#inkling!hizashi | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

arvandus · 4 years ago

Text

The Sound of Silence (18+ Aizawa x Fem!Reader)

Pairing: Aizawa x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: After once again being stood up for a date at your favorite jazz club, you decide to give up dating entirely in favor of watching and fantasizing about your favorite jazz musician, Aizawa Shouta. You had assumed you’d never meet him face to face. You had assumed that he didn’t even know you existed. You’re about to learn that your assumptions are wrong.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY/NSFW; reader wears a sexy black dress (minimally described); minor sexual harassment; slow build; praise kink (if you squint); hand kink (probably); fingering; ‘baby’ petname.

Special Note: A few days late, but here’s my contribution to the BNHarem January Collab ‘Making Beautiful Music’ posted by @kingexpl0sionmurder. It was supposed to be a oneshot, but this particular piece got a mind of its own and will at least have a sequel. If we’re all really lucky, it may become a multichapter series in the far and distant future, when my life is less crazy (I have ideas, ok??). In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this fic!

Word Count: 9486

Recommended Song: No specific song at the moment, but this was what I listened to while writing this.

Lesson 1

It was crowded tonight, the air of the small club Midnight hot and heavy with the scent of cigar smoke and booze. The noise of conversations and laughing voices filled the air like the buzzing of a hive, as bodies mingled about like busy bees, each looking for their own bit of nectar. Some looking to win romance. Some looking to win money. While others were simply winning by enjoying the company of friends. Their movements were carried on the music that filled the space, upbeat jazz played by a three-person band. It was comforting in its familiarity, developed over multiple visits – some with friends, some with coworkers, and some with potential love interests.

You sat at the bar, a drink held protectively in your hand as your eyes searched. You checked your phone for messages but found none. It’d been a full twenty minutes and you were pretty sure by this point that your date wasn’t going to show up. It was supposed to be your first date in over a month, and you’d had high hopes for it - you’d clicked well with the person on your dating app (or so you thought), talking over the course of a couple of weeks before finally deciding to meet. So tonight, you’d put in a little extra effort into your appearance, donning a black dress that showed off your curves and putting careful attention into your makeup.

Damn. You were genuinely interested in this one.

You sent them a quick text in the hopes that you’d get a response. Give them an extra ten minutes… You thought. Maybe they were caught in traffic or something.

But by the time you hit the 45-minute mark with no messages, you’d officially given up. A half-hearted sigh fell past your painted lips. You weren’t really too surprised by this point. You’d been having terrible luck in the dating scene for a while now. Sometimes it was them. Sometimes it was you. But for whatever reason, each attempt ended in failure.

Oh well. It was likely for the best. At least you would be able to enjoy the rest of your evening in solitude instead of enduring a potentially disastrous date. And as for your attire, it certainly didn’t hurt to feel sexy, even if you had no one to share it with.

You loved this place. The atmosphere, the music… you’d even managed to make friends with the bartender Hizashi to the point that he’d walk you to your car on the nights that you stayed until closing.

Your eyes scanned around the room, observing. Wooden tables littered the main floor, where small lit candles cast yellow light on observing faces, eyes trained on the musicians. Booths lined along the far wall, filled mostly with men who puffed cigars over a game of cards, their raucous laughter carrying through the din. Closer to the bar was an arrangement of tall, round tables with matching bar height chairs. A group of women, likely on a ladies’ night out, filled the table closest to you, taking shots and laughing, their heels perched on the rungs. Waiters zigzagged their way through the crowd with expert precision, platters held high with drinks and snacks, while patrons milled about, waiting for an open table.

And, of course, there was the stage itself, where the jazz band finished their final piece before collecting their instruments and leaving the small stage. All that was left from their departure was a black baby grand piano, property of the club. Your pulse quickened as you checked your watch. Was it that time already?

Not a moment later, there he was. Long, black, wavy hair pulled back into a half ponytail, the hint of a 5 o’ clock shadow dusting his jawline and framing his lips. He was dressed in simple clothes, as always… a black v-neck shirt with the sleeves pushed halfway up his forearms and dark jeans. He entered the stage without so much a glance towards the busy room, instead making his way to the piano with his hands in his pockets. He sat down and from your position at the bar, you could barely see his long fingers arrange themselves at the keys, gently curled.

As soon as he began to play, the mood in the club shifted slightly from buzzing to relaxing. The flow of his fingers across the keys drew a lazy melody reminiscent of rainy days and hot coffee; of snuggling under warm blankets, feet intertwined with a lover who danced their fingers across your skin, gently tickling your flesh the way his fingers tickled those keys.

Aizawa Shouta.

Of course you knew his name. The first time you’d heard him play, you’d felt weightless, your body going numb as every sensation coalesced into your chest like the forming of a star. The question of his identity had fallen from your lips before you’d even realized it, and it had been Hizashi who’d answered you, a chuckle on his lips.

Fuck. It felt like he was making love to you through the notes, each key meticulously selected like a carefully-worded love letter. It made your palms sweat against your glass, your breath hitching in your throat as that familiar sensation took you over, holding you hostage.

This. This was probably why none of the people you dated ever seemed to work out. You’d tried… God, you’d tried… some of them were nice, good people. But you couldn’t help but search for that feeling – this feeling – each time you met someone new. And every single time it fell short. It was an impossible standard, an invisible bar that no one was able to jump. Deep down you knew this, yet you couldn’t figure out how to let it go. It was just music, right? Played by a handsome man who didn’t even know you existed. But you didn’t want to let go of this feeling, to settle for someone that made you feel only an inkling of what he made you feel. Or worse, to let it go and be left with emptiness.

You had no solutions. You were trapped in Aizawa’s maze of music, unwilling to find your way out as his notes weaved a cage around your heart.

You lost yourself to his melody, the club around you fading away. Time lost its meaning as you watched his hands dance along the keys, his fingers nimble. His half-lidded eyes were fixed on the instrument before him, his expression neutral. To anyone else watching, he would look almost bored; but you’d seen him play often enough that you’d grown accustomed to reading the nuances of his body language, even across the smoky haze. You knew his look of boredom was really a look of focus as he submerged himself in his art, his hands playing on instinct, a direct link between what he felt and what he expressed.

He loved what he did.

And you loved watching.

Hizashi’s voice interrupted your hypnosis. “Another night solo, huh?”

You took a look at the bartender as he prepped some cocktails for some waiting patrons. He had his wire-framed spectacles on again, the orange tinted ones, the color visible from the white backlight of the bar. His long blonde hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, and he wore a pinstriped shirt adorned with a black waistcoat.

You chuckled and took a sip of your drink. “It wasn’t supposed to be.”

“You got stood up again?” You shrugged and Hizashi shook his head slightly. “If they ain’t willing to show up, then they ain’t worth your time.”

“Probably more like the other way around, don’t ya think?” you replied wryly.

Hizashi scoffed. “Don’t let them get to you. They don’t know what they’re missing.”

You grinned and set your glass down. “Are you flirting with me, Hizashi?”

He grinned back and winked at you through his spectacles. “Always, darlin’.”

You chuckled and returned your eyes to the stage. “It’s okay…” you said thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s time I stopped trying.”

“Mhm…” Hizashi watched you stare at Aizawa and he raised an eyebrow. “Y’know, I can get you an introduction if you’d like…”

“What??”

“Don’t play coy with me, darlin’. You know who I’m talking about. If you want to meet him, I can introduce you to him. We’re good friends, he and I. Known each other for years.” He commented.

You weren’t surprised by this news… you’d seen Aizawa join Hizashi at the bar on rare occasions after his performance was done. But you’d always been occupied at a table with company when it happened.

Watching him from a distance was one thing. But actually meeting him? Up close? Where you couldn’t hide your girlish infatuation?

You felt your pulse quicken with dread, heat flooding your body. “No, it’s okay. I wouldn’t want to inconvenience him.”

Hizashi gave you a skeptical look over the rim of his glasses before he shrugged. “Suit yourself, darlin’.”

The blonde stepped away, a new group of customers hollering for his attention. You took a large gulp of your drink hoping it would quell your nerves at the thought of meeting the man on stage. No. You definitely didn’t want to meet him. The last thing you needed was for your interaction with him to be a dud just like it was with all the others, destroying your own secret little fantasy. He was handsome to look at. And you fantasized about his skilled hands when you were in the quiet of your bedroom. But that was all it was; just harmless daydreams over someone you didn’t really know or plan to get to know. Besides, if you’d ever thought you had a chance with him, you certainly wouldn’t be trying to meet people through a dating app.

Gradually the time ticked by as you enjoyed watching the dark-haired man play, Hizashi stopping in to check on you from time to time and place fresh drinks in front of you. You were content for the time being, enjoying the steady buzz you were maintaining as you enjoyed the ambiance. Occasionally you people watched or engaged in conversation with Hizashi when he wasn’t busy… but for the most part, you relaxed as you observed the raven-haired pianist, letting his music ease the tension in your shoulders as the alcohol warmed your bones.

A few hours later, as you were busy talking with Hizashi, the final note on the piano rang out, signaling the end of Aizawa’s shift. The sudden silence hit you like a bucket of ice water, and your eyes darted towards the stage, your heart pumping panic through your veins. You had planned to leave just before his shift ended, just to make sure you didn’t run into him. Maybe it was the daydreaming, or the conversations with Hizashi, or the alcohol... but you’d lost track of time. Now you could only watch and wait to see where he’d end up, hoping beyond hope that he’d disappear like he usually did. Only rarely did he linger for a drink. What were the odds, right?

Tonight was one of those rarities, and you held your breath, your posture going rigid, as he sat himself a mere two seats away from you. He never once looked at you, instead, addressing Hizashi.

“Old Fashioned.” He requested, his voice deep. It sent a shiver down your spine as the blood in your veins turned molten. You knew instantly that that sound was now committed to memory.

“Do you even need to ask?” Hizashi replied with a grin as he slid the drink to him.

You disciplined your eyes to stare at your own drink as if it’d open up a portal for you to escape through. But as much as you struggled to control yourself, the simple gesture of Aizawa reaching for his drink made you break eye contact with your own. Your eyes caught how his fingers circled around his glass, long and surprisingly manicured. You couldn’t help but watch as he brought the drink up to his lips to take a sip, and from there your gaze followed the curve of his mouth, the stubble that framed it, his jawline, his eyes…

Your eyes made contact with his briefly and you quickly looked back down at your drink, your heart pounding in your chest.

Shit. He caught you staring.

You took a couple of deep swigs, forcing the alcohol down your tight throat, letting the burn of it act as a punishment for your violation. This. This was why you didn’t want to meet him. No words had even been shared yet and you were already making a fool of yourself.

“Long night?” Hizashi asked him. In the background, the next performer entered the stage and began to play, and you couldn’t help but strain your ears over the music to listen for Aizawa’s answer.

“I’ve had worse…” Aizawa replied. “You?”

“Busy, but I’m in good company at least.” Hizashi replied. Your heart pounded in your chest as your fingers tightened around your glass. Your eyes darted up to lock with the bartender’s and you caught him smirking at you, his small, pointed mustache following the curve of his upper lip.

He wouldn’t…

Suddenly another customer called for him from the other end of the bar. “Duty calls, friend. Be back in a sec.”

And just like that, you were left alone with him. Aizawa. Your mind froze as it warred with itself between actually talking with him or grabbing your things and running away. Surely Hizashi would understand, right? And you could always pay back your tab later. You took another deep gulp of alcohol in the hopes that it’d burn away some of your cowardice.

Before you could so much as open your mouth, the unwelcome sensation of an unfamiliar hand on the curve of your back made your body go rigid, every muscle poised to fight. A second later, the scent of hot breath laced in the stench of alcohol choked the air around you as an unfamiliar man slid into the open seat between you and the object of your affection.

“Hey there beautiful…” he slurred. “You’ve been by yourself all night… you in need of some company?”

You covered your hand over your glass and shifted away from him slightly, your demeanor cold. “No.”

“Aw, c’mon doll… don’t be like that…” he grinned. “You don’t come here dressed like that for no good reason…”

The man’s hand was still on your back, its presence making your skin crawl. It made the fog of your buzz lifting slightly, your senses suddenly heightened in the presence of a potential threat. Your eyes searched frantically for Hizashi. He had a way of handling drunken idiots. But he was stuck at the other end of the bar still, a drunk woman trying desperately hard to flirt with him.

You were on your own, and this creep clearly wasn’t taking no for an answer. Your brain started to fabricate worst-case scenarios and planning for them, a million options running through your mind. Screaming. Throwing your drink in his face. A well-placed kick to his shin. Your pepper spray.

Your free hand slipped into your purse, fingers closing around you’re the plastic cylinder. The feel of it gave you a sense of security, even if it might be a last resort. You didn’t really want to use it, especially with Aizawa sitting behind him… you never had to use it before, and you couldn’t guarantee your accuracy, especially in such a tight space.

You watched from the corner of your eye as the man’s free hand reached forward to grasp your own that covered your drink, and your grip around the cylinder tightened, a warning beginning to fall from your lips. But your words were cut short as the man’s hand was suddenly grabbed by familiar, long fingers and bent back at an uncomfortable angle that made the drunk cry out.

“Hey! What the hell?!” the man demanded.

Aizawa took a casual sip of his drink with his free hand while maintaining his grip on the offender, before pinning him with a dangerous glare. “She said no.”

The man’s hand left your back as he struggled to free himself from Aizawa’s grip. “Let go!”

“First you will apologize to her.” Aizawa ordered.

The man sputtered. “For what?!”

You watched in shock as Aizawa’s eyes narrowed. His thumb positioned itself on a digit and began pushing it slowly backward.

“For touching her without permission. For insinuating that her attire makes it acceptable for you to ignore her boundaries. For being a disgusting pig.”

With each statement, he pushed the finger back farther and farther, until the man was buckling to his knees under the pressure in an attempt to alleviate the pain and prevent the digit from breaking.

“Ow ow ow! Okay! I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” The man begged.

Aizawa held him for a moment longer before finally releasing him. “Good. Now get out.”

The man scurried away until he was out of reach before turning around to glare daggers at him. “Hey, fuck you man!” He shouted. But for all of his drunken bravado, he stormed out of the club clutching his sore hand to his chest, as heads turned to watch him leave.

The hum of voices within the club fell silent for a moment, with only the band continuing their music. After the front door closed, the noise of people chattering slowly returned, countless sets of eyes turning back to their tables. Aizawa turned his gaze back to you, the lethal look gone from his dark eyes.

“You okay?”

You nodded mutely, swallowing the dryness in your throat as your sweaty hand released the pepper spray in your purse. Sensations warred within you, momentarily leaving you a confused mess. The speed at which he came to your defense and his willingness to resort to violence on your behalf fueled a carnal need you didn’t even realize you had. But even as hot arousal pooled deep in your gut, your heart still raced from the threat that had been quickly neutralized.

His eyes caught the movement of something over your shoulder and he cursed. “Shit.”

“SHOuTA!” Scolded a feminine voice.

He turned back to his drink, hunching his shoulders. “I told her not to call me that in public.” Aizawa muttered under his breath.

You spun on your stool to see the owner of the bar, Nemuri Kayama approaching, clad in a deep purple business suit with a dangerously low-cut black blouse. She was next to you in a matter of seconds, a cloud of strong perfume enveloping you as she snatched Aizawa’s drink from his hand as he began to raise it to his lips.

“What the hell was that?!” She demanded. “What makes you think you can attack my customers like that?”

“Your customer was harassing this customer.” Aizawa pointed out.

Nemuri looked at you with her lavender eyes as if seeing you for this first time and paused in her verbal assault.

“Is this true?” She asked you.

She had a presence about her that instantly made you find your voice again.

“He was being handsy and wasn’t taking no for an answer.” You confirmed.

“Can I have my drink back now?” Aizawa asked.

She stared back and forth between the two of you for a moment before slamming the glass down in front of him, half of the contents spilling over the side. “Ugh. Fine. But next time ask for one of my bouncers. Or Hizashi. Or me. Anyone but you.”

Aizawa’s mouth curled with a sly grin as he wiped at the spill with a napkin. “And why is that?”

“Because you scare away customers.” She growled.

Aizawa stared into his drink, swirling its remaining contents. “Well maybe you need better customers.” He took a sip.

“I’ll take whoever is willing to pay. Unfortunately for you, this club doesn’t survive off of chivalry.” She crossed her arms. “Besides… it’s less about losing that drunken idiot and more about losing those who saw you almost break his hand.”

“I wasn’t going to break his hand. I was going to break his finger.” Aizawa said.

You stifled a chuckle with a bite of your lip.

Nemuri rubbed the bridge of her nose in frustration. “Don’t try to make it sound like that makes it any better. And you!” She pointed at Hizashi, who had conveniently shown up not a minute before. “You know better than to leave him alone like this!”

“I can either be a bartender or a babysitter, love. I can’t do both.” Hizashi replied as he polished a glass.

Nemuri grumbled under her breath before turning her gaze back to you. “I apologize for Aizawa’s violent behavior.” “Oh I didn’t mind…” you confessed with a small smile, and you could feel Aizawa’s eyes flicker to you briefly.

“And I apologize for the inappropriate customer. Alcohol is no excuse for harassment. I guarantee he won’t be returning to this club any time soon.” She looked at Hizashi. “Get her a fresh drink.”

“Already on it…” He replied, sliding a new glass to you and removing your old one.

She looked back at you. “And your drinks are on the house tonight.”

“Thank you.” You replied.

Nemuri gave a satisfied nod. “Now I need to go schmooze the rest of our frightened patrons, which is exactly how I didn’t want to spend my evening.” With a final glare at the two men, she stormed off, her pointed heels clicking on the hard floor.

You stared at your new drink for a moment, the desire for it lost now. “Hizashi, can I have a glass of water?”

“Sure thing, darlin’.” Hizashi replied and placed a chilled glass in front of you.

You thanked him and took a sip followed by a long, deep breath. Aizawa moved into the now-vacant seat next to you, and you welcomed the closeness. The gesture felt protective, a warning to anyone else who was dumb enough to try their luck with you after that display. Noticing the closer proximity between the two of you, Hizashi quickly made himself scarce again.

“Thank you…” you said to Aizawa as your finger traced patterns into the condensation on the glass.

“It was nothing…” he replied. There was a long silence before he spoke again. “I hope I didn’t scare you.”

You looked at him with surprise then. Scared? No. Aroused? Definitely. The dampness of your panties were evidence enough of that, but he certainly didn’t need to know that.

“Not at all.” You confessed. “I actually really appreciate it.”

Aizawa’s shoulders relaxed slightly, as if a weight had been lifted.

“Where’d you learn to do that?” you asked. “You were so fast…”

Aizawa gave a small grin. “Piano isn’t the only thing I’m good at…”

You had no difficulty believing that…

“Were you a bouncer or something at one point?” you asked curiously.

Aizawa chuckled. “Yeah, something like that…” he took a swig of his drink, the ice in it clinking. The amber colored liquid was nearly gone now.

His response only gave you more questions, but you forced them down. There was a fine line between being curious and nosey, and you were too worried of crossing it, thus ending your conversation with him.

“You’re a regular here.” He commented.

It wasn’t a question – it was a statement. He recognized you. You averted your eyes away in embarrassment, feeling suddenly exposed, your anonymity blown. How long had he noticed you’d been coming here? Did he know how closely you watched him?

“Yeah.” You confessed, as you took another sip of water. The alcohol next to it was calling to you, promising to ease your anxiety, but you refrained for the moment. You wanted to keep your wits about you while you talked to him.

“No company tonight?” he asked.

Oh. He watched you more closely than you ever realized. You weren’t sure whether you were feeling embarrassed or aroused. Was it possible to feel both?

“Not this time. I got stood up.” You replied.

“Sounds like you dodged a bullet there.” He said, looking into his empty glass.

You gave a dry laugh. “True. I’ve dodged lots of bullets lately.”

Aizawa chuckled. “I believe it…”

Contrary to his outward aloof demeanor, he was nice. You could feel the tension in your body start to dissipate as words came easier.

“If you ever think you want to try a dating app, don’t.” you commented. “It makes for good stories, but sometimes it really makes you want to give up on humanity.”

That earned an honest laugh as he looked at you with a grin. “Well now you’ve piqued my curiosity.”

You couldn’t help but smile back. This actually wasn’t so bad…

With amusement, you began to recount some of your more outlandish dating disasters with him, letting him in on the world of online dating from a woman’s perspective. Aizawa listened with quiet interest, making the occasional wry joke or, for the more serious cases, wearing a deep frown of disapproval. He was a good listener, and the conversation flowed easier than you had expected, words falling from your mouth without a second thought. It felt natural. Comfortable. And for the first time in a while, you felt like yourself. After you ran out of stories, Aizawa offered a couple of his own, and you found yourself laughing at his own tales of dating woes. As Aizawa talked, Hizashi stopped by to quietly replace his empty drink before disappearing again, a pleased smile on his face. His brief presence reminded you of your own glass pooling condensation on the paper coaster beneath it, and you returned to sipping its contents, once again finding the buzz you had been enjoying as you listened to Aizawa.

The time passed by as the two of you talked about the stress of dating and relationships. You’d learned that Aizawa rarely dated, but would occasionally have to endure awkward matchups thanks to Hizashi and Nemuri. You learned how much of a private person he was, how he generally avoided dating culture entirely in favor of letting life play out on its own. Everything about him exuded a man of experience and maturity, a man comfortable in his own skin and content with his life. You couldn’t help but admire him as you soaked in every little detail that you’d wanted to know, committing every little bit of information he offered up to memory. He was everything you’d imagined; kind, respectful, and serious with a sly sense of humor that he only shared once he was feeling comfortable.

Once the topic was exhausted, you sighed. “I think I’m done with dating.” You confessed. “I’ll just resign myself to my singlehood.”

Aizawa pinned you with a pensive look. “Is that what you want?”

Something about the tone of his voice made your pulse race with excitement.

“Well… It’s better than being repeatedly disappointed.” You gave him a side glance as you took sip of your drink. “But if the right guy comes along, I wouldn’t say no…”

“Hm… the right guy…” Aizawa muttered as he returned his gaze to his glass.

Your statement was a bold one, filled with invitation. You hadn’t exactly planned for it to come out that way, but it was too late to take those words back now. You quickly tried to turn the topic back to him. “How about you? Any special someone for you?”

He chuckled. “No. No special someone. Not yet, at least.”

The words fell from his mouth like breadcrumbs leading to a secret as he eyed you over the rim of his glass. You felt lightheaded and warm, the tips of your fingers buzzing with numbness. Maybe it was the half-finished drink in your hand. Or maybe it was the look in Aizawa’s eyes that made you feel drunk, the Earth spinning under your feet as you mentally struggled to find some sort of purchase to keep from falling.

Was he…?

Hope held you captive and you suddenly became acutely aware of how close you were to him. Your eyes traced the scruff on his jawline, the stitching of his shirt, the slope of his neck as his Adam’s apple bobbed with a swallow. A stray strand of hair had come loose from his half-ponytail and was hanging over his forehead, begging to be touched. Your fingers twitched. If you reached out to tuck it back into place, would he let you?

You couldn’t muster the courage and averted your eyes. You were filled with alcohol and infatuation, you reasoned. Your defenses were down, your judgment potentially impaired… what if you were reading into something that wasn’t there? What if you were wrong?

You watched Hizashi close out a tab for an older couple as you took a sip of your water.

Warmth pressed against your forearm and looked down to see Aizawa’s arm resting against yours. All of your attention honed in on the softness of his shirtsleeve and the warmth of his skin as his hand fiddled with a paper coaster, flipping it over and over with each tap on the counter. The contact was intentional, calculated in its subtle intimacy. It was a silent question… a tentative invitation, absent of assumptions or expectations. Your doubt evaporated like mist and you understood.

He was interested. In you.

Your heart did a somersault in your chest as you sat there, stunned. Time froze as everything that’d transpired throughout the evening flitted through your mind. It was a perfect amalgamation of circumstances, leading to this single moment, giving you the one thing you wanted most. You held your breath as you stood on the precipice, uncertain if your next step would make you fall or let you fly.

You stared at the contact and carefully… slowly… brushed your pinky along the back of his hand. It traced the vein that stood out there, following it to the knuckle. His own hand let go of the coaster his was holding, his own pinky linking with yours in affirmation.

You couldn’t help the elated smile that spread across your face in that moment and when you looked up at him with a shy glance, he had a smile of his own, small and secretive as he stared at your linked fingers. Slowly the rest of his fingers followed, twining themselves into yours until he held your hand, his thumb brushing sensually against your skin. That single action alone was enough to reignite the fire in your loins, your blood racing through your veins from the epicenter of his touch.

Hizashi’s voice crashed through your private, titillating moment. “We’re closing up, lovebirds…”

Your hand pulled away from Aizawa’s on instinct as you looked around the now empty club. Only staff remained, finalizing the last bit of cleanup and arranging the furniture for the next day. How had it gotten so late so fast?

“You want me to walk you to your car?” Hizashi asked, a knowing grin on his face.

In all that had happened that evening, you’d forgotten about that little arrangement. But you weren’t ready to leave just yet…

Aizawa’s voice answered before yours could. “Leave me the keys to the place. I’ll walk her tonight and lock up when we leave.”

“Suit yourself.” Hizashi replied with a shrug. He placed a set of keys on the counter. “Don’t tell Nemuri, though. She’ll kill me.”

“Your secret’s safe with me, friend.” Aizawa replied.

With that, Hizashi gave a small salute, grabbed his coat, and left. You watched, your heart pounding as the door closed behind him, leaving a deafening silence in its wake.

You were alone with Aizawa. Completely and utterly alone.

Your turned back to face him and froze. Aizawa still sat on his stool, but he faced you now with an elbow propped against the counter, and that simple distinction made his presence fill your space. He stared at you, the look in his eyes unfettered now, deep and hungry. “You really do look beautiful tonight.” He complimented.

With the way the words fell from his mouth and curled warmly into your chest like a cat, you believed him. You felt beautiful.

“Thank you.” You said with a soft smile. “You look handsome yourself, Aizawa.”

He took your hand again and slowly began to lean forward, closing the small distance between you. “Call me Shouta.”

You swallowed. “Shouta.” You whispered, feeling the name on your lips.

His dark pupils dilated and you felt his other hand on your jawline, warm, long fingers wrapping towards the back of your neck to pull you into a kiss.

His lips were warm and soft as his stubble tickled your skin, and you leaned into it fervently, your hands finding their home on his chest. You could feel his toned muscles beneath the black cotton and a purr found its way to the back of your throat. Shouta took it as an invitation, coming off of his barstool to stand between your now parted legs, his arm wrapping itself around your waist as his tongue slid along your lips. You opened your mouth eagerly to taste the bourbon there, to feel the wet muscle dance and slide against your own. Every touch, every taste, every smell enveloped you further and further in the essence that was Shouta until your entire body was singing, teetering on the edge.

Oh God… you were not going to let yourself cum just by kissing him.

You pulled out of the kiss slightly as your hands pressed gently against his chest, and he retreated from you just enough for his eyes to search your face, a silent question in them.

“I-I’m sorry, I just…” your words fell pitifully from your flushed, wet mouth, your voice shaky with pent-up arousal.

One second longer. One second longer is all it would have taken…

Shouta’s hand on your back began to rub soft, slow circles. “Would you like some water?” he asked, a small smile on his lips.

You nodded, and he kissed your forehead before handing you your glass. You drank greedily before handing it back to him, half-empty.

“Have you ever been kissed like that?” he asked curiously, as he placed the glass back down onto the counter.

You gave a small laugh and shook your head. “No… not like that.”

Your confession left you feeling embarrassed, even as your chest felt it would burst from this latest turn of events.

You kissed Aizawa Shouta.

Actually, he kissed you.

You needed a moment to collect yourself, to process everything you were feeling.

So, you completely changed the subject.

“How long have you been playing piano?” you asked.

Shouta didn’t miss a beat, returning to sit on his stool to give you the space you silently needed. But his hand still held yours, resting on the counter as his fingers twined with yours. It gave you a sense of reassurance, that everything was okay, despite your awkward hesitation.

“My grandpa had one when I was a kid. Used to mess around on it.” He explained. “He finally got me lessons from a guy he knew, and I’ve loved it ever since.”

You smiled as you watched his thumb trace across each of your fingernails. You returned the gesture, tracing the details of his own hand. It was like living a dream, to see them up close and feel them, every fingernail, every vein, even the pads of his fingertips. The number of times you’d fantasized about these hands…

“I always wanted to learn how to play, but my family could never afford lessons.” You confessed. “But my mom used to have all of these old jazz albums, and I used to sit in my room and listen to them for hours.”

“I can teach you.”

Your fingers stopped their tracing. “What?”

“I can teach you.” He repeated.

You shook your head. “Um, no it’s okay… I’d probably be a terrible student anyway.”

“A student can only be as bad as the person teaching them. Follow me.”

Before you could protest further, Shouta’s hand closed around yours and pulled you from your seat. He led you up the steps of the stage and across it until you reached the black piano sitting forlornly in the empty space.

It felt strange being up on the stage, especially with the club being completely empty. The stage light was bright and warm on your shoulders, and the silence sounded different there, affected by the difference in acoustics.

Shouta sat at one end of the black bench and pulled you down by your hand until you were sitting next to him. The bench was small, meant for only one person, so you had to press yourself against him to be able to sit without feeling like you were going to fall off. Even then, it wasn’t the most comfortable arrangement, but you endured, if only to be close to him.

He released your hand and began his instruction.

“First thing you should know is how to find middle C. Everything else will center around this.” He pressed the white key with the thumb of his right hand, the note singing out into the empty space. “Then, it’s D, E, F, G, A, B, which brings you back to C. That creates an octave, also known as a scale.” He played each note as he spoke.

“What about the black keys?” you asked curiously.

“Those are the half notes. Don’t worry about those right now.” He arranged his hand back how he initially had it, his thumb on the middle C key.

“Now,” he continued, “First, you must learn how to move your fingers along the keys. Like this.” Shouta demonstrated the motion again, his fingers playing each note slowly in a steady rhythm. “The switch of the fingers is important. It will help you flow quickly and easily without having to watch where your hands are, which will be important for reading sheet music.” He repeated the motion again, the sounds once again ringing out. Then, he removed his hand. “Your turn.”

You bit your lip and placed your hand how you’d seen his arranged and tried. The notes were clumsy, lacking in rhythm and falling together as you forgot in your nervous haze where the switch of the fingers happened. Embarrassment flooded you and you withdrew your hand.

“Don’t expect to get it right on the first try.” He reassured. “Let’s try it again. Try to keep your fingers loose, curved like a bowl.”

Shouta modeled it again. You watched, but your focus was muddled with anxiety, attraction, and likely alcohol. It was a poor recipe for learning, but you knew he was trying to make you feel comfortable, and you didn’t want to turn down his kindness. You arranged your hand back on the keys again and tried again, with little improvement.

“I’m sorry, I…” you stuttered as you clutched your hand in your lap protectively.

His hand covered yours and you looked up at him to see him staring at you with warm patience. “It’s okay. If you don’t want to do this, we can stop.”

You stared at him, mouth slightly open as you thought about it. You knew he wouldn’t hold it against you if you wanted to quit. And sure, you felt silly being so poor at it when sitting next to someone who’s skills you idolized.

But did you really want to stop? How often would you get an opportunity like this?

“No, it’s okay. Keep going, I want to learn.” You replied.

Shouta watched you for a moment longer before he placed his hand back on the keys. “Place your hand over mine.”

You followed his instructions, your hand looking small compared to his. His skin was warm, and it calmed the shaking in your fingers.

“Watch where the fingers land. Feel how they move.” He played the notes, and you could feel the tendons of his hand tense and shift, his fingers rising and falling like a wave.

“It’s like they’re dancing.” You said. “You switch to your thumb on this key… E?”

“Yes.” Shouta replied in approval. “Your turn.”

This time you focused, remembering the feel of how his hand had moved under yours as you played the keys, switching your fingers at the right time. The improvement was noticeable.

He smiled. “Good. Now, for the other hand. You’ll start one octave lower. Can you find it?”

Your arm crossed Aizawa’s chest to press the white key, letting the sound ring out.

“Perfect. Only this time, your pinky will sit on this key, with the others following after.”

You placed your fingers across the white keys. “Like this?”

Shouta nodded. “Now you’ll try the same progression with your left hand. The middle finger will follow after the thumb plays the G note.”

You removed your hand so he could place his own and demonstrate it for you. You followed after him, imitating his actions, but this time your attempt was worse than your first, your hand angled awkwardly due to limited space as you pressed yourself against him.

“That was terrible.” You laughed. “I can’t reach very easily.”

A small mischievous smile formed on Shouta’s lips and he slipped his hand around your waist.

“Come here.” He said.

You didn’t fight him as he pulled you into his lap. His right hand settled itself against your stomach as his legs parted slightly to make room for yours, your knees drawn together between his. The heat of his touch seeped through the fabric of your dress, weaving a tight knot of desire deep in your core that made your body go rigid as you tried to keep yourself from melting against him.

“Is this okay?” He asked, leaning slightly to see your face from his position behind you.

You licked your lips and swallowed, giving a nod. “Y-Yes…” you answered shakily. “Are you okay…? I’m not too heavy?”

Shouta gave a soft laugh. “No. Not at all.” His breath was hot against your skin and you could feel the scratch of his stubble as he spoke, sending goosebumps over your body. “Let’s continue.”

He placed his left hand on the keys again with ease, regardless of how poor his view of the piano was with you in front of him. He knew this instrument like the back of his hand; could probably play it with his eyes closed and never miss a note.

He played the simple notes again, C through B, fingers tip-toeing across the keys as he said their names out loud, helping you to remember them. You watched carefully for where the shift in finger arrangement happened, the middle finger following after the thumb just as he’d described.

“You try.” He instructed, his right arm still wrapped around your waist, holding you close against him. You could feel the warmth of his chest against your back now, feel the strength of his body beneath you.

You loved this. The lap-sitting, the lesson, the praise. Each time Shouta praised your improvements it sent a thrill through you from your head down to your toes. To be complimented by him, even for something as simple as pressing a few keys… it only made you want to please him more.

You played the progression of notes with renewed motivation, once again showing improvement from your first attempt.

“Good.”

Your spine straightened against him slightly. The thumb of his hand caressed your abdomen where he held you.

“Now you need to learn to do the same but in reverse, until you’re back where your fingers started.”

You moved your hand away to let him demonstrate and his right hand left your stomach, leaving an ache in its wake. You watched both of his hands play the simple notes up and down, working together with ease. But you knew it was all a ruse… he made it look easy, but if you tried to do the same, you’d fumble clumsily.

“I don’t know about this…” you chuckled.

“It takes practice,” he replied, “until it becomes muscle memory.”

Shouta demonstrated it again, up and down. And again.

You placed your hands over his, wanting to feel the touch of his hands under yours more than the actual pressing of the keys. All you wanted was his arm around your waist again, his hand on your lower abdomen. His touch was tantalizing, and you wanted more of it.

He completed the simple scale progression two more times with your hands on top of his.

“Do you want to try?” he offered.

His hands left the keys to hold you again, his arms wrapped more tightly around you this time. You leaned against him, reveling in being held in his arms.

“I’m going to mess up.” You warned.

“Just take it slow.”

You shook your head a little and let out a small breath, shifting your position in his lap slightly as you leaned forward to focus on the keys. His arms loosened around you, his hands shifting to your thighs.

It was likely an innocent action, intended to give you the freedom to move as you made yourself comfortable. But as soon as the tips of his fingers touched the bare skin below the hem of your dress, that sharp zap of arousal tingled the ends of your nerves, causing you to suck in air and part your knees slightly, your walls throbbing in hopeful anticipation.

It wasn’t intentional. Your body just… reacted. But Shouta noticed instantly.

There was silence at first, his hands still on your thighs, waiting. Finally, he spoke. “Y/N….” his voice was huskier now. “How long has it been since you’ve been cared for?”

Embarrassment flooded through you. Embarrassment at your sensitivity to his touch, embarrassment at the answer to his question... You hesitated a moment before words fell clumsily from your mouth. “I, um… a long time.”

A low hum rumbled from Shouta’s chest as his fingers brushing gently along the inside of your thighs until they dipped just beneath the black fabric. The action was experimental, a testing of the waters, and it brought immediate results. Your thighs widened the slightest bit more as you failed to fight back a whimper, your hands grasping his arms in need. Not a moment later you could feel the growing firmness of his cock begin to press against your backside, despite the restriction of Shouta’s jeans. Shouta’s hands halted again their movement, waiting. He was miraculously under control despite his obvious arousal, and you envied him.

“Do you want me to touch you?” he asked, his voice low.

Of course you did. It was obvious you did. Why else would your legs be parting like the red sea as if he were Moses?

But for some reason, your body language wasn’t enough for him. He needed to hear it. A sense of urgency filled you, desperate need driving you. At this point, you’d give him whatever he wanted…

“Yes.” you begged. “Please, Shouta... Please touch me.” You leaned back against him, allowing the angle of your hips to tilt as your hands guided him further beneath the skirt of your dress.

With you draped onto him, your head tilted back, Shouta kissed the curve of your neck as his hands gently gripped the insides of your knees, pulling your legs apart until they were draped over his own. You were open for him now, your skirt hiked halfway up by the spread of your legs.

Your heart pounded in your chest with so much excitement that you could feel your own pulse in your neck and between your legs. This was happening… This was really happening… How many times had you fantasized about this very thing? How many times had you longed for this man, whispered his name on your tongue only to be met by the empty silence? And now here he was, freeing you from the shackles of your loneliness in the best way possible.

Shouta’s hands pushed the fabric up the rest of the way until it was pooled around your hips, exposing your panties. The thin cotton fabric did little to protect your aching cunt from the cold air, and you sucked air through your teeth at the sensation. His fingers traced invisible lines up the inside of your thighs, leaving nothing but singing nerves in their wake that cascaded into a shiver that rolled over your flesh, leaving goosebumps. Your body was already moving of its own volition, hips rolling, eager for Shouta’s fingers yet simultaneously attempting to grind down onto his restrained cock. Your breaths were already coming in hot and ragged, every inch of you frantic for the release that it had been denied all evening.

Shouta gave a low growl, his left hand holding down your hip, halting your movements. “You better stop that…” he warned.

No doubt your girating was making things difficult for him on his end. But you didn’t care. You were an unfettered, horny mess now.

A whine escaped your lips at his restriction. In response, Shouta’s left hand trailed up the length of your body, caressing over your breast before finding its home on your neck. His palm was against your voice box now, his fingers long enough to wrap around your throat and reach your jaw. There was no force in his hold, but it still held power over you, ushering your body into stillness while your chest heaved with heavy breaths.

“Patience.” He whispered. “Let me take care of you.”

Shouta followed up his words with more gentle kisses along your neck, your shoulder… wherever his lips could reach with you on his lap. The feel of his hand on your throat was a reminder of who was in control. But it was also a promise - a promise to ensure your needs would be met.

Once Shouta was sure he had your compliance, his right hand travelled the remaining distance of your inner thigh to arrive at your panties, where moist heat greeted him.

A low hum of approval rumbled in his chest, vibrating against your back. “You’re so wet.”

A pitiful “yes” was all you could muster before the tips of his fingers brushed gently against your clothed sex, stealing your voice and replacing it with a gasp.

Slowly Shouta pet you, his fingers stroking gentle circles over the wet cotton, teasing the sensitive flesh beneath. With his hand still on your neck, you kept your body torturously motionless as he gradually increased the pressure of his digits, reducing his speed as he passed over your clit to drag the pads of his fingers over the bundle of nerves.

You swallowed the pooling saliva in your mouth, the action causing your throat to press against his hand. “Please…” you begged. “I can’t…”

Shouta was strict, but not cruel. He obliged, slipping his fingers beneath the cotton to swim his digits into your juices, never breaking his circular, rhythmic motion over your slick entrance. The scent of your arousal surrounded both of you, thick and heavy.

“Fuck, Y/N…” he growled against your skin.

Two of his fingers dipped into you then, slow at first, allowing you to stretch around him as your walls quivered. Your thighs tensed at the intrusion, welcoming the stinging pressure as your core burned with fire. He withdrew his fingers slowly and you lifted your head to watch in carnal fascination to see his fingers shining wet down to the knuckles. He pushed them into you again, curling his fingers towards the sensitive, spongey tissue along the top of your walls, his thumb pressing down on your wet clit. A zap of stimulation fired from your core before fizzling away, a teasing warning of what was to come.

“Oh-Oh fuck…” you gasped as one hand reached back and grabbed a fistful of Shouta’s thick, dark hair.

He picked up his pace then, his thumb driving firm circles around your swollen pearl as the sounds of your wet hole being finger-fucked filled the silence of the empty stage. With each pass of his thumb, with each curl of his fingers, the heat grew hotter, your cunt swollen and burning with the need for release. Your thighs were tensed so tightly now that it made your legs lift and you had to brace your feet against the piano, discordant notes ringing out to join the sounds of your heavy pants and wet squelching in a lewd song. Shouta’s hand left your throat to hold you under your thigh to keep you steady as his other hand worked fast and hard to unravel you. With the absence of his touch on your neck, you were free to move your hips, grinding hard into his hand, his lap, whatever part of him you were touching. Your grip on his hair tightened, mirroring the tension building within you, clinging to him like the boughs of a tree knowing that any second the flood would come.

Shouta was your lifeline, your rock, your destroyer. You were the waves and he was the shore, and your body tensed to prepare itself to crash against him.

“Come on, baby…” Shouta whispered gruffly. “I’ve got you. Cum for me.”

You came with a cry, loud and frantic as your walls clamped down on his fingers. The ball of heat that you had been carrying like a stone exploded within you, incinerating every nerve from the inside out, leaving nothing but sweet, sharp, euphoria in its wake. Your walls spasmed repeatedly, sucking greedily on Shouta’s drenched fingers, as you cried and moaned, bucked and arched. Shouta’s arm was around your waist, holding you against him to keep you from sliding off of his lap as you rode the high of your orgasm, tumbling like a waterfall over and over again to finally become a puddle in his strong arms.

Shouta held you silently against him as your body twitched with aftershocks of pleasure. Once your spasms subsided and he was sure you wouldn’t fall from your perch, Shouta released his hold around your waist to draw his fingers up and down your arm, creating goosebumps under his gentle touch. His fingers were still in you, his hand cupped between your legs. The warmth of his touch on your tired cunt was comforting, and it brought forth a content moan from your parted lips. Shouta smiled as he planted another kiss on your shoulder.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that with him. But you finally made yourself sit up when you felt sleep starting to drag you down into its murky depths, your limbs feeling heavy.

Finally, Shouta spoke. “Better?” he asked.

You gave a laugh. “Much.” You looked down at yourself in amusement. “You made a mess of me, though…”

Shouta gave a satisfied hum and stared at his hand that held you. “I like you messy.” He stated.

“So, you’re just gonna leave me like this?” you teased.

He laughed and withdrew his fingers, wiping the slick coating them onto his jeans. “As much as I like that idea, no.” He adjusted your ruined underwear and the hem of your dress back into place before turning you around in his lap. His hands were planted on your rear, keeping you securely and comfortably in place. “It’s late. We should get you home.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him. “What about you?” you asked, your eyes glancing down to his lap. Your hands began to trail down his chest to reach the button of his pants, eager to reciprocate.

Shouta smiled at you and grabbed your hands, bringing them back up to plant kisses on your palms. “Tonight was about you. There’ll be more opportunities for both of us later.” You pouted and he chuckled. “Don’t give me that face.”

“It hardly seems fair…” you muttered. You were looking forward to enjoying more of him… you didn’t want tonight to end.

He hummed as he began to trail kisses along your jawline and you arched your neck to allow him better access. “We both… need sleep.”

Sleep? With his mouth on your skin, sleep was the last thing on your mind. Shouta pulled his lips away to look into your eyes again and you could see the fatigue there, dark circles framing bloodshot eyes. He really did look incredibly tired, and you couldn’t help but wonder how late it really was. You brushed the errant strand of hair off of his forehead, tucking it behind his ear.

“Okay...” you softly agreed.

“You should come back tomorrow night.” He mused, the mischief back in his eyes. “We can continue our piano lessons.”

“I’d like that.” you smiled.

You couldn’t wait.

#aizawa shouta #Shouta Aizawa #Aizawa x reader #Aizawa x you #shouta x reader #Shouta x you #bnha smut #mha smut #aizawa smut #bnharem collab #Jazz Aizawa #Jazz AU #Music AU #BNHA music AU

882 notes · View notes

echo-of-sounds · 4 years ago

Text

daddy dom

Headcanons on the types of Daddy Dom Aizawa, Gang Orca, and Hound Dog are.

I was going to include all six guys in this but it got so much longer than I initially planned. Toshi, Hizashi, and Fatgum are coming tomorrow!

Warnings: Daddy Dom relationship, (the rest is only mentioned, there’s no real detail) punishments, choking, slapping, spanking, spitting, hair pulling, and rough sex

Aizawa Shouta

Shouta had an inkling he was interested in dominance when he started having sex. The Daddy Dom surfaced after a one-night stand happened to moan ‘Daddy.’ He enjoyed it, looked into the subject deeper, and realized that’s exactly what he wanted, needed. However, he hasn’t had a relationship where he’s felt comfortable enough or been in one long enough to practice it.

As your relationship develops, it is something he brings up because he isn’t shy about it. He wants to be your Daddy. He wants to be his girl’s protector and her anchor. He praises you when you’re doing well. He says how proud he is. He loves and cuddles you on your bad days. When you’re crying and scared, he’s right beside you, huddling you to his chest, protecting you from whatever you fear.

Pet names are a rarity. On the odd occasion a good girl slips out, it’s a telltale sign he’s in a highly dominant mood. You’re expected to listen, do what you’re told, and say, ‘please and thank you.’ To make you feel fluttery and happy, he’ll call himself Daddy as he’s helping you.

Kitten is even more limited. He uses it when you dress up in the pink lingerie he bought you. It has a little collar with a bell, a cat-eared headband, garter bands, and cute, frilly panties and bra. There’s also a cat tail butt plug you can play with. But there’s a catch- there’s depreciation. If you use it too much, he isn’t as excited and it’s clear to see. You need to keep the lingerie away until you’re in dire need of your Daddy and a good fucking.

He takes pride and joy in seeing your smile at a new, fancy bracelet or an adorable teddy bear. But he’s uncertain when buying. He knows what you like, yet he just can’t decide on which dress you’d prefer. Despite his self-doubts, his presents are usually excellent, especially any soft, thigh-high stockings or cute, striped panties he brings home.

Though you won’t ever be able to tell, sometimes it is hard for Shouta to discipline you. He enjoys your bratty moods and how you ignore his commands to sit still. Your whimpers and whines and facial expression are incredibly cute. But at the end of the day, he is your Daddy and it’s his responsibility to keep you on track and provide stability. His go-to punishment is no orgasming… for a long time. You can’t touch yourself or grind on a pillow. If you beg, it’ll only extend the punishment. Occasionally, spanking is also used, particularly when you’re riding him and not listening.

Highly dominant doesn’t always mean rough. Yes, he is that most of the time. But he has periodic moods where he won’t use discipline. It’s when he’s in a coddling mood. Daddy becomes gentle, erotic, intent, and intimate. Don’t hold back your moans. Please, whine and whimper and fuss and mewl. Your soft cries and little wriggles please him so.

When he is rough, you’ll be leaving red streaks down his back. He loves seeing them in the mirror the next morning, so he strives to get you that aroused and pleasured every time. And nothing is truly off the books for him. Whatever you wish, he’ll command: slapping, spanking, choking, hair pulling, and spitting.

Shouta is more of a nonverbal Daddy. Both of you know he’s dominant and it’s your job to behave, so he doesn’t feel the need to command you as much as others may. He just yanks your body around as he pleases, slaps and chokes you when you don’t listen or get off-topic, and spits on your tongue to get you to quiet down. Now that doesn’t mean he won’t talk. At your misdoings, his steeled voice is gruff and guttural, commanding, punishing, and asking what you did wrong.

Daddy gets even more domineering when you cum without permission. That’s the one rule you should never break. If he’s feeling charitable (which is rarer than a blue moon), he’ll let you cum. Other times, he’s deepthroating you, cumming down your throat, and making you swallow it. And that’s all you’ll get. Again, don’t beg. That’ll worsen the punishment. All you can do is be a good girl and hope he lets you cum in the next few days.

Gang Orca

Kugo never considered himself a Daddy or any sort of dominant man in general. The few times he’s had sex, he was more on the submissive side, letting his partner lead and ride him as they wished. His fear of hurting his partner really held him back. However, the instant he hears you softly, weakly whine Daddy, gently pawing his chest, pining for him to make you feel good, the switch is flicked and there’s no going back.

Before he fully engages in the Daddy Dom relationship, he does a lot of reading and asks you question after question. If he ever hurt you or pushed past your limits, he’d all but die inside. You need to ease into it. Let him become accustomed to the power dynamics, the dirty talking, what’s expected from him, and the lifestyle.

In the beginning, he’s as sweet as can be. You’re his little one whom he loves to spoil. He buys you dainty panties, comfy sweaters, and dresses for every occasion. You should always model clothing for Daddy. He’ll appreciate your appreciation. As you turn around in a cute, lace nightgown, his fingers flow up your thighs, caressing between them, gently brushing along your new panties, making sure everything fits perfectly.

He gradually leans into the discipline aspect as the relationship grows. Once comfortable with himself and you, the punishments come frequently. They depend on the severity of your bad behavior. If you don't listen, you don’t get sweets. If you didn’t listen twice, you have extra chores to do. If you didn’t listen three times, no sexual gratification of any kind for however long Daddy deems necessary.

In spite of that, he is a weak Daddy when it comes to his little one. Your puppy-dog eyes burrow into his heart. Your wiggling thighs get him heated. Your little mewls for your Daddy’s attention haunt him. But he doesn’t give in all the time. He still has structure, stability, and dominance to uphold.

Kugo is truly a safe Daddy. He’s your secret place where your every thought, desire, emotion, and fear will always be heard, understood, and respected. Whatever you tell Daddy when you’re curled up on his chest, snuggled in his arms, stays with Daddy. He guides you through the crowded mall, nurses the cuts on your legs, acts as an anchor through depression and anxiety, and protects you from the rumbling thunder. And by God, is he protective.

Protectiveness is his main characteristic. He wants you to wear his T-shirt and sweatshirts. When he cums, he seats himself fully insides, letting him empty out completely. His hands rub your lower stomach like he’s feeling his property. Even as he falls flaccid, he stays inside. He needs to make sure everything has drained. If he could, he’d keep you filled with his seed forever.

Tender, slow sex involves you riding Daddy. He squeezes your thighs and tummy as you bounce. He praises every movement, every part, every itty-bitty sound. Your passion is so important to him. Seeing your body seek out its pleasure and rapture in the safety of your own little world fills his heart with love.

Dominant Daddy is less common yet so fulfilling. His thick, wet tongue washes deep. Fingers spread you wide. His erection spreads you further. You’ll be thrown on the bed, stuck under him for multiple beautiful orgasms. As you cum, moan ‘thank you’ again and again. Your gratitude encourages him. He’ll keep you moaning into the morning.

Hound Dog

The second Ryo entered that seriously horny stage of puberty, he knew his dominance. As he started having sex, it only flourished. He’s rough, fast, controlling, and one-hundred percent, hands down a brat tamer. Your whines and protests are cute, but he always wins. Hearing his rasping, growling voice is enough to get you to concede to his demands.

Aftercare and any delicate aspects will take time and learning on his part. He wants to be so gentle, caring, and sweet with you. His natural rough nature gets in the way. As any good Daddy is patient with his little girl, a good girl needs to be patient with him. And when he gets there, he gets there. You’ll be swaddled in a warm blanket, given candy and drinks, and your favorite bed-time Tv will play while you wind down. His warm, smooth tongue laps over bruises and scratches.

There’s one big thing about this Daddy: God, he just loves to watch you suck: him (specifically his foreskin), his fingers, your fingers, a lollipop, a pacifier, whatever. Lay on his chest, wrapped in a blanket, and nurse on a binkie as you fall asleep. The most common way sex starts is with a blowjob. It commonly ends that way as well. He either makes you finish him with no pleasure for you or, after you’re finished, he lays you down and deepthroats you.

Right off the bat, punishments are a main part. There’s a written list on the fridge you must obey. Though he doesn’t spank. You might act up just to get spanked, and he won’t have that. The discipline always matches the offense. Are you back talking? You’re eating something you don’t like. Is your temper too hot? You’re taking an ice-cold shower for five minutes. Are you ignoring him? Daddy’s going to rile you up then leave you hanging and whining, showing you what it’s like to be neglected.

After the punishment is complete, Ryo transitions right into aftercare. Daddy loves you enough to punish you. That love is strengthened after by his licks and kisses. Besides, Daddies who don’t show their little girl compassion and care afterward, aren’t good Daddies. He loves and respects you and wants you to know, see, and feel that.

And the punishments never push past your boundaries. You’re never put in danger. In any way. The safe word is always available. He won’t give you food you truly can’t handle for whatever reason. He’s right beside you as you shower just in case something goes wrong. The moment the water’s shut off, you’re immediately swathed in a cozy towel.

During one of his more… inflamed moods, you’re fastened in a collar. It’s pink with little flowers. The heart decoration on the front is a padlock. Only he has the key. It has ‘Daddy’s Girl’ inscribed on the back. It goes on as soon as you get home. And it stays on until you leave. There is a leash he’ll use if you aren’t behaving, holding, leading, and controlling all your movements.

There are times when he goes into (sort of) a heat. It could be a quirk side effect. It could just be him. Either way, you’re going to get completely dominated. Your hair will be pulled. Your throat will be choked and fucked. Your cheeks, both sets, will be red and raw. Scratch marks and dark bruises will stain your neck, legs, and back.

His favorite is any doggy-style position. It’s carnal and crude. Daddy has total authority since his weight bears down, caging you to the bed. Use your voice. Let him hear every gasp and cry. Beg for him. Plead for more. Pray for just one more orgasm as your hair’s tugged and clit’s smack sore. The harder you crave, the harder he thrusts.

Sweet sex is a rare time when he kisses and cuddles. Heat surrounds you. Muscled thighs and callused hands direct your weak, longing body. His tongue never leaves your mouth, licking over yours, causing drivel to drip down your chin. It may not be rough, but the sincerity and intimacy provide more than enough pleasure for an amazing orgasm. And Daddy passionately walks you through it.

1K notes · View notes

cheeriecherry · 4 years ago

Text

Space Between [8/9] [Aizawa Shouta x Reader x Yamada Hizashi]

EraserMic x f!Reader

Part 8/9

Warnings: mentions of panic attacks, some fluff, no beta we die like men

It’s dark. So dark that you can’t see your hand in front of your face, or your breath in the air as it heaves from your lungs. The cold is all encompassing, and the damp chills your bones and makes them ache.

Where are you?

Water drips from a leaking pipe somewhere off to the side. You feel like you should know the place, but the name escapes you. A basement? A warehouse?

Where are you?

“Tell me who you work for boy, and who you brought with you.”

You whip towards the sound of the voice, a shiver crawling down your spine. You’d know that cruel, grating lilt anywhere...but if she was here, did that mean you were…? No, you couldn’t be back there. It was too dark, too silent, to empty…

��I’m not working for anyone! I’m loyal to-”

A slap cracks in the quiet, cutting sharp into your ears. You take a hesitant step towards the flurry of sound, then another, and soon you’re sprinting through the darkness.

A little piece of you knows you’re not getting anywhere.

“I’ll give you one more chance, hero scum. Give me the name of your partner, and I’ll let you live.”

Your foot catches on something unseen, and you topple forwards, colliding heavy with the wet ground. Your palms sting against the grainy floor, and your breathing is thick and laboured.

You look up to try and something, anything, in the pitch black.

“I...don’t...have one…”

You gasp and fling yourself away from the sudden and intrusive gurgling voice in your ear. So close, but so broken and distorted. You squeeze your eyes shut and fold your hands over your ears in preparation. You know what happens next. You know, and you don’t want to see, don’t want to hear it. Not again.

Just give her my name, you beg silently, wishing more than anything that the outcome of the situation would be different this time. Just give her my name!

A gun cocks, loud and violating, despite your covered ears.

A cold, violent laugh.

“Then you die alone.”

You gasp awake to the sound of a gunshot ringing in your mind. You’re covered in a cool sheen of sweat, trembling like an earthquake. You glance frantically around the room, looking for any signs of danger, and only when you find none does your heart begin to slow. You sit up.

Outside the window, the sky is lightening. The sun hasn’t risen yet, leaving the dawn greenish and undisturbed.

Shouta appears in the doorway, and you regard each other silently. He clearly hadn’t expected you to be awake at this hour, but everything in your panicked expression tells him why you are. He takes a seat on the edge of the bed, half-dressed.

“Nightmare?” he asks, though he already knows the answer. Still, you nod weakly.

“You were talking in your sleep,” he says quietly, as unthreatening as he can manage, “in English. Something about your name.”

That’s all it takes for you to burst out crying, tears exploding forth and pained wails breaking from your chest. Shouta moves towards you slowly and wraps his arms around you in a tight hug.

“My name,” you weep, leaning heavily against him, “why didn’t the stupid kid just give her my name?!”

Your boyfriend rubs soothing circles into your back, not truly knowing how to answer you.

“She made him give everything else! Why wouldn’t he give my name?! I was right there! I could have helped! I could have fought! He’d still be alive-”

You cry harder into his shirt, and remain tucked in Shouta’s embrace for several minutes. Your sobs eventually turn to snotty sniffles, though neither of you pay any mind to the mess you’re making on his shirt.

“He...he didn’t even give me the option to try and save him. If my cover had been blown, then I…”

“Would probably be dead, too.” Shouta’s voice is low and pained, as if merely speaking the words caused him distress.

You peek up at him through wet lashes. “You don’t know that.”

“I do,” he says, “Up until a few days ago, you were in no shape to fight Akuma and win. If you’d stood up back then, your partner would still be dead, and you’d be beside him, and every bastard you’ve put behind bars would still be out there.”

“But how do you know?” your voice crackles, fresh tears springing up. “How do you know I couldn’t have saved him?”

“How do you know you could have?”

You’re both quiet for several beats, before you sigh deeply and set your head back on his shoulder.

“I...don’t.”

You stay like that for another couple minutes, listening closely to the beat of his heart and the steady thrum of his breathing. And once your anxiety begins to settle, you start to squirm.

“You’re gonna be late for work, Sho.”

He pushes the hair off your face, and lays a tender kiss on your forehead. “The kids will understand.”

You grumble a little, and offer him a tired smile. “Thank you. But really, I think I’m okay now. It’s easier getting through this when you or Hizashi are around.”

Shouta looks like he doesn’t quite believe you, but he knows coddling you will only make you mad. You’ve come far enough, trusting him to see you during a vulnerable moment. He wasn’t going to push it further.

“Promise you’ll call me if you start feeling less okay.”

You roll your eyes lightheartedly. “Yes, dad.”

“I’m serious, Y/N. Me or Hizashi. We’ll talk with you through whatever’s causing you problems.”

You avert your gaze from his, inklings of guilt creeping into your heart. “You’re not my therapists,” you tell him softly, “You shouldn’t have to talk me through anything. It’s not your job to deal with all my fucked up shit.”

“But we do love you.” He reaches down and takes your face in his hands, thumbs gently stroking over your damp cheeks. “We’ll support you however you need, no matter what. We want to be there for you, okay?”

You lean into his touch for a couple seconds, letting your eyes fall shut.

“Alright,” you relent, “if something happens, I’ll call one of you.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

He leans forward and kisses you, then stands to continue dressing. You watch him as he moves around the room, collecting his various accessories and pouches, pointing things out to him whenever he can’t find it.

He’s out of the house a few minutes later, leaving you with a warm goodbye and a tight hug. Hizashi had gone even earlier, which now left you completely alone in the house.

It seemed more spacious than it usually did, now that you’re on your own. No background din of partners moving around, no sounds of quiet conversation, or television music. Your chest dully aches as you flop back onto the bed and pull the blankets over your body.

You didn’t particularly want to go back to sleep, but you could feel the tiredness still in your limbs, and the heaviness behind your eyes. On top of that, your therapist had suggested you try some breathing exercises when trying to fall asleep, and you’d yet to try them out. Even if you didn’t pass back out, it might still be enough to allow you to lay there with your eyes shut.

Lo and behold, not thirty seconds after you start measuring your breaths, you begin to drift off.

----

The next time you wake, it’s nearly one in the afternoon. You feel surprisingly rested with the extra couple of hours, but you’re even more amazed with the lack of recurring nightmares. Plain, decent rests were few and far between.

Feeling revived, you’re able to look at your earlier dream more logically. It’s obvious now that your past is still haunting you, and that you’re even further stressed about the events to come. Your confrontation with Akuma is less than a week away, and you can finally see how much it’s weighing on you.

You’ve been trying your best to remain optimistic, to prepare yourself mentally for the oncoming fight, but you’re just so...tired. All the time. Exhausted down to your very core. You know that therapy will help you in the long run, and that’s what you’re planning for, but you know it’ll be months until you start feeling the affects.

You might not even have months left to live.

You sigh deeply, wishing your negative thoughts would leave you alone. Your phone sits on the bedside table beside you, silently taunting you. You could call one of your boyfriends...but did this count as a stressful time; dealing with the very hard truth?

Probably not.

And you don’t want to feel like a burden, like you need help with every tiny thing.

You could get through this on your own, you decide. You had an appointment in three hours, so if you could make it that long, you’d be okay.

But...maybe you’d leave a little earlier than usual. Getting out of the house would probably be good for you, so maybe you’d stop to get a coffee before your session...

Your heart warms at the thought of a warm drink and a snack, so you roll out of bed and start going about your day. No more moping around, you tell yourself. You were going to hold your head high, and hope your mood gets the memo.

----

It’s a nice afternoon for a walk. Not too hot, not too cold, sunny with white fluffy clouds dotted around, and a light breeze. You sip at the drink in your hand, letting the sweet taste soothe you from the inside out. You weren’t entirely sure whereabouts you were, having been wandering the city aimlessly for the past half hour.

Oddly enough, it didn’t bother you. Most often, you liked to know your exact location, to know which way you could run if you needed to. But today, despite your earlier panic, you feel...good. Light. You can’t describe the sudden onslaught of positivity, but you know it’s there. Maybe because Shouta and Hizashi are just a phonecall away, maybe it’s because you’re taking the time to care for yourself, maybe it’s-

You nearly jump out of your skin when a car alarm starts blaring beside you. Anyone around you would probably chuckle at your actions, and you take a second to smile at yourself.

A shop owner must have seen your distress, because he nods apologetically at you as he rushes out of his store to turn the alarm off. He looks tired and spread thin, not unlike your own reflection, and you pause momentarily to watch him walk back into the shop.

You glance over the flyers pasted to the windows, and an odd tremor crawls up your spine.

You try for a moment to chalk it up to your regular anxiety returning, flaring up from your spook a few moments ago...but something in the back of your mind tells you otherwise, some intricately honed survival sense that you’d obtained from years of being under threat.

You look a little closer at the papers in the window.

Most of them are outdated; old advertisements for food deals and community events, images of a couple lost pets. But there’s one sheet at the very center of the mess that catches your eye.

The paper is so pink it’s nearly blinding in the sunlight, but you’re still able to read the details. A charity event at the shop where it’s posted, one day only, when proceeds from every order will be donated to local food banks.

Usually something like that would have you scribbling the date down to participate...but this one freezes your heart to ice and sends another peculiar tremble through your body.

It’s dated for next week. The very day Akuma is meant to attack.

You skitter back a few steps and look up at the store’s sign, fear beginning to roil around in your gut.

Chicken shop. Cartoon chicken mascot.

This is wrong, you think. She’s not meant to attack until next week.

You hurry along from the shop, nearly running as you try to get out of the immediate area. You cut and dive around various slower-paced people, paying them no mind as they scold you for your rudeness.

But no matter how quickly you run, you can’t shake the feeling of impending danger.

You duck into a small nook beside a larger building, a building you’re fairly certain is the radio station from Oracle’s vision, and pull out your phone.

You feel so stupid, while the phone rings and you wait for Shouta to pick up. Oracle has said they couldn’t confirm the date for sure, but you’d pitted everything on them being right. They’d even warned you to be careful about where you go, until the event happened, but you hadn’t listened.

“Shit,” your curse, when you get put through to your boyfriend’s voicemail, bouncing back and forth from one foot to the other.

“Shouta, listen to me,” you tell the recording, “We got the date wrong. I was stupid. I wasn’t careful enough, and I’m downtown. I don’t think this is my mind playing tricks on me, not this time. It feels different. I think Akuma-”

Your breath freezes in your lungs when something cold and pliable wraps around your throat, and a warm body presses against your back. You try to squirm away, but more icy tar wraps around your extremities, holding you in place.

“Hello, little mouse,” Akuma coos, sickly sweet in your ear, “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Your phone falls out of your hand, landing on the sidewalk with a wet splat. It feels disgusting as Akuma’s tendrils wire and snake around your body, soaking through your clothes and into your skin. Your vision is already beginning to fade, and your breath is laboured as the air is choked out of your lungs.

“Your little partner resisted his death, but I have a feeling you won’t make the same mistake.”

The final thought you have is one of Shouta and Hizashi, holding you close with warmth and affection.

Then the world goes black.

#aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta x reader #yamada hizashi x reader #present mic x reader #erasermic x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #Space Between

155 notes · View notes

drxwsyni · 5 years ago

Text

Petrified (pt.5)

Yandere Erasermic x f!Reader

SERIES MASTERLIST

a/n: idk what to say about this part. the dialogue wasn’t fun, but that’s about it! hope y’all enjoy!

5.9k words

Warnings: reader experiences anxiety

Realistically speaking, there was a very low chance that you’d be able to wrestle your nerves under control as you waited for the impending meeting. It was creeping upon you, quite painfully slowly. On top of that you still had yet to resolve the almost instantaneous sensation of despair you felt upon waking.

Even as you spent the time you had to yourself completing menial tasks, nothing could truly remedy the feelings that plagued your being. It was incessant. Eating away at your will to distract yourself. And eventually you did succumb to its pestering.

No matter what you occupied yourself with, the reality of the approaching situation would invade your thoughts. It would keep you there until you mentally fought tooth and nail against it. But even then it wasn’t enough. It simply became easier to settle with the mindset.

You opted to lay on your thrifted couch, toying with the soft tussles on the blanket that was draped over your lower half. The connection of the fabric running across your fingers to how it actually felt wasn’t something your brain was choosing to register at the moment.

Rather, you simply stewed on your conflict.

It felt like you did this a lot nowadays. Brewing over muddled thoughts that didn’t entirely make sense but also did at the same time.

You trusted Shouta and Hizashi. Yet there was always an inkling of suspicion―or perhaps it was moreso a fear. Probably both, you assumed. What you wouldn’t give to have this whole reality be erased from existence. To never have met the two. Never have gotten preyed on by some lowly criminals that made you so indebted.

But that wasn’t something you could control. Much like you couldn’t seem to control the extent of the impact the heroes were having on your life. That was something they preferred to dictate, regardless of your protests.

Not that you protested all that much. To be fair, you hadn’t exactly been assertive with your wishes. Still, that doesn’t mean your few opinions should be as disregarded as they were.

It angered you more than anything. Shouta wouldn’t give you the chance to speak your mind while Hizashi glazed over the problem with a delusional sense of care. With their combined insistence it was more than enough to force you back into your shell. A place where no matter how upset you were, the courage to speak your mind was next to impossible.

If you didn’t know any better you would think that they were just as aware of this as you. After all, they seemed to be exploiting your weaknesses more and more. Maybe they did know you quite literally feared their methods of approach and were doing it just to see your pitiful reactions.

It would be cruel, and highly unlikely. But your mind had a habit of coming up with the worse case scenario, and this idea was no exception.

You were so wrapped up in contemplating the meaning for their behaviour and subsequently how you felt because of it that the time passing at an alarming rate didn’t even phase you.

No, not until the sound of your phone pinging―an alert for received text messages―were you finally pulled out of your stupor.

From: Shouta

Are you still okay with being picked up at 5:30?

4:32 pm

The time on the receipts made your heart drop a little. An hour left.

You:

That’s fine :)

4:33 pm

From: Shouta

Let me know if you need more time.

4:33 pm

You:

Will do, thanks!

4:34 pm

Of course you didn’t need more time to meddle with your own thoughts.

How exactly were you supposed to get ready to spend time with them? You couldn’t make anything to bring, something they made clear. Were you supposed to wear something casual? Or maybe dressing up a little was the better option.

None of these details really mattered, but overthinking was one of the things you were best at. So at each decision you came across you muddled over what to do. When all was said and done, you chose to settle with a navy blouse and black high waisted jeans. Dark colours were best for not drawing attention to yourself after all, and that was exactly what you wanted to do.

The rest of the routine to prepare for your slowly ensuing departure from the comfort of your apartment was done on autopilot. Any actions couldn’t be fully processed when your mind was drowning in nonsensical worries and ‘what if’ scenarios. The phenomenon wasn’t surprising, but still mentally taxing nonetheless. Nothing you could think or do would make you feel better. This was just something you would have to push through regardless of the voice in your head urging you to make up an excuse not to go.

After all, excuses now would only postpone the inevitable. And right now the inevitable was already here.

From: Shouta

I’m outside.

5:29 pm

You’d been ready for the past fifteen minutes―spending your remaining time anxiously waiting at the kitchen table. You regarded the text with a feeling of dread, but pushed the sensation down as you pulled on your shoes and jacket, stuffing your wallet in a pocket.

Just as he said, Shouta was waiting outside the apartment complex in the parking lot. He was leaning against the side of his car, eyes trained on his phone. Dressed in casual clothes with his hair pulled back into a half bun, he lifted his head upon hearing your approaching footsteps.

You watched as his eyes briefly scanned your form, presumably taking in your choice of clothing. “Ready to go?”

He didn’t exactly sound bored with the pseudo-greeting, rather it was a ‘let’s move this along’ kind of sound. It made you question for a moment whether he actually cared about the situation, but you disregarded the idea. “Of course.” Out of habit you offered a warm smile, which made his face lighten slightly in return. Even that alone was comforting compared to his normally serious facade.

Shouta opened the passenger door for you, letting you step in before closing it. He rounded the car and entered on the drivers side while you fastened your seatbelt, hands shaking ever so slightly. It was in your best interest to keep your nerves under control as much as possible, lest one of the two men pick up on it and become more concerned.

The car started with a low hum, the interior dashboard lighting up in areas that were blacked out before. The radio was playing quietly, allowing you to just barely register the soft rock music being emitted from the speakers. Shouta was the first to break the silence as he began driving.

“So, how was work yesterday?”

Small talk, thank god.

It would probably be a good idea to disregard the normal strain it put on your body. “It was good, like any other Friday I guess.”

The erasure hero nodded slightly before replying, “Anyone giving you trouble?” His eyes never left the road as he spoke, which you were thankful for, but it also made his expression hard to read from where you were sitting.

“I suppose a few people were a little impatient, but it’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”

To that he only offered a hum in response before moving to turn the radio up. By now there was a segment between the hosts, and you gratefully let it fill the silence if it meant you could avoid any awkward bits of forced conversation.

You found out regrettably that his home wasn’t too far from your apartment. Perhaps roughly ten minutes there by car, and you were already pulling up to the settlement.

It was comfortably small, set in a neighbourhood with houses of a similar size. You could tell that it was a pricy abode, evident in the elaborately carved wooden doors and smooth stone walkway. Everything exuded luxury, and you expected to find the same quality of handiwork on the inside. Not only that, but it was placed comfortably in the midst of the city―not close enough to any normal bustling life but in an area that would allow for a fast commute. Just another aspect that alluded to it’s likely expensive cost.

Shouta pulled into the driveway, parking the car inside the garage which was surprisingly big enough to fit the automobile. You stepped out as soon as the car door unlocked, the erasure hero following suit. The sound of the doors slamming shut echoed off the walls loudly, causing you to jump a little with your nerves already being on edge. Silently, you prayed he had yet to pick up on your behaviour.

“S’just through here.” Shouta gestured to the only door in the room before heading towards it, one hand shoved in his pocket. He held it open in wait for you to round the car and step through the threshold.

Instantly your senses were flooded with a smell that was so indisputably welcoming―a certain warmth, enhanced by the aroma of a home cooked meal in the making. It was wildly calming, and in that moment you forgot how stressed you’d been over the ordeal you were about to sit through. And yet, even as you came back to reality, the atmosphere continued to still your worries to a certain extent.

“We’re home.” The erasure hero’s voice sounded off behind you, causing you to turn to see that he was removing his jacket. You did the same, but before you could ask where to hang it Shouta had already gently removed the article from your hands, placing it on a hanger in the front entrance closet.

As you were removing your shoes a certain voice hero made himself known. “I’m just in the kitchen, grub’s almost done and cooked!”

Once the two of you had finished up getting comfortable, Shouta led the way deeper into the house. Following him, you finally laid eyes on his partner who was preoccupied at the stove. He glanced over his shoulder, face turning bright upon seeing you.

“Songbird? How’ve ya been?” He talked like he hadn’t seen you in forever, but that was no surprise.

What did come as a surprise was the suffocatingly tight hug he went on to wrap you in. The contact was jarring, but you did your best not to recoil. After all, you would be lying if you said the hug wasn’t at least a little nice. Sure, your mind had momentarily ceased it’s functioning from the shock, but biology did have its ways of easing your pain. Namely, in the form of that sweet release of serotonin as an innate response to the affection. Leaning into it to prove you weren’t too bothered by the close proximity, you responded. “Ah―fine. The same as last time you saw me I guess.”

The blond pulled away, opting to hold you by the shoulders as he spoke. “That head feelin’ okay? Your meds workin’?” The look in his eyes told you how concerned he was, even though the soft tone in his voice did more than enough to convey it. It was one of the few times it carried such delicacy to it, something you were grateful for as you don’t think the normal booming of his voice would’ve been tolerable from such a distance.

You smiled warmly, doing your best to maintain eye contact―and failing after a few seconds. “Yep, everything's back to normal, pretty much…”

That’s what you said, but it wasn’t the truth.

The reality of your health was something you normally chose to disregard, but you knew it wasn’t normal. At the end of the day, your normal was likely another person's hell. The exhaustion you felt was second nature, but that didn’t mean it was easy to deal with. However, putting up with the sensation was worth what you got out of it. So you kept going―kept lying―both to yourself and others that you were okay.

The pause Hizashi gave before answering instilled a brief pang of anxiety. The two were unbearably perceptive―they had to be, being heroes and all. But whatever he was thinking seemed to pass. “Good ta hear, why don'tcha make yourself comfortable while we finish up sweetheart.”

You glanced over to the stovetop, then to the countertop that was adorned with wayward vegetables and measuring cups. Naturally, you couldn’t help but offer assistance. “Oh, I don’t mind helping out. If you want I could―”

“Nah listener! Go get comfy, ‘Shou and I’ve got this.” He gave your shoulder a few reassuring pats, before motioning to the living room with his other hand.

As he gave you a gentle push, you managed to sputter out a response. “Um―okay, then…” Was it a strong response? No. But they weren’t giving you time to come up with something more polite. So you took Hizashi’s queue and padded over to the living room.

The first thing you noticed when you stepped into the expanse was how...empty it was. It had furniture―more than enough to fill the room. All of it looking high in value, only adding to the comfort and prestige of their home. That wasn’t the issue. It was the lack of personal items that stood out.

There were none of the items that you would expect in a well lived in home. Things like photos or framed degrees on the wall―nothing to suggest that either of the two heroes stayed there. Not so much as a haphazardly discarded personal belonging like a sweater or even a stray coffee mug was in sight. It was immaculately devoid of unique human presence. The only thing that served as evidence to suggest someone was actually living there and it wasn’t more so a showroom was the laptop on the coffee table in front of the couch.

But that was it. Peculiar, to say the least.

There was quite literally nothing else for you to evaluate. Nothing to help you get a better sense of who the heroes were behind closed doors. With the lack of stimulation came an awkward feeling of self awareness. So you did what the blond instructed―you made yourself comfortable.

The couch looked invitingly cushiony, so there you took up residence, pulling out your phone for the distraction of social media. You had your back to Shouta and Hizashi who were still in the kitchen. That particular detail mildly unsettled you, and you did your best not to let the paranoia induced urge to keep looking over your shoulder get to you.

With the comfort of the temporary seclusion you concluded that while they might be taking your presence to make up for the burden you’ve placed on them, you were paying an equal amount with your sanity. They couldn’t have seen how much their existence in your life as of late was displacing your will to remain calm. If they did then you were sure the heroes in them wouldn’t have suggested this meeting.

They were getting too personal, and all you could think about was never having to see them again after tonight.

Regrettably, the sound of clinking metal pulled you out of your thoughts. Behind you Shouta had begun setting the dining table, placing down cutlery along with napkins. Part of you knew that your offer of assistance would be shot down. It was all routine at this point, and you’d honestly lost track of the amount of times it had happened.

You inwardly cursed yourself for causing unnecessary anxiety, “I can help with that, if you want.” The ‘if you want’ came out unintentionally, your subconscious knowing what was about to happen.

Shouta glanced up at you, “That’s fine (y/n), you can just take a seat.” He went back to what he was doing without another word, before heading back to the kitchen.

It wasn’t even worth putting up resistance over.

Standing up, you walked over to the dining room, claiming the spot next to the head of the table. Not a moment later and the two were walking out with various bowls which appeared to be steaming.

“Hope you’re hungry sunshine! Dinner’s comin’ in hot” Hizashi set down a bowl in front of you.

“It’s beef stew, hope you don’t mind.” The erasure hero sat down at the head of the table. His partner left the room, only to return with a tray of golden dinner rolls.

“Homemade and fresh outta the oven!” He set the tray down in the middle of the table, taking a seat across from you.

You looked down at the food displayed before you. Frankly, it looked absolutely delectable. “This looks really good, you must’ve been at it for a while.”

Shouta had already begun eating so you assumed it was safe for you to do the same. Lo and behold, the food tasted just as good as it looked. The perfect ratio of vegetables to meat, seasoned to perfection. It was impressive, to say the least.

“Yeah it did take a bit, but it’s worth it for you songbird!”

You were almost too distracted by the mouth watering meal that was gracing your tastebuds to care about his pet names. And even if you did care, the hospitality would help in overlooking it. Thankfully your nerves had calmed down a bit, part of you thinking that you were growing used to their presence ever so slightly.

As you ate, the two took it upon themselves to make idle discussion to fill the silence, Hizashi always doing more of the talking than his counterpart. You did the listening, as they were dealing with topics beyond you. Namely hero work, its details something that you couldn’t quite relate to, let alone offer something valuable to the conversation. You weren’t complaining either―it was easier to let them go on than it was to worry yourself over trying to find something interesting to say.

It would’ve been nice if things could’ve stayed like that. The mood was something you could tolerate at the moment, an occurrence that was rare when you were around the two men. But of course something so ideal as that would never last.

Soon enough their back and forth discourse began heading exactly where you hoped they would avoid tonight.

Hizashi was on the subject of a few unsavoury criminals that had been active in the area. Nothing too serious, but still posing a large enough threat to those who were less capable of defending themselves.

And then he started talking about the area you were walking through when you just so happened to get cornered by similarly dangerous individuals.

At that point you were a little over halfway done eating, and desperately wishing to quickly move from the subject if not just drop it entirely. But no, Hizashi was intent on remaining on the topic.

“Ya know, a few buddies of mine have been dealing with some trouble in that area.” With his mouth half full, he continued. “Sure you gotta work so late? Can’t imagine walkin’ home at that time is very safe.”

You’d lost your appetite.

“Yeah, they need me to cover the later shifts, and I don’t really mind it, so…”

Shouta seemed to be more interested in the discussion now that you were involved. “Still, you should try and switch to morning shifts.”

“Mm―not only that but ya can’t just go exploring a bunch of alleyways. Shit’s bound to happen there hun.” The blond had set his food aside and was more than happy to indulge himself further in telling you what to do.

Did they really think you were so dense that you’d be going down alleyways just to explore?

You placed your spoon in the almost empty bowl, bringing your hands to rest on your lap. At least like that they wouldn’t be able to see you trying to relieve some stress by repetitively fidgeting with the end of your sleeve or digging your nails into the palms of your hands.

“I was taking a shortcut. That’s not something I would normally do.” There was a certain feeling of spite in your voice, but you doubt they could register it. Rather you probably simply sounded displeased to be talking about that night, mixed with a hint of shame for letting yourself get attacked like that.

“If that’s the case then I’d advise you take the long way. You’re just putting yourself at a higher risk by going down that path.” Shouta was taking a sip of his drink as the two let you process their advice. He didn’t seem to like the idea of you ‘putting yourself at risk,’ judging by the almost disappointed tone in his voice.

It was hard for you to meet their eyes as they spoke, so instead you alternated between staring at the table while looking at them for a brief second to prove that yes, you were listening to them.

However you did watch as Hizashi moved to fold his hands atop the table, leaning forward slightly. He paused, likely gathering his thoughts. “And, ah...somethin’s been sorta bothering Shou’ and I for a bit.” The two men eyed each other for a moment, “It’s just...the doctor never said what was quite wrong with ya, being so tired and all.”

The heroes were looking intently at you for an answer, causing you to mentally recoil from the unwanted attention. But you still had to come up with something to influence them into moving on to something that didn’t directly relate to your wellbeing. “Oh...well it was the end of the week I guess. That probably explains it…” You were curious to see if the answer was satisfactory, but upon looking up a little more to judge their reactions you found that oh no, that was most definitely not enough.

They didn’t look convinced in the slightest. You weren’t lying to them, just omitting most of the truth. And somehow it felt like they knew you were doing so―your suspicions being quickly confirmed.

“You passed out, (y/n). Your records don’t list any medical problems so there should be no reason your shifts cause you that much exhaustion.”

You had no doubt Shouta was boring holes into your skull with the unmatched intense look he was likely giving you. The wavering amounts of courage you held only allowed you to observe him from the shoulders down. He’d leaned back in his chair at this point, one hand in his lap while the other rested on the table.

They didn’t have the right to be so invasive with your personal life. They were heroes. They saved people and then they were supposed to move on.

Not access their medical history without their permission to see if they were being completely honest.

As if sensing your growing uncomfortableness, Hizashi piped up. “We’re just worried about ya sweetheart. Stuff like that doesn’t just happen outta the blue. And if somethin’ really is wrong then you gotta tell us.”

You could almost drown in the concern blanketing his words and tone. It was conflicting―you knew he was being genuine, and that the two were just that invested in your wellbeing at the moment. But that’s what scared you.

The attention was entirely unwelcome. How many times did you have to reassure them that you were handling things before they let it go?

Self-awareness was haunting you, knowing full well how you were going to be unable to control the shakiness in your voice. Even less so was the hold you had over the stirring of worrisome emotions brewing inside you. You knew skirting around the truth was better than telling them you used your quirk at work. They would probably get mad at you―the reality wasn’t a conventionally accepted thing.

“I think..I’m just a naturally tired person. And those guys freaked me out a bit, so...I don’t know. I guess it was just a combination of those things?”

You waited in heavy silence for a response. For once it seemed that they were thinking before they spoke. Hizashi especially liked to say whatever came to mind, at least that’s what you thought. Shouta wasn’t as impulsive, but he never hesitated this long. And so when he finally spoke, you weren’t sure whether to be relieved due to the occurrence or not―given what he said.

“If you think we believe that excuse for a second then you're very wrong, (y/n). You might be tired, but we know there’s more to it than that. It’d be much easier if you’d just cooperate with us.”

Looking up was a bad idea, but your head moved on its own. While Shouta looked as menacing as ever, his partner looked...nervous. You’d never seen him that way, like he was suffering just as much as you were. Perhaps it was a side effect of this irrational concern he felt, realistically you didn’t care. But the feeling transferred to you and slowly the pit in your stomach grew bigger and bigger with each passing second. You weren’t sure how much longer you’d be able to hold out.

“Please just tell us the truth, songbird. You’re not in trouble, we promise. It’s just―we can tell there’s somethin’ off with ya.” If your hands were on the table you wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to hold them, knowing of his tendencies.

You looked back and forth between the two, eyes silently pleading for them to just drop it altogether.

Of course, you knew they wouldn’t.

Maybe you should just run while you had the chance?

“R-really, I’m okay. Listen, dinner was...really good, but I think I should be going n―”

“You’re not leaving.”

The erasure hero was in no mood to put up with you dancing around the topic at hand anymore. He brought you here to find out what the fuck was going on with you and he’d be damned if you just denied them that truth any longer. Hizashi had no complaints―maybe wincing at his partner’s harshness a little, but otherwise was in it just as much as him.

The blond could bring the tension down a little though, mostly for your sake. “Are ya not gettin’ enough sleep? Shou’ knows a pretty good doctor that helps with that kinda thing if that’s the problem. We just wanna make sure you’re being safe is all, sunshine.”

Really? Because this feels more like an interrogation than a friendly discussion over your habits.

Perhaps it would be better to just cut your losses and tell them. You didn’t want to, if they deemed fit they could be the reason you lose your job. Your boss didn’t know that you used your quirk―nobody did. It was how you stayed ahead of everyone else. Technically it was like cheating, having such a big advantage over your coworkers in your line of work. But where was the harm? You were making people happy, there’s nothing wrong with that.

But just like before you left your apartment to be accompanied to their house, your mind decided it was a perfectly fine and healthy idea to come up with countless ‘what ifs.’ One of which included the possibility that yes, you would be fired for this small transgression. Even though it was unlikely, it still plagued your mind with dread. The shop was where you got validation―a place where you knew you were doing something right. You didn’t want it taken away from you.

But you had to tell them. They were waiting. There was no way out of this.

“M-my quirk…”

How were you supposed to explain this?

“What about your quirk?” Shouta was not giving you any room to weasel your way out of this.

Your eyes remained trained on the abandoned dinner in front of you. “I use it...at work, sometimes. It just makes me a little tired I guess.”

The erasure hero didn’t give his counterpart the chance to ruin the moment, knowing you were susceptible to revealing more information with another push. “Only sometimes?”

God, it felt like you were being shamed for what you did.

“A lot...I use it a lot.” Admitting it felt hard even though you were more than aware of your behaviour. It was their reaction that made the task so difficult.

“What’s your quirk, sweetheart?”

You looked at your hands―the tools that made the fruits of your labour possible. “I...um―it’s called Nurture. I can sort of...put life back into plants? It just makes them healthier, but doing it puts strain on my body. Makes me a bit sleepy, but it isn’t usually that bad…”

Shouta gave a quiet hum in response before continuing, sitting up in his chair a bit. “Well―I wouldn’t call that a bit. No point in trying to downplay it now, just be honest.”

It was probably supposed to sound lightly encouraging, but he sounded more like he was making a demand.

A demand in which you had no choice but to meet.

“Okay...it can be a little much sometimes. B-but Friday was the exception, I had to use it a lot the night before so...the exhaustion just caught up with me.” You left out the part where the emotional response from being cornered was likely a bigger problem than the sorry state your general physique was in.

Hizashi sighed, and it would appear that the two were relieved to finally get the explanation they were looking for. You however were not in the same state. You were vulnerable, and inwardly you prayed they would leave well enough alone.

The erasure hero took a sip of his drink, and you caught the men exchanging glances before the blond spoke up. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You didn’t respond. Just kept staring at your hands.

“What you’re doing isn’t illegal or anything, but it’s still not something you should be doing. I’m sure you know what could happen to your career if this kind of information got out.”

At that your eyes shot up, looking desperately in Shouta’s direction. “Please don’t tell my boss. He doesn’t know, and I’m not hurting anyone by using it. Please just―I don’t know what I’d do without my job.” You glanced back to Hizashi, looking like your words were hurting him as well.

“I don’t know (y/n), you’re not exactly being responsible with your quirk. Just because you’re not hurting anyone else doesn’t mean it’s safe to disregard your own health.” Shouta must enjoy judging you when you were at your lowest, seeing as he tended to do it an awful lot.

Just when you thought this night couldn’t get any worse, it did. It got so much worse.

You weren’t able to form a rebuttal, but it didn’t matter when Hizashi beat you to it. “Listen, we don’t want to do that songbird, honestly. How ‘bout we make another deal instead…”

What in god’s name could they want from you.

“W-what kind of deal?” How you wished they’d just let you walk free, unburdened by their presence like you planned on before coming here. It’s like they wanted to watch you squirm uncomfortably with anticipation.

Finally the blond continued. “Simple. Ya try not to use your quirk as much and we don’t tell management!”

Shouta added his take, “And you have to keep coming over for dinner so we can make sure you’re holding up your end. It’s a fair proposition. Take it or leave it.”

It was unbelievable. Of course you didn’t want to comply―they were blackmailing you for christ’s sake. But one problem did stand out, “What are you guys getting out of this? I―I’m just not quite sure I understand.”

The erasure hero sighed, “Call it peace of mind―lets us know you're not on the verge of death while enjoying your company at the same time.”

Clearly they couldn’t see how much you weren’t enjoying their company. Or maybe they did and simply didn’t care. How they thought this was a fair deal was beyond you, and it didn’t exactly matter either way.

You didn’t want to admit it―to agree to their ‘deal,’ but you had no choice. They’d effectively cornered you. At this point you could only hope they would get bored enough of your presence to eventually call it off. You wouldn’t be able to stop using your quirk, it would break your heart not to. You got so much out of using it―emotionally at least.

They might not know if you were lying now if you agreed to it, but having to see them again wouldn’t be good news. Was it that obvious what your quirk did to your health? Honestly speaking, you’d never really evaluated whether or not you looked worse for wear. All this time you just acted without thinking of the effects. Perhaps there was physical evidence―but it was something you would have to evaluate later.

Not that you personally cared whether or not you actually looked tired. There was always makeup for that if you were feeling self-conscious. Mostly, you needed to see what you had to do to fool them into thinking you were complying.

At least they were patient when it came to this response, and eventually you did manage to give one. With great reluctance, you spoke. “I guess...if that’s what you want. But I―”

“Then it’s settled! We can keep meetin’ up like this every Saturday from now on!” Hizashi was positively beaming at the prospect, you however were not as excited.

Every fucking Saturday?

The thought of having to experience the same god awful stress made your heart sink. They should be sick of seeing your face by now. All you’ve done for them was place an immense burden, both on their wallets and apparently their minds as well. It didn’t matter if they were worried about you―they would have to get over it.

You would play along for now, mostly for the sake of your sanity.

It was simple. You just had to convince them that you were keeping up your end of the deal. It wasn’t impossible. You would be fine.

Shouta stood up from his chair, muttering an “Alright, then” as he did so. You watched almost helplessly as he began gathering the bowls and glasses off the table, stacking them in a neat pile.

You would've offered to help, but they’d already taken enough from you tonight. Realistically, you doubted it was even possible to form a coherent sentence. Your mind was too muddled with what was currently an inescapable despair, alongside of a slowly kindling detestment for the two men.

The audacity they held to put you in such a position would be impressive if it weren’t also mildly disturbing at the same time. For heroes, they seemed wildly unaware of how oppressive their behaviour was.

For the time being you were under their every whim and command. It wasn’t ideal, but it was something you would have to put up with.

Just enough for them to see you were okay. That you were capable of functioning even when your quirk posed certain unpleasant obstacles.

And in your mind of calculating escapes, you just barely registered that the two had gone back to their discussion of life events that you’d never come close to relating to. Hizashi still being the more dominant, relaxed as his partner cleaned the dining table.

The clock ticking away on the wall read 5:57 pm. You wondered how much longer they’d keep you here, seeing as they never made a point to ask you what you were comfortable with anyways―probably planning on doing the same with when they thought you should be free to go for the night.

End of Part 5

_____

taglist: @roseloverofpastels @shinsous-eye-bags @tjhonoluluprezstitch626 @pekusofixus @riarora @glitterypinkkitty @elektraeriseros @hadesnewpersephone @axolotleyeliner

#yandere bnha #yandere erasermic #yandere shouta aizawa #yandere aizawa #yandere present mic #yandere yamada hizashi #yandere hizashi #yandere mha #yandere my hero academia #yandere

444 notes · View notes

nartothelar · 5 years ago

Note

Do any of the other pro heroes know anything about the Aizawas sketchy side dealings? I assume Hizashi knows something

Aizawa likes to keep his family life a secret, but isn’t too concerned if people find out about his family name. Aizawa is a common last name so most people don’t link it to a multimillionaire “electronics” company

Hizashi has had an inkling that Aizawa’s family is more than just rich (I mean he has 3 body guards shadowing him off school grounds) but he isn’t gonna question or ask about it. Aizawa is just Aizawa and he’s fine with leaving it at that

#rich boy aizawa #ask

417 notes · View notes

ao3feed-tododeku · 4 years ago

Text

Ink's True Home

Ink’s True Home by InkoHermitCraftAUs

Two inklings, one story. Within the Opposite's reach, Inko is on a new mission to be the best she can in life. By telling the truth, Inko wants a world of peace but will never get it.

Words: 545, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia, Dream SMP - Fandom

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage

Categories: Multi

Characters: Bakugou Katsuki, Midoriya Izuku, Ashido Mina, Asui Tsuyu, Iida Tenya, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, inko, Goodboyhalo, napsap, GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Mythic, Sero Hanta, Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), SI, MHA Characters, Inkling Characters, Other Dream SMP Characters

Relationships: Bakugou Katsuki/Kirishima Eijirou, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead/Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Midoriya Izuku/Todoroki Shouto, Ashido Mina/Sero Hanta, Iida Tenya & Uraraka Ochako, Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Sapnap/Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Kinuki Takami | Inko/GraystillPlays

Additional Tags: Angst, Sad, scared, Language, Annoyance, mha, Loneliness, Todoroki Enji | Endeavor Being An Asshole, The Stupidity of Life, League of Villains, ..., yeet, Yeetus Deletus

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30325359

#AO3 Feed #FanFiction #AO3 Tododeku Plus #💛#❤️#Side Tododeku #Kiribaku·#Erasermic·#♡#R:T #W:D #W:U #W:V #A:InkoHermitCraft #Angst

4 notes · View notes

myherohcs · 5 years ago

Text

Single Dad Present Mic scenario/headcanons

Gave him a daughter in this one! I named her Kaya because I got bored using “the child” or “his daughter” the whole time lol. #Kaya In The Skya

warnings: angst, loss of a spouse (no gender), eventual EraserMic, fluff because my boy deserves it, and kinda long!

🎙Present Mic would have loved his S/O so much for years and years and years if he was given the chance. They would probably be a hero too, but he's the kind of guy who would love just about anyone. Hero, civilian, quirk, quirkless, Mic believes in love above all else.

🎙But Mic is around heroes so much, he'd probably meet his S/O in the line of duty. They would hit it off quick and everyone would remember the two for having such an easy and passionate love for one another from the beginning.

🎙They were that couple that moved in with each other after only a few months dating, got engaged after six months, and married a year after meeting each other. They would adopt their daughter not long after that.

🎙Everything moved so naturally fast for them and Hizashi would thank his lucky stars for that later on.

🎙He would remember how normal the day had been when he found out he lost his spouse. They died as many heroes do; saving others. The news came to him after a long day of teaching followed by a visit to the radio station to plan an upcoming segment before going home to take over babysitting for his S/O. The tradeoff was short and Hizashi was barely awake when he kissed them goodbye for the night. He would rest and watch over the mostly sleeping 4-year-old, Kaya, while they went out for a patrol through their hero agency.

He would get the call in the early hours of the morning. He needed to go to the hospital quickly. It was bad. He didn’t want to bring Kaya, so he called the first person he thought of.

Shouta had been awake grading papers and almost didn’t answer his phone. It was the perfect time for Hizashi to need help home from the bar and he didn’t know if have the energy for that tonight. But he did answer. Like he always does. He knew immediately by the mere tone of his friend’s voice that something terrible was wrong. Hizashi sounded terrified and he needed Aizawa to watch his daughter for him. He had to go to the hospital. Hizashi didn’t have to explain much after that statement. It was every hero’s nightmare to have a loved one beyond their realm of saving, but unfortunately a common thing in their line of business. Aizawa agreed and Mic was at his apartment in no time and gone again in a flash. Shouta's goddaughter slept soundly through it all.

🎙Hizashi loss that night would destroy him. He’d need a lot of support from his friends and coworkers in the weeks following the incident.

🎙It was one of the few times anyone could really remember Hizashi going silent. He is usually so vocal about his feelings, but in this time of great emotion, words failed him.

When he could speak again, when he could function again, he found himself emotionlessly arranging the funeral and taking care of all the duties one must take care of when they lose a spouse. He took care of his daughter too, but it was done more upon instinct than anything really conscious. A hero’s funeral is one of the worst to deal with. It’s hard to deal with the rampage of emotions being projected onto you. You should honor the hero for their sacrifice, but you must deal with the fact that it was such an avoidable death. The media can swarm depending on the popularity of the hero. Present Mic got it bad. The couple had been very open about their marriage and always in the public eye, and the story of a hero becoming a widowed father was not one to pass up. Hizashi barely batted an eye at the attention. In fact, he barely reacted at all. How could he when he just lost everything? Nemuri and Aizawa stayed with him that night. Surprisingly, it was Aizawa who confronted him about his lack of emotion after the funeral. In a weird, alternate-dimension-type moment, it was Eraser’s turn for once to break Mic out of his shell.

“You know, it’s illogical to not feel something after this Yamada.“

Hizashi broke down and admitted he was hurting to his friends. He was terrified at raising Kaya alone. He was afraid of going back to work and having to deal with others again. His friends helped him through it all.

Nemuri and Aizawa took shifts being with Hizashi and helping him take care of Kaya after that. Aizawa took his role as a Godfather seriously. He had accepted years ago that he would never have children. This would be the closest he’d ever come to being a parent and a small part of him wanted to prove that he could be good at that.

Kaya was old enough to recognize the change in the household and had some trouble accepting her caretaker wasn’t retuning. Hizashi and her both attended therapy to get through this new shift in their life.

🎙 Hizashi took some time off, but went back to work quicker than most expected. Mic thrives when he’s with others and knew the only way he was going to find some semblance of normality again was by getting out there and talking again.

The main difference now was that he usually had his favorite listener with him. UA has an early education center and Kaya started coming to work with him. They would show up early everyday and Kaya would usually stick with Mic until he had to drop her off and go teach his classes. This meant she was a familiar face in the teacher’s lounge.

🎙Kaya liked to color during staff meetings. She liked to bring cookies for all the teachers. She would sometimes be tired in the earlier mornings and sleep in Aizawa's sleeping bag while everyone worked and planned for the day.

🎙She hung around Aizawa all the time. She was enamored with the quiet, dark-haired man who would take care of her and teach her things. She would sometimes nap with Eraser or be allowed to visit his class with her dad. She loved getting to see him and it became obvious to everyone that she saw him as a parent as much as she did her own father.

🎙One day Kaya woke up sick. She had a fever and Hizashi has to drag her through their morning routine as she feels so tired. Hizashi told her they would go see Recovery Girl when they got to school.

🎙Aizawa knew something was wrong the moment Hizashi walked into the teacher’s lounge.

Mic hadn’t gelled up his hair that morning. He only ever did that when either he was sick or Kaya was sick. Mic could never be bothered to do extra work like style his hair when he was sick. And when Kaya was under the weather, she liked to hide behind his curtain of hair.

“What’s wrong?”

The other teachers looked up in surprise at Aizawa’s question and Mic smiled at his coworkers.

“Kaya is feeling a little under the weather today.”

He went over to his work desk and carefully sat down with the child. Shouta reached over to check her temperature and found her too warm for comfort. Kaya had fallen asleep and blinked lazily at Aizawa before yawning and snuggling back into her father.

"Recovery girl will be in soon. Maybe we should go down to her office and wait for her," said Aizawa.

Hizashi would smile at his friend and thank his lucky stars he had someone like Eraser in his life who cared so much for his daughter.

🎙Aizawa was around a lot, but happened to miss the first time Kaya used her quirk.

Teleportation.

Hizashi and Kaya had been walking back from visiting Aizawa's class and one moment his daughter was there, the next she was gone.

It scared the living daylights out of Hizashi. He had an inkling it had to do with her quirk as Kaya's preschool teacher had warned him she was at the right age to start any day now. However, nothing could have prepared him.

He raced back to the training grounds to get Aizawa and burst in on his lesson to announce Kaya's disappearance. He had already been shouting from a good distance away and it wasn't until he was almost directly upon Aizawa did he realize his friend was already holding his daughter.

Aizawa stood there stoic as ever as the four-year-old beamed at her father, so excited to see him.

Hizashi dramatically fell over in relief and the students got in a quick laugh before Eraser shooed them off.

"You should keep better track of your daughter, Yamada."

Hizashi laughed, "Yeah, I guess I really should now."

🎙Kaya's quirk was hard to control. She would think about Aizawa or Midnight or someone else she liked being around and would often (without intention) teleport to their side.

One time she spent an afternoon with Principal Nedzu this way. She adored the fluffy, white creature and hung onto every word he said during his long, drawn out conversations. He was unbothered by her sudden appearance in his office and kept her around to give her some pointers about her quirk as apposed to sending her back to the preschool. He would prove to teach Kaya all kinds of things about her quirk and the potential behind it.

Another time she popped in on Toshinori as he was teaching class 1-A. They were in the middle of a training simulation and Toshi had to jump into action to save her from the crossfire between his students. He hadn't moved that quick in weeks and held his All Might form for a good 30 seconds after rescuing the girl as he had gotten terriblly worked up thinking about how much she could have hurt herself. His students stopped their antics to find out what had suddenly brought All Might's hero form out and sent someone to let Present Mic know Kaya was on the training grounds.

🎙Kaya had to wear a special bracelet to alert others of her quirk and had her father's agency's phone number on it for emergencies or in case she teleported somewhere and got lost.

🎙Kaya would learn to better control her teleportation quirk faster than most kids as she had some of the best teachers in the world giving her tips and watching over her.

🎙Aizawa was a big help. He rarely had to erase Kaya's quirk, but it did come in handy on the occasions Kaya couldn't concentrate enough to stay in one place.

🎙Kaya spent all her time with the teachers of UA. They all took it upon themselves to teach her valuable lessons and give her memorable experiences.

🎙People would ask Hizashi if he would ever start dating again, but he would just tell people he already had everything he needed.

He had his daughter and an amazing support system behind him. He was happy.

It wasn't until USJ that he remembered how quick happiness can be taken away.

🎙It felt like losing his spouse all over again. He almost lost Shouta. The one person he can rely on no matter what.

It reminds him that there's no time like the present to live your life and take chances.

🎙He confesses in that hospital room. In a moment of quiet tenderness he tells Shouta he's in love with him and he wants him to move in with him and Kaya. This life could end at any moment, so he wanted Aizawa close to cherish every bit of it.

Aizawa was going to need the extra help anyway, but that's not why he agrees.

He loved Hizashi too.

🎙And together they raise Kaya. And Eri. And Shinsou.

And they both get the big family they always wanted.

And they both enjoy every last day with eachother.

#bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #aizawa shouta #eraserhead #yamada hizashi #single dad present mic #present mic #headcannons #kaya from z nation boi

33 notes · View notes

askthereluctantvillain · 5 years ago

Note

If you found his blog.... do you think he could find yours? If he sent you a message would you answer it?

Aizawa: Oh... He could 100% find my blog... if he had even the slightest inkling I made one. I'm hoping my previous adversion from social media makes him not consider that.

Aizawa: Though...Hizashi is smart as all hell, so hence why I am so nervous right now.

Aizawa: And... um... yes I would.

12 notes · View notes

quinnybee-writes · 5 years ago

Text

Title: Leap of Fate

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia/My Hero Academia

Rating: G

Words: 2389

Summary: Hogwarts/Harry Potter AU

Sometimes all it takes to make your dreams come true is a little bit of skill, some hard work, and a stroke of luck.

And sometimes it takes dislocating your shoulder and embarrassing yourself in front of the entire student body.

On AO3

“Shou, c’mon, you’re missing it!” Shirakumo exclaimed, jostling Shouta’s shoulder for attention. Shouta shot out a hand to grab his Arithmancy book before it slid off his knee and glanced up to see what the fuss was about. He had mostly mastered the art of doing homework in the stands during Quidditch matches but sometimes even six years of practice was no match for his friend’s exuberance.

It was a semi-finals match between Slytherin and Hufflepuff and both teams were playing for blood. So many fouls had been called on both sides that the game was an hour in and had only just gotten into the second quarter. Shouta wasn’t entirely immune to the house pride of seeing Hufflepuff up by twenty points, but the feeling was somewhat tempered by seeing two thirds of the team’s Chasers and half of the two-man Beater line streaking off to start a midair fistfight with Slytherin’s Beaters. The only two players that seemed immune to the cutthroat drama were the teams’ respective Seekers, keeping their distance at opposite ends of the pitch in careful pursuit of the Snitch.

“You should throw him your handkerchief,” Shirakumo teased, nodding to where the Slytherin Seeker Hizashi Yamada was hovering near their seats. Shouta shot him a withering look that just made Shirakumo grin all the wider at him. His crush was an open secret between the two of them and Shirakumo mostly showed his support by trying to convince Shouta that all he had to do was make the first move and the rest would fall into place after that. Shouta couldn’t help thinking Yamada looked uncharacteristically stately now with the sun lighting his blond hair like a candle flame and his face sharp and attentive. Normally Yamada was as boisterous and carefree as Shirakumo, but Quidditch brought out a more calculating, straightforward side of him that made it obvious why he’d been sorted into Slytherin. Shouta felt his face heating and tried to go back to his schoolwork despite Yamada making it infinitely harder to concentrate on the numerology in his lap.

A darting movement across the pitch behind Yamada’s head caught Shouta’s eye. With three of the four Beaters wrapped up in the fight the Bludgers were barrelling around the pitch without restraint. One of them seemed dedicated to hassling the Hufflepuff Keeper but the other had taken a sharp boomerang turn around the goal hoops and was pelting full speed directly for Yamada’s head. Everything seemed to slow as the breath caught in Shouta’s chest and a panicked buzz rose in his ears. Even if the Slytherin captain Kayama managed to break up the fight in time, there would be no way for anyone to beat the Bludger to Yamada. Yamada could avoid it by dropping down out of its path, but he was so focused on scanning the sky for any hint of the Snitch that anything else happening seemed to be boxed off outside of his attention.

“Oh shit.” Shirakumo sucked in a hard breath as his mental math synced with Shouta’s. “Oi! Yama--wait, what-?” He cut himself off as Shouta shoved his schoolwork and wand into Shirakumo’s lap. Some absurd impulse grabbed Shouta by the gut and dragged him out of his seat before he had time to think better of following it. He vaulted the two rows of seats between him and the edge of the stands and threw himself headlong at the handle of Yamada’s broom.

A lot of things went very right and very wrong all at once. Shouta managed to grab ahold of the broom with both hands. His sudden added weight caused the broom to jolt straight down two feet; the Bludger whiffed past just above Yamada’s head, clipping the corner of a nearby staff tower before changing direction to go menace someone else. Shouta had a split second to take in Yamada’s expression of dazed realization before the combination of his own momentum and a numbing snap deep in his left shoulder ripped his hands off the broom. He made a grasping flail at catching himself but his fingertips grazed uselessly off the polished wood.

Shouta tried not to think about how fast he would be going when he hit the ground but the words “smash” and “crunch” and “splatter” kept jostling around in his brain without permission. It would be his luck to end up dead in a crater the moment he finally worked up the guts to get close to Yamada, Shouta thought bleakly. He still wasn’t too far away from Yamada now, a fact that only clicked into his scrambled mind after a few bewildered misfires. Yamada’s face had gone from wide-eyed horror to razor focus as he dove straight down towards Shouta. Yamada leaned out as far as he could over the handle of his broom and caught Shouta by the forearm, pulling them both out of the dive barely above the ground. The two of them overbalanced together and toppled the last two feet onto the grass. They bounced with a hard smack and rolled apart as the inopportune landing finally ended.

Shouta lay dazed in the grass as the sky spun above him. His left shoulder felt loose in his skin, full of throbbing cold-hot fire. Yamada, pale and sweaty and grass-stained, knelt next to him. Shouta thought he might be asking if Shouta was okay but his voice was drowned out in the uproar of the crowd and the dissonant, disoriented ringing in Shouta’s head. He struggled to sit up and assure Yamada that he was fine, just winded. As soon as he was upright, though, the world pitched violently upside down and Shouta had to turn away to avoid being sick all over Yamada. Yamada patted his back awkwardly as Shouta crumpled onto elbows and knees and heaved into the grass. Somewhere far away Shouta could hear a whistle being blown and Yamada shouting for a time out and for someone to get a medic to help him.

Shouta had dislocated his shoulder in the jump and the semi-crash landing had gifted him the added bonus of a “monster concussion”, in the words of Miss Chiyo. She clicked her tongue at the state of him and gave him a cheerfully disapproving lecture about avoidable danger as she patched him up and helped him into a stabilizing sling. Shouta couldn’t help thinking she had more of an inkling of his actual motivations than she let on when she finished by handing him a chocolate frog and ruffling his hair as he got up to leave.

Yamada and Kayama were having a quiet bickering debate a short way down the corridor as Shouta came out of the hospital wing. He felt his cheeks going red again as Yamada’s face lit up at the sight of him. Shirakumo came to his rescue by hustling up from the other end of the corridor, already giving him an earful to rival Miss Chiyo’s. Shouta gratefully overlooked the irony of being lectured on recklessness by a Gryffindor, pulling his hood up over his head and letting Shirakumo lay into him all the way back to the Hufflepuff common room.

Shouta mostly managed to avoid interacting with Yamada for the next few days despite Yamada doing everything he could to put himself in Shouta’s path. Under any other circumstances it would have been unexpected but encouraging to suddenly have Yamada’s attention to completely. Every time their eyes met, however, all Shouta could think about was how Yamada had seen him dramatically throw himself out of the stadium stands, dramatically almost plummet to his death, and then dramatically hurl all over a sports field. The self-inflicted humiliation of the whole mess made him want to bury himself in the cabbage patch behind the greenhouses and never be seen again. It didn’t help that everyone else seemed equally interested in his business now. One moment of impulsiveness had turned him into a minor celebrity around the student body and he couldn’t so much as walk down a corridor without a flood of whispers following his every step. Shirakumo had stepped up to help as much as he could. He met Shouta after every class and help him carry his books while his dominant arm was out of commission, doing his best to talk over the rumor mill and run interference when anyone got too chatty. Shouta appreciated his mostly judgement-free support beyond words.

No plan was ever perfect, however, and Shirakumo was a no-show to meet him after a very trying Transfiguration class. After ten minutes of hovering in the doorway Shouta’s back was aching from the overload to his right side and he decided to cut his losses and make his way back to the common room on his own. He sighed and started to shuffle down the hallway, figuring he’d probably meet Shirakumo halfway.

“Here, need some help?” A pair of hands reached out and took his stack of books before he could answer. Shouta turned to tell whoever it was that he was managing just fine and came face-to-face with Yamada. Yamada gave him an awkward crooked grin and tucked Shouta’s books under his arm along with his own. Shouta felt a hot blush streak up his cheeks and all the way to the tops of his ears and looked away before Yamada could see it.

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

“That’s my line, dude,” Yamada said with a laugh. “That was a crazy move you pulled. I mean, that Bludger was gonna take my head straight off and you were just like, ‘not today, asshole! Nyoom!’” He mimed diving forward, unburdened arm stretched out in front of him. “I get pretty bad tunnel vision when I’m out on the pitch, I never even saw it coming,” Yamada admitted with a slightly guilty laugh. “You did, though, that was amazing!”

The heat in Shouta’s face cranked up another ten degrees. He was saved the need to think of a lucid reply as Shirakumo came running up to meet them looking frazzled. “Sorry, Shou, Tensei wanted to talk about our match next weekend and I couldn’t get him to stop,” Shirakumo panted. He brightened slightly as he realized Shouta wasn’t alone. “Oh, hey! Yamada, right?” he said, doing a reasonably good impression of someone who didn’t deal with his best friend’s unruly crush on Yamada on a daily basis. “Killer save last weekend, man, that match was nuts!”

“Thanks, but I think that honor belongs to Aizawa over here, if I’m being honest,” Yamada replied. Shouta was embarrassed by the pleasant frisson that went up his spine at the sound of Yamada saying his name.

“It was no big deal,” Shouta muttered, shaking his head. Yamada gaped at him, jaw hanging open mid-disbelieving scoff.

“Are you kidding me?” he exclaimed loudly enough to make several people stare as they passed. “It was totally badass!”

Shirakumo badly hid a snicker behind clearing his throat. Shouta shot him a capital-L Look that he took in stride. “It looks like Yamada’s got you handled this time, so I’ll catch you later, Shou,” he said, patting Shouta’s uninjured shoulder. He peeled off with a meaningful grin before Shouta could protest, presumably jogging off to resume his conversation with Tensei Iida. Shouta tried not to look annoyed with the circumstances as he and Yamada set off again. A tense silence started to form between them, but Yamada broke it before it got too thick.

“So, uh. Are you going on the Hogsmeade trip this weekend?” Yamada asked.

“No, probably not,” Shouta replied. “It’s easier to get a good table in the library when everyone else is gone.”

“Oh.” The disappointment in Yamada’s tone made Shouta immediately regret being so quick to answer.

“Are you?” Shouta asked awkwardly.

“Yeah, most likely,” Yamada said. “I usually go, it’s nice to get out and stretch my legs somewhere that isn’t class or practice or anything here, y’know?” He paused, then went on, “I thought maybe if we both were going I could maybe buy you lunch at the Three Broomsticks or something as a thank you for saving my skin.” He finished with another, slightly more tense chuckle.

“Oh. Okay, sure,” Shouta said, hoping his immediate change of heart didn’t come across as too eager. If Yamada noticed he didn’t mind, as he instantly brightened at Shouta’s agreement.

“Yeah?”

Shouta nodded. “I think Shirakumo’s free too unless Iida pulls him in for extra practice. We can all go,” he said.

“Oh. I mean, sure, I guess, but. I was actually meaning just us. Like, the two of us? I-If you wanted to, I mean. I don’t want to mess up your schedule or anything if you need to study, it’s fine,” Yamada rambled. He’d gone nearly as red as Shouta now, reflexively raking his free hand through his hair.

“No!” Shouta blurted, louder than he’d intended. “I mean. No, yeah, that--that sounds great,” he said, the breathless, giddy hitch in his chest making him chatter in spite of himself.

“Yeah?” Yamada’s face split into a huge, brilliant grin that Shouta couldn’t help but return as he nodded.

“Yeah. I-I’d like that,” he said.

“Cool! Cool, that’s, that’s great, cool,” Yamada said. A shrill beeping rang out, making both of them jump. Yamada swore and pulled up his sleeve to turn off the alarm on his watch. “Crap! I totally forgot, I’ve gotta go make up a Charms exam. Torino’s going to murder me if I’m late again,” he groaned with an apologetic grimace. “Sorry, I gotta run.”

“Don’t worry about it, I was just going to the library anyway,” Shouta fibbed, nodding towards the open double doors a few yards away. He held out his arm to awkwardly reclaim his books from Yamada. “Thanks for your help.”

“Anytime,” Yamada nodded. “So...meet you in the courtyard on Saturday?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Shouta agreed, just barely holding back from saying “it’s a date”.

“Okay, cool,” Yamada said. “Catch you then.” He winked and flashed Shouta double finger-guns before turning and racing back up the corridor the way they had come. Shouta took a moment to take a deep breath and slow his fluttering heartbeat before heading his own way, unable to banish the grin still firmly on his face.

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #aizawa shouta #yamada hizashi #hizashi yamada #shouta aizawa #Hogwarts AU #meetcute #fluff #Quinny thinks she's a writer

10 notes · View notes