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tylerxrbtwhp · 44 minutes ago

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this was cute, thought i'd share

How they react to you texting them for help, only to find out there's just a spider in your room...

UA Part 1 / UA Part 2 / Pro Heroes / Villains

Pure fluff, chaotic misunderstandings, and lots of over-the-top reactions!

Featuring Pro Heroes: Toshinori Yagi/All Might, Shota Aizawa/Eraserhead, Hizashi Yamada/Present Mic, Enji Todoroki/Endeavor, Keigo Takami/Hawks, Mirai Sasaki/Sir Nighteye, Taishiro Toyomitsu/Fatgum, Snipe, Shinji Nishiya/Kamui Woods

Toshinori Yagi (All Might)

Your Text:

"Toshi, HELP! I need you right now! It’s an emergency!"

His Reaction:

FULL PANIC MODE.

Instantly drops whatever he’s doing.

Heart is racing. Hands shaking as he fumbles with his phone.

"HOLD ON, MY DEAR! I’M COMING!!"

Transforms into his muscle form out of sheer adrenaline.

SPEEDS OVER LIKE HE’S ABOUT TO FIGHT A SUPERVILLAIN.

BURSTS INTO YOUR ROOM. "FEAR NOT, FOR I AM H—"

Sees you standing on your bed, pointing at the ceiling.

Sees the spider.

Slow blink.

Muscle form IMMEDIATELY deflates.

"Oh. Oh, I see."

Facepalms, sighing heavily. "My dear, you nearly gave me a heart attack…"

Still removes the spider for you, but you can see the exhaustion in his soul.

Picks it up with a tissue and lets it outside, mumbling about how he thought you were being attacked.

Sits down afterward because the stress literally took a year off his life.

"Please… next time… give me more context."

(Will still come running if you ever text him again, though. He can’t help it.)

Bonus: Now texts you things like, "Are you safe? Is this another spider? Do I need to call for backup?"

Shota Aizawa (Eraserhead)

Your Text:

"Aizawa, please come quick! It’s an emergency!"

His Reaction:

Was NAPPING.

Sees your text. Reads it twice. Immediate exhaustion.

Sits up, groaning. "Goddammit, I knew this would happen."

Grabs his capture scarf and heads over, rubbing his eyes.

Walks in looking half-awake but READY TO THROW HANDS.

"Alright, who’s the idiot messing with you?"

Sees you standing on your desk, looking terrified.

Sees the spider chilling on your wall.

Stops. Stares. Sighs.

"…Are you serious?"

You just nod, completely unashamed.

He drags a hand down his face, muttering under his breath about how he should’ve stayed asleep.

Casually flicks the spider outside with a piece of paper.

Turns to you, giving you the deadest stare.

"I’m never letting you live this down."

Leaves without another word.

An hour later, you get a text: "Next time, use your shoe. I’m going back to sleep."

Bonus: If you text him again, he responds with, "Is this another spider? If yes, I’m blocking you." (He won’t actually block you, but he WILL be dramatic about it.)

Hizashi Yamada (Present Mic)

Your Text:

"Hizashi, HELP ME! IT’S AN EMERGENCY!!!"

His Reaction:

IMMEDIATE SCREAM.

Drops his coffee. Nearly blows out his own eardrums.

"OH MY GOD, I’M ON MY WAY!"

Runs out the door SO FAST.

Literally SPRINTS into your place, kicking the door open like he’s in an action movie.

"WHERE’S THE DANGER? WHO DO I GOTTA FIGHT?!"

Sees the spider.

Goes silent. Stares at it. Stares at you.

"…BABE, YOU TEXTED ME LIKE YOU WERE GETTING KIDNAPPED."

You point at the spider again. "IT’S HUGE."

Now, Hizashi COULD just kill it.

But instead, he SCREAMS.

"AHHHHH IT’S MOVING!!!!"

You scream.

Now both of you are screaming.

The spider has no idea what’s going on.

Aizawa, from down the hall, texts both of you: "Shut up."

Eventually, Hizashi grabs a shoe and dramatically kills the spider.

Proceeds to FLEX like he just won a battle.

"THAT’S RIGHT! THE HERO HAS SAVED THE DAY!"

You shake your head, laughing. He bows like he’s on stage.

Bonus: From now on, anytime you text him, he dramatically yells, "IS IT A SPIDER OR AN ACTUAL THREAT?!"

Enji Todoroki (Endeavor)

Your Text:

"Endeavor, I need you right now! Please come quickly!"

His Reaction:

Sees the text. Exhales sharply.

Already irritated, but he gets up because you NEVER ask for help.

Marches over, flames already sparking.

Bursts into your place, looking furious.

"What happened? Who do I need to burn?"

You just point at the spider on your wall.

Pause. Dead silence.

He looks at you. Then at the spider. Then back at you.

Jaw clenches. You swear you hear him grinding his teeth.

"…Are you serious?"

You just nod.

Exhales SO DEEPLY, trying to control his rage.

Raises his hand and INCINERATES THE SPIDER ON THE SPOT.

Leaves a small scorch mark on your wall. He does not care.

Turns back to you, arms crossed.

"Next time, handle it yourself." (He is SO DONE.)

Walks out, muttering, "Unbelievable."

Later that night, you get a single text:

"If you ever text me for a spider again, I will block you."

Five minutes later: "Did you eat dinner?"

Bonus: Next time, when you text him, he replies with, "Spider or actual emergency?" before even opening the message.

Keigo Takami (Hawks)

Your Text:

"Keigo, HELP! I need you NOW! It’s an emergency!"

His Reaction:

IMMEDIATELY drops his food.

Wings spread. He’s already airborne before even replying.

"DON’T WORRY, BABE! I’M COMING!"

FLIES AT TOP SPEED, nearly breaking through your window.

Lands dramatically, striking a hero pose.

"I’M HERE! WHO’S ATTACKING YOU?!"

Looks around. No villains. No destruction. Just you, standing on your bed.

You shakily point to the ceiling.

He follows your gaze. Sees the tiny spider.

Slow blink. Then another.

Puts a hand over his heart like he’s been personally betrayed.

"…Did you just—did you just summon THE NUMBER TWO HERO… FOR A SPIDER?"

You nod. He dramatically falls to his knees.

"I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS. I’VE BEEN BAMBOOZLED."

You groan. "Just kill it, Keigo!"

Sighs, but still gently scoops the spider up with a feather and carries it outside.

Turns back to you, arms crossed.

"You owe me cuddles for this emotional distress."

Bonus: Next time, he texts you back with, "Actual emergency or another spider? I need to know how fast I should fly."

Mirai Sasaki (Sir Nighteye)

Your Text:

"Nighteye, please come quick! It’s an emergency!"

His Reaction:

Adjusts his glasses, immediately concerned.

Leaves his office at high speed.

"Hold on. I’m coming."

Rushes over like a serious business executive, briefcase still in hand.

Walks in, scanning for the threat.

"What’s wrong? Were you attacked?"

You point at the spider on your wall.

He slowly turns to look at you. Then back at the spider. Then back at you.

Removes his glasses. Rubs the bridge of his nose.

Muttering to himself: "I should have seen this coming…"

Without another word, he picks up a book and swats the spider.

Looks at you with the most tired expression.

"I don’t believe in wasting my foresight on trivial matters… but next time, I might make an exception."

Leaves without saying anything else.

Ten minutes later, you get a text:

"If this happens again, I will fine you."

Two minutes later: "But I’m glad you’re safe."

Bonus: Now refuses to check his foresight when you text him—because he knows it’s probably another spider.

Taishiro Toyomitsu (Fatgum)

Your Text:

"Fatgum, PLEASE HELP ME! It’s an emergency!"

His Reaction:

STUFFS FOOD INTO HIS MOUTH AND RUSHES TO YOU IMMEDIATELY.

Comes barreling in like a teddy bear wrecking ball.

"HEY, HEY! YOU OKAY?! WHAT’S HAPPENING?!"

Sees you standing on your couch, looking terrified.

You point to the spider.

He stops. Looks at the spider. Looks at you.

Grins SO HARD.

"Awww, (Y/N), you scared me! Thought someone was tryna mess with ya!"

Laughs, casually picks up the spider with his big hands, and sets it outside like it’s nothing.

Pats your head like a proud dad.

"Next time, just say it’s a spider, okay? I almost body-slammed your door down!"

Sits down next to you and pulls snacks out of his coat.

"Wanna stress-eat? I brought extra for ya."

Bonus: He now brings you snacks every time you text him, assuming you had a rough time with another spider.

Snipe

Your Text:

"Snipe, please come quick! It’s urgent!"

His Reaction:

Casually checks his revolvers before heading over, thinking he’s about to stop a crime.

Kicks open your door, completely calm but ready for action.

"What’s the situation, darlin’?"

You dramatically point to the spider chilling on your bookshelf.

He squints.

You can literally see his shoulders relax.

You swear you hear a chuckle under his mask.

Casually walks over, picks up a tissue, and removes the spider like a cowboy tipping his hat.

Turns back to you, tilting his hat slightly.

"Now, ya know I ain’t in the business of killin’ harmless critters, but I’ll make an exception for you."

Tips his hat dramatically. "Justice is served."

Leaves, still chuckling to himself.

Bonus: He starts calling you ‘Spider Slayer’ every time he sees you.

Shinji Nishiya (Kamui Woods)

Your Text:

"Kamui, HELP! I NEED YOU NOW!"

His Reaction:

Immediate concern.

Leaps into action, literally swinging through the city to get to you.

Lands outside your window like a ninja.

Bursts in, ready to protect you.

Sees you on top of your bed, looking horrified.

Sees the spider.

…Realization sets in.

Takes a DEEP BREATH. Adjusts his posture. Tries to remain calm.

"…It’s just a spider?"

You nod frantically.

He nods slowly. Closes his eyes for a second like he’s meditating.

Then… uses his wood manipulation to gently scoop up the spider and place it outside.

Turns back to you, clearly amused but also kind.

"That… was not the emergency I was expecting."

Pauses, then softens. "But I’d rather it be a spider than something worse."

You feel bad, but he just smiles under his mask.

"Next time, let me know if it’s another ‘tiny invader’ situation."

Bonus: Every time you text him now, he swings by dramatically, even if it’s just for a spider.

Ko-fi / Masterlist

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tylerxrbtwhp · 5 days ago

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guys i think im cooked AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

distractions - aizawa shouta

first post! so here's a lil drabble i wrote in a fugue state a couple nights ago lol reader's portrayed as kinda a ditz in this one, it's not really all that yandere n more the internal monologue of a man down bad

characters - aizawa shouta, gn!reader

cw - brief non-con fantasies, suggestive p much the whole way through, aizawa daydreams abt bondage and spitting in readers mouth lol, mentioned age gap

words - 1.2k

aizawa is distracted again. distracted by something very silly. it’s silly to be distracted by such a thing, such a childish, innocuous thing.

his dark gaze, leering just over the computer monitor, sharpens as your hand slips and you make a surprised squeak, just barely catching hold of the glass jar you were doing… something with- god knows, mindless fiddling— before it loudly clattered to the floor, or worse still, shattered completely. you grin awkwardly to yourself, glancing from side to side to check if anyone saw your slightly embarrassing blunder, like you’re on a fucking sitcom. you don’t notice the intense stare just a few seats down in the barely populated staff room.

you’re awfully oblivious for a pro hero, or he guesses you’re just letting your guard down. still, he thought you might’ve noticed his constant staring after a month, but nope. you’re clueless, off in your own world, muttering to yourself under your breath as you idly doodle on a loose scrap of paper.

you make a lot of noises, aizawa has noticed. cute little squeaks and exclamations- or sometimes you just talk to yourself, or hum, or sing or whistle. that gets a bit annoying, he much prefers your responsive little sounds.

you’re so responsive, do you notice? how you can’t help vocalising to every little inconvenience or surprise or anything that elicits some form of emotional excitation.

you just can’t seem to shut up. it’s okay though. it’s cute, really.

he especially likes when you squeak, like when someone startles you or pokes your sides.

hizashi has a habit of doing that, jabbing your ribs as he passes to make you jump and squeak, then flush red in the face. so cute. more cute than any grown adult should be.

he likes when you squirm, there’s something endearing about the way you get so flustered from something so simple. he’d like to make you squirm.

he knows you’re ticklish— have to be, judging by the way you jolt when you get poked. sensitive little thing. aizawa wouldn’t mind tormenting you a little, tickling you as he pins you beneath him, no escape. you would writhe and wheeze and beg so prettily for mercy… is that weird?

he’s had weirder thoughts about you.

thoughts like wrapping you up in his capture weapon and listening to your flustered noises and quips as it tightens and squeezes, just on the edge of uncomfortable. he could manoeuvre you so easily into compromising positions then- well, he could easily do that without tying you up, but it’s more fun when you’re that little bit more helpless, only able to wriggle and beg in that high pitched voice you get when you’re embarrassed.

he also thinks about holding your head in place and ordering you to stick your tongue out so he can suck on it and tangle it with his, so he can watch as the two of you swap spit instead of hiding it in a real kiss. although, kissing sounds nice too. but he bets you’d really blush if he made you do the more embarrassing option.

maybe he would loom over you as you lie down and watch the drool from his tongue drip into your open mouth.

and maybe you have sensitive ears - he’s noticed how you twitch whenever somebody leans in too close to speak to you, when their breath fans the skin of your ears. he sometimes thinks about holding you down and taking full advantage of that sensitivity, breathing raggedly in your ears so you flinch, denting the cartilage with his teeth so you gasp, shoving his tongue into the canal opening so you whine.

that would surely make you a blushing, squirming mess.

oh the things he’d do to make you a mess, things like that… much worse things too.

he’s only a little ashamed to admit his thoughts have led him down gutters that then lead to a tent in his baggy black cargos. you just seem so fun to play with.

aizawa sighs, leaning back in his chair. he knows you’d be put off if you ever somehow found out the extent of his wandering thoughts. not only because of the nature of them - though you do always seem very flustered by those kinds of topics - but just because of… who he is. he knows what kind of man he is, grumpy and kind of a kill joy and more than a little intimidating.

he knows you’re intimidated by him. or, at least, you were when you first started working here. he’s a no nonsense man almost twice your age and with a sense of authority that you seem very weak to. seriously, every insinuation that you’d done something ‘wrong’ or to upset him made you tense and skittish. as flattering as it is to see you vye for his approval, he doesn’t want you to be intimidated by him… he’d rather be the kinda guy to give you butterflies in your stomach and make your chest sickeningly warm but maybe he’s just not that charming.

maybe you find his intimidation attractive. that’s what he hopes, anyway. that if you can’t get butterflies in your stomach, you can at least get a tingle between your legs when he’s stern with you. he may be on to something, honestly - as prone to flustering as you are, you always blush a little harder when he acts like your authority figure rather than your coworker. cute.

in that case, maybe you wouldn’t be put off by the thoughts in that gutter-brain of his. maybe you’d get all shy and giddy and say something dumb like ‘holy shit nobody pinch me’. maybe you’d call him sweet things that make him ache.

part of him thinks that whether you’re put off or not, he’d enact his desires with you anyway, because you’re just too tempting. only then does he feel a little guilty, but it’s not like it stops him from fantasising about immobilising you and making you beg and plead before he makes you take it—

“you're staring again!”

aizawa blinks- once, twice- then turns to the voice. nemuri grins back at him.

“still staring wistfully at them, eh~? ahh, I don’t blame you, they’re so full of youthful exuberance~!”

“i hadn’t noticed.”

it’s hizashi’s turn to appear out of nowhere and get into aizawa’s business. “what’s this?”

“shotas got a crush on the new hero! so sweet, right~?” nemuri is quick to explain, holding herself as she whines joyfully; it’s weird how into this she is. hizashi isn’t nearly as weird about it, but is much more irritating, grabbing onto the back of aizawas chair and cackling like a hyena.

“awwwww! our shota’s becoming a man! soooo proud!”

“i’m not entertaining this.” aizawa grumbles, standing up abruptly. despite nemuri and hizashi’s inane ramblings about puppy love and whinging about him being a bad sport and a wayward comment about cradle snatching, aizawa leaves the staff room without so much as a word, hands in his pockets and face nestled in his capture weapon.

…he starts to think about you again.

don’t think he didn’t notice how uncharacteristically quiet you were during that little exchange.

usually your mouth runs away from your brain and you start giggling over the embarrassing subject matter, but you just… sat there, staring far too intensely down at your doodle as you held your pen still and away from the paper. red cheeks and fidgeting too…

aizawa allows himself to smile, a lopsided grin as he makes his way back to his classroom.

you’re not very subtle, are you…?

well that’s alright, it gives him an excuse to talk to you soon.

#yandere #yandere fic #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere my hero academia #yandere mha #aizawa shota x reader #yandere aizawa #yandere bnha #yandere aizawa shota #yandere aizawa x reader

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tylerxrbtwhp · 5 days ago

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God. my mha arc is crazy.

𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐔𝐏 Shouta Aizawa / Infantilization

🕷 AN: rahhhh. This one kicked my ass. I've been having massive writers block lately so forgive me if this is a bit ooc/not my best work. Regardless, I hope you enjoy. 🕷 TW: 18+ ONLY, NON-CON, Infantilization, Dollification?, Anal, Sex Toys, Pet Play??

You can’t remember when exactly you stopped keeping track of the days. Maybe sometime around month two.

It’s a waste of energy, you’ve found. Every day is a carbon copy of the one before it; all structure and routine. Wake up, get dressed, pass time with coloring or rereading whatever books he’s deemed appropriate enough to offer you, wait for him to get home, endure his coddling and go to sleep, the only discrepancies being what clothes he lays out for you each morning and what position he folds you into in bed at night. You have nothing to wait for. Counting days serves no purpose.

So you didn’t know it was Halloween until he pulled out the costume.

You’re not sure what’s more unsettling, the black cat get-up or the fact that it’s October, nearly six months since he locked you in this pale pink hell hole. Either way, your stomach’s tied in a knot and the way his eyes have darkened offer it no reprieve. Even less so the growing tent in his pants.

“Other foot,” he grunts.

He’s taken a knee in front of you, focused on sliding a ruffled sock that looks like it belongs in a little girls dresser up your ankle. The whole outfit belongs in a little girls dresser. All fluff and lace, with cute black bows and delicate satin trim. Adorable for a child, utterly humiliating for a grown woman. Your lips press in a tight line, but you reluctantly hold out the other leg, trying not to cringe at the delicacy with which he cups the heel; the soft kiss he presses into your calf.

“I can do it on my own you know…” you mumble, but he doesn’t respond. Not that you need an answer to know his thoughts on the matter. You’ve heard his excuse hundreds of times at this point.

“It gives me peace of mind knowing you’re being taken care of.”

Once he’s finished he takes a few steps back to admire his handy work, greedy eyes raking over your body as he mumbles to himself, something about you being adorable. Heat pools in your cheeks thinking of how ridiculous you must look, what with the ruffles and frills and dainty kitty ears. You could check, if you really wanted. There’s a mirror in the corner you could glance at. But you have a feeling that ignorance might be bliss in this situation.

“You’re so pretty, baby.” A gentle hand runs up your thigh, drawing a shaky breath from your chest. “My cute little kitty-cat.”

You can’t hold back your wince at that.

“Just one last piece and then we’re done, ok?” He purrs, a small but dangerous smirk curling up on his lips, “Bend over for me.”

He doesn’t give you time to question it before hoisting you up and flipping you over onto your tummy, pulling up layers of skirt until he reaches the black, cotton panties underneath and impatiently yanks them down your thighs. You twist nervously to see what exactly he’s doing, but when you see what he’s holding your heart sinks to your ass.

A silver buttplug attached to a fluffy, black cat tail.

Immediately, you start struggling. The costume is one thing, but this? This is too far. He’s never done anal before. What demon possessed him to introduce it now? A thick forearm presses down on your lower back, holding you in place as his other hand winds back to leave a smack on your ass.

“Stop struggling.” he grunts, “The more you tense up the more it will hurt.”

“Aizawa, please-”

“Stop struggling (Y/N). Don’t make me say it again.” he’s firmer this time, the arm on your back presses down harder.

It’s humiliating how quickly that tone brings you to heel.

You squeeze your eyes shut tight, gripping the bedsheets hard as the cap of the lube pops open. The way your body tenses as his thumb swipes over your pucker, shocking the hot skin with cold liquid, shooting chills down your spine, renders any attempts at relaxing useless. Still, Aizawa continues. Rubbing a hand up and down your back, shushing your cries. His efforts at consoling you do nothing to quell the sob that tears from your throat when his thumb dips past the entrance.

He snakes his arm around your stomach, pressing his chest hot against your back so you can’t wriggle away. The fat digit presses in slowly, sinking deeper and deeper into your virgin hole, stretching you impossibly wide despite your body's resistance. It hurts. Burns. By the time it pops past your sphincter and finally sinks down to the knuckle your breathing is labored and your back is dewy with sweat.

“That’s it, baby.” he coos, pressing a kiss into your trembling shoulder, “You’re doing well…”

His thumb starts moving, then. Slowly sliding in and out, wiggling around your tight cavern with no regard for your sobs. All of your pleas for mercy get swallowed by your tears, leaving you only with pained groans and whimpers to communicate your displeasure.

You don’t notice him pull his thumb out, not until you feel him lift himself off of your back and the cool metal of the plug against your entrance. All you have the energy for is a couple pitiful mewls of protest. Aizawa quickly cuts those off with a tender kiss on the lips. “You’re alright. I’m here. Now take a big breath for me…”

You don't take a big breath. The moment he starts pushing the plug in you forget how to breathe. Your walls clench, fighting to force out the unwelcome intrusion but the resistance only serves to worsen the pain. It stretches you wider and wider; so wide you feel like you might pop. Just before your stomach contents can crawl up your throat the widest part pops past the rim and your hole finally swallows it.

You heave as he pulls away. In pain or humiliation you can’t tell. Aizawa shushes you, kissing you at the nape as he flips your dress back down, pulling the tail through a little hole cut in the back that you hadn’t bothered thinking about until now.

“What a good girl…” he purrs, pulling you up onto his lap, not letting your attempts at evading his kisses stop him from peppering them onto your neck. “That was so hard, I know, but I think it was worth it. Look how adorable you look baby…”

He tilts your head up so you look in the mirror, and when you see yourself, dressed up like a dainty little doll on your kidnappers lap with no hope of escape, you think you might be in hell.

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tylerxrbtwhp · 9 days ago

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to read

Yandere All For One from BNHA would be very interesting :O I would love to request a romantic concept, if you're up to it, maybe with a hero reader!

Oh no... It's human pet time yet again. Calling him AFO for short.

Yandere! All For One with Hero! Darling

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Possessive behavior, Kidnapping, Isolation, Dehumanization, Human pet, Violence, Blood, Stalking, Starving/Neglect, Forced relationship.

Alright, something interesting to note about AFO is he's already a possessive man.

He sees people as playthings to possess and use.

He even imprisoned his own brother to own him.

He's always been one to use people, to bend them to his rule so he can be an almighty evil.

He has been shown to hate heroic ideals, often working in the shadows to create chaos.

So a hero obsession that makes him feel romantic feelings...

It ends horribly for you I fear.

AFO views people as prizes to win.

He loves to steal powerful quirks and break the spirits of people.

His main targets have always been users of One For All.

All-Might especially.

However... Imagine if AFO had an obsession with a smaller Pro Hero.

You're growing in the rankings, your quirk is probably even one that catches his eye.

Honestly, AFO is probably one of the worst yanderes to catch the eye of.

He can easily manipulate things into his favor and comes up with countless plans.

If AFO was fond of a particular hero, he would find a way to get them within his reach.

He'd probably come up with some tricky plan to meet you in a specific place... at a specific time.

Maybe he's staged a villain attack, or something similar that will drag you where he wants you.

Love... Well, he hasn't experienced such a thing in a long time.

Even then, it wasn't normal.

AFO doesn't experience love like a normal person.

As said before, he just likes to possess things.

He wouldn't enjoy sharing his obsession.

Not only are your heroic values pitiful... but AFO doesn't enjoy how much attention you get.

When you're successfully lured in by AFO, he traps you like you're prey.

Knowing him he probably threatened your family or a ton of innocent lives, demanding you're the one brought before him.

You're the hero he wants to make a toy out of.

Poor you freezes when you meet him.

You aren't anywhere close to All-Might in strength.

You have no clue why the infamous AFO would want you.

You have no idea he's been watching you and tracking your little achievements.

AFO has always been an obsessive man.

Usually it's towards heroes he wishes to crush or powers he wants to steal.

He's never pursued anyone for desire.

Let alone a hero.

But you've caught his attention... and he plans to have fun.

I highly doubt you can fight against AFO on your own.

That actually makes having him as a yandere even worse.

There's no way to run or prevent whatever he decides to do.

At first, once he has you lured and alone, he plans to test your strength.

He wants to test why you've caught his eye.

So prepare for AFO to beat you into the ground essentially.

He's a villain, you're a hero, it's just how it goes.

He'll batter you, test you, see why you're so important.

By the end of it you're shaking, bleeding, unable to fight....

He praises you as he stands over you, looking down at you in the pit he created due to the impact of your fight.

He finds his tests good enough... and decides you'll be the perfect toy for him to break and rebuild to his liking.

AFO is perfectly capable of stealing your quirk.

In fact, if he feels he likes it enough and he can control you better without it...

He'll take it and leave you vulnerable.

AFO doesn't kill you, no, he likes you for a reason.

You're distracting and he plans to make you pay for that.

Obviously he's possessive and manipulative....

He wants to control you... to break you down into what he wants you to be.

He'll lock you away in complete isolation, making you wish you could see your friends and family again.

But you won't, you never will.

AFO claims you don't need them, all you need to focus on is your loyalty to him.

He'd take great joy in breaking a hero down.

He wonders what you'll be like when there's nothing to fight for?

After all, if you have no quirk, you're no hero are you?

You're just a civilian like all the rest... A plaything he can own and keep in a dark room.

Soon you're going to admit you need him, right?

He's the only one who feeds you, the only one who gives you attention.

Everyone else thinks you're dead.

If you still think you're going to get out of this... AFO has ways to correct you.

He's the only one who can give you what you need, after all.

He'll starve you, isolate you, pretend you don't exist.

By the end of it your ego and resistance should shatter.

Then you'll beg for him... eyes wet with tears as you plead.

He likes that look on you.

It's a pretty look, even more so with all the scars he's given you from your past battle.

AFO is not a loving man.

He will break you, put you back together, then pull you onto his lap to be a pretty pet.

He'll keep you like a trophy, the hero he broke to surrender to him.

He'll pat your head like a lapdog, he'll provide you pleasure if you deserve it.

You'd be merely a toy to him....

Love... so this is what it feels like...

He loves that he can break you... that he can make you dependent on him.

He loves that he's made you all his by simply stealing you to be a precious trophy... one who listens to his orders like they're law...

It feels euphoric to make a hero fall... to make them his.

#yandere my hero academia #yandere mha #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere all for one x reader #yandere bnha #yandere all for one

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tylerxrbtwhp · 9 days ago

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Dragon’s Blood (Part 1)

Yandere AFO x Oblivious (AFAB) Reader

CW: implied non-con, implied somnophilia, implied trespassing, implied stalking, implied impregnation/breeding if you squint.

Gray dawn light streams through your window. You turn away from the unwanted brightness, trying to eek out another morsel of sleep by burying your face in your pillow, noticing sleepily that it smells oddly sweet, spicy, and earthy, somewhat like dragon’s blood. The scent is like a ghost of an echo, though, and the more you chase it the less you smell, as if you imagined some phantom fragrance. You write it off as residual imprints of smells from your shop in favor of pretending you aren’t conscious. Unfortunately, hiding only works for a few minutes before the uncomfortable feeling of wetness between your legs drives you to the bathroom for another early morning shower. Ordinarily, you would shower once before bed, but now you find yourself showering twice a day: once after work, and once before to prevent yourself from walking around with slick fluids caked onto your thighs and labia. If you don’t, it’ll congeal, dry, then flake.

Gross.

You glare at yourself in the mirror after you strip naked, wondering what the hell happened for your brain to have weird wet dreams every night this month. You keep waking up soaked with damp panties. The weird splotches dotting your skin from your collarbone to your ankles haven’t gone away either. If you didn’t know better, you’d think they were bruises, but that can’t be it. How would they get there after all? You sure as hell haven’t fallen recently. Maybe you have a blood disorder you don’t know about? Which, now that you think about it, isn’t random bruising a sign of that?

You decide to go see a doctor if it doesn’t change anytime soon, quickly washing away the night’s slimy residue before getting ready as normal and heading into work at your tea, herb, and spice shop. You grab a cinnamon roll along the way and make tea once you arrive, then sip and nibble as you prepare for opening. Hours pass normally as your regulars drop by for their orders. One of them, a gentleman by the name of Shigaraki, always comes by for something or other. He stops by today as well, all smiles and easy conversation, smelling faintly of something sweet, spicy, and earthy that seems oddly familiar, no doubt due to how often he visits. As per usual he has his charisma cranked to the max, and flirts with you nonstop as you package his latest order, aka the most recent tea you recommend he try.

“I can’t help but notice, Tea-chan, that you seem to be glowing today,” he comments in his lilting tone, just shy of purring.

”Really? I certainly don’t feel like it,” you murmur. “I haven’t slept properly for this entire month. I keep waking up feeling tired.”

And it was true, too. On top of waking up uncomfortably wet, you keep waking up feeling bone tired. Perhaps another thing to look into? All together, each individual observation sounds like a symptom cluster you really may be sick.

”Really,” Shigaraki-san insists. “You look even more beautiful than usual.”

His complement makes you blush. You finish wrapping up each canister and transfer them all into a colorful paper bag emblazoned with the shop logo. Your hands brush as you hand it to him, and he accepts it with a winning grin. His red eyes gleam like rubies in the brightness of afternoon sun, while his white hair shimmers with a golden tint. A halo of light surrounding his head lends to the illusion of an otherworldly being clothed in human skin standing before you. Something stops you from labeling this hypothetical supernatural creature as angelic.

“Well, if that’s the case, then thank you, Shigaraki-san. I appreciate such kind words even if I don’t feel they’re true.”

”I’ve told you that Hajime is fine,” he says, waving away any future attempts at distance or formality. “And of course they’re true, Tea-chan, whether you believe them or not.”

He’s tried getting you to use his first name without an honorific for his last three visits, but it feels too informal, too forward.

“Fine, fine,” you relent, reddening further. “H-Hajime. Thank you. Please take care.”

Triumph flashes in his eyes followed by amusement and affection before his features smooth out and return to normal. He tips his hat to you in lieu of a verbal response then departs for who knew where. It’s not as if he shares much about himself besides once telling you he helps people with their Quirks. You assume he means he’s a Quirk counselor. It explains his bespoke suits considering how much those counselors make in a single week.

You put him out of your mind as ninety-six year old Takeda-san hobbles in for an herbal mixture meant to help with arthritis pain. You have a duty to your clients to keep your head clear so you can meet their needs. You dole out teas and herbal remedies for upset stomach, for anxiety, for ear ache, for sleeplessness and headaches. You shove all thoughts of how handsome Hajime is, how good he smells, how soft his skin looks, and countless others down until they quiet, at least until closing. Unbidden memories of him spring to the surface as you lock up at sundown, ready to make the journey back home.

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tylerxrbtwhp · 9 days ago

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im sick in the head erm/

All For One

TW: nsfw, noncon, yandere, captive reader, mind deterioration

fem reader

All For One has a habit of subjugating you for his own pleasure.

It’s a game he likes to play—quite like chess, only… you start off with a single pawn, and you don’t know any of the rules. And he’s been world champion ten years in a row. And he plays dirty.

Tonight, he’s dressed you up in a costume. Not any old Halloween costume, but a slutty one. Not a playboy bunny or a maid, nor a schoolgirl—this was worse—a sleazy rendition of your old hero uniform.

You’d barely recognized the faintly familiar design when he first laid it out on the bed for you. Silly and naïve, you thought his games of derision would end when you finally offered your submission, but that was a fool’s thought. What fun were you if not proof of his undying victory—a reminder, a trophy, a relic?

It’s beyond degrading. Tight and revealing. Less than an actual costume, it was more something one would wear in the bedroom, cosplaying for some fantasy starring an overly sexualized you. Only God knows where he’d gotten it from.

Your steel armor, once with the dignity of a knight, had instead been swapped out for a silly silver bikini—the shimmery fabric tacky and cheap, allowing your nipples to peak forth. Covering it was a top and a skirt made up of silver chains, which only further mocked the appearance of chainmail—looking more like the jewelry a stripper might wear.

He’d forgone your helmet, boots, and sword entirely. Truly, if it weren’t for the detailing of the pattern making the fabric vaguely resemble plated armor, it wouldn’t have been much different from any other set of lingerie.

And still, it’s just similar enough to make it sting.

“Look at you...” he jeers, his voice sodden with taunt—carmine stare faded and gleeful, thoroughly enjoying it. “What a sight for sore eyes.”

He stands behind you in the mirror, holding you delicately by the hips, intimately close, dressed in another one of his black suits, fully clothed in devastating contrast to you. His smile curls as he roams your ill-covered body, kissed with the flush of chagrin, leering at you in the reflection—his voice slithering right by your ear.

“Though I can’t say I remember it being quite so revealing, can you?” he jokes, running his hands up and down your waist, fiddling some with the intricacies—metal daintily clinking and clangoring. “No, there’s something else that’s different...”

You feel so humiliated, so small—as if he could hold you up by the scruff of your neck with ease. It isn’t just a feeling—you’re well aware that he most likely could.

“Why yes, of course…” he hums with delayed realization—you know he’s faking for anticipation, chittering while wrapping his thick arms around your tiny midsection, giving you a firm squeeze. “You’ve lost all muscle.”

It’s a painful truth. You don’t know how many months it’s been. Perhaps a year has passed already, maybe even more. He keeps you well aware of his triumph in the outside world, but time still eludes you.

You’d tried maintaining it in the beginning, even after he’d taken your quirk. You’d been vigilant, keeping up your workout regimens just as religiously as before. But you couldn’t pick what you ate, nor when—and he’d only feed you cake. It wasn’t long before all your hard-earned muscles had melted away like popsicle syrup off the stick, licked and lapped right up by the man holding you.

“Mmh, yes…” he murmurs gratingly while swaying you back against him, lips pressing against your ear. “And it’s left you oh-so-soft.”

His bulbous crotch slots against your upper ass, resting there as it grows fatter and warm—a sign of his enjoyment. The weight of him makes you feel all but paper-thin.

His voice rasps now. “If I were to give you your quirk back, I wager you wouldn’t even be able to use it anymore—it would sooner rip your poor limbs apart.”

It’s beyond cruel to suggest—as if disgracing your old costume wasn’t enough torment already. You bite your lip, gnaw it harshly—don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t let him see you cry.

“Isn’t that just fascinating?” He gives your earlobe a gentle bite, and the whimper in your throat springs free like prey out of hiding.

A sniffle shortly followed—along the dribble of the night’s very first tears. Your diminished spirit has made you all too prone to cry as if there’s nothing else for you to do but indulge in the small comfort it gives.

“Oh, sweetie—don’t weep over prowess long since lost. It was never enough to challenge me anyway,” he coos, as if consoling you—swaying your smaller brittle body back against his looming chest, a cage that seemed to swallow you whole.

Steering your jaw, he holds your face still before the mirror, unable to look away as the tears dribble down your sorry cheeks—he smears them further with a kiss.

“The world would chew you up as you are now, fragile like glass.” The grin curling his lips makes you resemble prey caught on a predator’s teeth—you can’t help but shiver at the sight of it. You wish he wouldn’t toy with you like food and just kill you already. “Mark my words, hero—the belly of the beast would not grant you as much comfort as I do.”

His other hand slips down to cup your mound—firmly, with a squeeze that has you curl yourself back against him as he presses two tough fingerpads into your clothed clit, rubbing it tightly enough to make your thighs shake.

“You’re better off like this,” he grunts, snickers at how your weak hands clutch the sleeve of his suit, curling the fabric in your palms until your knuckles whiten—watching the furrow further crease between your cinched brows as you try and bite back your pathetic little sounds even as more tears come tumbling down your swollen cheeks. “Mh, my pretty plaything.”

He makes you continue to look at yourself as he simply slides the panty to the side of your cunt. Encouraging you to place your hands flat against the mirror as he bends you forward, then to step back and stand atop his dress shoes.

“Don’t be shy now,” he makes sure to tell you. “You’re as light and negligible as a feather.”

He parts his feet and yours along with them, spreading your thighs enough to accommodate the fat heat he soon slides between them. Rigid and veiny, it competes with the size of your forearm—so thick that when he slaps it up against your slit, your knees buckle from the impact.

His chuckles rumble across your body like an earthquake. You only realize how much it makes you shake when he encloses your hip in his big hand, steadying you. Holding you still as he drags his engorged cockhead through your lips, catching your clit before resting on your entrance.

You’re so sore from prior nights—countless hours locked in this room with his visits the only thing keeping you company—everything has yet to forgive you for the wreckage those visits leave behind. Your sorry little puss rues and dreads another defeat now as he sinks inside the comfort of your battered walls, one unyielding inch at a time.

You wince and tense, shoulders bracing, and yet he pushes deeper, sliding you down his shaft until you rest at the hilt of his base, kneading the tip into your gummy womb, giving it a deep kiss that bulges out from your poor belly.

The sight in the mirror is morbid, even more so than the feeling—the way he molds your insides to fit him, to cater and house his length and size.

“Ah—just perfect, isn’t it, hero?” he purrs, chest resting heavily upon your spine while dwarfing both your hips in a firm grip, chin-stubble scraping along your neck as his voice comes out hot against your ear, “Obedience suits you so well, don’t you agree?”

Your knees buckle once he starts the heavy pace—slowly pounding into you from behind, dragging out and pushing deep in womb-robbing thrusts. You pant from the toll of it, feeling your muscles give—too tired and too broken to continue acting tough. He’s the only reason you’re left upright on your feet—keeping you standing with just his hold on your haunches. It seems like nothing to him, though it feels like the weight of the world to you.

“It’s only a shame it had to come with all these scars.” He clicks his tongue, eyes raking across your body as it takes him, resting on each mark disrupting the otherwise milk-smooth skin. “If only you’d accepted your place sooner.”

The ember burning within you is all but a piece of cooling charcoal now. You feel it diminish every day, leaving you even thinner than before.

“But then again, I quite enjoy you like this—littered with my battle scars from your toes up to your crown. It’s rather intimate, isn’t it?” he hums with a smile. “Proof of all the times I could’ve quashed you beneath my foot like a pitiful bug but decided to spare you. Teach you how to worship like the weak ought to.”

There was a time when you still humored the thought of killing him, even with your quirk taken from you. You thought, in your foolishness, that being this close to him must garner an opportunity, any, however slim, just enough for you to take advantage and finish what you vowed to end so long ago.

Now, you almost don’t care anymore. The world had moved on without you, and there was nothing more you could do about it.

You realize your promise had been as cheap as this outfit.

“The greater the fall, the sweeter the surrender, isn’t that right?” he states. “Doesn’t it feel good to finally accept your place in the world, hero?”

You can only nod your head and agree.

♡ BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA masterlist

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tylerxrbtwhp · 9 days ago

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A LONG HEADCANON???? HELL YEAH

Shota Aizawa Headcannons

|дﾟ)ﾉ Most of these headcannons are not mine and I do not take credit for all of them. But I just remembered reading them from many different platforms, so credit to the people who did think of most of these!

If he has a crush on you ೃ⁀➷

● At first, Aizawa would be in complete denial.

●The realization wouldn’t hit him all at once—it would creep up on him over time. Maybe he catches himself thinking about you on his way home or noticing when you’re absent more than he would with anyone else.

● At first, he rationalizes it. Your a close friend. We work together all the time. It’s normal to think about you.

●But then it keeps happening. He finds himself anticipating your reactions in conversations, noticing when you seem off before anyone else does, and feeling a little more at ease whenever you’re around. That’s when it starts to bother him.

●He became hyper aware of you. Listening intently on whatever you had to say.

● He doesn't remember a time when he'd actually liked ANYBODY romantically. So it was a surprise to him when Mic told him he was feeling 'butterflies'for you. And that he was developing a big fat crush.

● His initial thought? This is a problem.

●Aizawa isn’t the type to welcome strong emotions, especially ones that make him vulnerable. He’s been through too much, lost too many people. Letting someone get that close is dangerous and he doesnt know if he could take it. So his first instinct is to push it down, to convince himself it’s nothing.

●He’d shut down any thought of it being more than respect because admitting otherwise would mean confronting something he’s not ready for.

● Every time he catches himself watching you too long, he forces himself to look away. If his heart picks up when you smile at him, he ignores it. If he feels a little lighter when you’re around, he tells himself it’s just because you’re easy to talk to.

● He’s would have to have been your friend for a while to actually find a connection with you to feel this way, but your just his friend—of course, he cares. That’s all it is.

● He notices how his mood shifts depending on how you’re doing. If you’re stressed, he finds himself wanting to ease the burden, even if it’s just by taking an extra task off your plate. If you’re laughing, he finds himself more at ease, like the tension in his chest loosens just from hearing it. And when you’re in danger—even in a controlled training scenario—there’s a sharp, involuntary spike of protectiveness that he can’t explain away.

● Still, he crushes it down. He’s lost too much already. Letting someone in like that? That’s not something he can afford. So he tells himself, over and over:

● Your just a close friend. And it stays like that for a while.

● At some point, no amount of rationalizing works anymore.

●Maybe it’s a quiet moment—just the two of you, sitting in the teachers' lounge after a long day, the air thick with exhaustion but comfortable. You’re rambling about something, maybe venting about paperwork or laughing at a dumb joke Hizashi made earlier, and he realizes—this is different.

● He’s not just protective of you because you’re a coworker. He doesn’t just respect you because you’re strong and capable. He likes you. In a way that terrifies him.

● When he accepts his feelings for you, he also starts realizing why he likes you. You care for his students the same way he does, you want to push them to their limits to ensure their prepared, people feel safe in your presence, and best of all. You were kind. There were so many things he didn't even think were special about you at first.

●But the second that realization settles in, so does something else: He can’t do anything about it.

●If he did, it would change things. Right now, you’re his closest friend, someone he trusts completely. If he confessed, and you didn’t feel the same, it would make everything awkward. And even if you did like him back, it would mean opening himself up to something dangerous—something fragile. He’s lost people before.

●He knows what it’s like to let someone in, only to have them ripped away. If you were just a friend, it was easier to pretend you were safe. But if you were something more? If things were official, then losing you would mean losing a part of himself.

● So he keeps his feelings locked up, refusing to risk it.

● Instead, he settles for what he can do. He talks to you like normal, acts like nothing has changed.

● But if someone were paying attention, they’d notice the little things—how he always makes sure there’s a chair open next to him when you walk into the room, how his usually tired voice gains just a bit more energy when you’re involved in the conversation, how he watches you more than he should, like memorizing your presence without realizing it.

● You never notice the way his fingers twitch, like he wants to reach out but won’t let himself. Or how he lingers for a second too long when you say goodnight after a late shift, like he’s reluctant to watch you leave.

● You’re still his closest friend. And as much as it hurts, that has to be enough.

● But when he does accept it, nothing changes. He still has his mind set on keeping you as just a friend, just his coworker or whoever you are.

● A lot of fics involving him have him pounce on you just because you do something he likes or you did something on 'purpose' he likes just to flirt with him. He is not that lustful, especially if he's not even dating you.

● Some fics also don't look into what it would mean if he did have a crush on you. It'd take some time for him to accept it, and even more time for him to express those feelings. I can see him wanting to be careful with these new feelings and act rational about it, not randomly pinning you against the wall and being aggressive while confessing.

● You would only stay a crush for a long time. Your somebody he respects and somebody important. He'd make sure he knows you might even consider him a dating option. He would think about your feelings as well.

If he was dating you ೃ⁀➷

● It took him a while to even consider a relationship. He was convinced no problems would be created if he'd just left his feelings alone and continued life the way it was.

● But he'd realized it wasn't very rational of him to be pushing you and his feelings away because of fear. Afterall, being rational was his whole motto.

● I can only see him dating somebody he has a real connection and past with. If you were somebody he'd just met a few months ago I doubt he'd feel any strong feelings for you.

● At the start of the relationship, he didn't feel like anything changed. You both knew tons about each other so nothing really felt awkward, you didn't have to start out like normal couples do.

● He would talk to you as he normally did, but now that he's accepted that he might actually love you, he's definitely more affectionate when speaking to you. He wasn't just your friend anymore.

● He's in it for the long run. Hes already in his 30s. He doesn't even know what a situationship is. Hell, girlfriend didn't even sound right to him. You were unofficially his wife.

● He doesn't entertain any unnecessary drama. If your committing acts that he finds disloyal or crude just to get his attention, or for the sake of it. He wouldn't think twice about leaving you, maybe even forcing himself to forget you. But he wouldn't be dating you if that was the kind of person you were.

● Doesn't feel the need to constantly check on your location or ask where you are. he'll ask once, and then he'll go about his tasks when you two are apart. If he didn't trust you could take care of yourself he wouldn't be dating you. Your grown and he trusts you completely. He shouldn't have to check on you like a child.

● He shouldn't have to feel he might lose you constantly even more than he does. You should be able to keep yourself safe if he's not around, so his fear of losing you isn't 10x worse.

● He isn't overly protective of you outside of battle, and he isn't controlling. If you need his assistance he'll be there as long as you voice your need for him to step in, or he'll step in himself if he can tell you might need help.

● Same goes for in battle, he fully trusts in your abilities to protect yourself. But if he knows he can help and protect you in any way he's already there. He can't lose you.

● He isn't controlling. Once again, you're a grown adult who can make your own decisions. And if you do something he isn't comfortable with you doing, he'll tell you,

But he wouldn't want to have you follow his every request and demand. plus, he doesn't really mind the stuff you be doing, he trusts that you would never cheat or do something harmful.

● He doesn't show you off outright, he prefers to keep his private life PRIVATE. But he also isn't afraid to talk about his wife to others, he's quite fond of you. and would immediately put a stop to any disrespect towards you (he almost expelled mineta for this)

● He isn't overly affectionate, but he also isn't afraid to show his love for you. having a bad day? he isn't afraid of hugs.

● He isn't a big fan of PDA. Hes a very private man. but he'll occasionally guide you with his hand on the small of your back or holding your wrist or hand for a short amount of time in public.

● Away from the crowd, though, is when he really shows you how he feels. Holding your hands, cupping your cheek, brushing hair out your face, and hands on your waist occasionally.

● He's never felt romantic feelings for anybody until you stole his heart. So he found himself learning new things about what makes his heart skip a beat. Which is almost everything. (He's a very touchstarved man, has always been reserved)

● His favorite form of touching is you sitting on him on the couch or the bed, your arms around his neck and face tucked into his hair or scarf, with his arms hugging you tight. It doesn't even have to be dirty. He loves hugging you this way.

● He knows what things you like, he has never felt pressured by you to impress you with exquisite dates and fancy and expensive gifts.

● You'll go on a date once every 2 or 4 months, and the date is meaningful instead of pricy, so are his rare gifts. He won't say its a gift, just something he picked up that made him think of you.

● Yes, he's a tired man, but that doesn't make him a bad boyfriend. I dont know why people make him out to be a slacker when it comes to putting any effort into a relationship. He's fully capable of having a balance in his life that doesn't clash with your relationship. Yes, he does push people away out of fear, but after he made up his decision to love you, he wouldn't ruin it by being a jackass.

● He can appear rude to others, mainly because he doesn't filter his words or ideas for others. He often comes off as cold, apathetic, and impatient, exerting very little energy in most situations. But really his interior is different from how people view him. He wouldn't be as cold and distant after deciding on having a relationship, if he wasn't ready he wouldn't be dating you.

● He doesn't keep up with his appearance but he still keeps up with his hygiene. There's a difference. And after his first shared shower with you, it turned into one of his favorite things. (Secretly he loves your fancy soaps)

● The both of you shared your boundaries long ago, and they seemed to be working well. You needed space? That's perfectly fine. He needs to get some stuff done anyway.

● He takes naps all day in school, and he knows you don't. so when it's time to come home, you're already asleep while he's cooking for you or grading papers. You graded your papers during the school day, and he did it while you were asleep or on your patrol. Usually your routines never clashed in a negative way.

● Though sometimes he's able to put his work aside for come join you. He loves sleep more then work anyways.

● But don't think he'll disregard his job as a teacher at your request. You wouldn't, and one of his favorite things about you is that your passionate about your work as well.

● cooking! A hc I love was that his mama was a foodie. and he was forced to learn all types of cooking styles. but before you moved in he lived off occasional small snacks and Ramen. not anymore! he cares way more about your health then his, your the same way. So dinner is prepared once in a while when you both have time.

● He wouldn't be jealous of any guy or women that talks to you, but if it was downright obvious they were flirting with you. He'll glare at them, sometimes even using his quirk to scare them, and the flirter usually gets uncomfortable just from the intensity of his gaze. If not, either you shut them down or him. And his way might not be as nice.

● He values silence as much as your presence. You don't always need to talk; just existing in the same place is enough for him. But when he does talk, his words are thoughtful and deliberate if not in a sarcastic manner.

● Life with him is pretty uniform, but never boring. His job is full of chaos and unpredictability, so he craves consistency. He likes knowing you'll be there at the end of the day.

● He isn't blind, he analyzes the thing you do and like and remembers them. He knows how you like your coffee, your habits, your weird need to reorganize the bed pillows everyday (which he doesn't mind as long as it doesn't interfere with his nap time) and the things that comfort you or make you feel excited about.

● He might not say I love you often, but you know he does. he shows it to you everyday through his actions.

● him calling you kitten as a nickname feels cringe. Kitten is a baby cat and calling a grown adult it makes it feel like a predators fetish. He would call you Y/n, maybe even call you baby (yes baby is for young children but its been more normalized fas being a nickname for someones sweetheart) or even call you honey further into the relationship. You'd have to initiate it at first though, then it'd become normal for him.

● he won't say he misses you, but will say something like "you were gone for too long"

General Headcannons ೃ⁀➷

●He let's eri do his hair, never his makeup. Only when she's feeling down.

● He needs reading glasses but refuses to wear them in front of others. Having a quirk that messes with the healthy part of his eyes made glasses a need.

● He dislikes when people are unpunctual (Present mic in most cases)

● Shota likes cats. In fact, he still owns the cat Shirakumo rescued back in high school when it was a kitten.

● His room is quite empty, which reflects his apathetic behavior.

● Shota's specialty is short-length sneak attacks.

● Shota is a social drinker. (I believe this is actually cannon but I forgot what Manga panel showed this)

● He's the mayor of a Minecraft world class 1A created and regularly plays (he's never joined, not once)

#bnha #mha #aizawa x reader #aizawa #aizawa shouta #aizawa headcanons #shota aizawa headcanons #shota aizawa #eraserhead x reader #mha x reader #shota aizawa x reader

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tylerxrbtwhp · 10 days ago

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all. of. them. I LOVE EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM

Hit with a Villain’s Sex Quirk & They NEED You NOW!

UA Part 1 / UA Part 2 / Pro Heroes / Villains

They’re desperate, aching, and the only thing that can ease their suffering… is YOU

Toshinori Yagi (All Might)

The moment the quirk hits, he stumbles, gasping sharply.

His body, even in his weakened form, is trembling, aching, overwhelmed with heat.

His usual composure? Completely gone.

“This… this is highly inappropriate… but— I… I need you, my love.”

His hands tremble as he reaches for you, afraid he’ll lose control.

Every brush of your touch makes him groan softly, his restraint slipping.

“Please, darling… I don’t think I can handle this alone…”

He tries so hard to stay composed, but the second you give in?

He’s completely undone.

Shota Aizawa (Eraserhead)

At first, he thinks he can sleep it off.

Nope. Big mistake.

His entire body feels tight, his skin overly sensitive, his breath ragged.

His usual exhaustion is replaced with a desperate, throbbing need.

Catches your wrist when you try to check on him, his grip surprisingly firm.

“…Don’t get too close unless you’re ready for what happens next.”

His voice is lower, rougher, his pupils dilated with hunger.

Grits his teeth, trying to fight it, but every second that passes makes him weaker.

“Y/N… I need you. Now.”

Once you let him touch you? There’s no going back.

Hizashi Yamada (Present Mic)

LOUD about it.

“OH FCK, BABE— I THINK SOMETHING’S WRONG—”*

His voice literally shakes from the need coursing through him.

Can’t sit still, pacing, running his hands through his hair, his whole body buzzing with tension.

Tries to joke through it at first.

“Hey, sweetheart, y-you wouldn’t mind helpin’ your favorite DJ out, huh?” (nervous chuckle, but he’s dying inside.)

His hands shake when he finally reaches for you, his cocky confidence completely gone.

“I can’t… I c-can’t handle this anymore. I NEED you, babe.”

The second you touch him? He’s a goner.

Enji Todoroki (Endeavor)

Immediately clenches his fists, his flames flaring wildly.

He tries to fight it. He hates feeling out of control.

But the heat pooling in his body is unbearable.

“Tch—what kind of quirk is this?!”

Breathing hard, trying to stay composed, but his hands are shaking.

When he sees you? He completely snaps.

“Y/N— come here. Now.”

His usual restraint is completely gone.

Grabs you by the waist, his touch feverishly warm.

“You’re the only one who can fix this.”

Doesn’t take no for an answer.

Keigo Takami (Hawks)

Gasps softly when the quirk takes hold, wings shuddering.

His entire body flushes hot, his feathers ruffling as he stumbles.

Tries to play it off.

“Oh, sht. Uh. Babe? I think we got a problem.”*

Laughs weakly, but his hands are already gripping the nearest surface, his legs shaking.

His pupils are blown wide, his usual cocky grin replaced with desperation.

When he sees you, he immediately moves—

One second, you’re standing still, the next, you’re pinned against the nearest wall.

“Fck, babybird… I need you so bad.”*

His wings twitch as he presses against you, his breath shaky.

You can feel him trembling with need.

Mirai Sasaki (Sir Nighteye)

Grips the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white.

His usual composure is completely shattered.

His breathing is ragged, his entire body tense, as he struggles to fight the quirk’s effects.

When you step closer, his sharp green eyes lock onto you with an intensity that makes your stomach flip.

“…Don’t come any closer, unless you’re ready to handle the consequences.”

His voice is low, strained, rough with need.

You’ve never seen him look this desperate before.

When you finally reach for him, he exhales shakily, his hands gripping your hips in a bruising hold.

“You’re the only one who can fix this, my love.”

Taishiro Toyomitsu (Fatgum)

At first, he laughs it off, but when the heat really sets in, his smile falters.

His usual soft demeanor is gone—his muscles tense, his jaw clenching as he breathes heavily.

Shifts uncomfortably, his hands shaking as he grips his knees.

“Oh, sugar… I think I got myself a lil’ problem.”

His body feels heavy with need, his heart pounding like a drum.

Looks up at you, his face flushed, his expression desperate.

“You gotta help me, sweetheart. I don’t think I can take much more…”

Grabs your hand, pulling you onto his lap, holding you tightly.

His body is burning with need, and he needs you now.

Snipe

Tenses the moment the quirk hits, his breathing slowing.

At first, he grits his teeth, trying to control himself.

But the moment he sees you? All bets are off.

Steps toward you, his voice husky, strained.

“Darlin’… I ain’t gonna last much longer.”

Tips his hat down to hide his face, but you can see the way his body trembles.

When you touch him, he exhales sharply, his hands gripping your waist.

“You best be ready, sweetheart… ‘cause I need you real bad.”

Shinji Nishiya (Kamui Woods)

Immediately stiffens, his branches curling around himself as he shudders.

His usual control over his body is completely gone.

Grabs onto the nearest surface, his entire body hot and throbbing.

When he sees you, his golden eyes darken.

“…Y/N.”

His arms reach for you before he even realizes it.

Breathing heavily, his body aching, his fingers twitching.

“I— I need you. Now.”

No teasing, no hesitation—he needs you immediately.

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tylerxrbtwhp · 10 days ago

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SHIT?? NOT THE FIC BUT LIKE, SHIT?? OMG IM GONNA-- UR ONE OF THE BEST WRITERS I'VE EVER SEEN EXCUSE ME>??? KEEP DELIVERING PLS???

Bad Kitty - 18+ Aizawa Drabble

Oh god… that title is terrible I’m so sorry (but I’m keeping it because it makes me chuckle)

I’m too tired to work on my bigger writing projects, but still feeling the creative bug. So, here’s a pointless and hopefully short NSFW Aizawa drabble that popped into my head this evening. Enjoy!

CW: 18+ ONLY! MINORS BEGONE! fem!reader, reader has hair long enough to cover her face, bratty reader (implied) turned docile, spanking, reader wears a leash and collar, fingering, use of ‘kitten’ as a pet name, established relationship. Ummm, yeah I think that’s it. Lemme know if I missed anything.

Keep reading

#Aizawa smut #aizawa x reader #aizawa x you #am I evil for leaving it there?#cw:nsfw #cw:spanking #daddy.

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tylerxrbtwhp · 11 days ago

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to read

Paradox (Villain!Nighteye x Fem!Reader)

This is my contribution for the BNHarem’s Villain/Hero Swap!AU this month! The masterlink can be found here, put together by the lovely @candychronicles.

So, uh… Wow. A lot to unpack here. I branched out of my comfort zone… a lot… and thoroughly enjoyed it. PLEASE MIND THE WARNINGS!!! Okay, on that note, I hope you enjoy this.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: 18+ NSFW, noncon to dubcon, cropping (noncon), tickle torture (noncon), rough sex/deep penetration, cum stuffing, alcohol consumption, bondage (chains), dirty talk/degradation, overstimulation, manipulation, unhealthy dynamics (obviously), reader has hair long enough to cover her face & grab.

IMPORTANT: If there is anything you feel I’ve missed with these warnings, please let me know so I can fix it. This is new territory for me, so I’m learning as I go.

Nicknames used: Sir, “Fangirl” (it’ll make sense in the fic)

Synopsis: Sure, the world might be falling apart. Villains are running amok, society is crumbling… But you flourish in the chaos, utilizing your special quirk to gather intel on powerful villains for profit. You’ve always been successful, always been smart, and, most importantly, never gotten caught. That is, until now…

Pairing: Villain!Nighteye x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 7840 (including @lady-bakuhoe‘s lovely introduction)

—————-

“Breaking news: We have yet another report to add to the slew of attacks this month, this comes just days after we broadcast rumours of villains running rampant over the city. This spate of attacks has put the entire metropolitan area at a standstill, road closures and damaged property making it difficult for commuters to get to work in the morning. Road maintenance endeavour to do its best to keep the city running, but it seems futile when these attacks continue to increase. The entire city was brought to a standstill by the mysterious villain who has still not been named, but reports show they are nothing like we have ever experienced before.

Where are the heroes now? Who will save us from the terror overwhelming our city?

Every day the crime toll continues to rise and we have no one here to protect us. The Hero Public Safety Commission assured us earlier in the week that the crime rate would go down, that the top Heroes are out there protecting our city, but if so, where are they? Is it really safe to go out anymore, who can we trust? Would you put your life in the hands of a Hero today? When they have proved our streets are no longer safe. We still have no information on what is going on, or who is involved but we must remain observant. We will continue to report the latest news as we receive it, but for now, we must implore you to heed the warnings of the city-wide curfew that is soon to be implemented. If anyone has any information on these occurrences in the city please send them to us or contact the police, you can remain anonymous. The safety of our citizens is what is most important, stay vigilant and don’t go out unless it is absolutely necessary. One thing we know for sure: we can no longer rely on Heroes to protect us. The streets of our once-great city are no longer safe, we are no longer safe.”

You clicked off the remote and your dark reflection stared back at you from the black TV screen. Your cat leaped up to join you on the couch, and you pet her backside, her butt rising in pleasure.

“Well, you heard him.” You said to the feline. “Curfew. That means you’ll be indoors for tonight.”

She rubbed her head against your hand with a purr, and you obliged with another gentle caress down her back.

As for you, the curfew was more of a… suggestion. One that you would pay little attention to. After all, all of your best work happened at night, when the more serious villains came out of the woodwork to run their shady deals under the cover of dark.

Besides, the likelihood of getting caught was slim to nil. Not only were you very good at what you did, but, as the news anchor rightly stated, the heroes were worn thin. Very thin. They’d be more busy dealing with the wide variety of villains wreaking havoc across the city instead of the very few civilians who always managed to slip through the cracks. With a smirk on your face and a soft peck to your cat’s head, you left your apartment.

The night was warm and humid, making your skin sweat in your black clothes. You hunched down against the rooftop, peaking over the edge as you stared down at the group of villains gathered below you. The pupil of your quirk-evolved eye dilated like a camera lens, zooming and refocusing on the faces below you.

There he was. His hair lit by the yellow light above the alleyway door, dark green hair streaked with strands of yellow. He had a stern, narrow face, framed in a furrowed brow and gold-wired glasses. You couldn’t get a good view of it at the moment, but you knew his eyes were yellow, likely an effect of his quirk.

Sir Nighteye. Or, as you had come to learn, Mirai Sasaki. You were familiar with his face now, his mannerisms. That was your job, after all… to discover the faces and names behind the higher-level villains who kept their identities under wraps as they controlled black markets and moved their lackeys like disposable pawns. Sir Nighteye in particular was of special interest to many; his crime organization was the largest, with an uncannily high success rate of illegal activity, effectively sidestepping the law and rival gangs on a regular basis. No matter the situation, no matter the odds, Nighteye’s Syndicate always seemed to be two steps ahead. And whereas many other crime groups were made up of violent, unsavory dimwitted thugs, particularly within the lower ranks, The Syndicate was different. The individuals that worked under him were each carefully selected for their quirks and their intelligence all the way down the chain of command to the simple errand runners. It was a well-oiled machine, raking in billions of dollars in illegal trades and hidden investments and Mirai Sasaki was at the center of it.

Which is why you wanted him. There was no bigger fish worth catching than this man with his strange, yellow eyes and stern jaw.

You were a freelancer, codename Shutter, providing intel for the highest bidder through the use of your Camera Eye quirk. It was a handy quirk to have, subtle and allowing for the illusion of an innocent civilian in a line of work where one often preferred to go unnoticed. It was also handy for situations such as these, where the cover of darkness and nimbleness were your only weapons.

You blinked rapidly, the action capturing detailed pictures of the group below. Later, you’d return to your apartment and upload the images to your computer using the port located just behind your ear. Surely, these images would catch you a pretty penny, whether it be the police force or a rival villain. With the money you could receive from this, you’d be rich enough to leave this god forsaken country and begin somewhere new. Somewhere where you wouldn’t have to fear for your life at every turn of the corner, where the sounds of explosions in the night weren’t a normal occurrence. A place where you could find peace.

Or at least that’s what you told yourself. But you’d been watching Nighteye for some time, and you had yet to make any effort to turn a profit from the images you gathered. Instead, countless pictures sat on your table at home, private and secretive.

You couldn’t quite explain why. Perhaps it was the fear of success, of starting somewhere new, where your own morally questionable skills might be less valuable.

Or perhaps it was him.

There was just… something… different about him. Something that kept drawing you back to him, risking life and limb just to get another glimpse of him. His silence, his sternness, his arrogance. Surely, that last feature was a bit more subdued compared to other villains you’d watched, but it was there, evident in the way he looked down at his subordinates… or anyone, for that matter. Normally, you didn’t really fear villains that much… You were pretty adept at avoiding them and making sure they never saw you. But him? A chill ran down your spine at the thought of it. Every inch of you knew that you did not want to cross paths with him. He was dangerous. He was lethal.

He was staring right at you.

Before you could react, the impact of something hard struck the back of your head, making your world go black.

________________

You awoke to your head pounding, orange light painting the inside of your eyelids. Your mind swam in a heavy fog, disoriented as you struggled to gather your thoughts. You lifted your head with a groan and opened your eyes only to squeeze them shut again against the harsh white light that assaulted your pupils.

A groan escaped your lips. Fuck, your head hurt… You struggled to touch the tender spot with your hand, but immediately felt the resistance of warm, hard metal around your wrists, pinching your skin. Panic set in and the fog began to clear as you realized that your hands were bound together, arms stretched high above your head. You could feel your body sway slightly, even though you felt hard ground beneath your feet. You were attached to… something. It was the only thing holding you upright, preventing you from slumping to the floor in a disoriented heap.

What had happened last? What was the last thing you remembered? The place where those memories should be was empty.

“You’re finally awake,” said a voice. It was smooth, calm. And entirely unrecognizable.

Once again, you opened your eyes, this time keeping them open as you tried to adjust to the brightness despite the pounding behind your sockets. The blinding white of the bulb shining on you drowned out the room you were in. You felt like a fish in a bowl. All you could see was your own body and a cement floor covered in dark stains.

“Wh… where am I?” you finally mumbled, your words slurred and groggy. “Who are you?”

The voice didn’t answer. Your eyes finally focused just enough to make out a tall, lean form past the bright haze that trapped your visual field. Recognition finally dawned when he stepped into your cage of light, yellow eyes trained on you with cold, lethal intent.

You gasped, your heartrate spiking as panic filled you. No no no, you weren’t supposed to be here! You tugged frantically against the constraints, attempting to back away from him, but the balls of your feet were barely touching the ground, unable to gather any traction before sliding back to the midline where you were suspended. Your eyes looked up at the chains wrapped around your wrist and realized you were attached to a large, dangling hook. You were hung like an animal for slaughter, and he, of all people, was to be your butcher.

“Who am I?” he echoed. “What a foolish question. Surely you must know the answer since you’ve been watching me for some time.”

He stopped his advance a foot away from you and stood rigid as a statue, his hands behind his back. He wore a light suit with a black dress shirt, complimented with a deep green tie that matched his dark hair. The dress pocket held a yellow kerchief decorated in green polka dots, while shining black dress shoes adorned his feet. For all intents and purposes, he looked ready for a night on the town rather than an evening of torture.

Sir Nighteye was tall. Incredibly tall. He towered over you, his blazing eyes staring down at you with such a cold ruthlessness that you felt yourself buckling beneath his presence instantly.

“Please…” you pleaded, your voice small and frightened. “Please let me go.”

“Let you go?” he echoed again with a tilt of his head. “You must be joking. If so, it is a terrible joke. And I. Dislike. Bad. Jokes.”

You flinched under each word, once again attempting to back away from him even though you knew it was futile.

“I’m sorry. Please, I just-”

“Silence.” He cold tone tightened your throat as effectively as if it were his own hand. Slowly, he began to pace around you. “Let us establish some ground rules. First, you shall refer to me as ‘Sir.’”

He left your field of view and you could feel his presence behind you, dangerously close.

“Second, you shall remain silent unless given permission to speak.” His eyes were on you, raking over every inch of you. You couldn’t see it, but you sure as hell could feel it.

“Third…” he came back within your field of view. “You will answer every single one of my questions, truthfully and thoroughly. If you fail to follow these rules, then the punishments will be swift and without mercy. And if I do not like your answers… then I’ll kill you.”

Your head was hung low, tears clinging to your lashes. You felt the touch of something cold and smooth under your chin and it pushed your head up until you were looking into yellow eyes.

“Do we have an understanding?” he finished. The question was rhetorical of course, cruel and intended to mock. There were no choices here. No understandings. It angered you; this display of power, this pretentious performance. Even so, you gave a silent nod in affirmation. Sir Nighteye narrowed his eyes at you. “That is not a sufficient answer.”

“Yes…” you whispered.

Something whipped hard against the outside of your thigh, and a stinging pain blossomed, causing you to cry out.

“Yes what?” he demanded.

In his hand he held a riding crop, black and sleek. So that was what he was keeping behind his back…

“Yes, Sir.” You emphasized.

“Good.” He began pacing around you again. “First question. What is your name?”

By this point, you knew that no matter what answers you gave, you were only leaving this place one way – in a body bag. The only reason you were still alive was because he assumed you were working with someone, providing them information. As soon as he found out you weren’t, and that no one would be looking for you, he’d waste no time in disposing of you.

You clenched your jaw. “Shutter.” You replied.

CRACK!

Another sting to your other thigh made you cry out.

“I did not ask for your alias.” he replied.

The action was meant to quell you, but instead, it had the opposite effect. Rage boiled beneath your skin, tangling with the fear already nesting there and morphing into a thin sliver of rebellion. It slithered its way past your common sense, taking over your tongue.

“You didn’t specify, sir.”

Your cheeky response earned another crack of the black leather, this time against the curve of your ass. You fought back the cry this time, sucking in air through your teeth. You breathed through the pain as you struggled to regain control. As far as torture went, this wasn’t too bad, right? At least he wasn’t cutting off fingers or busting teeth…

“Speaking out of turn.” He stated. “What is your real name?”

“No one.” You replied.

Another crack, this time less forgiving as it struck across your back. Before you could even recover from the shock of pain, you felt Nighteye’s hand grab a fistful of your hair and tilt your head up to look at him. He was close enough now that you could smell his cologne and see the beads of sweat on his brow from the warm bright light above him. You stared up at him defiantly through the fresh tears on your lashes from his latest assault.

“You must think this is a game and that I’m a fool.” He said calmly. “I will be more than happy to hand you over to one of my more violent personnel, if this interrogation isn’t to your liking.”

Your defiance wavered, fear flashing across your eyes. You hadn’t considered that option… you had hoped he’d just get frustrated and shoot you. You were as good as dead anyway, and if you were going to die, might as well make sure it’s swift and preferably without all the maiming.

Nighteye caught the panic in your eyes and smiled. It was subtle, the smallest curve of his stoic lips.

“That’s what I thought.” He murmured. His eyes peered at you for a long moment, assessing you. His free hand came up to gently stroke your cheek just below your camera eye. “Perhaps a different approach would be more suited for you.”

He stepped back and adjusted the light so that it no longer shined directly into your eyes. Finally, you could see the space you were in.

The room was shockingly large, and oddly arranged. A large desk was positioned on the other side of the room, simple in its ornateness. Along its top sat a row of small, black items that looked like round stamps. Behind his desk sat a high-backed leather chair, while two simpler leather chairs sat in front of it. Dark wooden bookshelves lined the wall behind the desk, and a serving cart was situated nearby, with ornate crystal glassware and different shades of alcohol in decanters.

But between yourself and the desk sat a round, metal table. This in and of itself wouldn’t have been suspicious, aside from its unusual height. But that much was to be expected, considering who the space belonged to. It could easily be a space used to conduct business with multiple parties, perhaps over a game of cards or a private meal. Except this table had no chairs around it. And, you noticed with a squint, its metal column base was bolted to the floor. It gave you a deep sinking feeling in your gut and you swallowed.

What sort of man had his goddamn torture chambers a part of his office? Did he really torture people that often? Or was it used to intimidate? Did his just sit at his desk and admire the bloodstains on the concrete floor with a glass of whiskey? It was twisted. It was threatening.

And very effective. You were already regretting your bratty, defiant behavior. What were you thinking?? This was the Sir Nighteye. Even the best villains didn’t want to cross paths with him.

Nighteye walked away from you, and you watched as a he meticulously removed his suit coat and draped it over his leather chair. He briefly poured himself a drink of something clear before taking a sip and leaving the glass on the empty round table. As he approached you, he unbuttoned the cuffs of his sleeves and carefully rolled them up to his elbows as he watched you.

“Tell me, no one,” he pushed his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose, the light reflecting off of the lenses. “Are you ticklish?”

Your body immediately tightened like a coil as you stared at him with wide, confused eyes.

“W-what??” you stumbled. This was not at all what you were expecting. What sort of kinky bastard was he??

“Did you know…” Nighteye drawled, “that being ticklish is a reflex?”

He was in your space now, standing before you with a fresh glint of excitement trapped beneath his cold exterior.

“In fact, it’s been used as an effective form of torture throughout human history.” He began to pace around you again, except this time, his large hand delicately brushed across your torso in a slow, gentle caress. “It can lead to loss of consciousness due to lack of oxygen, urination, not to mention the psychological damage… It’s effective in its impact and has the added benefit of not leaving evidence of physical harm.”

By the time he stopped behind you, you were shaking like a leaf. His hand left your waist to cup your jaw as he leaned in to whisper in your ear, hot breath tickling the sensitive skin. “You thought that violence was the only weapon in my repertoire. But you simply lack imagination. So. Shall we try this again?”

You gulped. “Yes, sir.”

“So compliant now.” His hand released you. “What a shame.”

He paced back around to face you. “What is your name?”

You tell him.

“And what is your quirk?”

“I can take pictures with my eye and upload them to a computer.” You replied.

He took your chin in his hand, and stared down at your eye, forcing you to look at him. You couldn’t help but notice the sharp line of his jaw, his cheeks, the point of his nose… This was your first time seeing him so closely, and you couldn’t deny that he was attractive.

You hated it. It made you feel sick. What the hell was wrong with you that you would focus on that of all things in a moment like this?

“How does it work?”

His question cut through your thoughts and you were back in the moment, him holding your face as he stared at it like a puzzle box he wanted to open.

“I can focus my eye like a camera lens, and when I blink it takes pictures. I upload the images using the port behind my ear.”

As you expected, he turned your head with one hand and bent the pinna of your ear forward to inspect the port there.

“And you’ve used this on me?” Nighteye demanded.

You swallowed hard and nodded.

His eyes narrowed. Slowly, he began circling you again. His steps echoed off of the walls in the room, their reverberations sending goosebumps along your skin.

“Have you shared these images with anyone?” He asked.

You shook your head vigorously. “No.” you answered.

It came unexpectedly. His fingers danced on your torso and your body convulsed as irrepressible laughter bubbled past your lips. The deft digits pulled shrieks and pleas, giggles and gasps as your nerves erupted with the uncontrollable need to escape the assault. It was overwhelming. Invasive. Just as quickly as they came, his fingers vanished, leaving you gasping and panting.

“First, you forget that the rules are still in place. Second, you expect me to believe that you have been taking photos of me for weeks but haven’t given them to anyone?”

“I’m sorry…” you gasped. “I swear I haven’t given them to anyone!”

Your pleas were ignored as Nighteye continued to question you. “Who do you work for?”

“No one, sir.” You replied.

But that answer didn’t satisfy either, and once again, Nighteye’s hands were upon you, dancing ruthlessly across your skin until you were sure your body would explode from the tension, your chest burning with the need for oxygen. When he finally relented, your body hung limp as shudders coursed through you. Sweat dripped down your face, your neck, pooling between your breasts and itching your back. Your head reeled as you gulped air in heavy gasps.

Nighteye’s arm wrapped around you from behind, holding you close against his warm body, offering stability.

“Shhh…” he cooed. “Breathe. I can’t have you passing out on me just yet.”

Your body was exhausted, your heart pounding, and all you could sense was the heat of him against you, the strong grasp of his arm squeezing around your waist, and the pressure of his chin resting against your head. Your nerves twisted in confusion, feeling grounded against him and yet desperately wanting to escape.

“Please, sir…” you begged, but your words fell away as you continued to gasp for air.

“Focus.” His voice was low in your ear, the vibrations passing from his chest into yours. “I’m going to ask you again, and you had better choose your words carefully this time. Who do you work for?”

Your heart pounded with panic as tears fell down your cheeks.

“I don’t work for anyone, I swear it!” you cried. You heard him tsk in disappointment, and just as his hands placed themselves at your ribs again, new words – desperate words - spilled from your mouth. “I’m a freelancer!” you cried.

His fingers halted, frozen at your sides.

“Continue.” He ordered.

Your words ran fast and clumsily from your mouth. “I gather intel on high profile villains and sell them to the highest bidder.” You explained.

“And who do you sell your intel to?” he asked as he paced back around to face you.

“Anyone who will pay. Other villains. The police. Families who lost loved ones. Anyone.” You breathed.

“And who have you sold my photos to?”

You stared at Nighteye’s shining dress shoes as your body hung with exhaustion. “No one.” You answered. Then, you did something stupid. You lied. “I… I’ve been tracking you for a while, but none of my photos have been good enough to sell. Then you caught me.”

You weren’t sure why you lied. Of course you had photos of him. Tons of photos, many of them great quality. And you hadn’t tried to sell a single one. But for some reason, you didn’t want him to know that. There was something important there, something that you didn’t want to look too closely at yourself.

Something that needed to stay secret.

You looked up at him and instantly knew your words were a mistake. A coldness shrouded his expression darker than you’d ever seen until now, and you knew that you’d crossed a line.

Sir Nighteye was pissed.

“You disappoint me.” He said with narrowed eyes. He stepped away from you and went to his desk. He took another sip of his drink as he opened his drawer and pulled out a manila envelope. Then he made his way over not to where you were, but to the round table in the center of the room.

“You say you have no good photos of me.” He stated. “Then perhaps you could explain this.”

He opened the envelope and pulled out a stack of what could only be photographs and tossing them onto the table. They fanned out, spreading nearly the entire surface. You were too far away to see their contents, but you didn’t need to see them. You knew instantly what they were and who they belonged to.

A gasp escaped your lips. He had your photos. All of them. Which means he sent someone to your apartment to search and bring back evidence. Which means he already likely knew all your information. Your name, your address, what you had in your fridge, the color of your underwear… Your mind thought of your cat and you prayed that she was scared enough to hide quietly in the closet or under your bed.

You realized instantly that all of the questions leading up until now were tests. He was testing you, priming you for this very moment, and you’d failed. Miserably.

“Do you recognize these?” Sir Nighteye questioned. Once again, rhetorical, but by this point, his anger was palpable. He came towards you, his yellow eyes blazing like golden suns, and you cowered from him. “Perhaps you need a closer look.” He stated.

His long arms reached up and removed your chains from the hanging hook, only to ruthlessly drag you over to the table like an animal. You screamed and struggled against him, but he was surprisingly strong, your attempts at escape entirely futile. Once you reached the table, he grabbed you by the back of your neck and forced you down onto the table face first, your cheek pressed against the glossy photo paper.

“Tell me. Now do you recognize these?” he seethed.

“Yes!” you cried.

“And yet you lied to me about having them.”

“Yes!”

“Which leads me to believe that you have sold these to other parties.”

“No!”

Nighteye hoisted you back up by your neck and spun you around to face him.

“You’re done wasting my time.” He grabbed your face in his hand, fingers tight around your jaw. He was pressed against you, and his presence devoured your senses. Touch. Smell. Sight. He was everywhere. Omnipotent.

His thin mouth curled into a snarl. “I had thought we could do this in a civilized manner. However, that’s clearly not going to be the case. I hate having to resort to using my quirk, especially for such menial tasks. But I will get the information I seek, one way or another.”

His once yellow eyes turned purple, the whites of his eyes black. You stared at the strange shape of his glowing irises, spinning like a wheel cog, frozen and terrified. You had no idea what Nighteye’s quirk was, or what it would do to you. Were you going to be forced to spill all of the dirty secrets you kept locked away in your mind? Was no thought safe? Or was it going to be some form of torture, filled with excruciating, unforgivable pain?

He stared for a long moment, his stern expression frozen in a stoic mask. Finally, the purple and black faded from his eyes, giving way once again to his yellow irises. His strong brow was furrowed slightly lower than before, and he was oddly quiet compared to his temperament not a moment prior.

“Interesting.” Was all he murmured as his eyes locked on your slightly parted lips.

His eyes flicked back to yours before spinning you back around to face the table. Without a word, he grabbed the chains attached to your wrists and walked around to the opposite end of the metal surface. With a sharp tug, you collapsed on top of the photos, and within a matter of seconds he had somehow secured the chain beneath the table. When he stepped away, you struggled to pull against it, but of course it made no difference. You were trapped. No wonder the base was bolted to the floor.

He certainly liked his toys…

You waited with bated breath, watching him as best you could from your compromising position against the hard surface. He paid no mind. Instead, he walked over to his desk and took a sip of his drink, slowly rolling the liquid over his tongue before swallowing it. You watched the bob of his Adam’s apple, and felt a strange heat roll across your flesh. The action was oddly… sensual, and you once again felt the same shame from earlier bubble to the surface.

You were attracted to him. Why?? Even after all he’d done to you so far, even with the knowledge that he was likely going to kill you at the end of all of this, a part of you… some sick part of you still wanted him.

You stared at the man in front of you, your view of him tilted from your position against the table. His eyes were unfocused, staring in the distance as he quietly sipped at his beverage, and from your angle you could follow the line of his sharp jaw, the curve of his lips over the rim of his glass… you felt the urge to blink, to capture the moment and add it to the memories trapped beneath your body. Instead, you squeezed your eyes shut against the sight as if that would make any difference, as if you weren’t just thinking about what it would feel like to graze your teeth sensually against his Adam’s apple, or trail kisses along his jaw.

No.

You shifted uncomfortably, and the corners of the various photos trapped beneath your body poked and stabbed you through your clothes, their contents mocking your denial. You were fucked. You were truly, utterly fucked.

“Are you aware of what a time paradox is?” Nighteye questioned. He didn’t bother giving you time to answer. “A time paradox occurs when an event in the future impacts the past which results in that future. More specifically, it’s called a causal loop.”

He set his now-empty glass down on his desk. “My quirk works in a similar fashion. It allows me to see into the future of whoever’s eyes I stare into. A rather handy skill for a business such as mine. But it begs the question – does the viewing of the future create that future? If I don’t peak beyond time, would that future still occur? After all, viewing what will happen will make one want to either work with it or against it. But the future is already written. So does it really matter?”

He fell silent for a moment, starting at his empty glass pensively. You remained silent, unwilling to partake in this conversation as he waxed philosophical.

“One thing I’ve learned is that the future can never, ever be changed. We can only prepare for what will inevitably happen and use what crumbs we’re given to clean up whatever’s left.”

His fingers ran gently over the tips of the small black stamp-like items that lined the edge of his desk. Slowly, he picked one of them up. Then another. And another. And finally, one more. You stared as you watched the muscles and tendons of his forearm tense under the strain. Whatever the items were, they appeared to be heavy, despite their deceivingly small size. And Nighteye, you had learned, was certainly not weak.

“Do you want to know what it was I saw in your future?” he inquired, his eyes finding yours.

“No…” you whispered.

He chuckled. “Smart girl. But irrelevant. The future will become the present soon enough.”

Terror filled your veins. You could feel it, the black precipice of the unknown looming over you, and you were powerless against it. You were powerless against him and his newfound knowledge.

Nighteye pushed himself off of the desk and made his way towards you, the items held securely within his fingers.

“I know now that you were telling the truth, as unbelievable as it is.” He gave a soft, derisive chuckle. “I also know how you feel about me. How you really feel about me.”

He reached you and stared down at you with a glint in his eye. “You’re nothing more than a fangirl.”

His words shocked you, and you snarled. “I am not!”

Nighteye smirked as he set the black items onto the table with a clunk. “All of these photos of me and never once did you try to turn a profit from them. Why?”

You froze, unable to answer, your tongue as heavy as the chains securing you.

Nighteye walked behind you, and a moment later you could feel the touch of cold, heavy metal through your shirt. It lightly dragged down the curve of your spine, and then disappeared, leaving your body shivering from the sensation, every nerve singing with traitorous need. A moment later, the familiar warmth of your own arousal began to dampen your panties.

No, no, no….

“What are you-?” you began, and then your breath hitched as you felt the cold metal return and sit just below your shoulder blade. The weight of it pushed down on you, holding you in place, but not enough to hurt. Any heavier, however, and you’d have been gasping for breath, your lungs suffocating under the weight.

“High density seals.” Nighteye explained. “A special design of mine, with a variety of uses.”

You tried to shift against the weight, but then another piece of cold metal skirted the skin of your exposed neck before settling just below your other shoulder blade, effectively pinning your chest to the table.

“You could have made quite a profit selling those images.” Nighteye continued. “You could have been long gone from here, away from the corruption that’s tearing away at this city, stone by stone. But you didn’t. Why?”

Cold metal kissed the skin of your lower back where your shirt had risen from Nighteye’s harsh treatment earlier, skirting along the edge of your pants before sliding back up your spine. It grazed over the welt left from his crop earlier, causing you to flinch, before settling onto your lower back.

You swallowed. “I-I don’t know…”

“You can do better than that…” he chided.

The fourth and final seal followed, gently and meticulously placed opposite to the previous one.

Now, you could barely move, your legs and hips the only free part of you left. The chains kept your arms outstretched, the weights on your back pinning your body against the table. If you weren’t already at his mercy before, you most certainly were now. He could do literally anything to you. Crop you. Tickle you…

…Fuck you.

You squeezed your eyes shut.

‘Stop it,’ you told yourself.

“I’m waiting…” he said sternly.

You head was swimming with confusion, arousal, and fear. Your breath began to come out in rapid gasps. Your thighs tensed together and your heart pounded in your chest as and you struggled to regain your focus. “I…. I guess I wanted to meet you.”

“Why?”

“Please… I d-don’t know. You’re just… different than all the others.”

“Keep talking. You’re almost there.” His words were taunting as he guided you to verbally express what you refused to acknowledge.

“You’re… smart. Cunning…”

“Attractive?” he offered.

You swallowed the saliva in your mouth and turned your head away from his piercing gaze in shame. Your hair fell into your face, blocking his view.

“Yes.” You whispered.

That single confession, spoken out loud, was what undid you. Hot tears spilled from your eyes, landing on the photos beneath you. Nighteye was right. You were obsessed with him. Had been for months. It was humiliating. Stupid. And in the end, it was going to be what got you killed. After all, if it weren’t for your unhealthy obsession of him, you would have cashed in on the photos and never looked back.

The soft touch of his fingers brushed against your cheek, pushing the hair from your face.

“Tell me, Fangirl…” Nighteye’s voice was low, husky. “Do you think about me when you touch yourself?”

You choked at his words and turned your face away from his touch.

He didn’t bother to pull the answer from you; your body language spoke just as loudly as your broken voice. Still, he enjoyed this… he enjoyed unravelling you, breaking you bit by bit until all of your pretty little puzzle pieces were on display for him. Only then could he truly appreciate what made you tick. And once he learned what made you tick, you’d be his. After all, you’d gathered far more images than he’d originally suspected, which was a testament to your skill. It’d be a shame to kill you.

And he knew he wouldn’t have to kill you.

Nighteye stared down at you, watching you shift uncomfortably beneath him. His pulse raced, knowing exactly what would happen next.

“You want me.” He mocked.

A sob escaped your throat, and you shook your head.

“Really?” he drawled in amusement.

You heard him shift, and his groin was pressed against you now, his body leaning over yours like a cage. You felt his lips brush your ear as he spoke, his breath hot on your skin.

“Then why can I smell you?” he whispered.

Your breath stopped in your throat. It was so fucking crude. Shocking, coming from his stern lips. Before you could even recover from your astonishment, his hands were on you, warm, long fingers wrapping around your hips as he pressed into you. You could feel his cock through his dress pants, hard and thick, nestled between the curves of your ass cheeks. You were frozen, waiting, trapped within his grasp while your mind screamed and your body begged. This was wrong. So wrong. But the feel of his hands on you was so satisfying.

Nighteye’s hands danced along the hem of your pants until his fingers hooked beneath the black fabric and the underwear beneath it.

“Stop…” you whispered hoarsely.

He didn’t. In a single, swift motion, he tugged it down, exposing your aching cunt to his hungry eyes. His hands cupped the globes of your ass cheeks, his touch like fire against your sensitive flesh, squeezing and massaging as he took in the sight of you, the smell of you…

You were intoxicating.

“Look how wet you are.” He crooned.

Nighteye’s thumbs reached down to spread apart your glossy, swollen lips, exposing the glistening juices and welcoming entrance. You gasped softly as he scooped a finger between your parted folds, gathering your nectar onto his finger. A moment later, you could hear the soft, lewd sound of him sucking the essence from his digit, followed by a low hum of approval. You whimpered.

He was tasting you.

Your clit was already swollen with need, and without hesitation, he pressed the pads of his fingers against it and rubbed gentle circles.

A forbidden moan escaped your lips, your hips shifting into his touch as best they could with your limited movement, even as your arms pulled tight against the chains. He could see the tension in the muscles of your neck, your shoulders, every inch of your body tearing itself apart at his touch.

“You’re enjoying this aren’t you, Fangirl?”

Nighteye’s fingers slipped into you, and your body provided no resistance, eager for his touch. He watched your face intently. Brows furrowed, trembling lips parted to release shaky breaths. His motions were slow, steady, precise. He relished in the way your body twitched and spasmed beneath him, thighs tensing and spreading with primal instinct as you arched your ass up to meet his touch. You were standing on the balls of your feet now like a cat in heat, your body practically begging him to fuck you.

You could feel the pressure building, the hot coil tightening. A hot haze began to fill your vision, drowning out your conscience in favor of visceral need.

Suddenly, his fingers were gone, and before you could form a rational thought, a needy whine escaped past your lips, pleading for more.

“What a little whore you are.” Nighteye’s words were vile, but his tone was tender. It slid over you like warm honey, making the poison of it more palatable so it could slip past your crumbling defenses.

You heard the sound of a belt buckle being undone, the zipper sliding down, the shuffling of clothing.

There was a pause, and his voice was near your ear again, his rough whisper sending goosebumps across your flesh as he brushed away the hair covering your neck. “I’ll give you what you need. And when I’m done, you will give me what I need. Loyalty.”

Somewhere in the haze of your mind, you realized you were nodding your head in agreement.

Oh God…

Then you felt him… the hot head of his cock dragging along your entrance and gathering your juices in a languid sweep. He froze there for a moment, cock prepped and ready at your waiting hole, as his hands gripped the meat of your hips firmly within his fingers.

He didn’t wait for you to beg. He entered with a thrust, burying himself to the hilt and ripping a cry from your drooling lips as your hands gripped the chain securing them, the skin of your knuckles drawn tight across the bones. He withdrew with torturing slowness, then plowed himself into your depths again, earning another shriek. Then he did it again. Out slowly, only to destroy you on his return. Steadily, he pace quickened, building up his thrusts into a gruesome pace until he was fucking you without mercy, cock buried deep as his girth dragged against your inner walls. It was violent. It was heartless.

It was fucking bliss.

All you could do was cling to your chains as the drool from your mouth pooled onto the photos pinned beneath your sweaty face.

Nighteye’s fingers gripped you with bruising force as he fucked you, but your barely noticed it. You were wrapped in a blissful fog, the world around you muffled into a low hum as every inch of your being focused on the pleasure of his cock, each thrust breathing life deep into your core. The secret seed of desire was finally being watered. You could feel it growing within you, a fresh bud that would soon blossom into an explosion of color, sound, and touch.

Nighteye released one hip to slip his hand between your legs, his fingers finding the pulsing key to your undoing. The blooming flower within you finally unfurled, petals opening in a burst of hot red and bright yellow, stripping you of your vision as you squeezed your eyes such against the onslaught. It rolled over you like the sun over the hot desert, scalding you and burning away whatever might have been left of your dignity.

Nighteye came with a deep, guttural groan, his hot cum coating your walls as he fucked you through his own orgasm, laying claim to every inch of you. Even then, his fingers never ceased, taking you past bliss into agonizing overstimulation that caused your thighs to clench together and your cunt to tighten. It only added to his own pleasure, your death grip on his cock milking every drop from him.

Finally, his thrusts slowed until he came to a stop, his hand releasing you from his hold. Your body shivered and shook with the comedown as he slowly pulled out of you. With a final oddly sensual squeeze of your ass cheeks, he pulled your underwear and pants back up, trapping his cum within your panties even as it began to trickle down your swollen lips. It was an act of ownership. He wanted you to be swimming in his seed for as long as possible.

You laid there, body and spirit spent, as he adjusted himself back into his pants. You heard the zipper gliding back up, the clinking of his belt being reassembled, but it felt like listening through a pillow.

What the fuck just happened?

Without a word, Nighteye began removing his seals from your back, the relief of the pressure instantaneous as you took in deep breaths. Then, he came around and unhooked your chain from under the table before finally releasing your wrists of the heavy links. You laid there for a moment, staring at the sudden freedom with confusion before finally sitting up. Your movements were slow and careful. Every inch of you ached. The headache from earlier was back in full force. The welts left on your skin from his riding crop hissed with sensitivity.

While you rubbed at the bruises on your wrists, Nighteye returned to his desk to fill his glass with the alcohol on his bar cart. He grabbed a second glass and filled it halfway, and you watched with numb curiosity. With his own glass in hand, he returned to you and handed you the second glass which you took automatically. You stared at the contents before giving it a sniff and wrinkled your nose. Gin.

You took a small sip anyway. Hell, you certainly needed it after all of that.

Nighteye returned to his desk, where he situated himself at his leather chair. He pressed a button on the intercom sitting on his desk.

“Send Ichirou in.” he ordered.

A moment later, a young man with a tuft of black hair on his chin and grey eyes entered the room, a flush across his cheeks.

“Yes Sir?” the man asked.

“Set up accommodations for Ms. L/N. She will be staying with us indefinitely. And make sure to find her cat.”

Your eyes flicked to Nighteye in shock. He really did know everything.

“Yes Sir.” The man replied with a bow.

Ichirou motioned for you to follow him, so you took one final sip of your drink before setting it down on the table. Just as you were about to leave the room, Nighteye called to you. You turned to face him and froze as he peered at you over the rim of his glasses, his yellow eyes gleaming.

“Welcome to The Syndicate.”

———————

Taglist: @seigesinbin @bonesoftheimpala

#bnharem collab #villain AU #bnha lemon #no beta reader #cw:dubcon #we die like nighteye #cw:noncon #bnha smut #nighteye x reader #cw:dark content #with a smile on our face

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tylerxrbtwhp · 11 days ago

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DAYYUM.

Good Girl

You’ve been bad~

Fandom: BNHA

Pairing: Sir Nighteye x Reader

Rating: Explicit, minors BE GONE

Trigger Warnings: None really

AO3: Here | Want to support me? I have a Kofi

Author’s note: This is the first and only time I have ever written Daddy kink

Keep reading

#nighteye x reader #sir nighteye x reader #sasaki mirai x reader #mirai sasaki x reader

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tylerxrbtwhp · 11 days ago

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LORD???!

asking them to nut in you for the first time

description: self explanatory lol. hero edition.

warning: 18+!! minors dni. black fem reader.

Shouta Aizawa | Eraserhead

you two were pretty careful when it came to sex

neither of you wanted kids at the moment, so shota almost always wore a condom

once you got on birth control, you two were a tad more lenient, but still vigilant

there was one night, though... one night where you both were a bit sloppy.

"shouta. shouta—baby" you don't know what possessed you to say the following sentence. It could've been the wine you were drinking not too long ago, or the way your boyfriend looked at you, all loving and possessive as he was balls deep in your pretty pussy. "cum in me, pleasepleaseplease, wan' it so bad!" his hips didn't even falter, features barely changing save for the faint furrow in his brows. "fuck, you—really? want me to fill you up princess?" and all it took was another please! and a flutter of your walls around him before he was painting them white. needless to say, this was a normal occurrence after this night.

Mirai Sasaki | Sir Nighteye

I think mirai was pretty strict when it came down to fucking raw

he really don't want kids, too busy focusing on his agency and bettering hero society

no matter how much you tried to convince him to cum in you with your pretty words, he never gave in

well, until...

you were bent over mirai's desk, already fucked completely stupid. he hasn't even put his dick in you yet here you are, panting, grasping at anything in reach—and he tells you as much. his words, a mix of praise and degradation, had you begging for his cum. you lifted your leg onto his wooden desk, slick cunt on full display as you babbled "p-please sir, need you to cum in me, promise I wont waste it!" the moment you looked back at him, wide brown eyes filled with unshed tears and lust, a cord snapped in his brain. "so fucking filthy, 'course I'm gonna fill that pretty pussy up."

Keigo Takami | Hawks

you and Keigo are a lot sloppier as compared to the other two

there's been so many instances where he nearly came in you but pulled out last second

you're no better, wrapping your legs around him when he says he's close, whispering such nasty things in his ear that's got him wondering if a kid would really be all that bad

and that's how you ended up where you are now :)

"fuck, fuck, I'm so fucking close dove. feel so good around me." he had his face buried in your neck, left hand intertwined with your own, right hand gripping your thigh so hard you're sure there'll be bruises littering your brown skin. "gonna cum in me? want you to so bad." you began your usual routine of wrapping your free leg around Keigo's waist, making it much harder for him to pull out. "wanna make you a daddy, lemme give you a baby." and yeah, he couldn't say no when you were asking him like that.

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tylerxrbtwhp · 11 days ago

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i just finished the episode and i feel like CRYING. im gonan kms this is so good i fucking love nighteye. live love laugh nighteye, all the appreciation goes to the author and nighteye.

◈ 𝘔𝘪𝘳𝘢𝘪 𝘚𝘢𝘴𝘢𝘬𝘪 𝘹 𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

◈ 𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: Mirai is worried about coming back to his own agency after being handicapped during the Shie Hassaikai Raid. So you offer him the support a hero needs.

cw: fem!Reader, established marriage, mentions of disability/missing limb, smut, no dom/sub dynamics, body worship/praise, semi public (in his office), oral/deepthroating (m!receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, creampie, size kink, fluffy smut, semi edited word count: 4.2k

◈ ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ/ʙʟᴀɴᴋ/ᴀɢᴇʟᴇꜱꜱ ʙʟᴏɢꜱ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ʙʟᴏᴄᴋᴇᴅ ◈

Keep reading

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tylerxrbtwhp · 2 months ago

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saving this for later when i actually have some time 🙏🏼

The Blood Runs Thicker (part 20) ~vampire!William Afton x F! Reader~

~Uni sucks, life sucks and not even in the sexy vampire way, but I finally have some motivation to write! Also prepare for more expanded vampire lore!~

Tag-List; @ruh--roh-raggy @randymeeksisafinalgirl @sleepy---head @robin-the-enby @hungrhay @likoplays @slxsher-whxre @nicolezghostz @spiderlilytengu @yondus-girl @puppetstr1ings @tylerxrbtwhp @astral-decaf

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* Want more or something different? *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

CW:Minors DNI, (18+ ONLY), Female Reader, legal age gap (Reader- 20's, William - ??), graphic acts of violence, biting, knife-play, blood, blood-drinking/licking, mention of dead children, anaemia. Mentions of torture. Drama/Angst. Possessive behaviour

The light hurt your eyes even through your heavy lids as you were shaken awake. Groaning and swatting the large, heavy hand away from your shoulder before a soft chuckle reached your ears, earning a soft press of thick fingers into the bites along your neck, making you hiss uncomfortably and sit upright quickly. Blearily staring at the source of pain as he licked his fingers clean from the small drops of blood that coated them from your rebroken skin. "Good morning sunshine." A soft purr to his voice, scowling at him in return before he chuckled and shook his head slightly, twisting his body to grab something from behind him. "You're particularly irritable this morning."

"Oh jee, I wonder why that might be, maybe because you just stuck your finger in my neck?" Scowling at him as he placed a tray in your lap, heavy with fruits, toast and those tiny useless pots of jam that only hotels carried. Blinking slowly as you realised he was dressed already. The light was fading through the partly open curtains, and your whole body felt as if it was stiff and aching like you'd been working out for four days straight. "How long was I out?"

"Long enough, little rabbit." William murmured, his silvery eyes focused intently on you as his hand reached for your face, gently pulling on your lower eyelid and checking it for a moment before leaving his warm, rough palm against your cheek for a moment more. Seemingly lost in thought before he pulled it away and stretched, the pop of his back settling into place accompanied by a satisfied groan. "I was starting to worry about you."

"Worry about me? Are you going soft, old man."

"Says the person who fucked that 'old man' last night." Waggling his eyebrow suggestively before you groaned, rolling your eyes in return and inhaling deeply. Realising just how hungry you were when you picked up the first piece of toast and smelt it, shoving it into your mouth unceremoniously as William stood up from the bed, your face turning into a slight frown as you realised that it wasn't quite as flavourful as you expected. Putting it down to stress, you shrugged and continued eating.

He grabbed a bottle from the mini-fridge, recognizing the dark liquid inside with not so much as an eyebrow raise anymore as he began to chug it like milk from the carton, giving you an ample chance to look over him and appraise what he was wearing for the day.

Afton looked somewhat more put together, the faint pink lines under his collar from the springlock failure lighter than the previous day even, dressed in a black dress shirt and a pair of black tailored slacks he looked as if he meant business as he rolled the sleeves up. Giving you a fanged grin as he caught you staring at his scared forearms as he revealed them and making you blush and turn your attention back to breakfast.

"You look nice." The compliment mumbled knowing full well that the vampire would be able to hear you. Earning another grin and a hum of approval as he looked you over, sheets carefully wrapped around your body as you made your way through the food he'd brought you. The morning light streaming in and catching your face, he felt his chest pang with something, frowning and pressing it far down back into the little box it had escaped from before he turned his back to you.

"Thank you bunny, I got some clothes out for you too, to make you look presentable."

"Is this the other friend you mentioned?"

"It is."

"We didn't have to dress up for Henry."

"That was different. This is...." William trailed off, trying to think on how to describe what he was planning on dragging you into. His shoulders tensing before slumping slightly, still on edge but thinking how he had lost his temper with you unfairly the day before and you had gone out to find him food. You had been willing to risk yourself for him more than once, and now, William Afton was starting to feel his debt to you biting him in the ass. "It's not so much a friend."

Turning his head, he could see you looking up at him, curious, with that little head tilt to one side that you subtly did when you wanted him to continue talking without wanting to ask. Sighing again as he turned around and leaned against the dresser, arms crossed against his chest almost protectively as his silvery eyes avoided yours.

"We're going to meet somebody that can help us get away from it all. Make sure that it's harder for Elizabeth and Michael to find us, or any other old ghost for that matter." Pursing his lips and rubbing his hand over his greying beard for a moment before continuing. "Not that I expect them to actually do it, but even being in that area, I might run into somebody who is willing to help out."

"You trust this person?"

"Oh not for a second, which....which is what I should warn you about. They're...manipulative, they'll try to get into your head, given half the chance, they will eat you alive."

"Sounds awfully familiar." Jumping in your skin slightly as you felt William's warm, rough hand on your chin and forcing you to look up at him. Having not heard him moving across the room, you forgot how silent the vampire could be when he wanted to be.

"I'm serious, little rabbit. They will slaughter you for fun given the opportunity. When we met, it was survival. We're talking about a vampire that doesn't need to do things like that, who's built up an empire so vast and expansive that they have no need to hunt for anything except for spot." The cold, stern tone to his voice made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, swallowing softly as you nodded as best as you could in his grip.

"Who the hell are you taking me to see, William?"

The vampire paused before he made himself let go of your jaw, biting his lip for a moment before he shook his head, looking away from you and fiddling with the rolled up cuffs on his sleeves. It made you even more nervous, seeing him fidgeting so much, so agitated, almost more so than when you were on the way to see Henry Emily. You began to worry about what on earth you were being dragged into this time, what would make William Afton nervous, aside from another ghost of his past.

"We're going to visit my sire. The one who made me what I am."

You almost wished that you were dealing with the ghosts again.

William had played dress-up with you before you left the motel. Making sure that you were wearing stockings, a small pair of heels that you weren't sure where in hell he pulled them from in his packed car, and a black dress that looked more suited to a job interview than going out. The high neckline covering up everything to just past your collarbones, the sleeves short and open, pinched at the waist and coming down to your knees, you almost thought it looked like something you'd wear to a funeral. William had pulled on a sweater over the top of his shirt, dark blue still somewhat stark against his black shirt, his eyes focused on the road ahead and the streetlights reflecting in his glasses as day began to slowly turn into night again.

He had explained through the quiet chatter on the radio that his sire lived in a city a few hours south, although he had to do a detour to make sure that you wouldn't pass through Hurricane again and risk detection, and that they were currently living in Arizona in what was classed as a 'nest' of other vampires of their own making. His sire had always been social, and thrived off of the attention that being doted upon by the ones they made gave them. You'd asked why he hadn't lived with them instead of returning to Hurricane, and you saw him tense at the corner of your vision for a moment before his reply finally spilt from his lips.

"I did for a time. Where did you think I disappeared to after I thought all my bridges had been thoroughly burnt?"

From the rest of the ride through some of the blistering Southern heat, you learned a little about vampire society in preparation to your first major exposure to it.

Firstly, vampires were often solitary, and in fact, his sire's situation was unusual. Too many vampires in one place starts to attract attention when blood bank stocks were low, or there was an absurdly large number of 'missing persons' that existed in a radius around that vampire nest. New Orleans, or major metropolitan areas such was New York were the only exceptions he could think of to that rule, but there were still limits to how effective that exception was.

Secondly, when a vampire was made they had a bond to their sire. It wasn't a paternal or maternal bond, but it gave the sire influence over their creations. William explained it more as a safety mechanism, it prevented the sireling from killing the sire, and the sire would be able to command their sireling to stop them from doing something stupid in return. However, the bond could be broken, especially if the sire wasn't present during the first moments after transformation, which he reluctantly explained was how Michael had been able to hurt him.

Thirdly, he needed to make a stop at a place before reaching his sire.

The street William pulled up to in the city that they reached as it was turning to true dark was just off of what looked like the equivalent of China-town for this city. The streets brightly lit and bustling with people despite the late hour, the sound hitting you like a wall when you stepped from the car, mouth watering as you could smell so many delicious things that you wanted to try as William encouraged you to link your arm with his and began to walk. His hands shoved deep into his pockets as he walked alongside you, eyes darting about and keeping you close to his side as you both received some glances from the local residents.

After a moment, he pulled you into little shop that had no sign out front, but the darkened windows and black lacquered panelling made it look rather ominous as you had to blink to adjust to the sudden light change once inside. The sound of a softly tinkling bell reaching your ears as your eyes adjusted to the gloom to see a small Asian woman emerging from the back, her black hair tied up in a bun and wearing a worn out t-shirt.

"I'm sorry we're just closing up for-"

"The changing of the guard? No worries, I'm happy to wait." William chuckled, his confidence seemingly back in place as he held himself, properly, releasing his arm from yours and gently tapping the middle of your back, leaning in to whisper to you. "Go have a look at the shelves for a bit, we won't be long."

You nodded slowly, the woman behind the counter eyeing you both suspiciously as you padded through the eerily quiet store. Breathing in deeply, you realised pretty quickly that it was a more traditional medicine shop, barrels and bags of various herbs and spices laying around, little drawers lining the back wall with carefully scribbled labels, making you squint as you tried to figure out what some of them said with the herbal, tea-like smell and the dim lighting making you feel sleepy.

"What are you still doing out there silly girl, I only sent you to get-" Another voice emerged from the back, heavy with an accent that couldn't quite place, and turning your head to see a short, older woman appearing from the back. The resemblance between the older and younger woman was uncanny, although the older woman was much shorter, and you couldn't help but immediately sense a familial connection between them. "Well well, do my eyes deceive me in my old age, or is that you William Afton?"

"The one and the same Mrs. Li, although I'm afraid I haven't aged as gracefully as you." William chuckled and smiled at the older woman, making her tut through her teeth and shake her head. Her dark hair shining in the low light like it was lacquered into place with how severe and precise the bun on her head was.

"Stop it you, embaressing me in front of my grand-daughter."

"Grand-daughter? My goodness, the last time I saw you, you were but a baby." The younger woman crossed her arms across her chest at the statement, and you couldn't help the pang of jealousy in the familiarity in his tone, although you knew that he was surely just being friendly.

The older woman sniffed and turned her head towards you, looking at you in the low light with eyes that seemed unnaturally dark, your brain wracking for what about them looked ever so slightly uncanny before you realised that it was almost like too much of her eyes were taken up by iris. Darkening the eye, reducing the amount of white that you could see.

"And you've brought a friend this time. A human friend at that." Mrs. Li offered you a smile, and you gave one back, before making your way back over to William, something in your instincts making you want to be closer to the vampire than the woman. "I smell her on you, and you on her."

"That would be correct, she's mine."

"About time you found one, last I heard you were back to haunting some dusty old restaurant." She chuckled, the younger woman disappearing with a dismissive wave after something was mumbled in Chinese, leaving through a bead curtain into the back of the store and presumably getting back to work.

"I could say the same with you still haunting this old shop."

"Bah, we all have our vices. Mine is my family, yours was your restaurant. But now, are you seeking a new vice, or perhaps a little something to take the edge off of some cravings?" The woman's smile was normal, perhaps a little crooked, but something about it made your skin crawl. Chastising yourself mentally for thinking so poorly of the small, harmless looking woman, although you were picking up on the slightly strange way that they were speaking to each other.

"Nothing like that, Mrs. Li. I was wondering if you still sold the old claiming sets?" You raised an eyebrow at the name, and the older woman chuckled, parting her lips and giving you the briefest glimpse of fangs layered behind their human teeth, making you blink as you were unsure that you had even seen it before she gave a coy smile at you.

"We have a few, they're rather old fashioned now, even amongst the elder sires."

"Yeah well, you know what a pretentious, old-fashioned bitch I'm on my way to see. It's a precaution." Afton's brow furrowed in concern, and the woman's smile dropped, looking solemnly up at him for a moment before her dark eyes flickered towards you.

"You're sure about going to see her, when you have company?"

"I need their help, and you know better than anybody that's she's damn-well aware of my presence in her city by now."

Mrs. Li sighed after a moment, shuffling around to look at the boxes on the wall, her fingers and long nails scratching lightly against the wood for a moment before landing on the brass handle of a box that looked like any of the others. Pulling it free and settling the long drawer on the counter, allowing you both to see inside. The inside was padded with green velvet, time-worn and fading, cradling a silvery coloured pair of chains inside. Her delicate fingers picking them up and examining them with a meticulous gaze before nodding and turning to look at William once more.

"I take it your symbol is still a rabbit."

"I am a creature of habit, as we all are Mrs. Li."

"Maybe an hour and it'll be ready. I'll bring some snacks out for you both. I'm not sending you away hungry."

The older woman shuffled off into the back, murmuring to herself in what you presumed was Chinese before looking at William, who simply smiled at you, even if it was a little strained for a reason you were growing increasingly concerned about. Gesturing for you to follow into the back with a flourish of his hand, keeping his thick fingers resting on the curve of your spine as he followed behind you.

There was something he wasn't telling you about his sire, but you supposed that you were in too deep to back out now, as you headed through the beaded curtains and into the dark beyond.

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