#patient shinsou

[katsukistofu]

hihi !! thinking about a hurt/comfort fic with shinsou where reader feels like she’s boring/annoying to him

good parts

contents ౨ৎ ⋆ h. shinsou x fem reader. 1.5k words — hurt/comfort. fluff. slightly suggestive. ⭑ no matter how dark your brain gets, hitoshi is determined to help you see yourself in the same light that he does.

Hitoshi visibly softens the moment he opens his door at the sight of you standing there in the dimly lit hallway.

Dark violet pools swimming with worry drift from the way you’re chewing the inside of your cheek, like how he’s noticed you usually do when you’re anxious, to the hem of your pajamas balled up in your fists.

“What's up, love?” Hitoshi says in his softest voice, faltering when you finally meet his eyes with your reddened ones. His heart drops. Have you been crying?

At your uncharacteristically hesitant mumble of “Can I come in?” is when he feels said heart nearly split into two.

“Of course.” A concerned frown tugs at his lips. Something’s definitely wrong. You usually never bothered to ask twice, not that he minded of course, before barreling into his arms the second he turned the knob so many times before. “You can always come into my dorm.”

“I know, I just…” Your sweet voice that he’s missed all day trails off guiltily, and you take a deep breath as you fiddle with the edge of your pajamas.

“Actually, sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you. I think I’ll just go back to my room.”

“What, who said that? You never bother me.” Hitoshi’s gentle yet firm grasp on your sleeve stops you from turning to leave, and you huff at his stubborn attempt to make you stay.

“Toshi, let go.”

“I’m afraid you’re gonna have to amputate my arm first, and not that you couldn’t but I don’t think you don’t have the tools for that at the moment, pretty girl.” The edge of his lips tilt upward in a wry smile as he playfully tugs you towards him. “You’re not escaping me that easily.”

You huff and turn away, looking anywhere but into his warm, patient eyes. It’s a trap, you know it, once you do you’ll be spilling your guts out in no time, and the sickening aftertaste of burning shame is just something you can’t stomach right now.

Plus he’s wearing that gray hoodie he knows is your favorite, which just makes everything worse because he looks ten times more handsome than usual.

“Come on, sweetheart.” Hitoshi coaxes. “Talk to me. You know you can tell me anything, right?”

A beat of silence. 

Your lips press into a firm, thin line, and you finally surrender. 

“Yeah. I know.” You sigh, and he rubs your shoulder encouragingly.

“Go ahead then, I’m listening.”

“Okay, uh…” You mumble slowly, suddenly feeling very silly. “Do you think I’m annoying or that you’ll ever get bored of me, Toshi?” 

“Never.” He answers without skipping a beat. “To both. You never annoy me, and you’re anything but boring.”

“Really?” Your voice breaks a little and his heart clenches in his chest at the way you sound so doubtful of his words. Hitoshi reaches out to tenderly brush his knuckles against your cheek.

“Really.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Well when I wake up everyday, my first thought is that I look forward to seeing you.”

Your eyes widen, when it really shouldn’t be a surprise at all. “You do?”

“Mhm, I do.” Hitoshi moves to sit down on the edge of his bed. You gasp as he smoothly pulls you into his lap, quite literally sweeping you off your feet.  “And you know how else I know I’ll never, ever get bored of you?”

"What?" You shyly adjust your legs to straddle him more comfortably. He guides your arms to wrap around his neck in response, unwavering, intense eyes staring into yours. He’s so close that his lashes brush against your cheek when he blinks, and his warm breath fans across your lips teasingly.

“Toshi,” you whine. “You’re making me feel flustered.”

“I know it makes you feel flustered.” Hitoshi grins slyly. “That's why I love doing it.”

You gently bat his bicep. “Stop distracting me and answer my question!” 

“Yes ma’am.” Hitoshi chuckles as you retort by cutely puffing your cheeks and laying your head down on his shoulder. His arms are snug against your waist and he squeezes you in his lap. You always feel so nice, sitting so prettily on him. 

“I know I’ll never get bored of you because when someone asks what the best part of my day was, I always mention you in some way. Could be a cute doodle you made on a note you left me, you spending five solid minutes trying to push a door that says pull at a restaurant, or seeing you get excited over a new season of your favorite show coming out, anything as long as it's you.”

His expression is warm as he watches your head perk up at that, which quickly turns into a scowl when you realize exactly what he’s referring to. “The sign on that pull door was really faded, you couldn’t see it either!”

“That’s why I made you my guinea pig so I could come in and heroically save the day for you.”

“Heroic my ass,” you mutter into his hoodie and he laughs, then presses a soft kiss to your neck in response and you shiver. 

“And you have no idea just how much I love listening to you talk about your day.”

“...Even on the days I don’t do anything special?”

“Especially on those days.” He nuzzles his face into your neck and you giggle. “Love hearing you talk about mundane shit. Love when you send me a picture of what you’re having for breakfast, or when you tell me about some weirdly shaped cloud you saw outside during training.”

He pauses thoughtfully, and continues, “Hell, you could probably read me your grocery list and I'd still be hooked on every word. I love your little quirks, even the ones you think are weird. Your whole personality. Your cute voice.”

Hitoshi squeezes your hip. “So keep telling me all about it, okay? I wanna hear it.”

You let out a sweet little contented noise of agreement and your boyfriend grins. 

“So I think it’s safe to say that the chances of me finding you boring or annoying are real slim.” Hitoshi smirks, tickling your thighs that are still wrapped around his waist, and you squirm out of his hold and escape further into his bed while giggling. 

“Real slim meaning zero times infinity.”

“Isn’t that just zero, though?” You let out a soft sigh, completely out of breath as you flop onto his pillow.

“Shh, let me have my moment. Everything times infinity makes it more special.” Hitoshi’s arms come up from behind to hug you against him. “Like my love for you.”

“Ew.” You wrinkle your nose. “You’re so corny.”

“I know. Took you long enough to realize I’m obsessed with you.” He rolls his eyes, bending his head down to brush his lips against the nape of your neck. “Everyone in class already calls me a simp, you don’t need to rub it in.”

You flip around to face him, snuggling the side of your face into his pillow that has the faint, comforting scent of the laundry detergent he likes to use. “Good thing I’m also a simp.”

Hitoshi softly gasps in mock surprise. “Really? Oh my god,” his eyes flicker around the room as if he’s looking for the mysterious person who won your affections. “Who’s the lucky person?”

You laugh and the side of lips quirk up in that fond way that only happens when he’s with you. “You, you silly goose!”

“Me?” He sweetly brushes his nose against yours. “Wow. Feels like I’ve won the lottery.”

A warm feeling spreads across your chest, like honey being stirred into a hot cup of tea and Hitoshi’s eyes are half-lidded as he whispers in a low tone that makes the butterflies in your stomach flutter to life.

“Come here, love. Give me a goodnight kiss.”

You lean in to kiss his deliciously soft lips, and you can feel him grin against your mouth at your eagerness. He kisses you back twice as gently, agonizingly so, while his hand trails to cup the dip of your waist and you feel dizzy at his adoring touch. Your heart is pounding way, way too fast for this late at night.

He sneaks another tender kiss onto your neck, then on your collarbone, and Hitoshi laughs as you shyly smush your flustered face into his pillow.

“One more thing.”

You peek over to glance at him, and the way he’s looking at you makes you feel warm and tingly all over and your burning face is begging for you to return it to the cool depths of his pillow.

“Promise you’ll always tell me when you feel like this. No more keeping it in.”

Your eyes soften at his stern expression. “Okay, I promise.”

“Pinkie promise.” He says sagely, lifting his finger, and a laugh bubbles up in your throat at his serious tone when you raise your own, his larger pinkie overlapping yours. 

“I pinkie promise.”

“Good girl.” Hitoshi smirks, which is short-lived when his eyes widen in panic and it’s too late by the time he reaches to catch you as you proceed to tumble off the bed.

[melancholymegumi]

woah, baby where ya' goin'?

multichars n what hybrids (cats , dogs & bunny) they prefer! (bllk , bnha , jjk)

cw. hybrid talks , nsfw (mdni) , breeding kink , fem!reader , use of the word 'cunny' , heats n ruts mentions , kind of co-dependency (?) in puppy hybrid if u squint . lemme know if I need to add any warnings

bunny girls fever !

these guys love and need a soft , submissive and behaving little hybrid. they are already stressed the fuck out with their work, they do not have time for a misbehaving and feisty pets like a cat. But they also just want a pretty little girl who'll have her pussy prepared for them. Face down ass up with no complaints , begging to be cared for and nurtured for every single time. Wanting bunny girls also meant that they have a staggering breeding kink. Soft breedable cunny that's ready to give them babies , they are a family person after all. Why else would they get a bunny?

Nagi Seishiro , Reo Mikage , Chigiri Hyoma , Barou Shoei , Isagi Yoichi (he just likes them because they're cute, mainly.) , Chris Prince , Itoshi Sae, Nanami Kento , Naoya Zenin , Geto Suguru , Megumi Fushiguro , Higuruma Hiromi , Yuta Okkotsu , Kong Shiu , Izuku Midoriya , Yo Shindo , Todoroki Shoto , Enji Todoroki.

come here , kitty kitty !

these guys are freaks. they want cat girls mainly because of their mean and bratty demeanor. they want something to tame, and that 'something' is you! Perfect , mean and elegant little kitty who misbehaves just for the sake of it. and he eats it the fuck up. he looveesss your little outburst. Encourage it even, just so he has a reason to fuck you nice and deep into the mattress. Of course, they love your heat seasons too! but it's not like they can't breed you everyday, so it's just a nicer occasion<3

Shidou Ryusei , Aiku Oliver , Karasu Tabito , Reo Mikage (you didn't hear this from me.) , Kaiser Michael , Gojo Satoru , Fushiguro Toji , Ryomen Sukuna , Atsuya Kusakabe , Izuku Midoriya (you didn't hear this from me) , Touya Todoroki , Katsuki Bakugo , Tokoyami Fumikage , Shinsou Hitoshi , Aizawa Shouta (even though you're a hassle, you're his hassle)

Puppy girls demeanor !

oh, sweet loveable loyal puppy. he loves good and obedient yet cheerful and loyal girls. aka , you! A sweet little puppy who whines for his attention, gets happy from a little bit of praise and needy as fuck. Just what he wants. It makes him feel superior. You being able to fend for yourselves sometimes is also a game changer for him. You're literally perfect for him. You , completely clueless yet happy whenever he does something. It makes him want to knock some babies into ya'. he loves loves loves your rut season <3 begging for him and whining about how it hurts but not launching yourself onto him. Being completely patient and only doing subtle things until he finally realizes and takes care of you!

Kunigami Rensuke , Noel Noa , Alexis Ness , Kirishima Eijiro , Sero Hanta , Denki Kaminari , Present Mic , All Might , Yuji Itadori , Aoi Todo , Gojo Satoru

all writing is made and owned by @melancholymegumi on tumblr and only on tumblr. do not repost or translate without my permission.

[mintmatcha]

I shall wait patiently for your knight Shinsou storyline to turn naughty 😌

"You cannot threaten any man who gets too close to me, Ser."

You storm down the hall as fast as your skirts allow, bunching the fabric into your hands so you don't slap him again. Your loyal knight is already behind you, about to surpass-

"I will not-" he says just as he grabs your arm and jerks you back into his chest. You swivel around, arm raised to strike, but he's faster; he catches you there, hand in his. "So long as they keep their limbs to themselves!"

"Urgh!" Shinso had threatened another suitor today, right after you had let the man kiss at your neck. This time, it wasn't a hand that was threatened. "Why do you care so? Ser Aizawa just looked away!"

"Ser Aizawa cared more than I do!" He's close now, those usually dull eyes now sharp with anger."How could I possibly look away when these- these-- perverts are trying to grope you?"

"I'm an adult! Why do you care-?"

His lips slot into yours with a sigh of relief. There, in the dark halls of the castle, he kisses you deep, breath hot, tongue soft-

"That." He pulls away and lets you go. "That is why I care."

[blkluci]

𝑴𝑯𝑨 𝒃𝒐𝒚𝒔 and healer reader...

CHARACTERS )) katsuki bakugo, shoto todoroki, denki kaminari, izuku midoriya, hitoshi shinsou.

PLOT )) a headcanon of mha boys dating someone with a healing quirk.

A/N )) this is purely based off my imagination!! requests are open:)

[ 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈 ]

... secretly worries for you

... comes to your dorm with new bruises after training

-> "i know how to take care of myself."

... bakugo knows that your quirk isn't best for combat so he protects you while in battle

... jumps in front of attacks aimed at you

... therefore becomes your trainer and spars with you

... when you defeat deku in a close combat battle he's so proud

-> "YEAH!! you got your ass beat ya damn nerd! >:D"

[ 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐎 ]

... he's intrigued

... often asking questions about it

... "do you have a special move?"

... he appreciates when you heal his wounds after practice

... "thank you l/n :), your quirk is very useful."

... he allows you to practice your quirk on him

... does research on your quirk secretly

[ 𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐊𝐈 ]

... your personal patient

... always asking you to heal his boo-boos as he says

... gets jealous if you use your powers on someone else

-> "i have boo-boos too babe! heal me!! :("

... you help when he short-circuits

... begs you to roleplay mercy

-> "c'monnn, it'll be fun!"

... praises your quirk to make you feel valued

[ 𝐈𝐙𝐔𝐊𝐔 ]

... has a book related to your quirk

... also does research on your quirk BUT proposes new ideas to you

-> "i think this will help you improve your quirk :D"

... gives you mini heart attacks when gets extremely hurt

... feels shy when you heal him but enjoys watching you use your powers

... another one who praises your quirk

-> "your quirk is amazing!!"

[ 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐎 ]

... your test dummy in some retrospect

... he's constantly curious about your quirk and wants you to use it on him

... he finds comfort in the fact that your quirk reflects your nature

... enjoys when you help him to sleep with your powers

-> "so warm.. (´～`)"

... another that protects you while battles and helps you with combat

-> "can you keep up?"

But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. (Matthew 6:33)

[angeliicheartt]

🐬 "ᴘᴜʟʟ ʜɪᴍ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀ ᴄʜᴀᴛ!" — send a dialogue prompt and a character and i'll write a blurb!

"I missed everything about you" WITH SHINSOU JUST FOR U MY LOVE 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼

"ᴍɪꜱꜱᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ."

includes: hitoshi shinso

fem!reader

a/n: here's this to make up for the hitoshi angst, frannie once again sending the best reqs, super super sickeningly sweet

the netflix show you had been watching is paused as you hear keys jingling right outside your apartment door. the only light in the apartment comes from the tv and the stove light on in the kitchen.

hitoshi had been gone for 2 weeks, working on a mission in kyoto, leaving you alone, and, frankly, paranoid. you read the time on your phone, the bright light causing you to squint before reading ‘1:48 AM’.

the door sweeps open as a tall figure walks in, his footsteps slow and dragging as he shuts the door behind him. only when he looks toward the couch do you see it's only hitoshi. his eyes widen at the sight of you awake as you get up from the couch in record speed to run and hug him.

he lets out a small “oomf,” as you tackle his body but he lets out a low chuckle as he wraps his arms around you in return.

“you’re home,” you murmur, your words muffled by his capture scarf. he chuckles as he buries his head in your hair, inhaling sharply as his grip tightens around you.

“i am,” he rasps, his throat scratchy from the mission, “now what are you doing up, hm?”

“was just watching a show,” you muse, your face parting from his body to peer up at him as he looks down at you. “pleasant surprise that you came home tonight.”

“mm, yeah?” he rasps once again, one of his hands departing from its place around you to stroke your cheek. “missed you,” he murmurs as he digs his nose into your neck.

you wrap your arms around his neck as you giggle, flinching slightly from the contact of his nose to your ticklish neck. “bet i missed you more,”

“mmm, i don't think so,” he muses, his lips quirking up as he separates from your neck once again. he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, savoring your taste of which he’s been deprived.

“are you ready to sleep?” you ask once the two of you part, hitoshi’s lips forming a small pout at the action. 

“hafta shower..” he murmurs, his thumb gliding along your jaw as he takes you in, his eyes filled with relief and adoration. 

“mm, i don’t mind if you're a bit sweaty, toshi, let’s just get in bed.” you say, your hand playing with the damp, violet hairs at the nape of his neck. “you can shower in the morning,”

he chuckles softly at your words, “but i stink, angel.”

you scoff playfully, “i love your stink,” you say, emphasizing your point by burying your face in his chest and inhaling elaborately, pulling a soft laugh out of the man.

“alright, alright, point made. let’s get in bed.” he murmurs as you part from his chest, smiling cheekily up at him. 

you move away from hitoshi as you walk to the couch, grabbing the remote and turning off the tv. hitoshi waits patiently for you to pad back over to him before leading the both of you into your bedroom.

you plant a kiss on hitoshi’s cheek before going into the bathroom. he quickly changes into a clean pair of boxers before trudging to the bathroom behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist as you wash your face. 

a smile forms on your lips at his touch and you rinse your face, drying it off with the towel hanging beside the sink as hitoshi clings onto you. you brush your teeth before grabbing hitoshi’s toothbrush and squirting a glob of toothpaste onto it. you turn around to face hitoshi, a low whine escaping his throat at the movement.

“calm down, toshi, just gotta brush your teeth.” his eyes open lazily, peering down at you before opening his mouth. you gently brush his teeth, one hand gripping his jaw as you maneuver the toothbrush around his mouth. when you finish, you move to the side as he spits in the sink.

you place his toothbrush back in its holder before taking hitoshi’s hand and walking back to the bedroom. you get under the covers and he follows, his body strewn across yours as he buries his face in your neck, his preferred cuddling position.

he sighs softly as you two get comfortable, his arms wrapping under your body as he holds onto your waist. “missed you so much, missed everything about you,” he murmurs into your neck, burrowing his nose into your hair.

“i missed you too, toshi,” you say softly, your hand moving to tangle your fingers in his soft hair. 

the only response you receive is hitoshi’s soft snoring.

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @satelitis @whenanafallsinlove @kozumesphone @tikitsune

[ms0milk]

when you suddenly catch a nasty cold

gn!reader ft. todo, bkg, kiri, and (hearts in my eyes) shinsou

i am so ill and these are so silly, indulge me :,) 600ish words ea.

Todoroki starts to cry when you joke about dying.

He’s bought more flowers than can fit into your little apartment, picked up your prescriptions, tissues, juice, a heating pad, cleaned your kitchen, tucked you in– he paged the fucking family physician– but watching you shiver under a heavy duvet, surrounded by all the things that are supposed to help you get better, ignites a fear he didn’t know that he had. They aren’t working. You’re still sick because of course you are, and he can’t bring himself to move more than an arm’s length away from you because what if– if he leaves and–

“Shoto?”

“Yes,” his response is immediate when you pull him from the ether. Always is.

I’m not going anywhere,” you croak, too conscious of how strange your voice sounds, “so you don’t have to stay with me all day.”

“I don’t mind.”

Todoroki is a wonderful boyfriend but when was the last time he went to the bathroom?

“You must be bored.”

He leans over you from his spot at the side of your bed and runs a blessedly too-cold hand across your forehead. Bored? Like he could calm down enough for that. “I can’t relax when you’re like this.”

You’d roll your eyes if they ached less, at your beautiful boyfriend and his cluelessly shoujo declarations of love framed by no fewer than two whole flower shops worth of camellias. He turns his hand over to palm your cheeks and wipe the water from your puffy eyes.

“Would you like me to leave?”

You shake your head, smiling under the weight of an overkill of blankets and the heavy dip from his butt at the edge of your mattress. You’re inclined to reach a hand out to grab it, but you don’t have the energy to raise your head let alone fondle your boyfriend.

“There’s no one I’d rather be with in my final hours,” you rasp, joking, obviously joking.

This cold is something evil, chills, aches, snot– the works. But you couldn’t ask for a better nurse. A gentle, thoughtful, sexy, temperature controlled man, a man you would raze the city for, whose hand fits so perfectly in yours and who– whose trembling? You blink back up.

Todoroki’s features don’t shift or soften, his lip doesn’t quiver, but a tear does slip down his cheeks from those pool cool eyes– one after the next until his jaw is lined with them all patiently waiting to fall from his chin.

“Why, why why?” You panic and try to sit up but he comes to you. Todoroki cups your hand tightly in a hot and cold grip and bows over his own lap to rest his head in yours.

“You’re not going to die.”

“What?”

“I promise.”

“Sho, what– no of course I’m not. What’s wrong, baby?”

Your voice is so weak that he has no other choice than to sit back up and reach for the cold compress. He wipes his eyes with renewed determination when he turns back around, “I’ve got you.”

“I’ve got you, Sho. ’m not going anywhere, promise.”

And when the Todoroki family doctor lets himself in, he does consider coming back another time at the sight of you, finally comfortable under a mountain of fabric, and your love curled around you asleep on top of the blankets.

———

It’s not until you genuinely collapse that Bakugou realizes something is wrong. He didn’t even hit you that hard.

“You’re wide open today!” The restless pro looms across the arena, grinning. You both come to the agency’s underground ring on Saturdays to train and he’s blasted you clear across the room like he’s actually working for a paycheck.

There wasn’t any amount of money you would have accepted to get out of bed this morning but Bakugou, a less than casual hookup from work, accidentally spent the night and the surprisingly sleep soft rumble of his voice, the gentle kneed of palms as he pulled you back against his body under dawn light– was, persuasive.

The sooner we finish, the sooner I can go home and nurse this headache.

Headache. Naive self-convincing circles your head as you pull yourself to your feet like spinning stars from a goddamned cartoon. This is not a headache. Standing was fine a second ago, and the floor was fine a second ago, but the move from floor to feet fills your sinuses with sudden pressure and immediately the arena starts to swirl.

“C’mon twinkle toes, you’re– Y/n– shit–”

You’re not interested in where that sentence ends today and you blessedly don’t have to hear it because your ears have filled with cotton and you’re sinking back down to your knees. You’ve been congested like this before– it’ll pass in a minute or two, you know how it goes and you’re only embarrassed by the fact you were down so bad for your teammate this morning that you didn’t realize how your body had started to feel.

The vertigo eases somewhat when you rest your head on the ground, but Bakugou has cleared the empty room and already has his domineering hands all over you. “Y/n? Y/n– do not close your eyes.”

“‘m not concussed, Kats.” But you know the explosive hero’s first fear isn’t exactly a head trauma. “You didn’t hurt me,” you add.

“Doesn’t narrow it down shitforbrains,” the aggressive tone doesn’t match his anxious hold though, and you melt a little when he kneels and pulls you into his lap, “if I didn’t hurt you then what’s wrong?”

Bakugou definitely doesn’t like the way your head seems too heavy for your neck and tilts himself back just enough for you to lean it against his chest. You look so fucking uncomfortable, scowling, eyes pinched closed. “What hurts?” He rasps as he moves to feel your temperature but his palms are sweating hard from a few quirk ignitions so he stalls, and lowers his forehead to yours instead. You’re soft where he touches you, warm in his hands.

You just need to sit, you don't need the #2 hero to cradle you in his arms like a corpse on the battlefield. Your eyes squeeze shut harder as a tiny wave rocks you in the dark and then suddenly one ear releases. “Think I’m getting sick,” you breathe. Carmel in and relief out. “It’s my head–”

“Head hurts?”

“I’m just stuffed up, I–” the other ear releases, “— just dizzy.”

Bakugou sits on his heels, perched. Should he pick you up? It’s terrifying to watch– you, his teammate, a capable hero, suddenly unable to stand.

But as the pressure behind your eyes levels out you can lift your head without discomfort. You can bring your arms up around Bakugou’s shoulders and settle your fingers in his hair. Bring him back down from where he’s tried to pull away.

Your foreheads bump again, “I’m okay.”

He growls, “I don’t believe you.”

So the hero takes you home. He makes sure you’re horizontal and goddamned tucked in before he slips from your front door and scares the shit out of you an hour later with a vice grip on some grocery bags and your apartment keys slipped around his middle finger. It’s almost romantic, the way he snaps at you to hold still while he dabs antiseptic on your scratches from sparring, or glares venom from behind the stove when you hobble to the kitchen to see what smells so good.

———

When Kirishima lets himself in and you’re asleep on the kitchen floor, worry overrides his confusion.

You won’t pick up his calls, but he’s never missed a movie night and he’s not about to start today. He throws your front door open with his copy of your apartment key and kicks off his gym crocs as loudly as he can manage so you might hear him come in. The last thing he wants is to startle you.

But you’re the one who nearly kills him when he slips through the genkan, arms full of snacks and catches sight of your slippered foot stretched out on the ground around the corner.

He’s on his hands and knees faster than he can even take a full step, dropping bottles and soft melon bread from his arms as he scrambles to where you must be lying lifeless on the other side of the entrance.

“Y/n–! Ah, huh.”

And you are, in a way, lifeless on the ground, but you’re breathing. And smiling? Curled up on the white tiles in front of the sink cabinet.

“Y/n?” Kirishima doesn’t wait to ponder, instead placing a hand on the side of your head to check for concussion, wound, vertebral injury—But you coo, something completely unintelligible, and you’re much too warm. You tilt your face into his palm and every inch of you is hotter, damper than the next.

“Y/n? C’mon on back to me Y/n, gotta tell me what’s wrong.”

Maybe it’s the chill of the floor or the addition of his other hand cupping your cheek, but your lashes heft apart just enough to register who it is trying to resuscitate you in the kitchen.

“Ei?”

Kirishima, always handy in a fire, has every hospital route an EMT could ever need memorized from all his volunteer work with the fire department and mentally tracks each one as you try to form a sentence.

“shouldn’t be here, Eiji, m’sick.”

“What?”

“flu,” you murmur and pull your hands to your side to try and rise. Kirishima doesn’t register anything not directly related to whether or not you’re suffering from blunt force trauma– except for the fact he could recall the exact date and time your dream drowsy smile falls and perks back up again tonight for the next fifty years.

“–tried to text you,” you manage as the redhead helps you sit up. The sentence comes out in gasps instead of coughs as you try to spare the air of any extra germs, “I can’t watch the movie tonight."

He laughs with pent up anxiety and simultaneous relief– he’s taken that charming fireman’s knee at your side and you wish in your flu-addled state that you’d stayed unconscious long enough for him to hoist you into his arms. Instead, Kirishima places both of his big soft hands back around your face to brush away the dust and crumbs.

“Why are you on the floor?”

“got hungry,” you admit because you know it’ll make him smile, and with his face this close to yours you’ll be able to watch the skin around his eyes crinkle up too. “Then tired, little dizzy. I just needed to sit for a bit.”

His eyes do crinkle up. And his teeth bit at his lip like he’s trying not to be amused.

“Y/n, you are very sick. And very sweaty.” And the sweetheart, the biggest crush you’ve ever had, your closest friend, the man you dreamed of on the kitchen floor, asks if he can carry you to the bath.

———

Why are you breathing so hard? Shinsou is the only pro in the office that you can’t hide a fucking thing from. Maybe it’s because he works primarily in the underground– observant– that it’s obvious, the way you wobble on your feet when your eyes are closed too long, or the sudden effort it takes you just to climb the stairs.

How can he focus on paperwork with you trying to subtly catch your breath in every hallway? None of your sidekicks are brave enough to ask why you wore a mask to work today, but it’s summer and the air pollution gets bad enough that some of them have to too. Are they really all that stupid? Has he done the worst hiring job of any pro in the city?

“Shinsou,” you murmur across the now-empty end of day office and he whips around because god knows how many times you’ve tried to get his attention while he’s been off in space.

“Yeah boss?”

Your voice is rough with sick when you reply and it would be so fucking sexy if it didn’t remind him to be so anxious about your wellbeing. “I’ve told you not to call me that, haven’t been my sidekick for years,” and then you’re smiling even as you hold back a cough, “makes me feel old.”

“You are older than me.”

“By a year!” you sputter and then your lungs take over, heaving and hacking so hard you have to double over your desk to steady your forehead against something. Shinsou’s on his feet immediately, navigating the office in sweats and his capture gear.

What happened? This morning it was just a tickle at the top of your throat but the aches sank from your head, down your spine, and flooded through your body just as quickly as the sun’s shadow crawls across a stone. Which is to say, all day long and all too slowly to realize you probably should have called in sick.

“Here.�� A cool hand materializes on the back of your neck and you roll your head to the side to check what exactly has arrived for you. With his free hand Shinsou presses a paper water cup forward, which you’d love to take if you had the energy to pull your mask down.

“went to school together n’ everything,” you breathe.

“Boss, you should go home for the night, I’ll– I can finish this paperwork.”

By now the dark-eyed hero has sunk slowly into a crouch beside your chair and keeps a careful hand on your back to ensure you don’t slip to the floor sideways one way or the other. Thank god he sent the rookies home because stupid or otherwise, you'd have to be braindead not to notice this adoration that he can’t seem to get a handle on.

“Shinsou,” you murmur again, just as sexily as last time and he feels just as much if not more shame at how lovely it is to hear you call to him sweet and low, “I can’t get up.”

“What?”

That’s it though. There’s no trick or test. Shinsou has a fucked up sleep schedule from all his overnight patrols so he always stays in the office late, but you? You’ve been trying to rally for the last two hours and now you’ve used all your energy teasing a man whose eyes go bright every time you say his name. It serves you right, collapsing at your desk after using the last of your strength to squeeze as many Shinsous as you could into an evening.

“call me a taxi?”

He rises to his feet, “Will you even be able to get up your front steps?”

“sure hope so.”

“Do you feel nauseous?” He’s shuffling around the room now, plucking keys from hooks, and you watch him sideways with your head still resting in the day’s paperwork. “You gonna aspirate if I let you go home alone?”

“if god’s feeling extra silly”

He scoffs to hide the smile. Shinsou returns to your side to lay his faded denim jacket over your shoulders and then crouches again at eye level.

“Y/n,” he urges, and rests a hand to the back of your head to get your attention, “If I carry you downstairs, will you be able to hold onto me?”

Downstairs is a bluff. With you snug and mostly unconscious between his jacket and his back, Shinsou carries you home. Face full of your clothes, hair, quirk, whatever’s getting in his eyes, under the stars, and down back streets to avoid any publicity, the hero tries to walk gently enough that you don’t whimper from the impact of his steps.

“Thank you Toshi,” you whisper just when he thinks you’ve finally fallen asleep and the big bad underground pro almost stumbles hard enough to fly.

[tteokdoroki]

hi my beloved angel could i pls request shinsou + ❛ you keep your hands where they are or i'll tie them up. ❜ :33

☆༉ — HITOSHI SHINSOU: 0-800-HOT GUY-HOTLINE.

line. ❛ you keep your hands where they are or i'll tie them up. ❜

extension. edging kink + fem!reader + nsfw.

things to note. for you my baby!! i hope u like heeem n that i characterised him well!!

it’s not your fault, really. 

usually you’re so obedient and good when it comes to hitoshi — he takes care of your needs as long as you behave and listen to him. with him, you cum as many times as you want, cry as loud as you want and your boyfriend will always make sure that you’re satisfied by the end. you’re spoiled in a sense. but today, shinsou seems keen on undoing that narrative. 

you’ve lost count of how many hours he’s been going at this, fucking just the tip of his girth into you at a painstakingly slow rate — you’ve tried everything, throwing it back on him, your usual whining, even grovelling, but the hero won’t budge. each time, he runs a hand down your spine affectionately and cherishes the way that your whole body shivers at the contact — only whispering a short.

“be patient, angel,” he says in that low, commanding voice of his. “don’t you wanna be good for me?” 

and of course you do, you love hitoshi so much and he treats you so well. it’d only be right for you to trust him, let him abuse your runny little hole with the the fat, achingly hot tip of his dick until he’s the one that’s satisfied. he pushes his hips forward, only just, breaching your gushing walls with hardly any resistance because you’re so wet from being teased but being spoiled all the time breeds bad habits and keeping you on the very edge of cumming like this. 

secretively, you slip one of your hands between your salt-slicked body and the bed sheets hitoshi has you bent over, brushing over your rock hard nipples and the sensitive spots along your pelvis before you’re able to reach your puffy pussy. it’s hard to keep quiet when you’re finally able to graze your the poor, unattended nub tucked between your slick folds — drawing lazy shapes over it just like hitoshi would do for you. you attempt to choke down a delicate whimper, stuffing your teary face into the cotton to muffle the louder sounds that start to escape you. 

“you sound so needy,” hitoshi breathes, placing a large hand on the small of your back to deepen your arch from behind. he rewards you, for sounding so pretty, he really can’t help it either — giving into his habit as he fucks you halfway down to his twitching length, his arousal bleeding rip nestled just inches shy from your gummy g-spot. “being so good ‘n patient, angel. love it when you’re like this. all pliant and desperate for some cock.” 

you wail in reply, writhing and wriggling for more — only to be forced into pleasuring yourself, pinching and rubbing at your clit in tune with shinsou’s shallow thrusts past your rippling entrance. he soothes you, rubbing circles into your hip dips as he whispers little praises like “just a little longer. “you’re doing so well for me sweetheart.” “i can’t wait until i get to fill you up.” 

that is until he feels your sly little hand brush against this muscular inner thigh, while you attempt to get yourself off. one moment, you’re on the verge of finally hitting release, the next, all of that mounting and heavenly pleasure is ripped away from you by hitoshi’s discovery.

“toshi!” you snivel desperately, trying to appeal to his gentler side when he pulls out of you completely — exposing your hot cunt to cool air as you pulse around nothing. “p-please, please ‘m sorry!” 

he sucks his teeth, three fingers coming down harsh on your sopping mound which causes you to jolt forward on the bed in suprise. “oh, I don’t think you are.”  he seethes cruelly, throwing his weight over your trembling body while he licks a wet trail up and behind your ear. “if you were, you wouldn’t be trying to fuck yourself while i’m spoiling you with my cock.” 

okay, so maybe it is your fault. 

shaking your head, you try to wriggle away — your hips running from the sudden and relentless pressure shinsou applies to your greedy clit from behind. “i p-promise! i am, ‘m so sorry. hnngh, ‘toshi ‘m gonna cum! t-too fast!” 

“don’t care.” the purple haired hero grunts, only speeding up. “you wanted to cum so bad? instead of being a good girl and waiting for me?” nipping at your earlobe, shinsou chuckles coyly and smacks a hand down on your pussy again. “now you’re complaining about it being too fast? well too fucking bad. you get what you give, angel.” 

shinsou’s threat should scare you, but it only serves to turn you on even more — clear streams of your arousal painting his thick fingers against your heat like a sugar glaze. 

“d-do it, i dare you.” you manage to bleat out, challenging him. 

the laugh your boyfriend lets out is both cold and amused, overlapped by the squelch of your princess cunt as he replaces what used to be his heavy cock with his fingers inside of you. curling them straight away. 

“challenge accepted, sweetheart.” shinsou grins, pumping in and out of you so fast you hardly realise that you’ve hit your first orgasm until it’s too late — squirting about the place and soaking the sheets. “but this time, you keep your hands where they are or i'll tie them up.”

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[azzo0]

Nightly Routine

Summary: Shinsou loves watching you do your skincare. He also loves it when you do his skincare for him.

Shinsou loves sitting on the bed, watching you do your nightly skincare routine, patiently waiting for you to finish so you can do his. He doesn't know the names of the serums you're dripping over your face, and neither does he know the order of application.

You turn around, cleaning your fingers with a wet wipe. You smile at him as he watches you eagerly, sitting with his hands under his thighs. You take the green frog eyes headband from the dressing table and put it on his head, pushing his hair back.

"Did you wash your face?" You ask.

"Mm," he nods, closing his eyes.

He feels you put drops of some mysterious serum on his face. Your cool fingers spread it on his skin. You lightly tap his face all over with your fingers, letting the serum absorb. He loves it when you do that.

You proceed to put some more different serums on his face. He doesn't get why there are so many. Can't one get the job done? But he's not complaining because his face is getting a free massage.

He opens his eyes when you walk away with the serums. You return with a tube of eye cream and the moisturizer. He closes his eyes again to let you rub the eye cream under his eyes, followed by the moisturizer.

"Done." You grin at him, removing the headband. "Thanks." He goes under the covers, waiting for you to finish putting your skin care products back. After turning the lights off, you climb under the blanket beside him, snuggling into his chest. He puts his chin on your head, shutting his eyes when he remembers something.

"Y/n?"

"Yes?"

"You forgot the lip balm."

"I did? Do you want me to go get it for you?" You ask, propping up on one elbow.

"No," He brings his head towards you, pressing his lips onto yours. "Now we're good."

[alilreader]

Rule #34, by Fish in a Birdcage. Villain!Shinsou Hitoshi

warnings: dubious consent, brainwashing, implied violence, shinsou villain au, nsfw

contains: smut, foreplay, brainwashing, semiconsensual brainwashing

written to the song Rule #34, by Fish in a Birdcage.

not much plot, just a lil disaster caused by the LOV, that now contains Shinsou as a member.

18+ Minors DNI

requests open :3

Right now, you're mine…

Footsteps fell silently, as one boot and then another met with the hard ground. A head of indigo hair blew weightlessly in the gentle breeze of the outdoors. Dark, deep, mauve eyes trailed lazily about, searching for your figure amongst the hard bark of the surrounding trees.

He was hunting you, as if it was a game. In fact, maybe it was, to him at least. Everything was a chance, a moment, an opportunity to him. He waited patiently for his opportunity, an opportunity to strike.

There it was, his moment, he thought, getting restless as heard the snap of a branch in the distance.

But he had to plan this carefully. You knew of his quirk, you were well aware of it by now. He couldn’t lull you into answering him, like he had everyone else. Although… 

Maybe, with some skill, he could do just that.

All mine…

Wordlessly, silently, he unraveled his capture weapon, and used it as a spider would use their web to cover distance. He was zoning in on you, and fast, capturing your shape in his vision. 

Quickly, feeling tingles along your back, as if you felt his gaze, your eyes snapped towards him. This rendered him frozen, as if when he stood still you wouldn’t see him.

He stumbled, innocently toward you, feigning an injury, praying you hadn’t seen him swinging your way.

“Shinsou?” you called out, a flicker of excitement seen on your features, any distrust gone. “Shinsou, I was worried for you. Where have you been?”

Guilt flitted across his conscience. You were always so trusting of him, stupidly trusting of him. Of course you wouldn’t assume he was with the League, nor the cause of this disaster.

“Don’t worry, doll.” Shinsou’s voice came out smooth, as he returned to his movement, covering the distance between you two. “Are you harmed?”

He held your face tenderly, as if it might shatter in his hands. He could feel your heartbeat from the proximity. 

You shook your head.

Give in, you’re mine…

His eyes, as if it was even possible, darkened. You barely had time to register, before answering, “No, no. I’ve been on the run.” As soon as you finished your claim, you felt the mind numbing tingle that had grown familiar to you. “His quirk,” you thought.

He smirked, ever so slightly, his victory raising his ego. “Doll, I’d been waiting for this..”

Fear struck you through the heart, but some of it went straight to your gut. Setting in on a heavy feeling, a warm feeling, a feeling you’d deny ever having. 

As if he noticed, Shinsou spoke, his voice unwavering and confident, “Surrender yourself, completely, to me.” 

Your now dull, lifeless eyes met his. You raised your arms slowly into the air, powerless to his control. If you had half a mind, which at the moment you didn’t, a blush would’ve spread across your face at the eye contact you were met with.

Deeply intense, sullen eyes met yours. A flicker of something unknown hidden behind his pupils. 

All mine…

His hands gingerly met yours, as they dangled in the air. He brought your knuckles to his mouth, pressing gentle kisses to your flesh. 

“You’ll tell me if you don’t want this,” he commanded. Your body, idle, told him everything he needed to know.

Gentle, soft kisses met your throat, as he backed you up against an oak. He searched desperately for your sweet spot, the small place where your neck met your shoulders, that elicited a gasp from you. Leering, he suckled gently on that spot, nibbling and pulling at your skin. He pushed his knee softly between your legs, spreading them, feeling your wetness beneath your skirt.

A crash was heard, further into the forest, making him stand at alert. A growl was pulled from his throat, as he glanced back at your form. He couldn’t be caught, drawing such illicit sounds from you, not now. 

He moved to escape, before letting his gaze fall back on you. “Later, doll..” he said, releasing you from your brainwashed state. “Until next time,” he smiled smugly, as he left you there in a stupor.

“That bastard,” you thought to yourself.

[miumura]

💭 — JAY AS YOUR BOYFRIEND !

thank yew sona for requesting 😊🫶

warnings : mentions of nickname “love”, mentions of kissing

— would take pics of anything (like a trip or smth) and be like “would’ve been better if you were here” LIKE SHUT UPPPPPP .

— literally is your photographer. he would snap pics from you left and right and is SERIOUS about it . “stop moving.” , “wait stay there just a bit i have a the perfect photo”. he just wants to document all the moments where you looked pretty, which is almost everyday <3

— heavy on the gift giving. he gets you something just because. its always his reason for it. hes so sweet shut up

— he would pick up on all the little details about you and what you liked. he found out your fav food? he’d try cooking it for you. he found out abt your fav song? expect it to play in the car as he drives for a date. he’s just!!!!! yes!!!!!!

— he would make you easily flustered without even knowing it. “why are you blushing?” as if he didn’t just do the most sweetest thing ever.

— LIKE brushing away your hair from your face when you speak. so ure like 🧍 and hes like 🤨 cause he does it all the time but he just knows how to make you stop in your tracks, even though he doesn’t know he had that effect on you why is he lying bro STOP.

— he’s always caring for you. like i mean it. he would hold doors of you, open the car door for you to enter first, just helping you with everything 🙁

— adding onto that, you’re his passenger princess. you will not get a hold on the wheel (maybe if you convince him, but he would still be on doubt) when he’s around. if you try driving hes like , ummm what are you doing 🤨? would kick you out of the driver’s seat as fast as possible. to make up for it, he lets you pick the playlist for you both to sing your hearts out on the road.

— would play with your hair any chance he gets to. like he loves brushing his hand through it. would be down to learn how to do your hair so that when you’re tired, he could help you if he needed to :( <3

— he would be so patient and understanding with you. like he is that person who is like just say whatever you can, i’ll form it together in words for you whenever you couldn’t quite express it. sliding down the wall

— tries not to raise his voice at you. would always talk to you in a soft voice normally which makes the others go 🤨 . like the favoritism??? but jay doesn’t care 😊

— random ily’s throughout the day. he just likes reassuring you even though he really doesn’t need to.

— back hugs back hugs back hugs back hugs!!!

— isn’t huge on the teasing bc he’s afraid he would get you upset </3 he would always tease you at the right moments though bc yk he’s joking since he never does it often <3

— when hes jealous, he’d just have his tongue poking in his cheek and pulls you closer to wrap his hand around your waist (without you realizing it). would probably tell you afterwards that he was jealous — leading to you teasing and reassuring him

— holds eye contact with you when you speak. like once you meet his gaze you just stop. and he casually goes “why did you stop? keep going, i wanna hear more.” and when you do he js nods and goes “there you go love” LIKE SHUT THE HELL UP . MAKING ME GIGGLE AT 1 PM .

— seems like a guy where he’d grab your chin to kiss you

— big on kissing each other’s cheek before he or you leaves the house. if he’s leaving, he expects a kiss on the cheek just so he could leave and just look forward to seeing you later. im screaming in my pillow

— a big spoon bc he loves pulling you closer to him as you cuddle / go to sleep. also whispering affirmations into your ear js bc he thinks it helps you sleep better it does

💭 — jay has me going delulu. please help.

ENHA PERM TAGLIST — @flwoie @ixomiyu @yenavrse @shinsou-rii @bearseulgs @ilovewonyo @yenqa @dimplewonie @bubblytaetae @wtfhyuck @ineedaherosavemeenow @starcubes @starikizs @wonioml @chirokookie @xiaoderrrr @neozon3nha @en-chantedtomeetyou @millksea @enhaz1 @eundiarys @woon2u @ja4hyvn @judeduartewannabe @j-wyoung @thia-aep @vampcharxter @softpia @officiallyjaehyuns @itsactuallylina @hsheart @sweetjaemss @ahnneyong @hanienie @jwnghyuns @kpoplover718 @jiawji @rikizm @haknom @yeokii @wvnkoi @tnyhees @teddywonss @shinunoga-iie-wa

[bnha-headcanonss]

Suggestion :)

POV, Dealing with depression while dating Shinsou

• Shinsou is extremely patient. If there are certain things you don’t want to tell him at the moment, he won’t get upset. You’re his main priority when it comes to emotions/feelings.

• He takes time to understand what you’re going through. He knows depression is different for everybody.

• At first he tries things that worked to help his depression, if he see’s that it didn’t work, he’ll rethink and approach in a different manner.

• His compliments won’t ever stop. He’ll still gush about how attractive you are to him, even if you’re a week without a shower and just woke up.

• If you’ll let him, he’ll lay with you while watching a television show/movie.

• Forehead kisses while watching said movies/shows

• He’ll get you to watch comedy’s/romance cause he loves to hear you laugh, even if he has to sit through Grown Ups for the millionth time.

• If you want your space, he is always a text/call away and usually at least in the next room over.

• He’s constantly buying you snacks when he’s out at the market or convenience store. Candy, drinks, chips, you name it. As long as he knows you like it, it’s yours.

• Theirs been times you’ve wanted to talk to him about what you’re dealing with, he sits there and patiently listens. He won’t say a think unless you ask him something.

• Walks around the dorms. He’ll take you out and just walk around. The breeze and fresh air does help, but he would never force it.

• When you do want to go out, he’ll do it around nightfall/sunrise because of the lack of people and noise, it’ll be just you two.

• You just let him talk. He doesn’t talk too much in general but his voice is soothing so if you’re just laying in bed, you ask him to tell you about his day, even if he has to repeat things he’s done. Just his soft tone of voice is everything.

• He’s quick to tell you that your feelings are completely okay and valid. He doesn’t make you question yourself.

• He’s careful about having you try new things like shows/food. He has the mindset that you associate certain things with how’re you feeling when you try them and he doesn’t want to have you try something you may like then forever associate it with depression. But he won’t let you know.

• He stocks up on things he thinks you’ll like.

• He’s very adamant on getting you to take care of yourself but doesn’t make it noticeable. He makes sure you’re fed, laundry’s done, chores are finished but he spaces everything out so you aren’t exhausted, and he always helps you so you aren’t alone.

• On top of that, he rarely leaves you alone unless you specifically ask for it, but you rarely do.

• He walks you to class everyday, even if it’ll make him late to his own.

• He’ll ask if you want to go to the store with him around sunset/night. If you say no, he is practically running just to get back to you quicker

If you have any more requests/suggestions, go ahead and drop them! They actually get me to write lmao

Thank you for the request! :)

[yanderes-galore]

may I request a romantic yandere concept for hitoshi shinso MHA?

He was like the first MHA character I wrote on here... so let's see if how I write him has changed at all.

Yandere! Hitoshi Shinsou Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Brainwashing, Jealousy, Stalking, Possessive/Protective behavior, Restraints, Isolation, Violence, Blood, Dubious/Forced relationship.

Hitoshi has been shown as stoic, quiet, and straightforward.

Due to his Quirk, it makes sense why he doesn't bother talking much.

Yet he could also just be introverted.

Despite this attitude, he's quite capable of holding a conversation with others.

Hitoshi, due to the nature of his Quirk, is manipulative.

He doesn't mind using underhanded topics to trick those around him into activating his Quirk.

Hitoshi is often perceived as a bad person due to his Quirk.

Which seems like another reason he's introverted.

He often states he has no interest in making friends and strives to be a hero.

Right away I can tell he's a yandere who would be quiet and distant... silently observing his obsession before making any moves.

I imagine Hitoshi is capable of being a terrifying yandere.

He just... doesn't want that as he doesn't want his obsession to view him as evil.

Just... listen to this...

Brainwash Quirk, binding cloth, The ability to fool his enemies by changing his voice with his mask...

If he wanted to force his obsession to be with him, he could.

Although, I imagine Hitoshi prefers having you love him naturally.

Many don't trust him already.

So the fact that you're so insistent on being close to him... surprises him.

You... Want to be friends?

You're looking past what he's capable of and asking to be friends?

For a long time he brushes you off.

He doesn't make friends... He's fine alone...

Although, eventually during hero exercises or normal school life, Hitoshi slowly allows you to be his friend.

His friendship with you goes right up until you graduate.

He probably has a crush on you... yet nothing gets too intense until he's a Pro Hero.

So by the time things really go downhill... you're both adults with your own lives.

Well, at least you had a life....

Hitoshi doesn't usually activate his Quirk around you.

As I said before, he doesn't want you to think poorly of him.

You're eventually not his only friend... Yet you're definitely his closest one.

Hitoshi may not act like it, but you mean a lot to him.

He really does try to be patient with you.

Hitoshi may not even realize he has feelings for you until senior year where he noticed you were... getting more attention.

It's annoying to him... But why?

You... look happy.

Shouldn't he be happy if his friend looks happy?

Part of him wishes you'd look that happy when he gave you attention.

Hitoshi is definitely someone who is in denial of his obsession or just hides it.

He hides his jealousy and yearning until even after you both graduate.

Yet he'd be lying if he didn't use his Quirk against those he didn't like around you a few times.

He just acts oblivious to it.

I imagine even as a Pro Hero, Hitoshi checks in with you.

He definitely has your number and checks in whenever he can.

Although, while he has restraint, obviously he can be a scary yandere.

Imagine if you both eventually get into an established relationship?

He starts all sweet and nice, usually still quiet yet the same friend you had in school.

But I can see him relapsing into old habits.

To you, he's always been your quiet friend (now boyfriend) who always focuses on his job and goals.

He always hid away any signs of his obsession from you.

As he was always quiet, it was relatively easy for him to stay in the background of your life and hide his tendencies.

He probably even knew of you before you were friends, yet he'd never admit to that.

Hitoshi would never admit he followed you around in school, watching your every move.

He'd never admit to using his Quirk to separate others from you.

Even if he doesn't want to admit it, he's still quite manipulative.

Even when he plays nice and stays patient... He still has toxic tendencies.

When he meets up with you again, part of him has the idea of using his Quirk on you.

He tells himself he shouldn't, you should love him on your own.

Yet he does have the idea of making you say yes to dating him with his Quirk....

When you two eventually start dating after graduating, manipulation or not, he still seems like how he was when you were younger.

He's hesitant when you give him affection at first, not used to it yet slowly begins to enjoy it.

He doesn't seem like a bad boyfriend.

Although, here's a nice twist...

Maybe you don't think he's a bad boyfriend because he's been using his Quirk on you this entire time?

The temptation gets to him, leading to him manipulating you into staying with him as a Pro Hero.

Does he feel bad? A little.

Yet he's craved your love, deceived or not, for a long while.

Hitoshi, deep down, is a lonely man even as an adult.

You're the only one he's wanted since high school.

Now as a Pro Hero... He's grown strong...

Strong enough to protect you... and also gain the attention he wants.

A big part of his obsession is manipulation, obviously.

It's due to his Quirk and while he doesn't want to do anything like that to you at first...

He will eventually.

Especially if he starts looking into his jealousy more.

While not the most physically threatening or violent... He's good with words.

He'd probably manipulate you into a relationship then use his Quirk to keep you in it.

You'd be isolated from friends with him sabotaging relationships.

Honestly, it's scary what he can do with his Quirk.

Yes, he tries not to at first, but when you're both adults the temptation becomes too great.

It isn't easy to escape either.

He was trained by Aizawa.

He's agile, fast, and still very controlling.

I can see him taking out rivals or recapturing you with his hero gear.

He has the binding cloth in his arsenal which is good for restraints.

He also has the voice changing mask that he can use to lure people in or trick them into falling for his Quirk.

Imagine realizing Hitoshi has been using you and you try to run.

Only for him to quickly track you and restrain you with the cloth, using his Quirk to trick you into staying still.

Then he'd drag you back to your shared apartment or home, just to isolate you all over again.

Even his affection is deceptive.

He acts so caring, giving you gentle kisses and hugs.

But the whole time you're wrapped in his binding cloth...

Kidnapped in stuck in your now shared home.

Plus, even if you weren't, you feel as though you couldn't refuse.

He may just use his Quirk on you again if you refuse.

It makes sense why so many people distrust him.

He tried to play nice and date you properly.

Yet he's impatient... and scared to lose his closest friend...

He knows most of the relationship is built on lies and manipulation... That it's fabricated because his own selfishness got to him...

He knows you won't forgive him, he tried so hard to be patient...

But it doesn't matter now, does it?

One way or another, you're all his, and there's no going back now.

[loveing-eyes]

say i love you for the first time (seprate) sero, shinsou , mina , kiri , deku , bakugo, denki , todoroki

"saying i love you for the first time"

hanta sero

•he would be the one to say of first without hesitation around 3 months into the relationship

•you were laying on his bed just talking about life when you sat up smiling at him and laid a kiss on his cheek

•he smirked and said i love you senorita

•you froze for a moment staring in shock turning into the shade of Kirishima's hair while his smirk grew wider

•after a moment you realized what happened and hugged him saying you loved him too

•most of that evening was spent just cuddling in sero's bed

denki kaminari

• you said it first from him being an idiot and getting hurt at the training camp around 3 weeks into the relationship

•hearing from jirou that your boyfriend got hurt had you freaking out you

•instantly had her take you to where he was passed out

staring at him and waiting for him to wake up was absolute torture the hour went by slower than the first day of school

• and when he did wake up he was groggy and you pumping on him crying didn't help that whatsoever

•confused him, even more, when you sobbed out "i love you ok you idiot don't do this shit again"

•suprisingly he didn't shortcircuit and quickly wrapped his arms around you in an attempt you console you

•"i love you too y/n/n" he would whisper back into your ear after a moment when he felt you had calmed down enough

eijiou kirishima

•manly man said it first during a bakusquad hangout and 4 months into the relationship

• most of the 1-a class was just hanging out in the common area including you and kiri who were off just getting popcorn just talking about the date you had planned

•he just smiled and blurted it out "I love you" realized what he did when half the room stopped talking and you froze

•cue Kirishima turning the same shade as his hair

•you put down the bowl of popcorn grabbing Kirishima's hand and kissing him on the cheek "i love you too sharky" you teased and most of the girls gushed as most of the guys groaned and told you to get a room

•very nice the date the next day was wonderful

shoto todoroki

•you said it first out of worry he didn't feel the same way around 13 months into the relationship

•you knew things would be very slow when you started dating shoto but after over a year and he hadn't said I love you it had taken 2 and a half months to so much as hold hands

•you felt like he loved you and you knew you were his first real s/o so you were patient but you felt insecure about it after 10 months and you had made barely any progress

•you distanced yourself a bit and shoto barely noticed you felt like he had been happier you felt stupid for thinking he was happier but something told you he was and you didn't know who to tell

•then came the next 3 months of a downward spiral and shoot realized you weren't just having a bad week

• finally you worked up the courage to tell asui and she told you to just be honest with him and if he doesn't feel that way just leave him and try to stay friends so you decided to do it

• finally you walked to todorokis room knocking wait for him to open and let you in

•sitting on the floor next to him you explained how you felt leaving out the fact it was because he never said I love you

•he felt confused and was mad at himself thinking he had done something wrong

•you had to explain it was from something he hadn't done

•which confused him even more making him think you distanced yourself cause you hadn't had sex yet

•which made you feel bad and apologize and tell him it was from something he hadn't said

•which brought you back to square one

•"shoto its cause i dont know if you love me I know l love you but its not extremely easy when your monotone"

he sat for a moment staring with a blank expression "well of course I love you I wouldn't be with you if I didn't" straight forward to the point

•like a weight was lifted off your shoulders you launched yourself at your boyfriend

•he wrapped his arm around you softly laying his head on your shoulder "I'll try to say it more dear"

katsuki bakugo

•you said it firt in the middle of an argument around 3 months in

•you knew it he knew it everyone knew it katsuki was a total asshole with anger issues

•though no one expected he would get in a screaming match with his girlfriend's best friend (Denki) while she was out

•and when she got back and found out she wasn't happily marching straight to her boyfriend's room demanding an answer

•which he refused to give her one until they were in a screaming match themselves"it doesn't matter just know I had a reason"

•"well what was the reason" she wanted to know what would cause him to lose his shit "he said something" bakugo groanedd "well what did he say" y/n whispered taking a seat on the edge of his bed "it doesn't matter" bakugo groaned shoving a pillow over his face "yes it does you idiot I want to know why the bo I love screamed at my best friend"

•upon hearing "i love" he shot up "you love me" his girlfriend nodded "did you not know that" he shook his head "he was talking about if how I didn't ask you out he would totally be with you right now"

•y/n moved closer to him hugging bakugo "katsu dont worry ok I love you and only you" she whispered before kissing him softly on the forehead "I love you too idiot" he mubled hugging her back tightly

mina ashido

•she said it first during a one-on-one sleepover 2 1/5 months in

•her sneaking in your room at 11pm saying she was bored and missed her girlfriend and laid in your bed watching tv with you

•during commercials she tuned down the volume talking about random things before peppering your face with soft kisses whilst cuddling

•in the middle of giggles she wrapped her arms pulling you closer to her whispering "I love you" in your ear barely audible

•cue you smiling and tightly hugging her back "i love you too" the two of you would gaze into each other's eyes smiling knowing you met "the one"

•short quick and sweet little sleepover with 2 lovers always wonderful

izuku midoriya

•he attempted to say it first around 1 1/2 months in key word attempt

•you two were supposed to just have a cute study date which went to hand holding and not talking just scrolling on your phones to you laying in his lap fidgeting with his free hand

•glancing up you smiled adoringly at his concentrated face trying to do his homework your finger grazed over on few of his scares

•smiling you pulled his hand closer to your face you peppers soft kisses onto his scares which made him look down at you confused for a moment before realizing what you were doing

•"i love you...- uhhh your eyes they're very pretty" he flushed a bright pink and you pushed yourself up off his lap "zuku I love you too don't worry" that made him flush even more and you kissed his forehead before laying back down on his lap now with his hand slowly going through your hair as he attempted to calm himself down

shinsou hitoshi

•he said it first hanging out 2 months In

•everthing was ready for movie night snacks displayed on your table you were dressed comfortably and your boyfriend was still picking out te movie he wanted to choose horror thinking it would freak you out

•you grabbed a few more pillows laying them on the floor pulling shinshou down with you laying on his chest as he turned on an American horror movie "it" apparently it was about clowns

• you were fine until the maggot doll showed up and you shoved your head into shinsous neck knocking the air out of him "ok babe you know I love you but never do that again" he groaned sitting up and rubbed his neck

•"you love me" you would stare in shock for a moment and he would realize his half-assed love confession "yes and a shame it was only said cause you almost killed me" he would joke

•"i love you too Toshi" you whispered as he pulled you closer "good good now help me pick a move that won't result in me getting a bruised neck"

[dashielldeveron]

soulmate trope | aizawa, part two.

Aizawa's route of soulmate trope.

Part two bc tumblr formatting weird (also it's formatted the texting sextions oddly. pls be patient). Part one here.

Warnings: BTS mention. Reader is explicitly a kissless virgin to make Aizawa feel Worse. Part one: reader gets a mild hand injury. Threat of dub-con. Claustrophobia. Sexual content, with virgin-y themes. Part two: alcohol consumption (not by reader). Sexual content, with virgin-y themes. Fem reader.

Remember that U.A., for the purposes of this fic, is a university. Lore dropped carries over to previous and subsequent chapters.

~38k overall. ~18k for part two.

The semester trudged on.

It ripped you apart, interacting with Aizawa in class as if you were the same as every other student, when you knew what he ordered at his favourite hole-in-the-wall ramen place, what he looked like shaving in the morning, what type of cat treat Konpeito preferred—the trivialities were stacking, and you savoured each one.

YOU

i had a dream about you

SHOUTA

Should you be texting during class?

YOU

Yamada-sensei has abandoned his lesson

YOU

in favour of recording noises for put your hands up radio

SHOUTA

Noises

YOU

bleep bloop

YOU

hey ya howdy doodle doo

YOU

etc.

Present Mic knew about the soulmate bond, as you’d suspected. While you’d been grading for one of Midnight’s underclassmen classes, Aizawa conveniently had been in the faculty lounge at the same time. You still had to be careful, hanging out, because it’s a tenuous boundary to walk, and you never know who’s watching.

For example, Present Mic.

He’d walked by at the same time Aizawa had mumbled a sorry about that in regards to how ill-stocked the faculty lounge was to preparing coffee, and Present Mic had only heard what he wanted to hear.

“OOOH,” he’d shouted, and he’d dropped everything in his arms and contorted his back over the arch of Aizawa’s leather office chair to hang upside down. “ARE YOU STILL GROVELLING FOR BEING A LITTLE BITCH, LOVER BOY?!”

You’d also felt like screaming.

“Don’t call me that.” Aizawa had whacked Mic’s face away, but he’d kept hanging around and slapped his hands to his cheeks.

“OH, HO? SHOULD I SAY LARGE BITCH, THEN?! YOU SHOULD TELL HER HOW HARD MIDNIGHT BLEW INTO YOU FOR BEING A HUGE DICK.” Present Mic had slithered farther into Aizawa’s seat and nearly into his lap.

Aizawa’d reached for his sleeping bag. “Midnight…was pissed at me for treating you the way I did,” he’d said, tucking his feet in and yanking the yellow fabric up around his hips, and he swatted at Mic again, who slinked his way into the sleeping bag, too. “What she’d heard from you—”

“SHE MADE HIM RIDE HER THIGH,” Present Mic had said, somewhat muffled in his headfirst descent into the sleeping bag, “TO GET RID OF THAT SEX QUIRK. SHE SAID IT’D BE ESPECIALLY HUMILIATING AND PATHETIC IF HE CAME WITHOUT HER HELP.”

Aizawa had upturned his sleeping bag to dump Present Mic out of it, and, muttering under his breath, he’d zipped himself in and rolled over to the faculty couch, curling up underneath the coffee table.

Present Mic had spun Aizawa’s chair twice before sitting in it, and he’d propped his chin on both fists. “So! How are you doing? Does he know about your contraband cat yet?”

YOU

he’s trying to bribe dark shadow into bellowing the opening jingle

YOU

i think i’m gonna throw up

SHOUTA

I’ll intervene if the lights pop out again

YOU

rolling around in a sleeping bag is not the fastest method of travel

SHOUTA

Ground yourself. Head between your knees, if you have to

YOU

(◕‿◕✿)

YOU

thanks i’m cured

YOU

but yes back to dream about you

SHOUTA

It isn’t explicit, is it?

It was still all frustratingly platonic and professional from his end. You understood, but that didn’t mean you didn’t hate it. Sometimes you trained with him and Shinsou, but that was all that you could officially schedule. Everything else had to fall as a tired coincidence.

It meant being in the same area of the library doing work, at tables far from each other. Casually bringing him tea when you’re making your rounds through the faculty offices for Midnight. Joining the regular rotation of Eri’s babysitters—but only if Togata or Monoma couldn’t make it that day, and oh, Midoriya’s out, I guess I need someone else who’s not doing anything right now?

(Babysitting meant that Aizawa would be out, but Eri liked you, especially since you brought Dango over to play with Konpeito. If Aizawa had noticed the different type of cat hair on his shitty couch by now, he hasn’t said anything.)

SHOUTA

Don’t put that sort of thing in writing

YOU

of course it’s explicit. how could i tell you any details if it’d been vague and nebulous

SHOUTA

Pedant.

YOU

you love it

SHOUTA Debateable

YOU

(❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)

YOU

anyway so in dream we’re at some sort of outdoor awards ceremony

YOU

and the ground is covered in dead wet leaves

Just like Ito said, there’s been an increase in romantic clichés in your life—but, as you discovered (and reported back to both Midnight and Ito), you have to lean into the cliches for them to happen. A backburner signal goes off in your brain when the opportunity for a romantic cliché arrives, and you apparently have the option to ignore it. Which is nice, because the signal only bleeps (more of a gut feeling, really) at what could be a first step, without elaborating what situation might unfold.

You found you have the most energy for the first step signals surrounding coffee shops, and those have been very stare-at-each-other-from-across-the-room-in-unvarnished-lust (although, one time, you were handed an application to work there. You declined). What turned out to be a forced-to-be-roommates cliché brought about the destruction of your dorm room, and only your dorm room, by a training accident and your first step of opening your window overnight, but the whole cliché was subverted, because not only did Aizawa refuse to let you choose his flat over one of your friend’s dorms, but Cementoss and his team repaired your dorm by bedtime.

YOU

we are alone at the shittiest, kind of broken table at the back of the venue

YOU

and there’s still pressure to keep our relationship secret bc people are weird about professor/former student stuff

SHOUTA

Nice to hear you plan on graduating

YOU

sensei (derogatory)

YOU

and you let me scoot my chair as close to you as possible and h*ld your h*nd. intertwining our fingers. letting me k*ss them. you positioned yourself so that no one else would see

YOU

(notice how i censored the sexual parts. yer welcome)

YOU

you had your hair half-up half-down, some of it pulled back in a bun. v v v sexy btw, you should do this irl more often

SHOUTA

I’ll see what I can do

YOU

and you let me play with your hair a bit, with you leaning into my touch. we shared a very sugary pear that i had to fight Yamada-sensei at the buffet for. v v v v v warm and intimate

YOU

the sharing of the pear. not the fight. obviously

YOU

i swear, not knowing what kissing/physical romantic stuff feels like makes my brain come up with the most intimate shit on the planet

YOU

so yeah i dreamt some damn this bitch lonely hours about you

YOU

/ᐠ - ˕ -マ

YOU

…shouta??

YOU

you’re not in class rn, right??

SHOUTA

You tell me that you subconsciously devised an act so fondly intimatewith me adn hagve the nerve to say yo’ure fuckngi lonely

SHOUTA You’re going to rip me apart

Aizawa still hasn’t touched you in any way that matters. The soulmark flitted from behind your ear to your fingertips, your forearm, the back of your hand, and carefully back into its hidden place behind your ear. If anyone’s noticed, they haven’t said a word. You’ve been careful.

(The terribly, awfully, evilly romantic touch that made your head spin when it happened [and now when you think back on it] hadn’t even been skin to skin. It had been, in a small group of people, his hand flattening and lingering on the small of your back for just a bit too long, in congratulations for getting selected to student-teach a stealth section of a class for hero-course first-years.

Because you know it was an intentional decision to touch you like that. He could’ve just clapped you on the shoulder, like he would’ve done for any other student.

But he chose to spread the warmth.)

YOU

funny. that isn’t on the itinerary until after graduation

SHOUTA

You’re on thin fucking ice

YOU

and if i fall in??? whatcha gonna do, rescue me???

One of these days, when you shift in your sleep to his bed, you’re going to wake up with his arm around you. You can feel it.

***

The academic situation the week before graduation was a joke.

Less than a third of the seniors bothered to show up to class, and those who did sat through classes on their phones and with their friends instead of in the dumbass seating arrangement. Sero, honest to God, brought his switch to class and played Mario Kart with Todoroki and Kouda, and that was the most intellectually stimulating conversation unfolding.

You attended, because Aizawa had to. You figured you could lighten the mood, and the odds of you shifting to be next to him were significantly lower if you were in the same room.

The lax attitude permeated Sakura Grove, too. Ito was incredibly receptive to all rehabilitation efforts, accepting everything thrown at her with enthusiasm, so long as she got to have access to some way of watching hot people. She was easily coerced into tough recovery shit purely through the promise of BTS interviews and josei manga.

She was even allowed to have her home collection of josei and shoujo manga shipped to her, usually in a care package from her aunt. It wasn’t worth the effort it took you to go through them to approve their contents, but you still scrutinised and logged everything according to Grove standards.

Hell, the candy you were sneaking out of your backpack right now was from Ito. You were eating a goddamn villain’s sweets from home, and it wasn’t even the first time. Ito’s aunt apparently confused her flavour preferences with her sister’s, so you got the flavours Ito didn’t like. And everyone, including Midnight, was strangely okay with this.

(Midnight tried some, too, the first time Ito offered, after the bag had been put through the fucking rungs. Days of processing to ensure its safety, and the moment Midnight put one on her tongue, she spat it back out onto her desk, where it rolled off into the carpet and picked up fuzz. She ended up asking the on-site translator what the fuck the Dutch label said, because when you expect caramel and get salted liquorice, it’s a shock.)

Ito hadn’t wanted these little lemon-lime-flavoured bitches, even though Jungkook was beaming into a bouquet of daffodils under the logo, so here you were, a semi-hard green ball surreptitiously stowed in your cheek as you struggled to bite down (they had a bizarre inside texture. Interesting enough to keep eating them despite your caution, because something deep in your gut told you to keep eating them. Signs of addiction, anybody?). Your book splayed open on your desk (actually yours in the seating chart, since it was the closest to the door and therefore sweet, sweet freedom), but you were half-reading it, half-scrolling through your phone in your lap.

The sleeping bag slowly rose and fell from its place lying across the teacher desk, the only indication that Aizawa was awake at all being the sluggish deflation of the applesauce packet he was sucking on. The end of the sleeping bag dangled off the edge of the desk, with his boots mutedly knocking against the metal side when he exerted enough effort to take a deeper breath and thus upset his oh-so-delicate position lying on his back. Cosy little bastard. The instant you graduate, you’re climbing into that thing and sucking the soul out of his cock.

Nothing was happening online, and you were pissed at the protagonist in your book, since she was getting to go on a date with her hotboy emo assassin boyfriend, and you weren’t. And Todoroki’s sudden screech at losing again really kept you from concentrating, but, y’know, it’s not like anything’s going on… You checked the wall clock. An hour left, and then there’s only two more school days until you’re out of here.

You cracked the candy in half, caught a strange, flaky texture against the roof of your mouth, and swallowed it down before sneakily reaching for the next one. Out of here. Out of U.A. Now, that’s actually debatable for you, and it left a weird feeling in your stomach. With the work you’ve been doing for Midnight all these years and what Present Mic and Aizawa have shown you about the academic process, you were doubting yourself: you’ve always planned on being a pro-hero, but (cringe) teaching was actually really fucking appealing. Yes, parents were insane, and emails were the devil, but teaching itself was a goddamn delight. The way those first years’ faces had lit the fuck up as they connected things you’d taught them in the stealth section was the best thing you’d seen in a long, long time. And they were as excited about it as you were.

You low-key hated how much you liked it. Because if you stayed on at U.A. to teach (and Nezu has hinted that he’d be interested in hiring you), you’d never escape the professor/student status with Aizawa, even though you’d be his peer on staff. Because everyone around you would remember, and everyone who didn’t know would connect the dots.

If you taught somewhere else, you wouldn’t get to see him much at all, and you might not even get to teach hero-course-relevant material.

Your tentative plan, agonised over in detail with Midnight, was to keep sidekicking under her at Sakura Grove as a steadier job with more routine, especially since Ito would probably be approved for parole soon, and to work as a pro-hero somewhere else as well. You’d groaned and she’d laughed when you came to the conclusion that, with your skill set, you’d be most useful working as an underground hero like Aizawa.

It was both shitty and gratifying that everything in your life seemed to point towards him.

God, this class was dragging on. You willed the hands to spin around the clock faster as you sucked on a fresh piece of candy, determined to suck down to the centre to see what the odd inner texture was about instead of chomping down again like Ito into a picture of Suwabe Jun'ichi.

Maybe you should play a round of Mario Kart. Might take your mind off things. I bet I can run Todoroki into the lava first try, you thought as you swirled the increasingly porous ball around with your tongue.

Yeah, that sounded brain-numbing enough. Shutting your book, you slid it to the corner of your desk and started to get up, giving up and swallowing the damn candy.

But you’d evidently gotten past the hard-candy coating to something large and dense blooming rapidly right as it hit the back of your throat, and you were choking, loudly, drawing the attention of even a Shy-Guy focused Sero, and after coughing up an embarrassing amount of yellow-green spittle, you unceremoniously hacked up a surprisingly realistic daffodil blossom, unfolding to its true size as it lay in your thickened saliva.

“Eurgh,” you said, testing, and you cleared your throat again, prickly and grating. You had only closed your eyes for a second, but Aizawa was standing in front of you, eyes widened in horror at the flower you’d coughed up. How had he gotten out of his sleeping bag so—?

Before you could get a word out, Aizawa grabbed you by your (bare) forearm and rushed you out of the classroom, arm sliding around your waist before he even shut the door behind him. The pink ink smeared down your arm as he led you to the closest empty hallway, where he skidded to a halt and clamped his hands on your shoulders, looking directly at you with the most serious expression he’s ever shown you.

“I haven’t been kind; I haven’t been honest,” he began, all apologies and concern and a desperate sort of tenderness, “I’ve been putting it off because I’ve been selfish and have wanted so hard to do this right, because I don’t deserve anything as good for me as you, and you don’t deserve anything thoroughly fucked up like I am.” Aizawa’s obscenely large hand cupped your face, taking up your entire cheek with his fingertips grazing your earlobe and neck (oh, man, choke me about it), the pad of his thumb hovering over your lower eyelashes; he jerked you towards him, his gentle grip trapping your arm between your bodies.

What the fuck?

I mean, you’ll take this. You’ll take it.

What the fuck’s he on? Those applesauce packets have addled his brain.

He must have read your complete bewilderment as encouragement, because he kept going like he had to vomit up these words or else get shish-kebabed for Mic’s end-of-the-year barbecue. “But now that you’re fucking dying—God, it wasn’t supposed to be like this. I had—plans. For you. But now—Christ—you should know that I haven’t thought of you as a stu—”

“Oh, my fucking God,” you said, your jaw dropping in the smuggest fucking grin and shaking your head, “Oh, my God. Shouta.”

He was flushed and panting, but he stopped to listen. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.

(Oh. You’ve never said his name aloud before.

You made a note to tease him about that later. You have something worse to make fun of.)

“You are the dumbest fuck alive,” you said with a shit-eating grin, reaching up to finger-comb his hair out of his face, “I was eating in class. I swallowed a piece of flowering candy at the wrong time. Hanahaki disease isn’t real.”

Aizawa untangled himself from you and took a step back, and then another. “Neither are soulmates,” he said carefully.

“Okay, okay, I can see the logical jump,” you conceded, holding your hands up, “You may continue with your sordid confession now.”

Aizawa blinked, weary again now that the adrenaline was draining away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, fluffing up his capture weapon to cover most of his face.

“Oh, you—you prick! You’re going to hell.” You grinned, poking your tongue into your cheek. “It’s two more days until graduation, and the minute I’m off that stage, I’m yours. C’mon. You can bend your rules with two days left.”

For some reason, he sank more into his scarf. “Let’s go back to the classroom before Todoroki lights something on fire.”

***

You’re vibrating out of your metal chair at the commencement ceremony. Glassy-eyed, you went through the motions of the walk, the pictures, the handshakes, sad goodbyes that aren’t even real, because people were going to the same places and agencies that they’ve been working at for the past few years. Just as pros.

Aizawa’s right there, and his hair’s slicked back, and he’s wearing a suit, and he’s avoiding your ravenous gaze like a good professor should, instead bowing to parents and entertaining the small but constant group that swarmed him.

Hiss, hiss. Back off. He’s yours. You've waited.

When Jirou asked about the twitch in your left eye, you decided it was time to leave. You’re driving yourself insane, watching him like this.

You sat on the front steps of U.A. with Shinsou as the sun sank past the horizon, jovially engaging with your friends who stopped to talk before going out to celebrate. He didn’t ask after whom you’re waiting for, though it was clear you were killing time.

When the night chill swept through the courtyard, Shinsou stood, his hands in his pockets. “I’m beat.” When you didn’t join him, he continued. “D’you wanna go get ice cream, or something, before turning in?”

Aizawa’s still inside. “I’m okay,” you said, stretching, bones cracking, “I think I’ll stay here a bit longer. You go ahead.”

Shinsou stared at you oddly for a second, but he nodded. “Right, then. I’ll go.” He jogged up a couple of stairs before calling back, “You shouldn’t wait out here too long.”

You waved him off.

Eventually, a night wind came that had you pulling down on your sleeves, hunched over on the stairs and rubbing your upper arms. You dug out your phone—no messages—and called him.

He answered after a few rings, his voice groggy and hoarse. “Hello?”

“Where are you?”

“Where am—I’m in my bed. I’m sleeping,” said Aizawa, yawning distantly (he must be tilting his speaker away). He sounded a bit more awake when he asked, “Where are you?”

Fury overtook you. “Where am I? You dense mother—”

You’re straddling his hips in his bed, layers and layers of blankets between you and him.

“—fucker.” You glared down at him, hair mussed up and splayed on his pillow. You hung up your phone and tossed it off the bed; you grabbed his and flung it into the wall. “I waited for you to come out of that building,” you said, planting your hands on either side of his chest to loom over him in what was hopefully a threatening way.

Rubbing an eye with the heel of his palm, Aizawa said, “I hoped you wouldn’t. Shouldn’t you be out with your friends? You’ve graduated. You’ve completed a tough stage of your life.”

“Correct. But aren’t you omitting,” you said, bunching up the fabric of his black henley in a burst of courage (though you didn’t know whether to put your weight on him or not, so you just kind of hovered), “that I’m not your student anymore? I’ve graduated, Shouta. I’ve waited. It’s time. We can start our lives together for real. Aren’t you—aren’t you going to kiss me about it?”

Aizawa’s chest rose and fell underneath your fist, and when he didn’t respond, you released his shirt and sat back with all of your weight on his legs. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding.” You crossed your arms, uncrossed them in a nervous fidget, and crossed them again so that you wouldn’t touch him in any way that grossed him out. Though every cell in your body shouted not to, you climbed off of him, kneeling at his side instead. “What’s,” you started, hesitating, “Is anything wrong that you haven’t told me? Is there anything I can do to help?”

Barely perceptible in the crack of moonlight through his partially drawn curtains, Aizawa gave you a sad smile. “There’s something fucked up about waiting until graduation to kiss you, isn’t there?”

“Goddammit,” you said, crumpling and burying your face in your hands, “I get it. I get it.” You ran your tongue over your lower lip. “I hate you.”

Aizawa reached out to brush hair out of your face, not that you really needed it. “No, you don’t.”

“No, I don’t,” you said back, shaking at his cool touch sliding behind your ear to fix the soulmark.

***

The next ten months of your life were a blur.

In an attempt to not feel so terribly lonely, you buried yourself in work, Sakura Grove during the day and moonlighting as an underground hero after dark. You had to be a pro to be a professor at U.A., so you pushed yourself not just to be good but good enough. Hopefully, you’d be firmly established as a pro before you went back.

Nezu had discussed that with you in an unofficial job talk that last week of school. You’d also taken the opportunity to confide in your soulmate situation, and God bless Nezu for being so discreet and understanding. He promised to keep your student ID active so that you could still scan into doors on campus and that you could leave without hassle when you shifted to Aizawa (it did tons for your self-esteem when Nezu suggested going ahead and upgrading your student pass to a faculty one; you’d walked out of that meeting positively glowing).

You haven’t been shifting to Aizawa as often. You figured it was because you were suppressing your desire to be next to him as much as you could—still fucking difficult, since it crossed your mind every day. You kept it as low-stress as you could—you most often shifted to him in your sleep, so you could sneak out before the bastard woke up.

(You didn’t want to think about how he’s keeping to one side of the bed, using bedding and blankets instead of his sleeping bag now. You continued to leave nothing but your indent on the pillow.)

(You could count the number of times he shifted to you [that you were aware of] on one hand, but once, as you blinked away sleep, he was scratching Dango’s neck in what appeared to be a familiar way.)

The ache made its home in your chest again.

***

Then came a mission.

To quell the PLF action outside of Mustafu, a team was going undercover to PLF bases throughout Japan to extinguish them. And hey, who do we know who has amazing track records, already work well together, and aren’t too well known by the public and thus are able to go undercover?

Class A reunited in the back of a rented-out, hole-in-the-wall ramen place (Class B was the other team and met in a different location). The cook waved at you, having recognised you from the times you and Aizawa have picked up takeaway, and you shuffled into the back room, dimly lit, private, and pungently smelling of broth.

Aizawa’s surrounded by the half of the class already present—Mina’s showing him a video of a dance she taught primary school kids; Kirishima, hair ungelled and loose around his shoulders, was asking for advice about perpetually split fingernails; Asui’s handing him a juice box with the straw already popped in.

When Aizawa wrapped his lips around the straw, he locked eyes with you, dance routine video playing on without an audience. He’s looking painfully handsome in a black turtleneck and long coat with his hair pulled back, and he only got prettier when he gave you some semblance of a smile: more around the eyes than the mouth.

The moment was broken when Kaminari slammed into Aizawa in a hug, knocking him off balance, so you were grinning when you neared him.

Recovering, Aizawa grasped Kaminari’s shoulders. “Put someone in your own agency as your emergency contact.”

“But Daaaaad,” said Kaminari, his whine eliciting a few giggles from Yaoyorozu and Jirou, “You’re gonna take care of it better than anyone else.”

“I am no longer your professor and am therefore exempt from responsibility. The last two times I was called during class,” said Aizawa, setting his juice box on a booth’s table, “It’s nearly impossible to find a substitute at the last second.”

“But you did.” Kaminari shoots him a double thumbs-up. “You’re the best, but sure, I’ll add someone else to the list.”

“Ooh, during class—there is a new Class A that you’re latched to,” Mina said, turning off her phone and stowing it, “They’re not as cool as we are, right?”

“They’re certainly less trouble, at the very least,” said Aizawa, and he glanced over the former students who had arrived. “Why don’t you work on pushing the tables together?”

They scattered. You stayed.

The ache lessened now that you were near him.

You bit your lip. “Is it okay to hug—”

“C’mere,” he said, and you did, wrapping your arms around his neck and inhaling deeply the scents of pine and sandalwood. You had to step out of his embrace hastily, since anyone could notice something off, but the soulmate warmth had flooded your system like a sugar rush, especially with the observation that he’d pulled you close by your waist, as opposed to when he’d gawkily hugged Kaminari around his shoulders.

You stepped out of his personal space, clasping your hands behind your back. “I know I’ve said it a lot, but you smell incredible.”

“Thank you,” said Aizawa, picking up his juice box, “The shampoo you’re using is particularly nice, too.”

“Thanks,” you said while he slurped, “Is Eri doing okay?”

“She’s doing well. She misses you,” he said, and after a beat, he smirked. “She wants you to bring Dango the next time you shift.”

You sucked in through your teeth. “Ah, ha, you know who Dango is?”

Aizawa was really and truly smiling now, eyes half-lidded and soft. “Eri told me about how you would bring Dango over to play with her and Konpeito. I’ve known from the start.”

“I can’t believe I now have beef with a primary schooler,” you said, “She promised not to tell.”

“She also didn’t seem to understand why you couldn’t bring Dango during a shift,” said Aizawa, leaning back on the table and tilting his head, “You’ve been leaving before she even gets up. Does your work at Sakura Grove start earlier than regular businesses? It’s a long commute, sure, but you leave earlier than it takes to be on time. I’d told you to stick around, if you wanted. You seem to have forgotten that since you graduated.”

“Oh.” You stared blankly, and you blinked. To fill time, you joined him in leaning against the booth table, the hands between the two of you almost touching. “I, uh. Huh.”

Aizawa leant closer to your ear, a strand of his loose hair tickling your skin. He spoke quietly, in that infuriatingly rumbly voice of his. “If you’re distracting yourself by overworking, I advise you to ease up.” The tips of his fingers grazed yours, exploding in pink. “You haven’t been answering my calls; you’ve been sneaking out in the morning. Midnight called me to ask if you were all right, and it was shameful that I couldn’t answer her.” Your jaw quivered at the brush of his hot breath against your skin, but if he noticed (and he probably did, that perceptive bastard), he didn’t say anything. “If you work yourself to the bone, you won’t be any good at your job, and you won’t grow. You don’t have to push yourself. You don’t have to prove yourself. Stop rushing. Take your time.” He leant back, sitting upright. “Linger when you shift to me.”

You tapped your pink fingers on the table; it was a relief seeing the mark, instead of just knowing it’s behind your ear. He’d been rather close rather quickly, saying all of these caring, helpful things with an undertone of innuendo, and it was a lot for you after the long dry spell, so there wasn’t anything left in your brain besides looking up at him full of yearning and saying, point-blank, “I’m in love with you.”

Aizawa kept soft eyes on you while covering your hand with his, clumsily lacing fingers together. “I know.”

Your friends erupted in a wild cheer when the last stragglers, Bakugou and Midoriya, finally pushed their way through the double curtains, with Midoriya waving brightly as he joined them and Bakugou ducking his head and averting his gaze.

You jumped out of your skin at the noise and placed a hand over your heart when you realised what it was—and Aizawa was fucking laughing at you. His fingers curled more tightly into yours while he covered his mouth with his other hand, unable to conceal a terrible sort of wheezing laugh and a wide grin.

He’s beautiful.

Tempted to ask if he were having an asthma attack, you instead pouted, pursing your lips. “Hey, you know that when you’re doing hero work at night, you have to be alert for any sort of unusual sound—”

“Correct,” said Aizawa, trying to reel himself in, “but you may want to work on having a work mode and relaxation mode, with clear boundaries. If you’re on guard all of the time, it drains your energy. I’d like you to have the space to live.”

Jirou called the two of you over now that everyone was present. Aizawa stopped you from joining your friends at the end of the table, subtly pointing at the chair beside him.

Knowing that everyone would want to catch up, Aizawa announced he’d be waiting until after their food arrived for the debriefing. While you talked with Shinsou, seated at your other side, Aizawa examined the menu but ordered the same thing he always did.

Aizawa ate his ramen faster than normal and pulled a manilla file from his long coat, quieting most of the table with the gesture—it reminded you how careful you have to be in your actions, your inflections, because all of these people instinctively paid attention to him.

“You all have been split into sub-teams based on the size and structure of each Paranormal Liberation Front base and your individual abilities to infiltrate them. The majority of you are going to Tokyo, but to those going to less urban locations, your job is just as important in quashing extremists.” He passed the file to Midoriya, on his right. “Take the envelope with your name and a moment to read it before getting in your group. No, Iida,” Aizawa said before Iida could gesture more, “Midoriya is only involved in the planning stage. As he and Bakugou are the most well-known by the public, they will be staying here to maintain a sense of normalcy.”

Shinsou handed the file to you, and you took the last envelope while Midoriya took over explaining to the table. With Aizawa watching you in his periphery, you ripped open your envelope.

Hero commission stationery. Cute. Secrecy of mission, dedication of self…You’re going to Tokyo. Great, you’ll have to burn your city-grimed clothes at the end of each day.

“Who assigned these teams?” you whispered to Aizawa.

He finished his bite of noodle, swallowed thickly, and tucked loose hair behind his ear. “I did.”

You narrowed your eyes. “My team is you.”

“It’s only logical,” he said with a sly smile as he reached for his drink. “Keep reading.”

You scanned the rest, the soulmate trope signal growing in your gut. “Since when does the PLF have connection with the yakuza?”

“Since the families in opposition to Chisaki bolstered their defences against heroes. Keep going.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach. “Their headquarters is in a club?”

“Beneath it,” said Aizawa, and under the table, his knee nudged yours. “So, tell me: what would be the purpose in sending two underground heroes there?”

You took a deep breath, bouncing your leg. “Heroes specialising in stealth would be trained already in how to infiltrate a place unnoticed. They would be accustomed to reading people, to recognising the details that betray intention. And they’d be less likely to be recognised by their faces. Well, goddamn,” you said, reading over your letter again, “Logical. But again: why am I going to a club? I’ve never been to one and have never wanted to.”

“Because you need to grow.” Aizawa tucked that loose strand into his ponytail. “You’re not at your best in large, social situations. Your crowd work needs to improve.”

“So, you’re sending me to a fucking club—”

“Not sending you,” he said, “I’m coming with you.”

“Pedant,” you grumbled, secretly pleased that you’re rubbing off on him. “Seriously, I don’t know if I can do this.”

Aizawa shook his head. “I do.”

***

You were teeming with envy for your classmates sent to rural PLF bases when five o��clock brought vast hordes of businessmen and freshly released workers onto the train to uptown Tokyo.

You have a firm stance on personal space; you’re not used to touching people or being touched, so you grew more and more visibly flustered as more people packed on. A faint call of the soulmate signal echoed in your gut, and you panicked—is it a romantic cliché to get fucking groped?

But before it can escalate to a true panic attack, Aizawa set his duffel on the floor and reached for your waist—you jumped at his touch but relaxed when you saw it was him. He guided you in front of him, unbuttoned his long coat, and wrapped it around both of you, pulling you back against him with his arms hugging your waist, large hands covering more of your body than you’d imagined. Back against his broad, warm chest. Feeling tucked in under the coat.

Tilting your head back to look at his tired eyes, you mouthed Thank you.

Aizawa nodded, and when you settled into his arms, he rested his chin on the top of your head.

***

The A/C in your hotel room conked out an hour before infiltrating Club Magenta.

“There’s a pin that the yakuza has issued to PLF members for club access,” called Aizawa from the bathroom, the door cracked to let out steam, “It’s a visible marker for who’s safe to confide in, since PLF members haven’t been sworn into the yakuza.”

You pulled the fan chain through its cycle of settings again, and no, that was the highest it could go. “Wait, a pin? Would either of mine look like it from a distance?”

“Unless you’re coincidentally wearing the eye of Horus—” The bathroom door slammed open, steam and light outpouring. “Why are you wearing pins on a mission?”

“It’s to contribute to my I-am-open-and-not-hiding-anything vibes by providing more information about myself than necessary,” you said, kneeling on the bed, crawling off of it, and being slapped with 80 psychic damage at the sight of Aizawa’s clubbing disguise.

How annoying. He’s got on this unbearably irritating all-black ensemble (though that form-fitting button-up peeking out from underneath that stupid leather jacket was more of an ashy-grey-black than straight black), but a flash of his socks revealed neon kittens—if you could get past those funky, leather boots with flowers painted on. He’d shaved away all but a shadow of stubble, and his hair was up in that half-up, half-down bun style that was horribly, horribly attractive.

You had to sit down on the edge of the bed.

Aizawa strode over to you, squinting down at the pins near your left shoulder (the tips of his boots parted your legs where he stood). The expected wave of disappointment washed over his face as he read Good Pussy Gang and experiencing sensory overload—both in pastel, the latter with cartoon frogs.

“What the hell is wrong with you,” said Aizawa, unconsciously edging further between your legs.

“Well, the other options for pins up for borrowing from the girls could imply some things that could turn out badly for me in this situation. There was my sun sign is cocaine, but then what if I were offered cocaine? I don’t wanna do that,” you said, grinning, “And the one that said don’t bully me; I’ll come was a little too close to home, and you’ve taught us to never be that vulnerable about our true selves when undercover. Fuck Nasty wears its joke out quickly. It was tough choosing, though. Runner-up was crab rangoon.”

Narrowing his eyes, Aizawa plucked at the charm on your necklace. “And this, I presume, is the entire clitoral gland?”

“It’s a wishbone,” you said.

He set the charm back against the hollow of your throat. “Figures. Just—just what the hell are you wearing?”

“You’ve seen me in a dress before.” It’s really not that bad: also all-black, long enough to feel safe—but since you’ve been informed you have nice boobs, it’s also got a square-cut neckline to show them the fuck off.

“No, I meant—” Aizawa hooked a finger underneath the leather strap on your shoulder and yanked, pulling you upright and rather close; you laid your hands on his chest to balance yourself (oh, hohohohoho, his chest! You’re successfully touching it).

“That,” you said, biting your lip as his hooked finger ran down the strap from your shoulder to the side of your boob, “is called a harness, Shouta. You seem like the type to know a lot about—”

“Not the point,” he said under his breath, his hands resting at your waist (!!!), just below the leather going across there, thumbs rubbing at your sides. He ran his tongue over his lower lip and then cleared his throat. “Enlighten me. Why do you have a harness?”

(“Because it pushes your boobs up and together, and men are weak,” Mina had said.)

“It’s from Momo’s failed Attack on Titan cosplay,” you said, truthfully, “She got the placement of the horizontal strap wrong. See, it’s supposed to go here.” You drew a line across the tops of your boobs, watching his pupils follow. “But she made it here, under the boobs, like an underbust corset. She was going to throw it out, but I thought it looked good on me.”

He rubbed his thumb over the leather one last time before dropping his hands. “It does,” he said in a sort of croak.

You soared on the high of that croak the entire uber ride to Magenta.

Tinged pale pinks and greens under spotlights, the line outside stretched around the block and into the night. Bit embarrassing how Aizawa’d had to explain ratio to you, and a couple of eavesdropping woo girls thought it was simply adorable that it was your first time in a club and agreed to latch onto you two to be let in. The bouncer talked to Aizawa, not you, but let you pass, stating that first-timers at Magenta need to stay on the first floor unless otherwise invited.

“Can everyone just look and me and tell I’m a virgin?!” you hissed into Aizawa’s ear as you were led down a pitch-black corridor. “How come no one’s talking to any of the other women like that?!”

Harsh drops in the music coming from somewhere shook the walls more and more as you walked farther into the dark, and a heavy, steel door (with a glow-stick around the handle) opened onto a pulsating sardine can of a dance floor coated in way too many people, all writhing and twisting to the beat. The floor sectioned into a panelled grid, with each panel somehow lit from underneath, flashing pinks, greens, and black. The ceiling was similarly gridded but only with white light, from the view below, and you could see the silhouetted footsteps of dancers on the floor above.

Aizawa guided you to an edge booth before going to the bar; you, keeping an eye out for the Magenta pins, camped out and shazam-ed the incomprehensible electro-pop song currently vibrating the chairs away from a nearby table (the table was bolted down, but the chairs weren’t).

When Aizawa slid into the booth with drinks, you dragged him close to you, pressing your face into his shoulder and inhaling deeply. “Thank God,” you said, refreshed by the pine and what was apparently new leather, “Too many people are vaping for me to breathe. And it’s so fucking humid in here.” You popped up, accepting the glass of fancy-as-fuck pink lemonade as he skidded the glass across the table to you (you’d decided ahead of time that you weren’t drinking on the mission tonight). “I’m glad Mina told me not to rely on makeup too much due to the sweat, but fuck, this is kind of awful.”

“Yet the humidity’s from crowds of young people dying to experience this flavour of awfulness,” said Aizawa, the glass of some sort of whisky-based drink eclipsed by his hand (big hand…big hand could hold you…), “Seen anyone interesting so far?”

You cupped your hands around your glass, savouring the cool condensation. “Perhaps. Mostly I’ve been acclimatising myself to my surroundings—”

“Spoken like a true hero and a huge nerd.”

“—and I haven’t seen an eye of Horus pin, or any pin, for that matter, but I’ve seen a couple of people, I think, not dressed for a club leaving through a different door. Just there,” you said, raising your glass in that direction and to your lips. “And I happen to like being a nerd, thank you.”

Aizawa’s knee touched yours under the table when he turned in to speak more quietly. “The bartender was wearing an oversized jacket with pin-holes in the lapel.”

“So, not her jacket. Bartender doesn’t qualify?”

“Suppose she doesn’t have to. Only has to deal with the alcohol and kitchen, not crime. Though the price of their scotch comes close,” said Aizawa, taking a sip—and the chokehold his Adam’s apple has on you when it bobs, yikes. Oof. He leant in closer, his breath grazing your neck, to say, “And trust me, if anyone knows you like being a nerd, it’s your sensei.”

Your life flashed before your eyes (lots of reading, lots of yearning, not enough telling people to shut up). Your face felt tight from suppressing a reaction. “Incidentally, didn’t you say you could handle alcohol well?”

“Correct,” he said, smugly taking another swallow, and the soulmate signal erupted in your gut.

Not…the greatest sign.

“If you’re going to try to harass me about how well I can hold my liquor, which is perfectly well, then allow me to make another extrapolation about you.”

You nervously took another swig of your lemonade. “Go ahead.”

No mercy in his expression. “You have a book in your purse, don’t you?”

“Well, fuck,” you said, shifting in your seat, “Is my not-like-other-girls complex showing?”

“I don’t know what that means, but since it flusters you, yes.”

You tried to down the rest of your lemonade, but the glass was really big. Whatever. You pushed on the table to stand. “I’m gonna go dance. I have no idea how, but it’ll be a learning experience, right, fuck-o?”

Holding his glass in from of his smile, Aizawa rolled his eyes.

“I’ll see if there’s anyone out there wearing the pin who doesn’t fit a stereotype and get to talking. See if there’s any more exits,” you said, successfully finishing your lemonade this time and slithering out of the booth, “You stay here, being effortlessly, excruciatingly handsome, and watch the flow of traffic, yeah? See if anyone approaches. Is the soulmark in place?” You spun around (with a bit of traction from the beer-soaked floor) and gestured to your ear.

When he didn’t touch you, you faced him again. Eyebrows raised, Aizawa was frozen, his glass an inch from his lips.

“You think I’m handsome?”

“Is that what you’re focusing on? C’mon, Sho, you’re the most beautiful creature alive, and you know it. I wanted to drop dead when you walked out in your slutty little outfit earlier. You’re playing to my exact weaknesses, you cunning little fuckslut. I already want to quit the mission and make out with you, but I know you won’t allow that, so let’s get the ball rolling so we can finish, yeah?”

He set his glass down with a loud clink. “Right.” He ran his tongue over his lower lip. “Let me fix your soulmark.”

After that, you fucked off onto the dance floor, a bit discombobulated from the nearly-strobe-but-not-quite lights from the floor panels, but you guess the advantage would be if anyone saw you embarrassing yourself, they wouldn’t be able to get a good look at you.

Dancing was out of your comfort zone, but making people laugh? All too easy. All you had to do was compliment a woman on her heart-shaped nipple stickers, and she invited you over to her friends’ dance group. You elected to lean into the everyone-can-tell-this-is-my-first-time-in-a-club bit, and by being honest and awkward within the boundaries of your mission persona, the more experienced club-goers delighted in teaching you some basic club dance moves.

Yes, the music throbbed through your skull as you pulled questionable moves in a dense, sweaty pack of bodies—but hey, your mission persona’s new bestie said that everyone besides professional dancers fake knowing how to dance, so you do you, girl. Besides, Haru was fishing out her phone to show you pictures of her cat, and Kisa was shouting over the music the premise of her PhD dissertation that she was defending next month (she invited you to the defence, and though you won’t have any good questions about the usage of prosthetic limbs as moral denotation in English Victorian literature, you genuinely planned on attending).

(No pins, no outsiders, no one not young and exceedingly drunk—)

“I think you’ve got it!” Haru yelled, her features illuminated in pink, “I think that’s all the basic solo moves! Do you know how to grind? Should we move on to grinding?”

Outward shouts of agreement from the group. Internal screaming on your part. How do you say my ass belongs to my stupid soulmate undercover?

All too quickly, Haru introduced you to Kazu, who waved politely and offered an honestly endearing smile, but you were pressed up against him way too quickly, with too many people touching you, with multiple pairs of hands on your hips trying to guide their movement, and hey, is that an eye—

When Aizawa yanked you out of the cluster, you could breathe again.

“Oof, ouch, I’m sorry; we’re sorry, sir. We didn’t know we were swarming her,” Kisa was saying while you were reorienting yourself, “She should be just fine, though! Nothing bad has happened to her since she’s been with us, and until now, it’s just been us girls—”

More of that language. Assuring Aizawa, like you weren’t even there. And, like, these were women! Some of whom were in academia and medicine, and shit, fighting the good feminist fight! Why were they talking about you like you were—

“They think I’m your dom,” Aizawa said as he steered you towards a roomier part of the floor, “They want to ensure you’re not in trouble with me.”

You turned to face him. “Shut up. No, they don’t.”

Aizawa didn’t have to say anything—just let his gaze sink to your harness.

“Oof,” you said, clasping your hands behind your back. Biting the inside of your cheek, you bounced on the balls of your feet, and you met his eyes. “Am I in trouble with you?”

“No,” he said evenly, “but you’re not going to learn to grind on anyone but me.” He closed in on you, body heat mingling, and looked down at you, eyes half-lidded. “Do you seriously not know? Do those books you read teach you nothing?”

Aizawa took mercy on your headshake no, spun you around, and grasped your hips, his thumbs digging into the swell of your ass.

(He’s touching you, and it’s lower on your body; it’s intimate. You need to go lie down to think about this. You can already feel you’ll be processing this touch for a long time—)

Aizawa jerked your ass back against his pelvis, and your brain emptied.

“Now,” he said, his voice low in your ear (though you’re already sweating, a different heat started to build in you), “The first step is to relax. The movement will be smoother if you’re not wracked with tension.”

“How can I relax when you’re—” Realisation seized you like a sailor grasping for a fish flopping around on deck. “You’re drunk, Shouta,” you said, sighing, chest heavy with compassion and disappointment that he wasn’t flirting with you entirely deliberately, and you reached up to cup his face in your hands. “Let’s go back to the booth and wait it out. I’m going to take care of you.”

He snatched your hands away before your fingertips could even turn pink. “No, little girl,” Aizawa hissed, forcing you around and pinning your hips against his, his splayed hand pressing down hard on your lower stomach, “I’m going to take care of you.”

You would like pink lilies at your funeral.

“A step-by-step lesson, since you’ve managed to make it this far being so woefully ignorant. Some people say grinding can be for fun and nothing else, but for you, since you’re with me, grinding is always sensual.” Aizawa took your twitching hands in both of his, and he dragged your hands up your thighs, plucking at the hem of your dress before trailing them up to your waist. “Usually, your goal would be to get me hard. Luckily for you—”

Grunting, Aizawa ground his erection (?!) against you, rolling his hips from top to bottom to make you feel everything from the tip to his balls, putting so much pressure on your hip and stomach that you grew aware of your goddamn hipbones (this man is bringing up your skeleton, among other private, inner things you don’t want to think about, and it’s just a dance).

“—I’m already there. So, you don’t have to worry about any responsibility. You just sit pretty and let your sensei teach you, hm? I know you’re a quick learner. You’ll catch on.”

Aizawa tapped the back of your knees, making you bend them when you flinched, but he motioned for them to stay bent, doing the same himself. “Move your hips to the beat, matching my speed. Some songs call for moving your hips in a figure-eight, but most work better if you’re moving them in a circular motion—”

“Circular how?” you asked, swaying along to the beat just barely, not even realising you were doing it, “Like, are we talking circle on the y-axis or the x-axis?”

Aizawa scoffed into your hair. “Fucking—it’s not that simple; it’s not two-dimensional. It’s,” he said, raising a hand in front of you to make a flattening gesture, “There’s another plane intersecting. Not just the y- and x-axes. God, what is it called when there’s a third—forget it.” He huffed and nuzzled against your neck. “Think of the movement as Saturn’s rings.”

You looked back at him, grinning. “Are you Saturn?”

“Cheeky,” he said, and he directed you to face the front again by sliding his thumb along your jaw, “or should I say brat. Jesus, am I Saturn—no, sweetheart, but I’m losing my patience for you. Pay attention.”

Sweetheart.

Sweetheart.

You have the mental image of popping champagne while Midnight and Ito throw confetti.

You’re almost too overwhelmed by the new and very good and oh? to keep absorbing more information and observing more sensations, but the only way out was through.

So, Aizawa taught you the right way to roll your hips, to adjust to different songs, what to do with your hands, with every point of contact along the way feeling like a lit sparkler, and you’re a light that won’t go out.

Both present and far away, you couldn’t keep it together (maybe you were experiencing sensory overload). Being so close to Aizawa, with him wanting to be near and nearer to you, unfurled a heady thrill up your spine as he slid his hands over your hips and ass and waist, tugging back on the harness when your back strayed too far from his chest. The way your bodies moved together, slowly, sultrily—his hips twitched involuntarily against you.

“Let me look at you.”

Grabbing your chin again, he turned you towards him, and your hands trembled under his as he encouraged you to run them down his chest (half of his features highlighted in a flash of pearl green, he smirked at you when you lost your nerve and broke eye contact, gathering the fabric of his shirt in a frustrated fist before noticing you were grazing his abs and let go). But he kept you close.

Head swimming, you hooked a finger into his belt loop and yanked to close the scant space between you. You found yourself saying nonsense, like your sentences were rice-paper butterflies that couldn’t float off your tongue and into the dark fast enough. “I want to take a nap inside your ribcage. I want and love every part of you, even the ones I don’t know yet, even if you want no part of me. I’m always yours, in every iteration of me, in every timeline, forever. I don’t care if everyone else forgets me or hates me so long as you know me. I’m going to make you pancakes in the morning. I’m going to give you the best blowjob of your life. I’m going to eat you alive. I’m also possibly experiencing sensory overload and may pass out, so we may need to rain-cheque the mission and leave soon.”

Nodding, Aizawa leant in to kiss you.

The music and lights and people faded away, and you were weightless, in freefall, with a spark of yet more heat kindling low in your stomach.

(From there, the details escape you—and that kills you when you look back at this moment, because it’s your first kiss. But you don’t remember if his lips were chapped or how it tasted or sounds, or anything [possibly because of how bombarded your senses had already been], but you remember how he made you feel: like you’ve been exploring an endless garden, searching, and then seeing him when you turn a corner, his back to you as he waters greenery, and how blinding his smile is when he turns to you.)

***

The mission. Right, the mission. Really hard to care about it once you’d kissed Aizawa.

It went fine. You returned to the booth and read aloud from your book to him until he decided he was sober enough to continue, and you’d scouted some pin-wearers and sneaked downstairs. The PLF stragglers split you and Aizawa up during the fight, so it thrilled you to bits when the soulmate bond made Aizawa shift to you when he couldn’t get loose from multiple yakuza holding him down. Good shit.

Nothing happened when you made it back to the hotel, because Aizawa passed the fuck out within a minute of unlocking the door, which was fair.

You’d been summoned to aid Hagakure and Kirishima at a base just outside of Tokyo, so you’d taken care of that and were now driving back home.

(He’d told you he’d rented the car because he didn’t want to risk your feeling overwhelmed on the train again. Magnanimous fucker.)

Unfortunately, most of the car ride had to be spent reporting to a hero commission employee and then listening to the next step of the plan on speakerphone. You found yourself nodding off, despite the hard copy of the mission report in front of you waiting to be filled out.

The hero commission had to hang up abruptly (something something Best Jeanist?), and the second Aizawa hung up the phone, it rang again. Groaning, he answered it, turning on speaker again and replacing it in his cupholder.

“Eraserhead speaking.”

Crying out, you hunched over in the passenger seat, the soulmate signal cutting so suddenly and severely that it was as if your stomach had been sliced open with a blunt knife.

A hand flying to your shoulder, Aizawa slammed on the brakes and pulled over to the side of the road.

“…been trying to reach you all morning,” the voice on the phone was saying (another hero commission employee, from the legal side, it sounded like), “but I haven’t been able to get through.”

Shaking your head, you held up a hand to Aizawa to let him know you were okay, that it would pass. Still, his jaw tensed, and he slid his hand from your shoulder up to cup your cheek, rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone.

“—because it looks you left some of your financial agreement blank; did you mean to indicate that yes, your wife should be paying child support for Eri?”

Aizawa dropped his hand from your cheek and stared blankly at the phone in the cupholder. “I’m sorry. What?”

“Child support for—”

“No, hold on,” said Aizawa, gesturing and shaking his head even though the other person couldn’t see, “Actually, before we—listen, I don’t have exclusive custody of Eri; she’s under the care of U.A. as an institution. She happens to be near me the most because she bonded with me first. You must have inaccurate—inaccurate information.” He shot a questioning look to you, and you shrugged, excitement bubbling in your gut.

“Allow me a moment?” Mouse clicking was heard. “Okay, well, I’ve got you and your wife’s bank account information pulled up here—”

“When was a quirk incident form for me last processed by your system?”

Aizawa shot you a warning glare while you proceeded to silently lose your shit, clamping a hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter. You unbuckled and reached over the console to pepper pink kisses all over a sulking Aizawa’s face while the speaker rattled off an apology for the delay in processing hard copies of paperwork when they’re used to digital, ultimately confirming that due to a mistake in filing and your little jokes on paper, you two have been married for eight months now.

Running your fingers through his hair (sandalwood sandalwood sandalwood), you pressed your forehead to his, and while the speaker was still apologising for the error, you whispered, “I am going to give you the most egregious road head.”

Aizawa laughed through his nose, making a horrible sort of snrking noise, and he slipped his hand over his own mouth to cover the wheeze in his laugh. You kissed the tip of his nose and leant back to your seat after giving his hair a final, gentle tug.

Steeling himself, Aizawa the pink-nosed reindeer cut the hero commission employee off. “I understand, but I’m still in the field right now. Please forgive me, but I’ll have to call you back later.”

The moment you hung up for him, Aizawa let out a loud groan, tilting his head back and sinking down in his seat, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Jesus Christ,” he said over your burst of open laughter, “You got what you wanted, I suppose.”

“Ohhhhh, no,” you said once you got a breath in, “I’m married to the person I love more than anyone, boo hoo. Do you—” A harrowing thought sobered you. “Do you not want this?”

Aizawa peeked from under his hands, and he dropped them to his lap with a sigh. “Well,” he said, sitting upright again and turning the key in the transmission, “It’s certainly not how I wanted to propose.”

Your throat ran dry, and you smiled through it. “Can’t be helped, I guess. Would it make you feel better if we went to pick out rings?” you asked, not quite joking but not quite serious.

You got to see the way his cheeks and ears tinged bright red as he checked behind you to merge into incoming traffic, and he tucked his chin into his scarf, as if he didn’t want to be seen. “The ring’s already at home.”

***

You were to take over teaching Midnight’s classes. Your duties at Sakura Grove would taper off as other employees learnt how to replace the both of you.

You were also to give her eulogy.

As her former student, close friend, and only sidekick, you were the natural choice. You didn’t want to do it, but you knew if someone else did it, they’d fuck it up.

You deliberately didn’t look at anyone in the crowd (students, heroes, and civilians whose lives she’d affected) and instead focused on the clock on the far wall. If you looked Yagi or Yamada in the eyes right now, you’d crumple.

So, you started talking. You have control over the jokes, this way, over the stories, by doing it yourself. You were doing fine, speaking in a disconnected way, until you noticed, for the first time, that Nezu was sitting on a couple of bibles to see over the pew.

For some reason, that made your grief-stricken brain lose the last threads of composure at which you were grappling, and the first fat tear trickled past your waterline.

And you shifted right into Aizawa’s lap, in front of everyone.

His wheelchair was parked on the outside of the second pew (he wasn’t even supposed to be out of the hospital yet and didn’t yet have a prosthetic), so those attending could see the shift without even having to turn their heads much. Gasping, you were straddling/kneeling in Aizawa’s lap with your arms around his neck, his chin almost in your boobs, and he looked just as taken aback as you did.

You ignored it, instead standing, wiping the tear, and continuing where you’d been cut off mid-sentence as you returned to the podium.

You shifted four more times during the course of the eulogy.

So, Midnight celebrated romance even in her death: amidst condolences came the curious congratulations on finding your soulmate.

***

You woke up in his bed.

When the bed creaked and a warm, muscular arm draped over you, there was no scrambling off of each other. No panic. He grumbled something against the back of your neck and tightened his grip around your waist, curling into you.

You woke up in his bed.

“What—why are you leaving?” came Aizawa’s rasping morning voice, his hand emerging from under the covers to grasp your wrist. “S’not daylight yet.”

“I know,” you said, putting a knee back on the bed to lean over him, and you brushed hair out of his face, trails of pink following. “But I can’t go straight to Sakura Grove like this; I need stuff from my flat. One of my replacements starts training today.”

“Mm.” Aizawa blinked blearily up at you, a sleep smile growing as he held your palm to his cheek. “Take some shoes for the commute, at least.”

“I was planning on it. Is my pair of All Might socks still here?”

“Yeah. I washed them,” said Aizawa, and with a grunt, he moved to sit up.

Hands on his chest, you pushed him back down. “No, baby, stay in bed. I’ll get them. You need all the rest you can get.”

You woke up in his bed.

It’s empty, so you followed the scent of coffee into the kitchen, where a shirtless, pink-sweatpants-ed Aizawa stared into a mug with amorphous cats that Eri painted.

“You’re adorable,” you said, opening the cabinet next to him and scanning the mug selection.

The slurp he made was monstrous. “Eri misses you.”

“I miss you, too, Shouta.” You selected a #1 Dad mug from Kirishima, and Aizawa poured the steaming coffee into it for you. “We’ll see each other more when school starts again. The next time the teaching certification test is being offered is late next month, and then I can start orientation here.”

Aizawa nodded, resting his elbow next to you on the counter, grazing your fingers cupped around your mug. “I know you’re still working the fifth district at nights, but is there a chance you could take a leave of absence for this weekend?”

“Hot date?”

He hummed into his coffee. “If only. I’ve got a short mission out of town, and there’s no one I’d trust more to watch Eri.”

You smiled at him, with Konpeito rubbing against your legs. “Of course.”

You woke up in his bed.

“Thank God,” said Aizawa, rolling on top of you and burying his face in your neck.

“It’s only a few more weeks,” you said, wriggling in his hold when his breath tickled you.

“No, I mean—the ring’s finished being resized,” he said, sitting up, “and I’ve been desperate to see it on you.”

Aizawa retrieved the box from his bedside table and slid it on your finger: white gold with an emerald embedded, all strategically designed not to catch on anything—made with your hero work in mind.

You wiggled the fingers on your left hand, the emerald catching the morning light. “I’m going to throw up. It’s gorgeous.”

“Hold your nausea for when you hear Hizashi’s latest ideas for our ceremony.”

“Oh, fuck,” you said, plopping back down onto the pillow, “Does he not understand simplicity? Or not being a fucking tool?” When Aizawa shook his head, grinning down at you, you lifted your hand to run your thumb over his lower lip, and his tongue darted out to meet it. “All right, my love. Lay it on me.”

You woke up in his bed.

Dango had jumped on you and meowed loudly, because she didn’t understand that the feeding schedule was a little different now that she lived in Aizawa’s apartment.

(Dango had pre-emptively moved in before you, because the sooner Dango and Konpeito bond, the better. Eri got so upset when they play-fought.)

You woke up in his bed.

“Shouta,” you said, rolling over towards the lit lamp, “What are you doing up already?”

He crossed out something in red ink. “I’m reworking some of the written tests for my new curriculum. I meant to do it last night but went to bed early instead, and I’d rather do it now than this evening.” Aizawa slid his glasses down his nose, his good eye glinting at you playfully. “Nothing’s come up? You can still come over tonight?”

“Yeah,” you said, scooting over to feel his body heat, “I haven’t seen Shinsou in so long, either, so I’m glad he’s coming over to dinner, too. You aren’t going to keep him busy long, right?”

“We’re setting up the room at the end of the hall for a new tenant, so we should be done by the time you get here.” Aizawa rolled his shoulders back before setting his papers to the side, and he folded his glasses to set them atop them. “What, are you planning something with him to get back at me?”

“Nah,” you said, rustling the sheets as you sat up, “I just need his phone at some point. It’s really fucking weird that my best friend is my soulmate’s, like, ward-mentee, because Shinsou’s got my contact name as Mommy. With a little heart.”

Wincing, Aizawa guided you into his lap, his hands light on your waist.

“I’ve got to change it back to my name,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck to sink into a hug. You pressed your lips against his neck—not really a kiss, but more of just resting them there. “Who’s moving into the room at the end of the hall?”

Kissing the side of your head, Aizawa stroked your back through your sleepshirt, his fingertips trailing heat down your spine. “Well,” he said, his voice morning-gravelly, “Let’s say it’s another ward-mentee. U.A. wants me in charge. You’ll see.” You felt him smile against your ear, and he kissed it before biting the cartilage gently. “When are you moving in?”

“School starts next Wednesday,” you said, “so how does this weekend sound?”

You woke up in the bed you shared with Aizawa, slammed the alarm clock off, and flipped back over, spooning Aizawa with your nose smushed between his shoulder blades. He laced his fingers back through yours and kept them over his heart.

***

On a weeknight two weeks into the school year, you’re dangling your legs off the top of a water tower, forehead pressed against the railing, watching cars pass under streetlights below.

Being a teacher was tough. Being a teacher and an underground pro-hero at night was tougher. You now understood Aizawa’s need to carry a sleeping bag around. You hadn’t caved and done the same, but you kept a pillow at your cubicle in the faculty lounge because it was just too damn hard to stay awake during your off period.

(At least things with Sakura Grove were wrapping up. You’d stay in their contacts as a consultant, especially for Ito, but you didn’t have to go there anymore. Sad that that part of your life was ending, but it scooted over on the couch for new beginnings.)

You’re dancing around the point: because of your endless exhaustion and the difference in your and Aizawa’s schedules, you’re still a goddamn virgin. It’s stupid as fuck. The longer you put it off (which you’re not even doing intentionally!), the more of a stressful event it’s going to be.

“Sleeping on the job?”

You jolted awake, cold indent of the railing cutting into your forehead, and your head whipped around in search of him. “Dozing,” you said, tilting your head back far enough to watch Aizawa slide down from his crouch atop the water tower, “Too shallow to be real sleep. You don’t even get to R.E.M.”

“All of that to say that you want to go home,” said Aizawa, and he nestled up behind you, placing his legs on either side of yours and wrapping his arms around your waist to pull your back to his chest. He pressed his cold nose to your neck (you yelped) while the ends of his capture weapon trailed onto your lap.

“I guess, but I only have about half an hour more of my patrol,” you said, covering one of his hands with yours (pink didn’t blossom there, probably because he kept brushing his lips where your neck met your shoulder), “I can wait it out.”

“Mm, if you say so. Right now, I’d rather have you in bed. I miss you too much.” He inhaled deeply before placing one final kiss behind your ear and said, “I have something for you.” He took a moment to riffle through the pouches on his utility belt, and your heart dropped into your stomach when he reached around you to retrieve the knife hidden in your boot (oh, my God, the intimacy of knowing where on your body you kept your weapons). Aizawa brought his arms around your waist again, this time with a brown-sugar-coated pear in a brown paper sleeve cupped in one hand, the other cutting into the soft flesh of the pear.

He held the blade to your lips, which you closed around the slice of pear, the brown sugar grains melting on your tongue. He fed you another slice before cutting one for himself.

The pains and care he took for you compounded and curled on your chest like an overweight cat, and you cracked in half: you started fucking crying.

As soon as the first tear track shone under the streetlights, Aizawa, brow furrowed, turned your chin towards him (you automatically took the pear and knife to hold them in your lap).

“What’s—”

Taking in your weak, shaky smile, he took on one himself. “I see.” Aizawa finger-combed some of your hair out of your face and rested his curled fingers at the roots of your hair at the back of your neck. “Still,” he said, swiping away a fresh tear with his thumb, “I can’t have that—not my pretty girl crying.”

No matter how thoroughly he dried your face, it didn’t matter: it started raining on the way home. Both of you were soaked, grinning as you scanned into U.A. under the torrential rain funnelled from the awning where faculty entered, dripping onto the floor when you checked in on Eri for the night (All Might had put her to sleep earlier), and just fucking dropping your wet hero support items to the tile in the kitchen, your shit tangled up in his capture weapon and knocking against his goggles.

A low rumble of thunder shook the windowpanes as Aizawa kissed you, opening his mouth before you even kissed back, the edge of the kitchen counter smarting against the small of your back while you breathed in your soulmate in the dark.

Parting to breathe, you managed a grin as a flash of lightning illuminated his ruddy cheeks and soulmate-pink lips. “I feel like if I go to bed tonight, I’m going to die in my sleep,” you said, panting.

“Good thing sleep’s not on the agenda,” said Aizawa, and his lips seared into yours (fucking peach chapstick, you were of sound mind enough to note) as he fumbled for the zipper on the back of your wet costume.

It plopped with a squelch to the floor, and the chill of the A/C sweeping over your bare skin made you huddle into Aizawa’s chest—but you swore and flinched away, since his body temperature didn’t really help with how wet his clothes were.

Scowling, you kneed him away and rubbed your hands up and down your arms. “Take this off,” you said, plucking at his jumpsuit, “It’s fucking frigid in here.”

Lightning lit his smirk this time, and Aizawa started undressing, the sodden splat of his socks hitting the tile first.

“You gonna let me wear your clothes this time, pretty boy?” Watching him strip, you shivered for more than one reason. “Last time, you only gave me towels.”

Aizawa scoffed. “That’s because if I’d had to see you wear my clothes, you wouldn’t’ve made it farther than the bedroom.” His jumpsuit made a weird noise, and he fished his utility belt out of the belt loops to set it on the counter.

When you gestured towards his boxer-briefs, he shook his head. “Not yet. Yes, they’re cold, but I want to focus on you right now. Leave your underwear on, but go ahead and leave your wet hero costume in here. They can drain in the sink,” he said, tossing his socks in.

“Okay,” you said, doing the same, “but please at least change into dry boxers, or something—”

“I will,” he said, undoing the rest of the buttons on your pants once you’d done the first, and he fucking lifted you onto the counter, kissing you, to drag them down your legs before putting them in the sink. “You with me?”

You nodded and pulled him in for a hug—skin still slick-moist but warmer now that body heat mingled together, and his breath heated your neck while he sucked a wet mark onto it. “I’m with you, Shouta. I love you.”

Grunting against your throat, Aizawa hugged you tighter. “Oh, I love you, too, sweet girl. So much.”

He eased you down off the counter, and you flinched again at the cold. “Oof, ah, I have to get out of this wet fucking bra; it’s too fucking cold in—”

“Want me to go adjust the thermostat?”

“No, it’s fine; it’s fun. I just,” you said, kissing his shoulder on impulse, “need you.”

His eyes fell to half-lidded, and a roll of thunder nearly masked his low chuckle. “All right, then. If you’re sure.”

Aizawa led you to the bedroom, hardly space between the two of you while running his hands over your arms and waist to generate heat, his voice rasping in your ear the whole way (so much louder than the constant sound of raindrops assaulting the windows as the wind picked up). “That time you shifted into my shower—the image of you is burned into my brain,” he was saying, nudging the bedroom door shut with his foot so his hands wouldn’t have to leave you, “You were so confused but keen to do what I said. I was trying so hard to be good, noble, like you said, but the part that stings above all is that I liked the handprint on your back. I liked having my mark on you, on display, in such a large way that anybody could see. Killed me to have to cover you up. Lights on?”

“Let me open the curtains instead,” you said.

“Good. I’ll change into dry underwear so that you don’t worry your pretty little head about it. Don’t look,” he said, releasing you from his hold.

You drew back the first set of curtains and fiddled with the pullstrings to raise the blinds. “Are you telling me you beat yourself up-slash-off about the way you thought about me?” you asked, smiling at your own dumb joke, “I get it. I do, but c’mon, baby. You’ve made a home in my heart and in my own damn blood. What’s the shifting into your bed while I’m dreaming been besides my body calling out to you?” Oh, fuck yes, the blinds went all the way up this time. You crossed to the second window. “What’s my—hey, nice ass. Very cute.”

The elastic waistband snapped in that final rush to pull them up. “I told you not to look,” said Aizawa, frowning as he joined you in tying away the opposite curtain, “Are you really gonna be a brat this early in the—” He cut himself off, slapping a palm over his eyes as he stepped back from you (successfully raising these blinds on the first try!). “No. No, I shouldn’t. Not for your first time.”

Closing the distance, you took the hand over his eyes and held it against your cheek. “You could a little.”

His thumb loosed itself from your fingers, falling to your mouth, and you kissed it, parting your lips to lick the pad just barely.

He swallowed visibly. “Get on the bed.”

You did, and you wormed your arms around your back to unhook your wet bra (fucking frigid half-dried in the A/C, plus you were betting the feeling of your nipples grazing his chest was fucking stellar), whipping it off the bed before he could even join you.

“Notice I didn’t say you could do that,” Aizawa said, laughing through his nose, one knee on the bed. “But that’s all right for now. I like how vulnerable you look, how needy, how—” Aizawa crawled over you, eclipsing you. “—how out of touch with anything but me.”

His lips were warm, soft (peachy), and more consuming than when you’d met them earlier that night, and when his tongue brushed the roof of your mouth, he secured an arm around your back to arch you closer to him, boobs pushing into his chest and held like you’re something precious.

“I’m sure you know this,” Aizawa said, thumbing into your mouth and dragging the spit down your neck (cooling in the night air), “but you have absolutely perfect breasts. Whenever I’ve felt them against me before, I’ve gone fucking crazy—and now I get to—” He kissed you again, giving a firm, final bite to your lower lip (smiling when you tried to suck his tongue back into your mouth but shaking you off anyway), before pulling back to look at you, his wet thumb trailing down between your boobs and then circling up around one of them, pausing when you tensed up before he touched your nipple.

His eyes were dark when he glanced up at you again. “Do you trust me?”

“With everything I’ve got,” you said, feeling your heartbeat pulse in your lips now that the pressure of his was gone.

With a wry grin, Aizawa tilted his head. “Yet you’re not relaxed. I’d say you’re a bundle of nerves, but…” His eyes flicked down towards your crotch, and you rolled your eyes at the dumb clitoris joke (hell, yeah! You’re rubbing off on him).

“I’m trying; I thought was I doing good so far—”

“You are. But let me give you a little task so that you’re not concentrating on feeling nervous, yes? One you can handle.” He kissed your cheek and waited for your minute nod before continuing. “I want you to keep your hands by your head,” he said, moving them on the pillow where he wanted them, “You’re not allowed to move them. I get the feeling you’d like them to be tied there, but we’ll save that for another time, yes?”

You arched up to meet his lips, and he let you, moving his against yours, letting your tongue cross into his mouth before breaking away again.

“Good. You’re so good for me, and sweet. And another thing,” said Aizawa, squeezing your wrists to draw your attention back to them, “I want these hands open. Palms up. You’re not allowed to make a fist, sweetheart.” At your baffled expression, he kissed the corner of your mouth. “Just an extra challenge, but I know you can do it.”

You huffed, pouting (and he laughed over it, that horribly endearing, wheezing laugh). “Sure. Yeah. You want me to relax, so you give me what suspiciously sounds like a test. And wow, we know that I have some sort of stupid complex about being the best and getting the approval—”

“And you can get it so easily, should you do this well enough for me.” He shuffled down your body a bit, fingers sketching around your nipples before squeezing your boobs (crazy insane maniacal ridiculous how his hands cupped them perfectly…).

“Oh, you’re evil,” you said, shaking your head.

“You have no idea,” said Aizawa before he wrapped his lips around your nipple, tongue flicking and swirling around it, languidly, heavy with saliva—careful, dark eyes scanning every reaction from you.

Jumping at the contact—but no, don’t bend your fingers even a little. Flat. Flat against the pillow, where he put them. Okay. Okay, we’ve got a handle on it. The initial shock was just—

“Fuck!”

(No, no—keep them against the pillow; sink them into the down if you have to—)

Aizawa’s teeth had ever so lightly grazed you, and his smug little laugh through his nose burned you up inside, so you refused to look at him. Though anger wasn’t the only reason for heat: it was starting to coil in your lower stomach, too, spreading as your thighs clenched—oh, yeah, you have legs, so you rubbed your thighs together in what was hopefully way he wouldn’t notice (but fuck all if he noticed, though, because at the rate your breath was hitching and how frequently you were twisting away from his mouth, any shred of your remaining pride would be crumpling into nothing before he even made you—)

You were writhing, arching your back, eyes scrunched shut, at the moment Aizawa both closed his lips around your other nipple and pinched the first one, and he kept at it, circling it with his tongue as you came back down, stilling.

“Holy shit,” he said, eyebrow raised, pulling his mouth away with a wet puck, “Are you getting off already?”

Aizawa was reaching for your face, but (there’s a split second where you wanted to bury your face in your hands, but the man liked his technicalities) you screwed your eyes closed again and hid yourself to the side in the pillow. “I’m sorry I’m such a stupid virgin who gets worked up easily. I didn’t mean to upset—”

“No, no, no—open your eyes, darling,” he said, hands cupping your face, wiping away the tiny bit of sweat that’d broken out at your hairline, “You’re fine. You’re perfect. There’s nothing to apologise for. Open your eyes. There. That’s my good girl. Thank you.”

You, biting the inside of your cheek and scowling, dug your head out of the pillow to face him, but you kept your eyes averted, still not looking at him.

(Unfortunately, you were not immune to good girl.)

“I’m not upset. How could I, when I know my pretty little wife is feeling so good?” Aizawa pecked your forehead. “You’re just more sensitive than I anticipated. And that’s good. That’s fine. That’s fun for me.”

“Oh, my God,” you said, wincing, trying to sink farther into the pillow to get away from this beautiful man, “You’ve got to shut the fuck up. You keep hitting me with these lines that knock it out of the park. It’s too much.”

Thunder shook the windows, the bedframe rattling with it.

He grinned, and you wanted to punch him. “Is that so?”

“Shut up, holy fucking shit. Just fuck me already.”

And Aizawa was frowning. “Are you—I don’t think you’re ready enough—”

“Oh, come off of it,” you said, gritting your teeth and averting your gaze again, “I’ve already come once, and you’re so overwhelming that I’m going to pass the fuck out just from you talking. I don’t care if I come again; I just wanna get this o—just penetrate me, I guess.”

Scowling. Scowling now. Grimacing, even. “You don’t really want me to do that.”

“Yes, I fucking—”

“You’re not wet enough,” he said with a growl. “Yes, you’ve orgasmed, but you’re not ready for me.”

“You can’t be that—”

“I am,” said Aizawa, a hand sliding down his stomach (holy shit, he’s got muscles) to hook into his waistband, snapping it, “above average, sweetheart.” When he said the word, his voice teemed with scathing condescension, and your stomach dropped. “When I say you’re not ready, I know you aren’t.”

Your cheeks began to feel blotchy, but you weren’t going to cry. “Would you—please—try? I think I might be overwhelmed already, and I want you to feel good.”

Aizawa sighed, and he crawled back over you, reaching towards your hands flat on the pillows to lace his fingers between yours. “It’s not about me right now. We’re focusing on you, baby.”

You lifted your cheek, leaning into the kisses he was pressing onto it. “I know,” you said quietly, “but I think I would feel good knowing you feel good, so, ish, in a fucked-up way—would you try? Please?”

His lips met yours again, just briefly, and he said, “Okay. If you hurt, we’re stopping.”

“Well, hey, that’s pretty much guaranteeing that we’re—”

He cut you off with an exasperated look while he tossed his underwear off to the side, not bothering to unhitch his prosthetic leg.

Aizawa was pushing into you, beginning to stretch you open on his cock, and he’s only gone just barely what could be considered shallow, not much more than a squeeze around the swollen tip of his cock, and you’re clenching down around him, clamping down tight, and you didn’t even notice your eyes stinging with tears for the strain in your cunt.

But Aizawa did. He pulled out before they overflowed down your face, and he’s kissing them away in apology. “We can stop here. I won’t mind. You’ve already done so, so well for me. Thank you for trusting me.”

After a bit, you managed to get a hold of yourself, and you moved to—well. That first, you supposed. “Shouta,” you said, wiggling your fingers interlocked with his on the pillow, “may I move my hands? I’d like to touch you. Just a bit.”

“Go ahead.” He released them.

You placed your palms on his tits/pecs and instantly felt better (not cured, or anything. But definitely better). “Okay,” you said, scratching him gently, “I’ve had a moment. I’m not as overwhelmed anymore. Fuck you for being right about—about wetness.”

“Thank you,” he said, similarly scratching your head while sliding a calloused hand to your waist.

“Listen, Sho. I was scared that if I didn’t make you try to get in me then, you’d try to make me come again beforehand, and I’m scared that I’m gonna pass the fuck out if I have three orgasms as good as the first one you gave me.”

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to come if I eat you out, even though I’d like you to,” said Aizawa, smiling at the way your eyes fluttered when he scratched a certain spot, “I can simply go down on you to stretch you out. Everything’s fine. All that’s happened is that you’ve come earlier than expected—which, I assure you, was fucking hot—and now you need different preparation to take me. You’re fine. We can stop here, or—”

“Would you be cool with going down on me?” You bit the inside of your cheek and averted your gaze again. “Or, or, actually, you don’t have to do that. You can just—”

“You’ve got to stop overthinking, baby,” said Aizawa, grabbing your chin to kiss you again, which he did deeply and so hard that he was gasping when he broke away, “because I have been breaking myself over the thought of tasting you. I’ve been—please don’t think that I don’t want any part of you, because I want even the things you don’t like about yourself. Whatever you want, I also want, enthusiastically and desperately. This soulmate shit has reduced me to freshly popped edamame whenever I—”

Aizawa cut himself off at your laughter, sitting back on your hips and crossing his arms.

“Oh, babe, Shouta, that’s,” you said, grasping at his hands to drag him over you again, “I appreciate the effort. I do, really. But that’s a bad metaphor. Doesn’t fit the tone of the situation. Plus, I would argue that edamame bursts instead of pops. It’s a bean, not a pea.”

His ears were tinged red. “Whatever it takes for you to laugh again, you fucking pedant,” he grumbled against your neck, and his fingers trailed between your boobs and down your stomach, took a moment to curl into your pubic hair (tugging), and sliding between your folds, spreading what wetness was already there.

You eased your laughter to a smile, and you plopped your hands, palms up, on either side of your head again. “So, are you gonna make me wet or not, Shouta?”

“And you say I’m evil,” said Aizawa, grinning and shaking his head, and after another kiss, he slithered down your body, kissing and licking as he went, eyes dark and fixed on yours (his good one, anyway), even as he spread you and pressed his lips to your clit for the first time.

He’s right. He’s right. He’s always right: the task of keeping your hands flat and in one place distracted you from getting worried about how you looked or tasted or whatever, and you were laughing at yourself for how hard you were finding it to keep from forming a fist—but that’s the impulse, apparently, when the goddamn love of your life is sticking his tongue as far as he can go into your cunt and moaning like a whore about it in that stupid fucking rumbling way.

“Sweet girl,” he was saying as he licked the inside of your thigh, his scruff scrabbling pleasantly against your skin, “Are you with me? You look a little unfocused.”

You shook yourself and glanced down at him. “I’m good—”

“You are.”

“I mean, I’m with you,” you said, heat flooding your cheeks the fastest it ever has. “You’re very good. As well.”

“Is it all right for me to add a finger into this? All right, sweetness, relax,” said Aizawa, and he dragged his middle finger over your clit, circling it before drawing it back up, this time knuckle-side down, and it’s that finger that first slid into you with a soft wet noise—barely there, but still audible—and dragged and pressed inside you, aimlessly feeling you out, totally unrushed.

Your own fingers strained to lie flat.

After more licking and prodding, he added his index, and the suction on your clit lent a distraction from the stretch when he parted his fingers inside you, though there’s a soft wince from you, regardless. Under your assurances, Aizawa continued, working more space between his fingers though you clenched around him, and the third made your stomach burn, your hips chasing his fingers as your insides wound tight. He’s kissing and sucking your clit, keeping watch over your expression and the growing squelching and spasming of your cunt, and you, a bit dizzy, whimpered without meaning to when he started to pump his fingers in and out of you. You felt his smug grin against you as it reformed into a pucker to give your clit a particularly harsh suck, and you’re falling apart just a little, but it’s cool, it’s fine, and you found yourself coming, again, but this time it’s gentle, a smaller crest, under the careful watch and tongue of your husband—and when he slowly withdrew his fingers, your cunt complained the whole way, leaking and squelching around them.

The smug-as-shit bastard waved his fingers towards you, strands of arousal connecting them and seeping down into his palm. “If you want a taste, this is all you’re getting,” he said, touching your lips for barely a second, “because the rest is mine.”

Your head emptied at the way his tongue slathered the rest of it up, sliding between his fingers.

“I believe you’re wet enough for me to fit,” said Aizawa, still licking at his fingers.

“Hold up! I didn’t get to see you earlier,” you said, sitting up, “Do whatever. I need to see your cock.”

And you immediately saw red, because this motherfucker? Stupid. Stupid as hell. Stupid and hell and handsome and above average, my ass. You were insane for not wanting to prep much earlier. You’d gotten some of what he looked like when Serendipity’s quirk was affecting him, but you’re going to die. You’re going to die and then be able to talk to Midnight about her friend’s cock (too soon? You shook it off), because he’s infuriatingly pretty, and it just isn’t fair.  

Jolting, your hand flew to his wrist when he thumbed over your clit again, circling it.

“You told me to do whatever,” said Aizawa, nudging your thighs a little wider apart.

You shot him a look before returning to trying to fucking grasp (figuratively) his cock. You’re shaking your head at it, sucking in through your teeth. It’s fucking stupid—tilting a bit to the right, a little veiny (artery-y?), flushed a dark pink at the tip, and absolutely fucking weeping for you, cum dripping for the first time onto your thigh and the mattress.

Your hand darted out, hesitating, to touch the trail of dark hair on his abs leading to his cock, and once your ring finger grazed half of that maddening v, you retreated, scooting back an inch or two on the bed as you jerked at his brushing against your clit.

Aizawa raised an eyebrow when you looked up at him, wet fingers stilling.

“I’m going to kill you,” you said on impulse, wide-eyed.

Aizawa opened his mouth and closed it again. He blinked and after a beat, said, “All right. Not the most encouraging thing to hear in reaction to my dick.”

“Yikes. I mean,” you said, cringing and biting your lip, “Maybe you’d ought to prep me more?”

At the very least, you’d expected a burst of laughter from him, but to make matters worse, he took you seriously.

“Noted,” he was saying, kneeling again to put his mouth on your clit, “When I was feeling around inside you, I was thinking that I’d have to work to open you up to take me. You have such a tiny little cunt—”

“Oh, my God, never mind,” you said, burying your face in your hands, “You’re a menace. I’m leaving. I’m leaving forever.”

Laughing to himself, Aizawa peppered kisses over the backs of your hands. “I’m only joking, love. I said it to fluster you.” His hand cupped you, fingers rubbing in slick while you kept spasming every few seconds. “I know you’re ready to take me,” he said, and (your life began and ended in a second), he started slid his cock up and down your folds (swollen from coming twice already), covering it with your slick and dripping pre-cum onto you.

When a choked noise escaped your throat the first time his cockhead caught on your clit, you clapped a hand over your mouth, horrified, but a gently smiling Aizawa released his grip on one of your shaking thighs to uncover your mouth, with his smile twisting into something darker when he put your hands flat on the pillow again.

“Oh, you are the worst.”

“It’s just for a minute more. Then you can touch me. I promise,” he said, watching the way your cunt was trembling erratically when he wasn’t even inside, “You’re probably gonna come the moment I get seated inside you, yeah? Look at you twitch.”

Adjusting your legs around his waist, Aizawa took your hands in his as he pushed in, breaking you open with slow, gentle thrusts. “Easy,” he said, when you grappled with his hands, almost thrashing, to squeeze them harder, “Easy, sweet girl. I’ve got you.”

Lightheaded.

And very, very warm.

You might be holding back tears. You’re not sure.

But you’re certain you’re taking deep breaths, as instructed, and you shook your hands out of his to wrap your arms around his chest, to feel him close and warm and over all of you, grabbing at him blindly to hold more (a small voice in the back of your head hoped you were scratching him up).

Aizawa struggled to breathe as well, but he gritted his teeth, his face and heaving chest fucking flushed. His hands shook as they travelled down to your waist, unable to still your shuddering hips underneath him. “And here I thought you were soft all over,” he grunted out, “Turns out that you’re softest inside. Fuck.” He screwed his eyes shut. “My lovely little wife. My soulmate.” Aizawa carefully exhaled before opening his eyes again. “Is it okay if I move a bit more?”

At your nod, he rolled his hips shallowly, keeping a careful watch on your face for any minor reactions that he couldn’t hear, and each time he thrust into you, the further away from any reality but Aizawa you got. You blanked, feeling nothing but how you strained around him, spasming and pulsing, and how your muscles were seizing, how—how it wasn’t feeling like you were full, or that you and he were overlapping, but that hey, this is how it’s supposed to be, soulmates—you and him, together. And separating yourselves just didn’t make sense, in the way that you can’t separate the hydrogen from oxygen and still have water; to have you or Aizawa, you needed the both of you. Package deal. Bonded pair.

And wow, the tears you’d been holding back now flooded down your face, pausing at the resistance from each time his hips met yours before continuing down your cheeks and neck, and you’re out of it, out of anything besides Shouta when you cup his reddening face in your hands (pink handprints blinking before the next thrust) and manage to whine, “Sensei—”

Aizawa broke, expression flashing pure vulnerability, and he kissed you before you could say anything more, and he smushed his hips against yours, hitting you more deeply as he finally circled your clit again. The orgasm was torn out of both of you, but it’s torn in the way that the wind tears a kite away from its flyer.

When you opened your eyes, the bedroom was filled with floating, pink dust, glittering when lightning struck. You had to encourage Aizawa from his spot, buried in your neck, to see it, and the two of you watched it shimmer and dissipate as the storm picked up again, rain audibly hitting the glass.

“Do you think that happens every time?” you asked as Aizawa helped you out of the bed.

Aizawa turned the knob to the bathroom and flicked on the light. “I’m sure we’ll find out.”

He had to help you walk, since your legs were shaking so badly. Luckily, you had a good laugh about it. Aizawa set you up (or rather, down) in the shower, telling you to warm up while he changed the sheets and that he’d join you soon.

By the time the two of you were out of the shower, the soulmate dust had vanished. Aizawa got into bed first (and he had to take a moment to calm down when he saw you wearing his pyjamas), and you climbed in after him. After some brief experimentation, you found that, if you shaped your hands just right and pulled them away all at once, you could leave a soulmark in the shape of a heart. So, you did, just over his real heart, and you leant back, pleased with yourself.

Aizawa glanced down at his chest and grinned. “Adorable. But I’m afraid it won’t stay for long, my love.” He held his hand mere inches from your head, wiggling his fingers in a taunt. “I doubt I can go for long without touching you.”

You caved without hesitation, leaning into his touch as a chuckling Aizawa ran his hand through your hair. “That’s fine. That just means I can constantly make it anew.”

“You’re ridiculous,” said Aizawa, and he wrapped his arms around you to pull you close, snuggling into you. “Go to sleep. You can mark me again in the morning.”

soulmate trope taglist: @bakugouspsycho, @pansexualproblemchild, @doonaandpjs, @sunsetevergreen, @the-coffee-is-on-fire, @liberace2, @ladymidnight77, @nonomesupposedto, @gooooomz, @kissmebakugou, @pachiibatt, @celestair

[tsumuus]

₊✩‧₊˚ 555 follower event ! ˚₊✩‧₊

i just wanna start off by saying tysmmm for even being able to reach this many followers😭!!!!!! i never would have thought my silly little stories would have even gotten as much engagement as they have been. truly so shocked. even tho ive started my senior year and my schedule is starting to fill up i really want to free up some time to do this event for you guys. ive received nothing but support and encouragement from you all and its more then i could have ever asked for! <3

as for the actual event itself, i really don't have a theme, i just want to give you guys a chance to request anything that you'd like (just don't be weird and keep it pg, im 16😓).

this event will last from 9.2.24-9.23.24! feel free to start sending in requests beforehand so i can plan accordingly!

i typically write for mha and hq, but i am willing to write for other fandoms. just ask in your request the character, and if i write it, just depends on whether ive seen that show or not lol!

(follow my first tag to stay updated with this event !)

reblogs are always appreciated <3 !

prompts and event masterlist under the cut !

₊✩‧₊˚ prompts ! ˚₊✩‧₊

prompt #1: love languages

in your request, send the character of your choice, your top love language, + any other specific details you'd like me to incorporate

here are some fics i've alr written that follow this prompt: physical touch w bakugou; words of affirmation w kirishima

prompt #2: dialogue/quotes

in your request, send the character of your choice, and any sort of dialogue or quote or something of the sort

examples:

"im not in love with you anymore" "i didnt know you ever were"

"you were everything" "you were a wonderful experience"

"i would've been there for you, through everything" "i thought you knew"

(yes i know these are all tiktok sounds idc its all i could think of)

prompt #3: song lyrics

very similar to prompt #2. in your request, send the character of your choice and any song lyric or song in general you'd want me to incorporate

ive written a good amount of these before but i never really liked how most of them turned out, yet here are a few of my favorites: falling behind, bakugou; pleaser, kaminari; reflections, atsumu

prompt #4: character matchup!

this is something new that i havent tried doing before. in your request, answer the following questions, and add any details you think i should know to help me figure out your perfect match! if you request this prompt i'd prefer you don't do it annomous but it’s up to you!!

questions:

what fandom/anime(like mha or hq) do you want the character i match you up with to be from? would you prefer a character whos male, female, or do you have no preference?

romantic or platanoic matchup?

describe your personality.

your top love languages.

your hobbies/pastimes.

and anything else about you i need to know!!

please be kind and patient with me as i try to figure out and plan everything accordingly thatll also not interfere too much with my schedule! any hate or negativity will result in you getting blocked! that being said, i also dont want to have to deny or delete any requests but my creativity does run out and i do get hit with writers block sometimes so if your request for prompts #1-3 happen to not be working w my brain capacity(???) im sorryyyyy!!

₊✩‧₊˚ event masterlist ! ˚₊✩‧₊

prompt #1: love languages

₊✩‧₊˚ akinori konoha + acts of service ! ˚₊✩‧₊

₊✩‧₊˚ tenya iida + quality time ! ˚₊✩‧₊

₊✩‧₊˚ hitoshi shinsou + physical touch ! ˚₊✩‧₊

₊✩‧₊˚ keiji akaashi + words of affirmation ! ˚₊✩‧₊

₊✩‧₊˚ katsuki bakugou + acts of service ! ˚₊✩‧₊

prompt #2: dialogue/quotes

₊✩‧₊˚ toru oikawa + “you don’t hate me” “i could never hate you” ! ˚₊✩‧₊

₊✩‧₊˚ neito monoma + "im not in love with you anymore" "i never knew you were" ! ˚₊✩‧₊

₊✩‧₊˚ katsuki bakugou + “i wanted her to look at me, but she couldn’t pull her eyes away from you and your stupid hair’ ˚₊✩‧₊

prompt #3: song lyrics

₊✩‧₊˚ izuku midoriya + sailor song ! ˚₊✩‧₊

prompt #4: character matchup!

₊✩‧₊˚ matchup #1 ! ˚₊✩‧₊

₊✩‧₊˚ matchup #2 ! ˚₊✩‧₊

₊✩‧₊˚ matchup #3 ! ˚₊✩‧₊

₊✩‧₊˚ matchup #4 ! ˚₊✩‧₊

₊✩‧₊˚ matchup #5 ! ˚₊✩‧₊

₊✩‧₊˚ matchup #6 ! ˚₊✩‧₊

₊✩‧₊˚ matchup #7 ! ˚₊✩‧₊

₊✩‧₊˚ matchup #8 ! ˚₊✩‧₊

[heartofjasmina]

we have seen shinsou x reader smut

we have seen kaminari x reader smut

so...

shinkami x reader smut? perhaps?

Kaminari is all energy and hunger, while Shinsou is patience and greed.

Shinsou has no problem watching you and Kaminari go at it until you physically are too tired to continue, stroking his cock the whole time- edging himself patiently. Until it's his turn.

Then he's playing both of you like a piano, stroking Kaminari's oversensitive cock while fingering your sloppy pussy full of Kaminari's cum. Adding his own cum to the two of you as he finally stops holding back his pleasure and painting both your faces.