hawks in the future like? heard he's some bigshot hero?"

one of the employee then proceed to talk their ears off about hawkuna's accomplishments as japan's top hero and hpsc president, with how he handle the war when he was still 23, how he climb to top 10 before 21, how he protect japan post-war with steadfastness befitting to those with decades more of experience (he did have decades of experience but its not like anyone knew), how even post-retirement he still do good as hpsc president, and even save hundreds of people during a nasty earthquake last year even thought it ended with his death. gojo listened to all of these with ease, masking his disbelief because sukuna, king of curses, a legitimate hero?! that's something, alright.

megumi and nobara also thought those are wild and inaccurate, but then shinsou show them a few videos about hawks saving people. it was very much a mesmerizing and magical sight, because a man, flying? with huge wings, like an angel? sukuna the calamity?

yuuji who saw everything from the inside lamenting about the fact that they didn't have wings now.

sukuna : "shit yeah i miss my wings."

aizawa : "so, you want to tell me about your story and how you came back to life?"

sukuna : "later, i'll wait until everyone arrive. who else did you invite?"

shinsou : "tokoyami obviously, bakugou -because he's the current number one, midoriya -because he's one of the smartest little shit and definitely knew how to handle time travel, todoroki -because you definitely should inform dabi too, miruko -because she will kill me if i dont, hakamata-san and kugo-san because they're basically your parents."

sukuna : "NO THEY FUCKING NOT?! also, how's dabi?"

shinsou : "smooth, man. your husband is alright, still alive and well in prison."

gojo : "you have a husband... AND IN PRISON?!"

yuuji, inside sukuna : "you never tell me?!"

sukuna : "shut up, he's not my husband. and yes, he's a former villain."

nobara then pestered shinsou with more information, while gojo look around the city while contemplating about sukuna being in love with another person. they're in the future, alright, and sukuna didnt lie when he said that in the future curse energy evolve and change humanity. the next few people that came to see hawkuna (and isnt it wild to think that sukuna, the fucking calamity, had friends and co-workers that care about him) are human but more often didnt look like one. hawks intern with a bird head and one of his 'parents' who looks like a fucking killer whale are to name a few.

gojo thought it was wild that hawkuna was short even thought his red wings are magnificent, and then thinking about the possibility of sukuna gained a new set of wings to go with his old body, the tall huge with four arms one. (and if he drooled a bit... well he's still a man and he got a type, ok?!)

when everyone has arrived, sukuna finally told them his story (but not that detailed). how his life as takami keigo aka hawks is not his first but his third, and how his second life as sukuna-the-sorcerer and sukuna the king of curses made him feel very guilty he resolve to save a lot of people after becoming a hero, how he did remember a lot as sukuna and his first life, how when he died he thought that's it but it seems like his life as sukuna hasn't finish yet. he woke up around june 2018 inside yuuji becase the boy they currently see is his vessel, and he foolishly ate one of his finger in which contain his power and soul. he ended his tale with how, one day in 2018, he walk around tokyo with these three and yanked into the future ("definitely not our fault!") and when they checked, the villain did has a time-related quirk and one of his old feather.

tokoyami : "so you became a hero... to atone?"

midoriya : "i think you have done more than enough, hawks-senpai."

sukuna, laughing hysterically : "you don't understand, brat. havent some of you heard about Sukuna? The Disgraced One, the God of Calamity? i was more of a monster than fucking All for One, brats, even thought my reign of terrors are only a few years rather than two centuries like him. how can you scale human lives that was lost during those years? i destroyed hundred thousands of humans, killed them without mercy and even guilt, and you think my atonement as hawks was enough?"

miruko : "yes, fuckface. i didn't know you a thousand years ago, but i knew you for more than two decades. you're a hardworking, caring hero who would rather shouldered all of japan's problems by yourself instead of asking for our helps because you don't want to 'shrink from your duty'. you will say it gruffly, but then you will ruffled your kohai's and employees hair and told them to take care of themselves first, like a fucking hypocrite."

shouto : "we're all there when you passionately defend my brother, a villain who had killed hundred of civilians. you told them about second changes, about how his descend into madness is also a responsibility of a lot of people and not only himself, how our parents, teachers, everyone around us, and society has failed my brother so badly he went mad, but he's not at the point of no return. he can still be helped, and he did get better after you made sure he got the chance to be better."

bakugou : "you must have your own fucking reason about those actions, dipshit, and i had read about heian period, those years are fucking sucks, right?"

hakamata : "you said it yourself, some villains are made, not born, because our society is not and never perfect. but that doesn't mean we can't help those who can and want to be helped, and rehab them into being a better person. you definitely the perfect example of that. instead of becoming one of the most dangerous villain, you became one of japan's best hero."

gojo and his students, who were quiet the whole time, keep thinking about it. if these people, who had been around sukuna for decades but still able to see the best of him, can he really become someone good? not the god of calamity and the king of curses? in a way, they got lucky because sukuna already went through his character development and becoming somewhat a good person, and even when he's currently a curses, he was a human for two and a half lifetime.

in the end, they found out the quirk will pushed them back to their original time in three days, so during those time the four sorcerers plus yuuji found out that sukuna can multitask and very much a busybody. everything he missed before he died he quickly put to rest, including some letters he want to send to his close friends. yuuji definitely became even more attach to sukuna when he saw all those letters.

a day before they need to come back, sukuna finally visit dabi. the four sorcerers have to follow him because the quirk didnt allow them to be far from each other, but the meeting between sukuna and dabi is as private as it can be.

from gojo's pov, it's definitely a heartbreaking scene. they can see them but can't hear their conversations. dabi scarily has his coloring, white hair and blue eyes, pale skin and tall as fuck. but dabi is full of scars, and there's a lot of emotions behind his blue eyes when they saw hawkuna. shouto definitely had told his brother about hawkuna's condition, so when they meet dabi isn't that shocked.

dabi : "that you, pretty bird?"

sukuna, sliding more into becoming hawks it feels scary : "hey, hot stuff, sorry i'm late."

dabi : "you never late, that's how i knew something was off when you didn't visit me after the earthquake."

they talk a bit, but mostly holding hands. yuuji saw the scene with a sad smile. megumi and nobara didn't want to think about whats going to happen next because it's heartbreaking, meeting your lover a year after their death but can only be with each other for a day. in the end, dabi told him off for dying and lectured him about his bad habits and to take care of himself and not to overwork, and sukuna can't help but kiss dabi for the last time.

sukuna : "i hope i could meet you again in the next life."

dabi : "ha, i hope not, because it means you didn't get your rest."

sukuna laugh while trying not to cry, which promptly yanked yuuji outside because he didn't want to cry in front of dabi. yuuji sheepishly introduced himself to dabi, and promised him he would take care of sukuna too like he did yuuji.

in the end, after they got back to the past, gojo ask sukuna whether he could change things now they're back in the past. sukuna didn't think so, the timelines are probably fixed for huge, catastrophic events like the existence of quirks. those things will happen, but the detail? the chain of events that leads to that change? those are lost from history, sukuna-when-he-was-hawks cant find any report about those events.

(sukuna hope the shibuya incident wont end the way it did in 'canon')

(gojo hope he can find out more about this sukuna, the sukuna that was very much different than in the jujutsu's recond. the sukuna that, in his past life, after remembering being sukuna, decided to atone and becoming a hero that was still being remembered and loved even a year after his death).

(gojo thought he will be the one who taught sukuna how to love, but it's more possible that sukuna will be the one who teach him how to live).

(feel free to use this long-ass post as inspiration or something!! i... probs gonna write them on ao3, like, maybe??? probably???? yeah,,)

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