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MHA BOYS: MIDORIYA, IIDA, SHOJI, KIRISHIMA

Their Favorite Thing You Do

MIDORIYA

Midorya loves it when you laugh. He will take you on dates to comedy shows and things you find cute just to see you laugh. He likes to take pictures of you when you are in the middle of laughing. He and Shoto show each other pictures of you and Shoto's significant other.

IIDA

Iida loves it when you take his glasses off. If you notice they're dirty you'll take them off and clean them while he tries his hardest to see you. He absolutely melts when you take his glasses off to kiss him.

SHOJI

Shoji loves it when you give him hugs. You can't help it, he has the best hugs!! But it always takes Shoji by surprise when he sees you run up to him with your arms out. He still is basking in the fact that you're not scared of him let alone that you like him close to you. He really is a gentle giant.

KIRISHIMA

Kirishima loves it when you hold on to his forearm. He's a strong gentleman and when you do that he feels that way. He will almost literally bounce up and down in excitement and pride from you doing and his good mood will be ten times better (if that's possible). He will brag to Bakugo non-stop.

✮⋆˙ STUDENTS

Todoroki

⭑ love addict | male!mitsuri | series | romantic

Bakugo

⭑ lemons | gn!reader | song-ish oneshot

✮⋆˙ HEROES

none currently…

✮⋆˙ VILLAINS

Shigaraki

⭑ blind loyalty | villain!reader | series | platonic

in which Soda Shinji, a boy meant to die years ago, grows fond of his older brother, perhaps a little to much… He now faces a dilemma, acknowledge the truth and own up to it, or fuel his brother's delusions, and lord knows he can't refuse his brother…

✮⋆˙ MULTI-CHARACTER

none currently…

© marion3tt3 | 2024 | all rights reserved

BLIND LOYALTY — SHIGARAKI X MALE!NEZUKO

✶ pairing : platonic

✶ synopsis : after meeting his new brother Shinji developes a strange protectiveness over him, however his mentor takes notice of this and decides to take advantage of it. As time goes on he notices the tricks his mentor uses to not only control him, but his brother as well. But looking at his sibling, he can’t break his spirit, so instead he decides to follow along and support his brother to the end…

✶ warnings : these vary each chapter!! yandere themes, yandere reader, male oc reader, murder, gore, twisted actions, spoilers, kidnapping, abuse, assault, angst, etc.

✶ notes : I’m going to be focusing on this story, gonna try and get it started before doing any other. Btw, this is not incest it is purely platonic, however reader is a yandere

✶ taglist : none… ask in comments to be tagged!

✮⋆˙ CHAPTERS

TEASER

000 | Prolouge

001 | Hate at first sight

more coming soon…

© marion3tt3 | 2024 | all rights reserved

struck by your lightning (idol au)

pairing: kaminari denki x reader 

reader’s pronouns: he/him

You’re a reporter working at the red carpet of a national award gala. You’ve convinced yourself that you’re doing just fine. At least, you’re doing fine until you interview Kaminari.

notes: since this fic is both a chat fic and a regular fic, the formatting is better over on ao3. but, I wanted to post it here too :P

Keep reading

PLAY DATE (CHERRY)— aizawa shouta x male reader

wc: ~6.5k

cw: dilf!aizawa, babysitter!reader, sexual tension, slow burn, spanking/impact play, finger-sucking, d/s undertones, daddy kink, praise, manhandling, age gap (21 yr old reader, 41 yr old aizawa), porn with plot, size difference/kink, spit/drool, degradation, rimming, hand holding, full nelson, creampie, breeding kink, light feminization

a/n: yes i was listenin to lana while writin this! howd u know?!

The click of a mouse. The sound of a scroll wheel grinding against plastic— rubbery and restricted. A family of five, four, three..family oriented individuals with more kids on their hands than time. It was late, even for you. Who scoured the internet until the sky’s inky black atmosphere was painted a pacific blue. From there, you’d tend to sleep into the late hours of the evening, beneath the comfort of a heavy weighted blanket, until your phone went off or a nightmare pulled you from your slumber.

Your dry, tired eyes trace the blurry words of your computer screen, the bright white light beaming through the depths of your continuously darkening bedroom. The room is almost radio silent— save for the occasional crunching of chips between your teeth and the fan of your laptop working overtime. The text is almost hard to read, shying away behind a hazy glare.

‘One kid—6 year old girl. One pet— black bombay cat.’

Sounds promising. The letters are arranged in a blunt manner, straight to the point and even somewhat intimidating, but the clear boundaries and requirements listed are fair enough.. Maybe even tilted in your favor. Your cursor wanders, ready to further inspect the profile presumed to belong to the parent who created the listing.

Shouta Aizawa, a middle-aged man with a salt and pepper beard, long hair to match, and a distinctive scar below his eye— which looks milky and clear. The other, however, is a deep pool of brown, warm like melted chocolate. His irises melt into his long lashes, which remain straight and strict, much like the demeanor he emits in the headshot photo. It must be reminiscent of his ID, as his career is listed just below his picture.

Owner of Eraserhead Industries.

Huh.

Chewing the fleshy insides of your cheeks, your eyes dart across the screen, hesitantly inching the cursor over the bright, bolded ‘message’ button. Sparks ignite in your stomach, blooming in the expanse of your tummy as you type out,

‘When can I start?’

You hear yourself squeal, pushing away your mouse with your fingertips and hiding behind the warmth of your palms before your computer chimes in response. The message stares back at you, perforating into you as you read it over and over, trying to imagine how this—practicably— rich man would sound. You settle for a deep voice, giggling to yourself as you read out the message.

‘The sooner the better.’

The man is much scarier in person, and your imitation of his voice was nowhere near accurate.

His voice is much deeper than you thought, gravelly and not nearly as riddled with giggles like you’d tacked on. In fact, it only seems to deepen as he nurses a mug of black coffee, just one large hand completely shielding the cup in its entirety. He’d ordered it, busying himself with the sheets of paper he had placed upon the polished table as you explained just how much whipped cream you’d wanted in your milkshake to the waitress.

He takes up most of the space on his side of the booth in the homely café, his layers discarded and shed along the plush seating. The man with dark eyes, Shouta Aizawa, is a natural born leader. The physical embodiment of sticks and stones, seemingly stronger than Zeus himself, he seems to have no faults.

But that’s not what you should be focusing on, not now, when you’re preoccupied with narrowed, umber eyes. They look at you with nothing but impenetrable suspicion, remarkably intimidating despite belonging to someone who looks incredibly angelic. Tufts of frosty hair, unruly and disheveled and divine. The sun dawns down on Musutafu, framing his locks in a makeshift halo. He looks like a fallen angel, of sorts.

“I don’t trust my kids with other kids,” He says, watching the dark amalgamation of caffeine swirl in his porcelain cup. Does he consider his cat to be his kid, too? “How old are you?”

You perk up, straightening your back as you push your straw in and out of your sickeningly sweet milkshake. Whipped cream clings to the plastic, sticky and bubbly with foam, “Twenty-one, sir.”

Aizawa makes a face at that, steely eyes drooping further with the pinch of his dark eyebrows. They slot perfectly, intricate wrinkles firming between them. Did you… fuck it up? You’d consider yourself an adult— comparable to law, anyway. And you can be mature, especially when it counts, so there shouldn’t really be a problem!

It’s evident he loves his kids, despite the hard exterior that he’s showing off there’s a fatherly glint to his eye. A protective overlay to his words. It’s admirable, if anything. You’d even call it charming, the way his eyes bore into you from the outside-in and pick you apart, if it wasn’t so damn scary being on the receiving end.

“Do you drink?”

“…No?”

“Do you plan to?”

More of an interrogation than anything, you take an awfully long time to reply as you use his suspension as an opportunity to savor your milkshake.

“No.”

You make sure to sound more confident this time.

His questions have been asked before, over text and in a manner not as… blunt as you hear it now. But it’s all down to perception, and you’d managed to wrongfully pin Shouta Aizawa as a care-free, laid back guy. Though, from the looks of it, he seems to live up to the ladder. And, upon closer inspection, it does nothing to tarnish his looks.

“Mm,” Is all he says, humming in acknowledgment as a check is placed his way. “You’re young.”

“Young enough to be your son?” You ask, mouth faster than your brain, and suddenly you can’t stop. Your lips curl upward, a smile gracing your lips as you giggle, “People probably think you’re my sugar daddy or somethin’.”

He doesn’t seem to completely respond to that, letting the comment fly into the air as he shifts. Heat somersaults into your face, heating your body up until you find yourself unable to hold eye contact. Nice going.

You wrap your lips around the plump cherry slowly sinking into your drink, twirling the stem between your teeth. It explodes in your mouth, sharp and sweet along the expanse of your tongue, a nice distraction.

Something alien flickers behind his eyes, “Tech savvy?”

“I— Yeah! I play video games,” You almost forget this is an interview, not a date. The thought makes your brain a little fuzzy, cotton forming in your mouth as you stumble over your answer. “Not— Y'know, never on the clock.”

Shouta looks much more vulnerable with his head turned, his veiny hand reaching into the pocket of his inky pants, pulling out an equally dark credit card. No way. His handwriting is illegible, but the swooning waitress deems it acceptable, thanking him for the tip with a high blush on her cheeks. There isn’t a single ring on his calloused fingers, so it’s almost shocking he doesn’t jump at the opportunity

“Good. Eri likes games.” It’s the most praise you’ve heard all night, and hearing it from the deep rumble of his throat makes it even better. Your gaze must linger, because his dark eyes are staring back into yours, almost looking right through you.

“Eri? Your daughter?”

“I don’t like sharing personal information online.”

You laugh nervously, filling your mouth with the melting drink before he can comment.

“I—Woah, sir… your home is… beautiful.” It’s not just flattery, you genuinely, sincerely mean it. You’ve seen it before, sure, through text and under much more professional scrutiny, but the camera doesn’t do it justice. His house aches with love, wrapped up in kisses and enveloped in a sweet, cinnamon-scented embrace.

There’s a heavy amount of childish memorabilia, like crayon drawings hung up on his stainless steel fridge, miscellaneous toys littering the floor, and a pair of tiny shoes resting next to your own. They look comically small, glittery and pink and utterly, indubitably, reminiscent of a six year old girl. Especially in comparison to the sleek, black sneakers Shouta slips off next to them. Utterly, indubitably, reminiscent of a forty-one year old man.

Aizawa makes his way through the living room while you marvel in astonishment, taking in the sights of his house. Surprisingly, despite his not-so-settle display of wealth, his home is the opposite. It’s the real thing, with lived-in floors and comfy furniture..lively and bright. Sure, his sofa is a muted gray, but the portraits and polaroids and children’s drawings make up for it.

You follow along, nearly tripping over some misplaced barbies and action figures as you quickly remove your shoes and stumble forward. Like a newborn fawn, unfamiliar to its own legs, you walk forward with a bashful smile.

It was almost easy for you to forget that he’s human, and not some strong-willed work-machine designed to finish tasks and take care of children.

But the way his joints pop when he shifts a certain way, the way sweat trickles down his forehead after a long day of working in a stuffy office, proves otherwise. It was then, you realize, that he is all flesh and bones. Not pen ink or an indestructible force.

“Eri’s… picky. Try exposing her to different foods every now and then, there’s a list of recipes she likes on the fridge.”

Shouta’s leaning against the marble of his open-island kitchen, socked feet melting into the cold tile. You half-expected his socks to be just as dark as his clothes, so it’s a pleasant surprise to see cartoonish cat faces littering the fabric.

Right—anyway. You nod, though it’s mainly reserved for yourself, as your eyes rake up the words stuck to his fridge. Freshly printed out, not an inch out of place, you wonder how many times he’s done this. The gears turn in your head, clicking and grinding until your lips part, a breathless expression keyed into your facial features. Wait.

“Does that mean—”

“I’ll text you the extra details. Eri’s bedroom is upstairs, but you should wait for her to show it to you when she’s ready.”

Your apartment is a flimsy excuse of a home, nowhere near as intricate and thoroughly loved as Shouta’s. Walking inside, you realize just that, there isn’t even a hint of glitter or gleam as you walk through the front door. Even though you have yet to meet her, Eri’s already brightened up your life. Your walls scream with loneliness, the sound bouncing off each corner until you’re tucking yourself into bed and curling up beneath the sheets.

And though you barely know him, you can’t help but want to follow the childish urge to open up the website you found Aizawa’s listing on to study his headshot.

Eri, you’ve come to learn, is a very smart kid. Perhaps too smart for her own good, too observant, and way too excited to express said observations. You sit taut on the gray sofa, leaning over a sheet of paper as you carefully color between the lines of the thick, inky, coloringbook outline. But Eri’s got her own leaflet, vigorously coloring something she has yet to allow you to look at.

You haven’t known her long enough for the leaves to brown, to fall off and make room for winter. You haven’t known her long enough to see the leaves return, the chilly air slowly descending into something softer, quieter. Warmer with summer’s welcome. But she grew to accept you rather quickly.

It started soon after your first meeting with Aizawa, and to your dismay, you hadn’t really seen much of him after that. Only small traces and fragments, like the religious filling of Present Meow’s food bowl or notes tacked onto the fridge.

Admittedly, you kinda miss him.

You’ve become quite engrossed in Eri’s choice in television, watching the cartoon with just as much excitement as the six your old. It even makes you laugh, hearty and dinkum.

“How do you feel about niku-dofu for dinner tonight, Er-bear?” She barely moves, her tongue held between the corner of her lips as she furrows her brows in concentration. Whatever she’s coloring is much more important than dinner, apparently.

With outstretched limbs, you stand, reaching for the sky as a yawn is pulled from your chest and your eyes grow heavy. Being dragged along by a six year old all day is exhausting. The hairstyling, the nail-painting, the hero-pretending…the dolls.

(Eri quite enjoyed acting out soap-opera levels of dramatic scenes with dolls. And, of course, you could only be the man in these scenarios.)

But you wouldn’t have it any other way. You’ve grown attached in the span of a few weeks.

“I’ll take that as a yes then!” You chirp, setting down your finished page with a sense of pride. Might even have to add a signature to it!

With Eri’s toys scattered along the floor, despite your constant advisory to clean them up, walking through the house has become quite the challenge. An obstacle course of sorts that Aizawa must’ve been a master at getting through.

Aizawa… With dark circles that cast shadows down his mature face. With stubble that’s cleanly shaved, not a single hair out of place.

Aizawa…With his long, dark hair that frames his face with thick bundles.

Aizawa… Who almost constantly looks disgruntled, faintly pink lips pulled into a tight line.

Him and his signature crisp, black button up that barely fights against his large chest and his matching pants that cling to his stupidly strong thighs.

It makes your brain a little fuzzy, the thought of his equally large biceps bulging in his shirt as he crosses his arms and stares down at you through the bridge of his nose. And his eyes— piercing and domineering staring straight into yours, lips curled as he berates you like some sort of misbehaving child.

(Which you’d spent a lot of time arguing with him about through sticky-notes…The fridge is powered evidence, covered in neon paper as you remind him you’re ‘not a kid!’ beneath his ‘not bad, kid’ post-it note.)

“Hey? Are you okay?” Eri’s small voice snaps you out of your haze, wide and virtuous red eyes blinking up at you. Clutching her drawing to her chest, she shifts her weight between each leg. Her small smile is gone, so you do your best to conjure up a frolicsome grin.

“Never felt better! Finally ready to show me what you’re working on?”

“Mhm,” She hums, reminiscent of her father.

Eri’s picture is nothing short of sweet. Advanced for her age, she’s drawn three figures that resemble the three of you— herself, Aizawa, you— sitting happily at the generously furnished dining table. On her lap sits Present Meow, a black ball of crayon-esque fur, who has small, wobbly hearts above his head. You all do, actually, some bigger than others (e.i: you quite literally have heart eyes that take up more than half your crayon face), but big nonetheless.

Is your crush on her father really that obvious?

“Oh, Eri, that’s—”

The front door trembles, the doorknob clicking and jingling as it welcomes silver keys. Before your eyes, Shouta’s welcoming himself in, strong right arm pushing the door open. His shoulders are draped in exhaustion, his gray scarf tangled around his neck as he shuts the door behind him.

Embarrassment wells up in your stomach, overflowing until you’re hiding Eri’s drawing behind your back. He doesn’t typically come home this early. Usually within the late hours of the night, into early morning, he can be seen rummaging through the fridge for a drink until he heads upstairs, straight to bed.

Instead, he’s stalking forward.

Did his steps always shake the house like this, or are you just imagining it? You must be, it must be your heart in your ears, because your face is flooding with warmth as he towers over you and peeks over your shoulder.

“What’s behind your back?” He lifts an inquisitive eyebrow, faintly smelling of cigarette smoke.

“What? Noth—”

“Look!” Eri snatches the drawing from your clammy hands and pushes it into Shouta’s abdomen. He hunches over, just slightly, before taking in the image.

“Jesus, kid,” He clicks his tongue with a tenderhearted sigh, looping his thumb around the waistband of his black slacks. “You’re somethin’ else...”

You’d have thought it was meant for Eri if his gaze didn’t flicker up to meet yours.

Dinner rolled around fast, and you’d found yourself nicking your finger on one of Shouta’s large, sharpened knives. Cutting up a small portion of potatoes shouldn’t have been so trivial, a pained gasp escaped your lips as you pinched the tiny wound. You wince, instinctively sucking on the skin of your mangled finger.

“I told you to be careful,” He took your hand in his, swallowing it whole with his palms, and went as far as to berate you, grumbling, “Watch yourself. Are you okay?”

Breathless as you watched him open a nearby drawer, he pulled out a kiddie bandaid, decorated with polka dots and even more cats. You held still, letting him wrap the bandage around your finger nice and tight. And then, only then, did he place a small kiss on top.

“There you go, all better.” It’s a passing comment, only pried from his lips because he was so used to saying it to Eri, and he didn’t seem to realize just how flustered it made you. So you coughed into your hand, secretly hoping the warmth permeating off his body would return to your skin.

Now, with dinner finished, Eri has no problem shoveling the food into her mouth. Must've been all the running around, gave her an appetite fit for a grown woman. It’s not like you have room to talk, you’ve almost choked on your side of miso soup a whopping three times. Shouta seems to be the only composed person at the table.

“You got a little,” Shouta points to the corner of his mouth, waving his willowy finger in a quick, circular motion. “Right…there.”

“Hm?” He watches your face contort, timid and self conscious. He can’t help but smile, just a small upward quirk to the corner of his lips, that slowly disappears as he leans in to wipe off a few grains of rice from the side of your mouth.

There he goes again, acting all domestic, as he raises the same finger to his own mouth. Your pupils blow wide, heat forming in your stomach as he sucks off the rice with disregard for how this might look to anyone besides a father.

Your eyes flicker to Eri, who’s too busy fighting off sleep with the handle of her silver spoon, her tiny head jerking and bobbing every so often, to notice the display.

“I guess—- guess it’s time for bed!” Your voice cracks embarrassingly loud as you stand, quick to stop in your tracks when Aizawa follows suit.

“I got it.”

Aizawa, you’ve learned, says that quite a lot. Despite his generous hourly pay and your obligation to take care of his child, he insists it’s best if he cleans after her. Too intimidated to argue, you simply nod, falling back onto his couch as he ventures back for forth— upstairs and back.

Each time he returns, he notices the droop in your eyes, the way they slowly fall with each step he takes. It’s late, he should be escorting you home, but he doesn’t want to disturb your well-earned sleep session.

As he sits to finally take a break, letting his joins snap and pop, you fall face-first into his shoulder, smashing your cheek against the firm skin.

Your lips pucker, pouty and almost fish-like. Your boyish face, soft and not yet worn down by the tiresome nature of time in itself, looks undeniably cute. Perfect for kissing and irrevocably inviting. Your eyes are shut, lashes resting against your cheeks. Time stops, minutes passing within hours, as Shouta takes in your essence and stares down at your innocent face. Stealing a kiss would just be… so…easy…

“Fix your face,” He says instead, clearing his throat and directing his gaze to the dimly lit, yellow-tinted lamp resting on the end table placed by his half of the sofa. “Or it’ll get stuck like that.”

“M’sorry.” You whisper, bashful as ever despite the slippery hands of sleep reaching back for you. Do you even know what you’re apologizing for?

It makes Aizawa want to retract his statement, press his thumb into the unobtrusive crease forming between your pretty eyebrows. But it leaves before it has time to arrive— to settle, as your body relaxes once more. He observes for a moment, the dip of the couch as you finally sink your weight into it, the debt collectors contracted with sleep finally having caught up with you.

Preserving himself through all these years, none being particularly good to him, he wonders if you’ve faced any similar endeavors. He’d hate to leave you alone, cold and barren as another side of his bed remains despicably untouched, only the ghost of what could have been keeping him company during this sleep-centric night. Your breaths are slow and steady, lips briefly parting to mumble something he can’t quite grasp. Shouta tries anyway, tucking his stubbly chin against his collarbone as he leans forward.

His face is dangerously close, a mere inch separating the gap between his lips and soft, supple skin. With your head nuzzled against his shoulder—broad and wide—your words dispel into the thin fabric of his t-shirt. Alongside a fine layer of drool, something he's all too used to, that slowly spreads the deeper you fall into undisturbed sleep. A heavy sleeper then, he presumes.

Shouta keeps you close, pressing your body against his as he loops his other arm behind your legs and hoists you up. He’s careful to avoid any furniture, holding you with an iron grip as he steps up the creaky stairs. His hair bounces with each step, curly and dark, flowing down his back and streaked with gray.

“..Zawa…” Nearly dropping you, his mismatched gaze locks onto your face. Blissed out and camouflaged with slumber, you stir in his arms. “Kiss me ‘lready.”

Aizawa clears his throat, neck constricting as it tightens around the air. It’s fine, just a baseless comment, he decides, as he slowly opens his bedroom door, careful of the noise. You don’t seem to move after that, dozing in his arms until he’s setting you down into his bed. He really hopes you don’t mind it— he doesn’t have a guest bedroom, after all.

It’s dark in his room, blackout curtains covering any sliver of radiance from outside streetlights. So he flicks on the lamp on his bedside table, watching the slow rise and fall of your chest as he lifts his arms overhead to remove his shirt. Something cold prods at his back, and before he can shed the clothing, Shouta redirects himself to look back at you.

Half asleep, your foot creeps under the comfortable fabric of his shirt. You must’ve discarded your socks in your sleep, because you’re rubbing your eyes with balled up fists as if you’d just woken up. Doesn’t stop you from speaking, vocal cords strained, “S’this the part where we cuddle?”

Aizawa watches you shimmy out of your pants, obviously groggy and irrational from having just opened your eyes, your warm skin slowly being exposed inch by inch. You must overheat in your sleep.

“No, it’s not,” He groans out, sucking in a sharp intake of air as he takes in the mural being painted in front of him. “Go back to sleep, kid.”

“Don’ wanna,” You mumble, much more awake as your eyes hone in on the skin of his back that he’s partially exposing. “And I’m not a kid.”

“Sound like one.” You hear him grovel under his breath, almost as if you were meant to hear it. Aizawa has quite the ability to be silent when he wants to, he can creep up on you without you ever noticing. So you suck your teeth, sitting up in his bed.

He expects you to respond with something witty, something he has to pretend he doesn’t find funny. But you don’t, instead staying uncharacteristically silent. Had it not been the dip in his mattress, he would have assumed you dissolved into thin air.

God, how you hope he won’t find you childish for this.

“Sir, I,” Shouta stiffens, his hair falling from behind his ear as he turns to fully face you. “Can I kiss you?”

“Can you..” He trails off, watching your bottom lip jut out. Plump and shiny, Aizawa resists the urge to sink his teeth into it. How soft would they feel? Would you cry into his mouth if he bit too hard? Anything in his hands becomes fragile, and he wants to know how far you can bend before you break. “Can you kiss me?”

He doesn’t give you time to respond, grabbing your ankle with his rough hands to drag you down into him. Your pretty eyes widen, large and unsuspecting as he crashes his lips against yours, feverish and desperate.

His tongue swipes over your lower lip and eagerly awaits yours, tasting faintly of cigarette smoke and cinnamon. Undeniably Shouta, you can’t help but whimper into his mouth, tangling your fingers into his disheveled hair. His mouth is warm and wet— almost searing hot, and you can’t help but choke on your own breaths. You sink into the kiss, floaty and dumbstruck by his urgency.

Like a starved man, he pushes you down on your back and tangles his big hands in the waistline of your boxers, tugging the elastic apart until it rips with a ‘snap!’. You’re exposed, legs instinctively closing to shield your half naked body.

“Aht-aht. Sit still,” Aizawa hand quickly latches around the base of your dick, sending shocks of electricity up your smaller (in comparison to his) body. You tug on his wrist, eyes burning with unshed tears as he stares down at you, predatory and famished. “When’s the last time you played with this pretty cock? Did you think of me?”

He doesn’t give you time to speak, instead spitting down onto your cock with a thick, shiny glob of spit. You can’t help but moan, watching it slide down and heat up through his fingers. His hand envelops you entirely, big and warm and squelching as he accentuates his words with particularly sharp pumps.

“Oh, sweetheart,” His voice sounds condescending and feignedly sweet, you swear you could cum just from hearing it. “S’been a while, huh? Yeah? S’why you’re leaking all over my hand?”

You feel yourself nod, quick and enthusiastic as you melt into his palm. Your legs turn into jello, numb against his warm sheets, as your toes curl and your back slowly inches off the mattress. Shouta’s eyes are lidded and heavy, drinking you in and burning you from the inside out. You keen, pulsating in his hand until the warmth is suddenly gone, and you’re blinking away frustrated tears.

“No—!”

“Greedy brat,” Shouta’s quick to shut you up, large hands sinking into the plush skin of your thighs as he spreads your legs open impossibly wide. “Fuck, got a greedy hole on you too.”

Your hole clenches in response, eager to have his attention. You can feel a trail of precum and spit soaking the area, warm and wet, not yet reminiscent of his cum. Soon enough, you hope, he’ll be filling you to the brim and then some. Your hands, somehow forgotten, scramble to unbutton his dress shirt.

Eyebrows furrowed in concentration, you gasp in retaliation to his big hand clutching your jaw with indescribable force and pressure. Trying to leave finger-shaped bruises. Your lips part, tongue pushed free from your squished cheeks as you blink up at him, eyes dancing between one milky-white iris and another, only chocolate brown.

“Go on, say it. Tell Daddy you’re a greedy boy with a greedy little hole,” He’s spitting into your mouth, a thin trail of saliva indirectly connecting his tongue to yours. “You can do it, sugar.”

Oh. Oxygen disconnects from your lungs, dumbly blinking up at him with a garbled moan. You can’t speak if you wanted to, not with his hand around your jaw like this, so you settle for swallowing down his spit with a feeble smile. All you can push out is a mangled ‘Daddy!’ but Aizawa seems to take that for an answer, groaning as he hikes your knees up to your chest, sighing when you squeal in response.

His big, warm body is pressed up against yours, much bigger and stronger, and it’s apparent in every movement he makes. He’s able to push you around, flip you over and push you down with barely a finger, and you’re sure his hand can cover the entirety of your face. You moan, wanton and sweet in his ears as he maneuvers your arms to keep your legs up.

“Gonna take real good care of you,” Shouta— Daddy sighs, hunched over and breathing dangerously close to your entrance. Almost like he’s talking to your hole instead of you, and you’d protest if it weren’t for the hot, wet stripe he’d just licked down from your perineum to your hole. Your body feels warm and tingly, legs twitching as his tongue prods and pokes deeper and deeper, slowly slipping inside. “Gonna let Daddy take care of you?”

He’s sure to make it messy, adding generous amounts of drool and spit along your sensitive hole, eating you out like he gets paid to do it. He makes you lay there and take it, holding your legs open like some cheap whore, settling between your thighs with feverish and hungry kisses. Making out with your hole, you watch with heavy eyes and a gaped mouth.

“Yeah, yeah..” You moan subconsciously, a constant stream leaving your pretty, parted lips. He takes the opportunity to fill your mouth with his fingers, long and scarred as his fingertips run along your pink tongue. His fingers taste vaguely of salt, and you can’t help but suck on them, eyes fluttering in content.

You barely catch it, a small kiss being placed on the curve of your jaw until he’s freeing his fingers from your mouth. He resists the urge to shove them down your throat, watch your eyes get glassy and wet as you gag on his fingers like you would his cock.

“Gotta get this cunt nice n’ ready. Watch me eat you out, boy,” His voice has dropped several octaves—if that’s even possible—thick and heavy and reverberating straight into your hole. It’s like he knows you by heart, even if this is your first time together, because he’s slotting his thick, scarred fingers in along with his tongue. “Such a pretty hole. Matches your face.”

Through the haze you’re still able to mumble out a quiet, “Thank you,” timid, small, and broken up between moans.

“Good boy, still remembering your manners,” He sounds just as breathless as you, pressing his fingertips against the special spot inside of you. Your body jolts, a shriek ripping from your throat as he puts pressure on it, bullies it with his fingers, and follows suit with his tongue. Too much. “Shh, I know. Try to stay quiet for me.”

For me. The implication has you whining, high in your throat and pitiful as you nod to no one in particular, wiggling in your boss’s hold. For me. The implication has you whining, high in your throat and pitiful as you nod to no one in particular, wiggling in your boss’s hold.

You want to be good, be the best boy you can be, but you just can’t help it. The complete opposite of what he’s told you to do, high off his fingers as your body clenches and your moans grow louder and louder, fingernails digging into the soft surface of the back of your knees. He just presses and presses and—

Stops. Abrupt and fleeting until his hand is back, but instead in the form of a harsh slap right across the back of your thighs. Your sit spots.

“Wh- mm-mm…! Waitwait..Daddy—!” You’re stunned, stuttering and stumbling over your words as you fail to recollect what just happened. You press your face into your knees, bunched up tight as tears spring in your eyes. “That hu—urts.”

The pout in your voice is evident, and Shouta can’t help but coo. Especially when your cock, lodged right between the thickness of your thighs, jumps and leaks more precum. His own throbs in his pants, leaking into his underwear and leaving him sticky. God, he can’t wait to feel your hole twitch around his dick.

“You’re a big boy. I know you can take it, you said it yourself, didn’t you?” And there it is again, the fog that casts over your brain as you can only think of being good. Good for Shouta. Good for your Daddy.

There’s a sharp smack right on top of your little hole, the entrance winking back in retaliation as you sob into your knees. The pain doesn’t last long, simmers down and is easily replaced by heat when his fingers rub soothing circles around your rim.

“Daddy,” Your voice comes out much sweeter and wet, letting out a small sniffle as you peek out to watch him place open-mouthed kisses against your hole. “Want you.”

“You have me, boy,” His heart melts, and a soft smile creeps up on his handsome face. His tie dangles as he shifts his weight, opening his bedside drawer to pull out a condom and cherry flavored lube. Ironic. “Now let me in, wanna make your pretty fuckhole cream around my cock.”

“Wait,” You rasp, watching him tear open the packaging with his teeth. You’re still breathless and shaky, but you’re trying your best. “Wanna feel you. Wanna feel you inside me.”

Aizawa’s deep groans are music to your ears, and your eyes threaten to roll back into your skull when he frees himself of his shirt and sheds his pants. His dickprint is big and thick, throbbing in the fabric and sticky with fresh precum. You want to taste it. His cock springs free as his briefs drop to the floor, slapping against his abdomen and weeping.

You watch him fuck his fist, pouring the slick lube down his cock and warming it up with his palm.

“Yeah? You want it? Gonna listen to Daddy so he can put his thick cock in that sloppy little hole? C’mere before I shoot into my fist.”

You nod so hard it hurts, squeezing your shaft to stop yourself from cumming to his words alone. Your cock twitches in your hand, hard and wet as Shouta walks forward to meet you at the edge of the bed and scoops you up into his arms like you’re weightless. It must be easy for him, seeing as he’s so much bigger than you in every way.

“Won’t fit—”

“Shh,” Like he knows what you’re going to say before you can utter it, Shouta lifts you into the air with ease, and you can feel his cock pressing against your puckered hole. “We’ll make it fit.”

Your back presses against his chest, upright as he loops his arms around the backs of your knees. You’re spread wide, and with Shouta’s strong grip, all you can do is sit there and take it. You can feel him twitch and throb from the inside-out, his cock gushing pre as you sink down onto his cock. Your eyes roll back, wanton moans and a chant of ‘DaddyDaddyDaddy’ filling the air as snaps his hips, barely letting you adjust.

His dick is stretching you open, thick and long, and pulsing and veiny as you feel it bulge in your tummy, pushing past your rim and filling you up.

“Thought about this for weeks,” Your breath catches in your throat, and suddenly you’re too far gone to answer. “I—yeah, should’ve fucked you in that café.”

From the… Start?

Heat pools on your stomach, his cock punching your insides and kissing each sensitive ridge with every movement he makes. Your moans are unintelligible, barely even coherent, as he fucks into you, lifting you off his cock again, and again, and again. Cock-drunk while his dick rearranges your guts, drool slips from your mouth and down your chest.

You look pathetic and ruined.

“So cute like this, pretty baby. You make the dumbest little faces when you’re fucked stupid on Daddy’s cock, but still so damn cute.”

His cock drags in and out of your plushy walls, precum and lube making a creamy concoction along his shaft with each thrust. Your face is stained with tears and drool, mouth open wide as you pant and whine.

The knot in your stomach tightens, your hole beating around his cock as Aizawa moans, and you feel your body go numb as you shudder and convulse. You’re cumming, and your smaller hands squeeze his big ones as he uses you like a fucktoy, bouncing off his lap with tiny, “Mm, mm, mm’s.” Your hole grips him like a vice, swallowing his cock deeper and deeper until you feel warmth flooding your stomach, your balls tightening by the second.

“Da—addy please, m’cummin’, m’cummin’!”

“There you go, smart little boy,” Shouta groans loud in your ear, twitching in your tummy when you clamp down on his dick. He wants to fuck his cum into you, you deserve it. You deserve his cock, you deserve his load, you deserve to be stuffed full until you’ve milked his dick for all he’s got— all it’s worth. “Just keep bouncin’, so fuckin good at it, gush on my cock. What d’you say, baby? What d’you say to Daddy?”

You wish you could see him, the grit of his teeth as his thrusts turn sloppy and messy. But you know he can see you, staring down at the cum painting your chest as it squirts out your cock in thick, rapid ropes. Mixing with your tears and drool, you know you look like sex on legs, eyes void of everything but the need for cock.

“Thankyouthankyouthank—fu-huck,” His cock is jackhammering so deep you can barely breathe. “Thank you, Daddy!”

“Gonna make you just like Daddy, gonna make you one too,” It must send him over the edge, the sounds of your hole squelching as he scrambles your insides, because he’s quick to shoot a creamy, hot load of cum straight inside you. “Wanna be a big boy so bad? Then—fuuuck— take it like one.”

He gives a few last slow, deep thrusts inside so his cum really takes, carefully freeing your legs as you collapse onto him with a breathy moan.

“‘Zawa…”

“C’mere, brat,” You’re quick to whine, weakly pressing your face into the expanse of his large chest, all tears and snot and cum as he cradles your head between his large hand and his even larger chest. You feel protected in his arms, shrinking even smaller into his lap as your eyes slip closed and his cum leaks down your thighs. “You’re a good boy. My good boy.”

Shouta’s hand is ablaze when he brushes it along your forehead, soon after replacing it with a gentle kiss. He means it.

“Let Daddy take care of you.”

𝒮𝒲𝐸𝐸𝒯 𝒯𝒪𝒪𝒯𝐻 — shouta aizawa x male reader

w.c: 12.4k

warning: dbf!shouta, age gap, (sho in his early 40s, reader is 23), bottom!reader, daddy kink, breeding kink, dirty talk, feminization, mentions of gettin ‘knocked up’ regardless of anatomy, sneaking around, creampie, unprotected sex ( wear condoms ! ), praise/degradation, brat!reader, jealousy, mutual teasing, reader has an oral fixation, improper use of lollipops, mentions of exhibitionism, blowjobs, cumming untouched/hands free orgasm, ‘ taboo ’

sonny says..: not proof read, msorry !! did lotsa jumpin around while writin this. . . n five months later !! she’s all done !! ໒꒰ྀི⸝⸝T ˘ T⸝⸝꒱ྀི১ ♡ m’a lil rusty, forgive me !!

You’re back home for the summer.

Well— not entirely. You’re back at your family’s summer house for the season. Gifted from your grandparents, it teeters at the beginning of a beach, crystal sands and clear, blue waters that stretch out into the horizon. You’ve been looking forward to it since you’d graduated, even if it did come with a set of overbearing parents and a sinful amount of sunscreen.

The air is hot and thick, sticking uncomfortably to your skin through the windshield as you watch an everlasting stretch of greenery and trees pass you by. The road has stretched on for miles, every upcoming exit and street sign blending into one as each hour passes by. You’ve got the company of staticky radio stations and news outlets, spewing something nonsensical about sports, politics, car insurance. . . But it’s the trip you enjoy more than the destination. Traffic and all, you prefer it over the muggy air and parental scolding. Though, the beach is nice. . .

“You’re sure you’re taking the right route?” It’s your mother speaking, her voice crackling through the speakers of your car. You’re sure she’d smack you upside the head for the aggressive roll of your eyes in her. . . general direction, but she’s not exactly within eye-contact distance. Not for another five minutes, anyway.

“I’ve been doing this for years,” You have— it’s true. Though you’re only twenty-two, you’d driven this distance since you’d left for college. There’s a sound akin to the sucking of teeth through the radio, and you have half the mind to turn around and restart your road-trip all over again.

“Why’s there so much attitude in your voice?” Her cheerful, smiley voice suddenly sounds much more shrill, to your chagrin. You thrum your fingers along the leather of the steering wheel, biting back a long, drawn out groan.

“There isn’t any,” Gravel crackles under the weight of your rubber-tire car, snapping and popping into the air as it makes a smooth halt into the driveway. Shifting gears to park, the radio switches off with the twist of your keys. And, perhaps with more force than necessary, you’re slamming the door to your car and face to face with your mother. Her phone is still in hand, eyebrows pinched at the thought of her very own son hanging up on her. “. . . attitude, Ma.”

She hugs you with a squeal, ushering you up the stairs to your childhood ‘home.’ It’s almost exactly like you’d left it— save for a few recent porch decorations and repainted walls. You hope the years have been kind to it, with the irregular weather and constant pipe problems. Floorboards creak under your weight, welcoming you home after a few long years of studies. There’s an everlasting stream of bubbly speech behind you, your mom speaking, but there’s already so much to take in.

The air is fresh and salty, hints of beachy winds flowing upstream through the doorway. It smells like home, and looks like it too, as you situate your small duffel bag by the stairs that lead to the bedrooms. Your room. You hadn’t packed much— there was still a dresser overflowing with old clothes in your bedroom, after all. And now that you think about it, you should probably change into something more fitting for the weather.

“I know you just got here,” The sound of ice swirling against glass catches your attention, and you turn to face your mother. “But could you bring these out to your father?” She’s holding a tray of decorative glasses— or at least, you’d always thought they were— full of oblong ice and freshly squeezed lemonade. The glasses are stocky enough to adorn lollipops— one each, which are probably sickeningly sour. Topped with tiny, colorful umbrellas and intricate swirling straws. It’s almost like she’s trying to impress someone, with the way she’s put so much effort into the drink’s presentation.

Your lips curl to form a playful ‘no’, a boyish smile pulling at your cheeks when she huffs— as if she already knows what you’re about to do. So you shake your head instead, stealing the tray with one hand, “Let me change first.”

In hindsight, wearing clothes about. . four years too small wasn’t a great idea. The shorts that once fit you perfectly— before your growth spurt— are now much too short, like they’ve been tossed around in the laundry one too many times. You feel almost naked, moving the pink hem down with the shake of your legs.

Your mother insists they look just fine, a dramatic downturn to her lips as she rambles on and on about how fast her boy has grown up. Still, as you walk through the sliding glass doors parallel to the open patio, the sunlight bathing your legs does nothing but make you feel stuck under a rapidly growing spotlight.

It all clicks as you walk outside— the detailed drinks, the smell of barbecue and fresh coal. There is someone she’s trying to impress, someone other than your father. Maybe both of them. On a good day.

Wiping the bead of sweat from your brow, your eyes squint at the man in front of you. Around your dad’s age— maybe slightly younger, he stands at a whopping six foot something. There’s age in his face, and worry between his brows as if he’d spent most of his youth grimacing. His hair is long and black like charcoal, save for a few streaks of gray and a salt and pepper ensemble of stubble littering his chin and jaw. Two scars— forming a cross of sorts, one beneath his right eye, horizontal and thin. But the other is much longer, starting below his brow and ending at his cheekbone. It draws your eyes to a milky gray iris— heavily contrasting against the natural black-brown of his left one. It’s pretty, cloudy and almost pearlescent.

His silhouette— tall and thick, with broad shoulders that travel on and on as he crosses thick biceps over his thick chest. He’s standing in the way of the sun, and yet, it peeks through his long hair in small, short leaks. And, surprisingly, his waist is small in his black tank top. If you feel hot he must be scorching, draped in black— down to the beaded bracelet adorning his wrist. His hands— they’re big, maybe enough to cover the entirety of your face, curled into loose fists at his biceps.

And— right, you’re here to help, not gawk. But you can’t help it, shifting your weight from one leg to another as his intimidating gaze slowly sweeps you over. He’s like sex on legs, and if you can squint enough to get the sun out your eyes, you swear you can see the imprint of his cock through his black shorts.

“Uh,” You blink dumbly after introducing yourself, and suddenly the tray you’re holding is weightless. “Ma made these. I’m supposed to help. . . or something. . .”

“Or something.” The man echoes, but it’s quiet and you barely catch it. His voice is deep, way deeper than your own, rumbling in your ears and smooth like butter. Almost husky, with a dark edge to it as flames roar in his face. But it makes your father laugh, hearty and jubilant as he bounces over to where you stand. He gives you a small pat on the back as a greeting, ushering out a small, “son.”

The heat emitting off the grill is enough to make a grown man cry, but neither of you wince when you walk by it. Cold glasses of lemonade are handed out, fingers imprinted on cold condensation painting the surfaces of each glass as they’re passed around— one for you, one for your dad, another for him. You watch rivulets of water drip from his fingertips, down his wrist, past the collection of veins adorning his forearm.

“Mr. Aizawa,” There’s a beat of silence, but it’s quickly filled once you’ve been introduced. “World’s cruelest teacher.”

“Shouta Aizawa.” Is all he says, a correction of sorts, voice grumbly as his fingertips brush against your knuckles. Your eyes flicker down to where he’d touched you, his skin warm and inviting despite the roughness of his palms. You see now, that he’s accompanying your father, occasionally taking over when he walks back into the house every. . . five minutes or so.

“An old friend of mine, we go way back.” Your parents have an odd habit of rambling, it seems, because you and the handsome stranger make exasperated eye contact as your dad begins to reminisce on old memories. “You met him a few times— remember? He’ll be staying with us, so be respectful, you hear me?” His gaze seems to dip for a moment, down your lips and straight to the extra exposed skin of your thighs, then settle back to the ocean before you can comment.

But those five minutes must start now, because after a firm squeeze to your shoulder your father heads inside, leaving you alone with his. . . friend. He’s awfully quiet, busying himself as the patio door slides shut— occasionally sighing as he wipes away the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand. It’s obvious you’re staring, maybe a bit too hard, but he’s the best scene around, really. Even with the beach right behind him.

And maybe it’s wrong to think this way— but he’s hot. Old enough to be your dad and then some, sure, but it doesn’t make him any less attractive. He almost makes you nervous, the slow blink of his eyes as he pays you no mind.

“So you’re staying with us, huh?” You eye the juicy meat he’s been flipping for the last five minutes, golden brown and sizzling in the heat. It’s rather thick, soon to be lazily flattened by the tongs he's holding and— you can’t help but wonder. . . Is he good with his hands?

“Don’t make a habit of asking strange old men questions like that.” It’s not entirely clear if he’s serious or not, but he’s certainly assertive. Like a firm, guiding hand placed at the nape of your neck. Your eyebrows pinch in confusion, but before you can ask what he means, it clicks. You’d said it out loud, let it float into the air like an everyday, casual question. But Aizawa doesn’t seem exactly bothered, more passive (if anything), as he takes a swig of the fruity, sour concoction.

“You’re not strange.” Is what you conclude, slamming the tray down hard enough to rattle its contents, and the man notes your lack of regard. Even with a slight spill you don’t bother to clean, you’re already turning to walk off the patio and dig your toes into the hot sand before it can be mentioned— but not without plucking a lemon coated lollipop free from its icy enclosure of glass. There’s an arrangement of seashells hidden beneath the coarse mounds of the glimmering seaside. Different sizes and colors, different textures and shapes. Where some would scrape the soles of your feet, others would glide across them. But as a kid you’d liked the search for tiny crabs much more than the search for shells. Though you’re much older now, you’re not afraid to say you miss it.

“But I’m old?” Aizawa says, not too far behind you from where he stands. There’s a light glint of dry humor in his voice that sends butterflies down your throat and straight into your stomach.

“Yeah. Old enough.” Your small laughter is sweet, dancing in the air in a way that has Shouta nearly pressing his palm flat into the skillet— just to check if his heart is still beating. What do you mean by that, anyway?

There’s a divot where the tightness of your shorts dip into your skin, pressing against the plush skin of your ass whenever you bend over. Even as you’re upright, Shouta can’t stand to look for too long— you’re a real, proper, honest and genuine distraction. Yet here he is, watching you move around on your hands and knees, ass taut and round— shorts tight enough to show off the cute bulge of your balls from behind. And now that he’s really looking, it’s obvious you’re not wearing anything underneath.

He shakes his head, grunting to himself as he peels processed cheese free from its plastic packaging. You just met, that’s not right, you’re simply just minding your own.

“Ugh!” You share a groan, and for completely different reasons. Aizawa can’t help but watch you scramble in the sand, presumably after whatever sea-creature that had the pleasure to pinch you right on the finger. But you seem happy once it’s retrieved, stuck in the seclusion of its tiny shell as you hold it in your palm. From what he can see, you’re not much of a brat at all. Maybe your parents are just too hard on you. He’s always known them to be dramatics.

Still, he has half the mind to drag you over by your ankle, or maybe to press your handsome face into the sand while he fucks you from behind. Ever since you’d brought out that damned lemonade— tugging on the hem of the fabric as if you’d suddenly grown conscious of just how short they were— he’d been hard. And now he has to listen to you grunt and groan over the smallest of injuries. . . His best friend’s son, his presumed pride and joy.

He’s fucked.

From where he stands, slightly elevated, he can see the bulge of the sweet protruding from your cheeks, stuck afore your teeth. Cute, as it swishes from side to side, stuck in your mouth as your occupied fingers caress the diaphanous shell in the palm of your hand. Your lips move, puckered, around the sucker, curled and glossy with molten sugar— it’s hard to make out exactly what words your mouth forms, yet Shouta doesn’t think he’d be able to listen anyway.

Turns out the creature was a hermit crab.

Shouta learns this at dinner, the day’s hard work shared on plastic platters and glass

bottles in the middle of the beach. There’s a roaring flame between the four of you, it casts golden embers along your skin every so often, crackling into the air. Cicadas chirp with the night’s welcome, loud and joyful in retaliation to the silent, serene fireflies and settling ocean.

You’re all sipping on beers, some more than others, but it’s enough to loosen everyone up. Even Shouta, whose eyes look lidded with sleep the more he drinks. He’s not incoherent, he never is. If anything he’s observant. For one, you have an awful habit of holding onto this evening’s lollipop, it seems, as you have it situated between your fingers like a cigarette. Sometimes your grip around it tightens, like when your mother wraps her hand around his bicep, squeezing the flesh in small, sporadic rounds. And though neither of you want to say it, let alone think it— you’re jealous. That’s the second thing.

Even with Shouta’s knee brushing against your own, you can’t help it. He’s so warm, muscly legs pressed against your own in a manner that’s almost electrifying. You want it all to yourself, to suffocate in his heat and capable hands.

You zone out of the conversation, blinking at the fire with reserved eyes until a thick screwer pokes at the flesh of your shoulder, leaving behind a tiny dimple. Jet black hair invades your vision for a moment, smelling of faint seasalt and warm cologne, until you turn, “What?”

“You want chocolate on your marshmallow, right?” Your mother asks for him, squeezing a transparent bag of thick, soft marshmallows. It’s tossed to you in a flash, to which you catch, but not before stealing a glance at the man beside you. His jaw sets, poking out from the mass of stubble. Like she’d stolen a precious moment away.

“Right,” You mumble, stabbing the skewer through the excessive amount of sugar. The stick hovers above the fire, the sweet melting to a crisp, flaky brown. Sticky and gooey, it slowly begins to lose its form. Through all the conversation you can’t help but glance at the older man to your left, taking in the glow of yellow and orange caressing his tan skin. His silhouette is bold and broad, legs spread wide as he sits on a thick log. What was once brown turns a deep, dark charcoal. “Oh, shit! Fuck. I meant shoot, sorry.”

You’re not supposed to swear in front of your parents— Aizawa’s paternal intuition picks that up. But shoving the marshmallow into your mouth, even as it has yet to cool down, he doesn’t quite get. Either way, your expression. . . it’s sickeningly cute. It’s cute to watch you fumble. With lips pursed into a tight line, cheeks bitten and eyebrows pinched with apology despite how obviously uncomfortable you are with the piping, burnt sugar spreading along your tongue.

His heart could almost burst.

“You’re fine, kid.” Shouta’s voice is a gentle whisper, airy like the waves brushing against the shore. With his eyes caught on the sticky white lingering on your cheek, he's desperately aware you’re not a kid. The way you move and speak, the way you carry yourself. The way you suck on lollipops like they’re something else. He’s never been one for dirty jokes or subtle innuendos but. . . yeah, this is doing something to him. His fingers twitch with want, the desire to wipe it away and rub his thumb along your lips. He should really get it together.

And maybe the fact that he’s more worried about your parents being in the way than the fact that they’re your parents proves that.

But they’re pretty preoccupied, lost in conversation neither of you are exactly interested in. Whirling his own marshmallow, chocolate melts down its fluffy outside. It’s steaming, hot and fluffy after twirling around the fire. Looking at it now, it looks comically small in his large hands, much bigger than your own. His lips part, cool air leaving the ‘o’ shaped mold of his mouth as he blows on it with a low, “Here.”

There they go again, mouth open as your pink tongue covers your row of bottom teeth, Shouta doesn’t let go of the skewer despite the light squeezes you press along his knuckles. Instead he holds on tighter, lifting and reaching until the desert melts in your mouth and sticks to your lips. Messy on purpose, your heart plummets into your tummy when dark eyes watch marshmallow fluff pull away from between your teeth. Hungry, starving.

“I can do it myself.” You mumble, wondering if the heat prickling your skin is from the brush of his fingers against your own or the wilting fire.

“Can you?” His expression is tired and flat, but his voice tilts with blooming amusement. It’s odd, the way you’re so quick to shut him down. You almost respond more openly when you hear sneaky comments or listen to gossip— ‘that boy just doesn’t know what to stop,’ ‘why’s he such a smartass?’ — spoken about you directly by you.

“Yeah,” There’s a shine in your eye that isn’t just a product of the glowing fire. Mischievous, almost. “I don’t break that easily.”

Shouta could definitely take your dad in a fight. It’s the first thing that pops into mind as the two of you stand in the dark, dimly lit kitchen. Your parents had gone off to bed almost an hour ago, and with the clock approaching half past midnight, it leaves you two alone. So, yes, he’s considering who would win in a brawl because he can’t stop staring at his best friend’s son and his pretty, kissable lips.

They’re sheen with spit, your pink tongue licking them over as you scrub away yesterday’s dirt from the kitchen counter. It’s a noncommittal motion, your arms wiping suds and heavy contents of water along the granite surface. Yet you seem absolutely dead-set on getting that one stain. The stain that has your ass brushing against his side, bare skin rippling the harder, lazier, you scrub. Not that there’s even a stain to clean.

Yep. He’s fucked.

You suppose he should be focusing on the dishes— not that there’s much of those either— but his attention strays.

It carries him through the motion of leaning over, his body practically draping your own as you bend at the waist. Black hair again, wisps of it, lightly pressed against your back as he leans down, lips by the shell of your ear and an arm trapping you in. His cock is pressed right against the swell of your ass, and he may have to consider slipping it between his waistband.

“I think you got it.”

“Oh, really?” Your hips are moving again, side to side as you scrub shapes into nothing. “Double check for me?”

A low groan sounds behind you, big hands at your thighs that squeeze enough to have the plush skin bruised and tender in the morning. His hand travels, snaking up your thighs to meet the silky skin of your ass. Spread nicely with the way you’re bent over, warmth radiating off each globe as his thick pointer finger loops around the thin layer of pink cotton pressing against your balls.

It’d be so easy, perfect access to slip his thick cock into the warm, tight walls of your hole and pound you against the counter. You could sit on his dick for the whole day, drooling and dumb the more the head kisses your prostate again and again and again. Your Daddy could fuck you on your dad’s favorite sofa, make it squeal and whine under the weight of him filling your fucked-out and used cunt over and over.

Dark pupils blow wide as he pulls the fabric away, watching your hole flutter around nothing. He coos, sweet and deep. Just give him a minute, he’ll give you everything you need. Everything and more, until you’re a braindead fucktoy with glassy eyes and sticky, dripping holes. Until—

You’ve slipped past his arm, twisting as your growling stomach makes itself known. You inhale a quivering breath through your nose, eyes wide and expecting and waiting. His best friend’s son, wriggling and writhing under his palms, handsome face twisting as pearly teeth bite at your stout bottom lip.

He’s almost frustrated with himself, voice flat and distant when you puff out your cheeks. Forget a distraction— you’re a real, honest brat. “You’re still hungry.”

“I’m a growing man, Sho.” It’s almost consequential how your voice cracks, breathy and teetering the edge of a whine as he releases his grip on your body. Light from the fridge illuminates your silhouette in a yellow, halo-adjacent glow, and once again Shouta is staring a little too hard at his best friend’s son as he bends forward at the waist.

Aizawa weighs the juxtaposition between the middle of that sentence for a moment before his breath catches in your throat. Sho. You’d called him by a nickname, ten times sweeter than the candied fruit (grapes, are they?) you’re now sinking your teeth into. You’ve grown alright, and the proof stands hard, throbbing, and pressing against your shorts once you’ve returned to face him. It’s obvious your ploy with the fruit was just something to keep your mind off cumming in your cute, soft shorts— but he’d honestly have preferred to see that.

“I can see that.”

Rough palms press into your jaw— firm, but not aggressive, until fingers close and clasp at your cheeks. A dissolving layer of baby fat at your cheeks spills between his stern fingers, and you blink as the older man turns your face from left to right, then reverse. Seems he’s got a nasty habit of looking you over, breaking you down— bare bones. You still have enough room to chew, teeth grinding on the crystallized sugar with a hard and resounding crunch.

There’s always something in your mouth.

Dark eyes flicker to the lump appearing and disappearing in your throat as you swallow, sweet sugar dotting your lips, “You’re hard.”

“Yeah,” It earns a dark chuckle, though there’s not much light humor in it, “So are you.” His lips curl as he releases his grip, slow and lingering.

“Usually,” your gaze drops to his lips. “When two men,” Then up to his deep, dark eyes as you press against him, chest to chest. His cock twitches against the heat of your body, you can imagine it now— thick and pretty, curved upward with a sticky head and throbbing, heavy veins. “Make eachother. . . hard, they—”

A door slams upstairs, the air going still as your breath catches in your throat. As if that single disturbance has stolen all the oxygen in the world, your body goes rigid and stiff, and the sound of tired steps make their way descending down wooden stairs. The candied grapes are swapped for thick fingers, with light peppers of hair at the knuckles, and you can’t help but suck the seasalt right off.

“Behave.” He takes a single step back, dripping with indubitable authority that makes you feel light and airy. Ready to bend at his will with lazy eyelids and hazy eyes. It’s not a question, not a suggestion— it’s a demand.

“You’re still up,” Your father, shameless as he walks by the two of you with barely any coverings, makes a sleepy gesture in your general direction as he opens the fridge. “Both of you, huh?” He sounds faintly out of breath, and his skin sheen. The mental implications make you cringe, taking a step toward the characteristically nonchalant man who’d just stepped away from you.

Shouta’s eyes narrow.

“Don’t tell me I’m being replaced!” He’s always been a loud man, your father, but it seems tonight his one-too-many beers have finally caught up to him. It’s just a joke, the both of you know it, but you can’t help the prickle of heat poking at your throat. You’re pulled in by the back of your head, your father’s hand pressed against your hair as he holds you in a firm side-hug, “Rather Mr. Aizawa be your old man?”

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Your smile is wide and tantalizing, heavy and dripping with something that has yet to be named. “Are you a good Daddy, Mr. Aizawa?”

Then, his eye twitches, “When I want to be.”

Your laugh is instantaneous and loud, an awkward thing that stretches into deep silence. There’s a lot of things you’d like Mr. Aizawa to be— rough, gentle, sweet, and mean. But your dad? It’s laughable, and couldn’t be farther from the truth. And sure, maybe the title you'd like to use on him sounds similar, but they’re most definitely not the same. If only he knew.

“I’m sure you’re the best,” He watches you smile, opposite ends of your mouth pulling at your cheeks in a motion that doesn’t quite meet your eyes— but it’s convincing enough. “Better than your other friends, right Dad?”

Shouta is avoiding you.

You know it, you can tell! He’s always gone nowadays— a couple weeks into your vacation and you can only count a mere handful of the times you remember seeing him. You’ve barely talked, barely stole a few glances here and there— he may as well have disappeared. He’s out somewhere, somewhere that involves your father, and the ocean, and his generously sized deck-boat. You don’t want to say it, but you know you’re the reason why. You’ve gone a bit overboard, perhaps, with the flirting. Ever since that night— even before then, it’d become a natural habit of yours to call the man Daddy.

And, now, he’s grown even closer to your parents because of it. Whenever you come down for breakfast they’ve already finished, leaving your plate in the microwave— as if you’d want cold, limp eggs and soggy, get charred bacon. You want to scream, really. There’s your mother, who leaves lingering touches and bats her eyelashes like some sort of schoolgirl. You feel almost evil for the rage that sears your blood— even more so when your first thought is she’s pushing fifty.

Then there’s your father. Who is and always will be, not if you can help it, closer to Shouta than you ever will be. They drink together a lot, the guest more in moderation, but it still hurts to see them laugh about old times— over, and over, and over again. Even when you’re the topic of conversation, despite your presence being completely ignored, it hurts. You’re right here.

So you mope, lounging around in your swim trunks. Your skin sticks to every surface, humid and thick as your mother complains to you about getting some sun, stepping out the house, then something about how you need to fix the look on your face. She says the warm rays on your skin will do you some good, the salty water of the sea against your body will toughen up your bones and loosen your muscles. But there’s really only one thing on your mind.

It trickles into about an hour and a half when Mr. Aizawa finally comes back. Your father too, you suppose, with flushed cheeks that only sake can replicate. It’s once you’ve been pulled outside and forced to stand in wet, thick sand that washes away from your feet with every sweep of the shore— that they return. Once the sun has begun to set, yet still bright enough to have your brows furrowed and eyes narrowed, they return.

“There’s my boy!” No one’s boy, actually. Your father shouts with an intoxicated wave, and the grimace on Shouta’s face is hidden behind his whipping hair as he slows the boat to a stop.

Or at least, you think so. It’s hard to see with the sun in your eyes, yellow and orange flakes of the gold star percolating your vision.

It dances along the surface of the ocean, pretty and shimmering the closer you step, the further you go, until you’re submerged in water from your knees—down. There’s a shout, something akin to a ‘catch!’, and you have barely any time to react to the ball that’s flying to you with an oddly precise amount of speed and velocity. You gasp, whipping your head back to catch the ball between two sea-soaked hands.

“What the hell?!” Your hands sting, pretty eyes blinking back at the two silhouettes in your vicinity. Mainly at Aizawa, who hasn’t even acknowledged you, let alone looked away from the resplendent horizon. And what’s so good about that? Of all things to look at— you’re right here! You don’t leave with the setting sun, nor do you only ever arrive with the rising one. You’re a constant, and you know you don’t hurt to look at.

So you throw the ball back, all your force behind it with a smug look on your face until it smacks Shouta in the leg— right in the center of his calf with a horrifying thump of a sound.

“Fuck,” You shout in horror, despite it all. Despite the desire to maul him the last few weeks, rushing forward into the water with the cutest tremor to your brows. “Fuck, okay, shit, my bad!”

And it seems you can’t move fast enough to wade through the rippling waves, where schools of tiny, nipping fish and textured shells had twirled and danced about through the currents of pellucid water. But Shouta seems just fine, almost as if he’d forgotten how to react to the feeling of getting punted with a ball at full force. He picks it up, waves it in his large palm, and throws it back. You can hear it tear through the air, just as it smacks you in the shoulder with so much force you don’t register it at first.

Numbness spreads along your arm, eyes blinking up at the older man who laughs. It’s quiet yet hearty, and not at all a pretty sound. It’s more contagious if anything, a wheeze of sorts, but your lips still curl into a petty frown regardless. You can make out a huff of “Your face!” broken up with laughter, biting back on his tongue.

“I’m not laughing.” You grumble, rubbing at your shoulder with faux diligence.

There’s an eerie smile on his face, enough to send shivers down your spine as water drapes your face and drips down your body— boat engine revving with ferocity as the men float off into the boarding dock— Aizawa’s presence arrives just as fast as it leaves.

You’re left to your devices, gawking as you process the last few minutes— his smile, your brattiness and stupidity, the way you’d only just noticed his prosthetic leg— at the mention you can feel miscellaneous fish brush against your own, scales shining through the transparent waters. You can’t help but smile too, wiping it away with the back of your water-draped forearm. Fuck.

It’s only been a month and you’re smitten. He’d left you in favor of your father again, and all you can do is giggle about it.

There’s not much you know about the man— now that you think about it. There’s been a brief drunken mention of him having kids of his own, a little girl, you think. Maybe a son? Despite his affliction for quiet, Aizawa looks as though there’s more he wants to say. To share, to tell. Your father must know it all, seeing as they grew up together, and part of you can’t help but feel a bit jealous.

Hmph.

“What’re you sulking for?” His voice has broken you out of a daydream, turning your body to look him in the eyes. The man of the hour— Shouta. You almost hate how quick you are to melt under his gaze, squaring your shoulders with the stability of poorly glued popsicle sticks.“That ball bounce off your head, too?”

“I’m not sulking.” You watch him walk around the perimeter of the shore, slow and calculating, with his hands balled up in the fabric of his black t-shirt. He pulls it overhead, tummy contracting and biceps rippling— it still manages to catch you by surprise, how much muscle he’s hiding under his baggy clothes. Your brain sets off a symphony of ooh’s and ahh’s, unable to tear your gaze from the light rise and fall of his chest.

Your eyes trail back up, past the bend of his collarbones, up the display of stubble on his throat— he’s staring right at you.

“Uh — I wasn’t. . anyway. . What’re you looking at?”

His lips twitch, briefly pressed together before relaxing as he steps into the cold water. He’s slow, hair rippling just as smooth as the ocean, the further he moves forward. And, despite that, he slowly curls a finger to and fro, as if he’s talking to a small kitten. “C’mere.”

You’re frowning when you trudge forward, hesitance in your step. “Mr. Aizawa,” you grumble, still something of a cute little sound, using the prefix your father introduced him with. Something about it makes Shouta’s frame stiffen— the title, or maybe the pettiness behind it. It’s not like you call him that when you’re in a particularly good mood. “You didn’t seem to want me around earlier.”

“Quiet,” He tuts, clicking his tongue as if he knows the game you’re playing. But despite the curt, clean-cut execution of his tone, his thumb finds your cheek with the same gentleness as a spring breeze. “Your parents were always around earlier.”

Oh.

You play off your surprise well enough, swatting his hand away with a deep grunt. Sure, it feels good. His hands on your skin— such rough palms that cover your body — but you’re not desperate. Not entirely, not even when he fixes the twist of your face with a quick look to your furrowed brows. You settle for a sigh, grumbling, “They don’t have shit to do with me.”

“You’re, what, twenty-five—“

“Twenty three.” You interject, almost proud you can correct him. Rivulets of water trail down your arms, and his gaze seems to follow its motion.

“Twenty three,” He echoes with something of a breathless sigh tilting his voice. For a moment you think it’s the interruption— he’ll work on it later. Maybe he’s been struck by just how much younger you really are. “They have everything to do with you. You’re still their kid, I doubt they’d be enthusiastic about leaving you alone with an older man. A stranger, at that.”

“But they did,” You look around, as if to prove your point. Shouta’s never been one for dramatics, let alone those fueled by snappy attitudes and rolling eyes, but it looks cute on you. Maybe even cuter if it were accompanied by tears. “They left us alone. . . Half naked. . . At a beach. . . Alone..”

“I get it. We’re alone,” Shouta’s voice has always been so deep, rumbly and tired and smooth in your ears but even more so when he’s irritated. “Drop the attitude.” It’s different in a way. Leaves no room for argument, though you still feel the overwhelming need to stomp your foot and keep on pressing. You can’t help the shudder, nor the goosebumps crawling up your thighs. It’s just so fun to push his buttons, to watch his passive face twist for a split second as he processes your words.

It’s not exactly hard when he allows it. Shouta lets you push until your heart’s content, only reprimanding you with a glance or cleared throat— and it’s almost eerie. You can’t help but feel

like you should be anticipating something, even as you stand flush against his thick body in lukewarm ocean water and he looks at you with contentment.

Then it occurs to you. . . He’s letting it build up.

“And you’re not a stranger, Mr. Aizawa.” Obviously you’re softening the blows, so he watches you step forward, arms crossed over his thick, plush chest. You’re just so cute, brushing past his overwhelming seriousness with a smile— albeit sly. He can’t stay mad forever. It’s not fair, how cute you are, with lips stretched out and teeth on display, with the apples of your cheeks rising, and the cutest little twinkle in your eye. He wants to kiss you. . . He wants to kiss you so bad it’s starting to hurt.

Especially when you lean forward, sunlight bouncing off the ocean surface and across your body— painting you in pretty, golden slivers of glow. Across your face, your chest, your stomach, your thighs. It’s been a while since he’s felt his skin against your own. Since he’s run his large, calloused hands along your body.

“What happened to ‘Daddy’?” He asks, absentmindedly.

“What?” You break his trance, looking down at yourself with a hint of something Shouta can’t quite place. Uncertainty, perhaps? Vulnerability, maybe. It’s odd, you usually prance around so confidently. You wear the tiniest— tightest— clothes known to man, have the smartest mouth, egg him on day in and day out.

That’s not it. You look smug. You’re playing him for a damn fool.

“Nothing.” Aizawa sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut. It’s wrong— it’s cliché, maybe even taboo. He wants to wipe that look off your face. He wants to kiss his best friend’s son stupid. The man he’d just shared parenting advice to, the man he’d spent years upon years of highschool, college, divorces, with. It’d been so innocent when he’d visit— maybe he should’ve never stopped. Maybe he shouldn’t have come back to see you in full bloom, so handsome and lithe and sweet.

“ ‘Nothing,’ ” You echo, snarky as you mimic the flat, detached tone of Shouta’s voice. If you weren’t sulking before you definitely are now, readying yourself to push past him like some spoiled brat who was just denied their favorite candy after being caught trying to steal it nonetheless. So He holds onto your bicep, squeezing the flesh as it flexes with your feeble attempt at struggling.

“Are you done yet? Or do you need a minute to calm down?” He shifts his weight, voice calm and level as he holds you still despite the straining. Not a single hair on him is out of place, his tranquility almost alarming.

“Let go, old man!” He has to ignore the rush of adrenaline the back and forth gives him— the way he has an incessant urge to squeeze your jaw just a bit tighter.

“Hey,” You watch his lips curl to coo, a tone somewhat akin to a parent shushing a fussy child. Your face is turned to face him directly, “How many times do I have to talk to you?” Then impossibly close as his warm breath pans over the expanse of your face, “What’d I say about the attitude?”

“I don’t care what you say about it.” Your face is squished against his palm as you go to squirm your way out of his hold, but with the way his head angles down toward your face— you can barely get the words to sound convincing. There’s a giggle in your voice, like you think his frustration is amusing.“You like it, don’t you? Forget strange, you’re dirty!”

He’s the only thing keeping you upright, eyes narrowed and lidded, “Stop fuckin’ playing with me, little boy.”

“Dad never lets me drive the boat,” Though the man can sense your whining from miles away, it still manages to catch him off guard. Shouta quirks a brow in questioning, hand hovering a polite foot away from your calf as you stand to walk along the wading boat floor. “Destroyed his last one when I was a kid,” (He doesn’t have to know you were actually nineteen when you did.) You speak in a tone that makes him think just maybe you consider it more your father’s fault than your own. “This one’s nicer anyway.”

“That’s wasteful.” Aizawa bites the inside of his cheek, brows furrowed into a familiar line. Had one of his kids done that it’d be a completely different story. Surely one they wouldn’t be proud of telling either. Through the corner of his eye he watches you dig into the cooler, scrabbling past the beer bottles and iced hennessy, to pull out an ice cream.

“To you,” You spare him a glance before finally plopping down in the passenger’s seat with much more force than necessary— especially when sitting on a boat. “I did him a favor.”

The cooler did a poor job— your ice cream is already melted and soft once it’s unwrapped. Thick, velvety cream that you lap up with your tongue dribbles down your knuckles. He should find it gross, but your pretty eyes flickering upward to meet his own as you take one long, slow lick up each bend of your fingers has done the complete opposite. Fuck. It’s hot— your sticky fingers and messy lips, your pinched brows and tiny, pleased whines.

If only it were his cock.

Shouta’s thick. Much thicker than your ice cream, he’s sure you’d feel a good stretch to your lips if you wrapped them around the head of his cock. You’d probably whine about how hard you have to try, how heavy it is on your tongue— how much it’s stuffing you full when it hasn’t even slid down your throat yet. You’d cry too, maybe, with drool slicking your chin and coating his dick in a pretty, shiny layer of thick saliva.

“Want some?” You lean uncomfortably forward, though your legs are over the arms of your seat and draped across Shouta’s lap. Already close, Shouta can smell the oreo on your tongue and vanilla cream by the corner of your lips. “You’re staring pretty hard.”

“Sit up,” The deflection is an answer in itself, yet the dark-haired man can’t find a reason to look away. “Before you hurt yourself.”

Instead, you take his wrist, thick and decorated with a long vein, to fiddle with his fingers. They’re long— healthy, strong, clipped haphazardly— big. He watches you split his fingers apart, lacing your free hand with his own— and though he remains with all five fingers up, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel the urge to close them around your much smaller ones. Shouta clears his throat while you hum, lapping at your ice cream before pressing your lips against his knuckles, “Want you to hurt me instead.”

“Hush,” There’s a sharp intake of breath, dark lashes fluttering as multicolored eyes glance past your shoulder. It’s evident he wants to say more— in the way he shifts his weight to lean outward. “You hardly know me.”

Your foot nudges his upper thigh, pressing into the firm skin as the boat moves further toward the horizon. It feels more secluded that way.. Private, even. As if there’s only the two of you left on the dreamy island. Your face looks a bit exasperated, like you’ve never had to work so hard in your life, and he has to admit it— it’s cute.

“I know you grew up with my dad,” He ignores the venom behind your tongue as you mention your father, letting out a low hum of confirmation. “I know you have two kids— adopted, right?”

“Hitoshi and Eri.” He interjects, voice soft and fond. You’d never noticed it before, but now you’re acutely aware of the gentle presence of breeze and rippling waters. Shouta’s relaxed face is much sweeter, still creased with age but not quite as deep. The cute, pinched dips between his brows are gone, but you know how to bring it back.

“Lucky. Wish you were my Daddy instead,” Aizawa isn’t sure which word he’s more hung up on, nor how it's so easy for you to completely twist his words— but as much as it rushes to his cock, gets him twitching in his pants and throbbing all the way down his heavy shaft— he doesn’t like it. You talk entirely too much. With lips much too sweet and sheen with cream. With a tongue that flicks and presses against your teeth when you smile. With a pretty voice he could listen to, all day. Something that’d sound better through choking and gagging—ragged and crackly and used. Your lashes flutter, soft and gentle against your cheek. “How old is Hitoshi? My age? If he takes after you, then. . .You’re just—“

“Listen to me,” Perhaps it’s not very characteristic of him, but he just can’t stop. Shouta moves without thinking, pressing his fingers into your cheeks until your lips are puckered. “For as long as I’m here,” he offers a squeeze. “For as long as your father is here,” then another, “Turn. It. Off.”

Your face melts into something floaty and distant, the smirk melting right off your face into something much more preferable. His thumb is so close, so close to your pretty lips. You blink once— twice, even— before regressing back into a grin, lips pressing against his long fingers. Fucking brat.

“I’ll just have to hit up Hitoshi sometime, then.”

The persistent comment nearly knocks him over, straight off the boat and plummeting into the cerulean depths of the sea. Instead, Shouta finds it better to step on the gas. . . To ignore the prickling heat in his blood, to ignore the easy taptaptap-ing of your fingers against the screen of your phone. It’s so easy for you to say anything around him— like a deliberate disregard for his reaction. His fingers thrum against the tiller, then wrap around its leather exterior to squeeze, and he doesn’t miss (not even for a second) the glance you give him through the corner of your eye.

The silence is almost painful. The motor speaks for you, loud and rushed and heavy. Aizawa’s jaw sets, clenched at each chiseled edge. His eyebrows furrow deep, angry, and his lips remain tightly shut. You can’t help but stare, watching his hair whip in the wind, dreamy and mellifluous. Not a moment of eye contact is shared, and you feel yourself slinking back into the white leather of your chair for the first time this evening.

Come the wooden dock just adjacent to the shoreline, Shouta’s throwing away wrappers (they’re all yours) and unbuckling his seatbelt. Your arms cross, a pout heavy in your lips as your eyes flutter closed. . Almost as if you being unable to see him makes him unable to see you.

“C’mon, baby.” You both miss the nickname, and despite the tension, it feels so natural dripping from his tongue.

Still, you whine. Mind occupied by your nearly offset tantrum prior to getting back at the dock. “I’m staying outside.”

“You’ll get heatstroke.” Shouta sighs, stepping back to lift you into his arms not even a moment later. You consider it ironic, for a moment, he always wears black despite the scorching heat. Bent at the waist as he leans over the open inside of the boat to unbuckle your seatbelt, his face remains stoic as your arms flail and fly to push him away. Your pretty face morphs into a nasty scowl, grumbles and mumbles toppling from your lips— you’re embarrassed.

He sets you down on the creaking wood, hands placed steady at your waist and shoulder to keep you upright— in your feeble attempt at escapism, your last result was simply going limp.

You just won’t budge, standing planted at the end of the dock despite the tugs to your biceps, forearm— hands, wrists. Your last attempt at pushing him away ends up in stumbles, nearly tripping over your own feet as you stomp down the polished dock, eyes hardening with the contact of deep, dark pools in Aizawa’s irises.

You were holding hands.

It’s been days. You haven’t left your room in days. At first, Shouta doesn’t worry. He doesn’t think twice about it, doesn’t question why you don’t come downstairs. When he asks your parents about it it’s always the same thing— ‘That’s just how he is when he doesn’t get his way,’ or ‘He’ll come around.’ The more he asks, the mode suspicion, More questions, mostly wondering why he’s so enamored by their son— even if he had been closer to you when you were younger. But that was long ago, and you hardly remember.

And that isn’t even it.

He starts to worry, to feel bad, on day six. Not a single sound that even points to your presence. No creaking floorboards, no music playing from your old, antique and overpriced record player, no sounds of muffled laughter. It makes him feel out of his skin, like a bystander watching the inhabitants of this very beach house go about their day like nothing is wrong. But this wrong, so very wrong—

He wants you. His boy, his brat, his best friend’s son. It’s wrong and it’s taboo, but so help him, he yearns.

His feet had carried himself upstairs before his mind could, following after you a good half-hour later. You heard him on his way in, the shuffle of his slipper-clad feet from the outside of your door. Still, you’d made no effort to move, no effort to free yourself from the cocoon of your childhood blankets, no effort to open the door despite his gentle knocking.

“You ready to talk yet?” He was willing to brush it all aside. The pushing, the persistent flirting, the slight disregard for his feelings, the mentions of his son. Really, he was jealous. Maybe it’s unsavory for him to admit, maybe he shouldn’t think of his son as competition. And he knows, of course, there’s nothing there— he’s only ever competing with himself. He just can’t help it.

Maybe he’s a bit spoiled too.

“I don’t like being ignored.” Your voice was small, but he could still hear it through the door. He heard it all, every implication. His sweet boy, his spoiled brat. You froze, just briefly, before he let himself in. The door creaked slowly with its open and close, a gentle click of the lock as the air grew thick.

Your old bed is small and creaky. Almost as much as the underused floorboards, your old bedroom screams with just as much personality as it does neglect. There’s tiny figurines, posters, awards, memorabilia— but it’s all too clean. Even if it has collected dust, not a thing is out of place. Pristine. There’s a few scattered photos— awkward haircuts, familial pets, the works. . Unapologetically you, maybe when you were just a tad bit more naive— but you nonetheless. It even smells like you, just with a hint of sea salt and warm, summer-y vanilla. Shouta wants to bury his nose in it.

“None of my fancy college boyfriends liked it here, Maybe ‘Toshi would.” You shift your weight as Shouta sits at the edge of your bed, the springy mattress creaking ever so slightly. There’s something left unsaid between the small string of words— and it’s sour. Twists on Shouta’s tongue, like he’s bitten into old bread, and it’s not just the mention of past boyfriends. Sure, that’s not exactly what he’d call this. . . relationship, but it’s not like it’d feel wrong. And he’d certainly feel bitter if his son were in his shoes. “Guess my sheets weren’t silky enough. Can tell you what was, th—”

“I like it.” It’s simple. The admission— simple and sweet, like it’s obvious. Shouta watches your lips part for a moment, just to close again, like a fish out of water. You look so small when you’re caught off guard, glancing to the side and shifting your weight onto your palms as you sit in the comfy middle of your bed. He knows what you’re doing— redirecting the conversation by flirting (it does get his heart beating, he’ll admit it)— and it makes you seem softer, almost.

He watches you sniffle for a moment, a quiet sound as you shift your knees with exuberating coyness. Your eyebrows furrow, cheeks puffed into a pout because, “That's it? You just ‘ like ’ it?”

He’ll give it to you, you never give up. He’d been warned, he was skeptical, and he’s been proven wrong. And, in the brunette’s head, you’d tallied over three strikes. Perhaps he was being too lenient. And now, Shouta, the weak man that he is, simply wants to indulge.

“What else would I say?”

“That it’s nice,” You cock your head to the side. “That you’ve never seen a room so nice. Which m’sure is true, anyway. . Are you low income, Sho? I can’t imagine what it’s like being a single father of two— or one, since Hitoshi moved out forever ago.”

The older man takes a breath through his nose, and out through his mouth. Pretty irises flicker down to meet the rise and fall of his chest, the way his fingers pinch the bridge of his nose. Then, like the tidal wave of emotion has washed away back into shore, his voice is level as he speaks, “You spoke to him.”

“You ignored me,” You say it as if it’s obvious, simple, that if you can’t have Shouta you’ll have to settle for the next best thing. And though it’s not entirely true, you only really stalked his social media to learn more about his father, you don’t think your heart can stomach seeing pride swell in Aizawa’s chest. “Wanted your attention, Daddy.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath through his teeth, cold air rattling the bones as he watches you stare up at him. Your eyes look softer, boyish, wider at this angle. His pink tongue darts over his equally pink lips, “You don’t know what you do to me.”

“Show me.”

“Shh, sh, sh,” Shouta’s cock slips down your throat with a low grunt, the slippery walls clench around the fat head of his cock. Just as he imagined it, cutting off pretty whines and gasps, head bobbing back and forth— like you can’t tell whether it’s too much or too little. There’s a slight burn— the stretch of his thick, sticky cock nestled against your throat— but it feels good, heavy and throbbing in a way that makes your brain shut off so quickly you drool. It sticks to his shaft and slides down his balls, painting your chin in a syrupy-sweet layer of saliva, but you’re too far gone to wipe it away. Such a good boy.

He must’ve said it aloud, because there you are nodding, lazily bobbing your head as he grinds in and out of your mouth. There’s a loud, sticky sound coming from your throat, squelching and soaked, obscene in a way that makes you whimper around your heavy mouthful of cock. He’s quick to correct himself— you only ever seem to behave when you’re stuffed with his dick, and he can’t have you thinking your behavior is acceptable. With a grunt, deep and velvety, Aizawa pushes deeper into your mouth until you gag— tight throat convulsing and quivering around his shaft.

You slurp loudly, choking and gasping as you struggle to pull back. His balls hit your chin, heavy and sticky and so fucking good as tears stream down your face. You’re starting to get into it now, making a mess of yourself as you stick out your tongue to lick along the prominent vein on the underside of his cock, eyes focused on the rings of saliva holding you together. Shouta pulls out to let you breathe, his cock quickly liding upupup your throat and past your lips until all you can do is whine and lean forward, lips wet with spit as you chase after what you’ve been wanting for the past month.

“Stop fuckin’ moving. Let Daddy use your throat, wanna hear you cry on it,” The bulge of his fat cock shows in your throat, in and out, in and out, in and out.

You want to whine, to beat your fists against his thighs, and kick your feet— it’s all so much. He has you by the hair, big hand pulling and tugging, lifting you on and off his cock like a warm, tight fleshlight. You fail to bite back a growl, though it emits more as a cute, pathetic sound, glassy eyes focused on his cock being shoved down your hot, wet throat. It’s so easy to press your lips against the darkness of his pubes, to smear pre along your pouty lips and cheeks. His cock jumps in your mouth, thick and long and curved, leaking at the tip.

It’s hard to adjust to the stretch, sputtering and gagging with such cute, greedy sounds. You’re getting ahead of yourself, eager, tongue lapping at the achy underside of his dick, pressed against his balls. And, with a gasp, Shouta pulls out, huffs and unintelligible groans filling the air. The blushing head of his cock taps against your cheek. Once, twice, again and again. “C’mere.”

And yet, despite all that bark, your eyes barely make contact with the ones above you. Instead they trace the pulse of his shaft, how heavy his cock hangs between his legs, how it makes his long fingers almost smaller in comparison. The way pre dribbles from the tip, sticky and warm and oh, so inviting. It’s as if he can read your mind, knows how badly you miss the weight of his thick cock stretching your throat, “You can do better than that," and you almost can't believe it.

Better? Your eyes flicker to the saliva dripping from your chin, suddenly aware of the slick pre smeared across your pretty cheeks and the heavy pants leaving your lips. What gets better than this? You let him use your throat like a new fleshlight, cried on his cock and muffled the sounds in his pubes. Ignored the aching of your own cock just to focus on his own, absentmindedly bucking your hips into nothing, even if it made you look like a pathetic puppy. Fine— you can show him better. You can break him first.

You blink rapidly, tears clumped in your pretty eyelashes, lips parting to, indubitably, sass the older man. “What, need help gettin’ it up? Fuck you, can do it m—”

Prideful boy. Shouta will have to fix that.

“— I wasn’t asking.” You really fucked up now, eyes wide as you’re lifted up by your throat and manhandled into Shouta’s strong arms. He smells good, and just as strong, as your face is pressed into his chest and your tiny, tiny shorts are pushed past your thighs. The air is cold, it spreads goosebumps along your skin, and you’re sure Shouta can feel them along his palm as he grabs handfuls of your ass. He ignores your off guard ‘Hey! I wasn’t done!’, ignores the squirm of your waist, ignores your poor, weeping cock.

Being the smooth, calculated man that he is, you’d expect Aizawa to put a rhythm and pace to his spankings. But no, there’s nothing for you to latch onto but the bundles of his hair as he hands out sporadic, random, and hard smacks along each globe of your ass. There is no back and forth, no favoring one over the other— it’s just where he wants, when he wants. If he wants to watch your thighs convulse and jiggle beneath his heavy palm he will, and if he wants to smack your hands away from his wrists as you tug and tug— he will.

Shouta groans when you let out a particularly pathetic cry, biting your lip and whimpering into his warm skin. You can feel his big hands part your cheeks, squeezing the skin until it spills over each finger and your ass has turned tender and sensitive. He coos, feeling you squirm and wriggle against his hold, “S’it too much? Daddy’s poor baby.”

It shouldn’t sound so sweet coming from his lips, even when it’s condescending and rough, even when he’s cracking his palm down again and again despite your kicks and squeals.

But it does.

“Da—ddy. . !” your voice quivers, hips rocking to an uncoordinated tune. So little contact and yet it feels like so much, his hot palms against your warm skin. . . The tears rolling down your darling face. . . The way your cock throbs against your tummy, your mouth aches with emptiness, your hole twitches beneath the weight of his fingers. The thought makes you want to whine all over again, body squirming and trembling as he holds and kneads the flesh of your ass.

“Quiet. I should shove my fingers down your throat to shut you up,” Shouta murmurs, so unnecessarily mean, kissing the dampness of your forehead before his hand cracks down against your plush ass three, four, five more times. You try to keep up your resolve, pretty legs trembling and knuckles clenching— but it’s just so hard. Being a brat is easy— it’s fun— you’ll give up a few tears, cry and pout, get your way. Easy. So you won’t break and give him what he wants. He’ll have to work for it, get a taste of his own mean, mean medicine.

Delayed gratification.

Wet llips open to speak, something smug and almost smart, but it’s reduced to a wet moan. You feel it—fingers spreading apart the globes of your ass, and more cracking down between them, on your empty, pretty little hole. For a moment your brain slips out of your body, thoughts static and turned to mush, fuzzy and convulsing where you lay. You process the sound of hushing, the feeling of wetness, the sound of slick spit against your skin. . . Thick, merciless fingers rubbing and tapping and sliding against you.

“Oh, god,” You sob, eyes fluttering shut and eyebrows pinching the second more pressure builds and— oh, a finger slips inside. “Fingers— that’s, oh god..” Inching in slowly, rubbing against your velvety walls and so fucking slick you’re beginning to see stars. Whatever you had your mind set on earlier flies straight out the window, your brain short circuits as your sopping hole flutters around his fingers, sucking them in.

“Fuck, baby, look at you clench on Daddy’s fingers. Want Daddy to finger-fuck this cute little cunt silly?” If you could see his face you’re sure he’d be smiling— an eerie thing, eyes trained on his fingers getting sucked back into you. Such a needy boy. “C’mon, say it. Tell Daddy you want his big fingers in your sweet, greedy little pussy.”

You can’t help it, hole throbbing rhythmically along his long fingers, squelching and gushing with stickiness. The swell of your ass ripples as you wiggle your hips, rising and falling to grindgrindgrind. “Fuck me already, c’mon, old man.”

“That what your little ‘boyfriends’ do?” Your lip quivers— he hadn't even flinched at the sass— and instead used your own words against you. “Oh, baby. They didn’t give that little boycunt the attention he needed, hm? That why you throw so many tantrums?”

Your hand finds his wrist, fingers wrapping around thick and strong limp just enough to get his hand moving, trying to guide him deeper, faster, harder. He should reward bratty behavior, but the words spill from his mouth almost immediately, “That’s it, just needed something to fill you up, nice and full.”

It’s ironic— he says it just before pulling out his soaked fingers. And, at your nightstand, opens the drawer to retrieve lube. You watch him pause, eyes scanning the contents of the drawer until his lips quirk downward. Lollipop wrappers. An ungodly amount— you really went on a hunger strike because he ignored you? For six whole days?

“What am I gonna do with you.” He sighs, but grabs a sucker regardless, tearing open its pretty, pastel blue packaging to reveal its red, shiny hard candy. He pops the treat into his mouth, holds it on the right side with his teeth, and squirts a generous amount of lube over the globes of your ass. His hands slip and slide as he guides it around, watches it dribble down your thighs and relishes in the way your hole opens up for him, soaked and sticky.

Your eyebrows pinch, hips wiggling as he pulls the lollipop free from his mouth and directs it against your own, “Suck,” He murmurs, but it’s forced past your lips before you can process the demand. Here come more tears, burning your nose as you hiccup out a tiny, overwhelmed, “Daddy?”

“It’s okay, I’m here,” He coos, circling the pad of his thumb along the rim of your hole. Even as your feet instinctively kick, there’s no reaction from him, just a pleased hum. “Keep sucking, atta boy.”

His thumb feels like a lot, makes you squeal and shiver as he presses it inside, and something hot and wet accompanies it. That's good, the heat of his tongue licking and sucking at your throbbing rim, bubbly spit dribbling down his chin and caught in his stubble. One hand is focused on fucking your boyhole raw, till your brain goes numb and you’re incoherent. His palm presses into the small of your ass, tongue working hard until your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, and your mouth flies open in a silent scream. He takes the opportunity to snatch the lollipop back, keeps his tongue pressed against your walls until—

He trails the glossy sphere of the candy down to your sloppy little hole, nudging and prodding until he slowly works the lollipop inside. “You can take it,” He growls, eyes trained on your fucked-out face. He can feel it, the tightening of your balls, the way your hole aches and pulses with the treat inside you. “That’s it, sweet thing. Wanna make this pussy cum, give it t’me. Let Daddy have it..”

He murmurs, and suddenly, instead of the treat that he’s popping back into his mouth, there’s the head of his perfectly thick, so big, cock pressing against your slick, thoroughly fucked-out hole and—

Oh.

“Sweet.”

You sob into nothing, back arching and spongy walls clinging down on Shouta’s cock as it’s worked inch by inch into you and— you can’t fucking believe it. You fought for so long, put on a bratty attitude and stomped your feet. Why would you ever push Shouta and his cock away for so long? Your breaths are short. Tiny little gasps as his large hands grip your ankles, spreading your legs open to get a better view of the thick dick pumping you full. Your pretty little hole, sheen with spit and lube, exposed and on display for him and his cock. And, yeah, this is everything you’ve ever wanted and more. . . You want him to break you.

“You’re— fuck, you’re so gross, Daddy,” Shouta grits his teeth, “Ohh, havin’ your best friend’s son on your fat cock, fuckin’ my pussy so full. . !” You’re straight up babbling, cross-eyed as each thrust knocks coherent thoughts out your brain. A real, proper slut, desperately humping upupup to fuck yourself on his dick. With this position— knees to your ears and holes on display, you barely have the control to move— but it’s cute to watch you try anyway.

“Shut up and take it,” He rasps, voice deep and scratchy in a harsh whisper as his hips snap back and forth. “Don’t want mommy and daddy to hear their son calling someone else daddy, do you?”

“Daddy— Daddy, my pussy—“ You’re babbling, it’s all you can do since Shouta is all force with his thrusts; takes what he needs, feeds you his cock good and so, so deep. Over and over, you let out broken whines, desperate for it, looking down as best you can to watch your own cock bob and jump against your tummy, thighs sticky with spit and lube. You can hear the sound of your slutty, pathetic moans, the wet plaplaplap of skin, lube trailing and frothing between your bodies as Shouta fucks into you. You can’t stop twitching— your legs, your hole, your cock.

“This is Daddy’s pussy,” He corrects, angling his hips just right, the heat of his cock pressing against every special spot you’ve got. Every bundle of nerves, every silky, spongy wall you’ve got wrapped around him. “Just like that,” You’re gagging for it, pouty lips parting with open-mouthed pants as he continues to watch your hole tighten around his thick, veiny cock. He has to swallow down his own drool, reaching deeper into you, your body jerking back as he pounds, and pounds, and pounds. You may not be a good boy, but you’re a damn good slut.

“Uh-huh, uh-huh. . .” Your breath is caught in your throat, and if you could, you’d scream, your body tensing as your cock throbs and bounces, cum spraying across your bare chest — stickiness shooting out your spent cock until you’re twitching, handsfree and body set ablaze. Shouta shows no signs of stopping, instead keeping his cock inside you as he flips you around, eyes narrowed. He fucks you through it, watching more cum squirt from your cock, leaky hole milking him for all he’s got.

“Dumb sluts love cock, baby. S’that what you are?” His voice is a low purr, pressing your face into the mattress, watching your ass fall back onto his cock until he feels himself aching hard, hard enough to start cumming inside you.

“Yeah, mhmm,” You drool into your pillow, absentmindedly fucking yourself back onto him. You’re desperate to chase after it, the searing spiral of pressure growing in your stomach, tight hole bearing down on his cock. “Daddy’s slut, s’me!” For a minute you think you’ve passed out, everything going dark as you ride out his hard thrusts, offering tiny movements of your own, up and down to satiate the erratic spasming of your hole, to feel his balls slap against your thighs.

“Good sluts take Daddy’s cum,” Your eyes, so glassy and empty, is what gets him, groaning loud as he pumps a load inside you. “Take it, boy. Let Daddy knock you up.” It’s messy, and downright pornographic watching his cum leak out of you, just for him to fuck it back in with the head of his dick. Shouta’s cum starts to kiss your insides and spurt straight onto that small bundle of nerves— fuck, it’s so deep. His thrusts are erratic and sloppy, thick rope after thick rope frothing around his shaft as he fucks it deeper inside. You never want it to stop, not the groaning or moaning, not the filthy sounds, not the cum filling up your hole till you can’t move.

He ignores your needy, overstimulated whines when he pulls out completely, his spent cock hanging heavy between his thighs. Even when you’re limp and boneless, body trembling violently, you want more.

“Da— Da—ddy,” You sob, eyes squeezed shut as strong arms pull you up and into even stronger thighs. Sitting on his lap now, Shouta coos hums, basks in the sight of his pretty boy’s afterglow.

“Daddy’s here. I’m here, I got you.” He whispers into your shoulder, and that’s all you need to hear. The thought of his best friend melts away— you’re more than that. You’re not just his best friend’s son. . .

You’re Shouta’s boy.

Summer is coming to an end.

There’s a seasonal chill in the air and it’s getting dark in the early afternoon. The beach has switched its course, currents changing direction and fish disappearing from the shoreline. The weather is turning, branches are starting to grow bare and bloom in color, the wind picks up, and the clouds have yet to dissipate into the sky. . Shouta helps you pack, grumbles when you press chaste kisses against his skin the whole time— shuts down the stomps of your feet while you whine, “I don’t wanna leave.”

“Spring break,” Is all Shouta says, his mismatched eyes downcast in a way that highlights his long, pretty eyelashes. Then, voice barely audible, he whispers, “I don’t want you to, either.”

Your body visibly straightens, giddiness painting your boyish face as you smile wide and big. The older man almost regrets saying it, huffing with you lean impossible close to hug him tight. “Will you call me?”

“Whenever you want,” He says, as if it’s the most simple thing in the world. You watch as he throws your large bag of lollipops into your carry-on backpack, but not before plucking a treat free from the others. “You know I will.”

And that’s all you need to hear.

Can we see Enji Todoroki (reformed) x male reader who is so unabashedly flirty. Him and the reader working together on hero cases and the reader is so touchy and is trying to go on a date with him.

Enji Todoroki x Hero male reader

Headcanons

Reader has no specific quirk mentioned, cuz I couldn’t think of anything. On the short side, but I enjoyed writing this.

After having grown as a person and reformed as best as he can, I cant imagine Enji sees himself as someone who would go out of his way to date, there’s probably part of him that feels like he doesn’t deserve to be in a relationship.

You two have probably known each other for years and worked side by side for just as long, but your flirting up until then has just been jokes and to keep the mood light because of how serious Enji always is.

After he grows as a person, you start to actually flirt with him for real, though he doesn’t realize that’s what you’re doing. He would just assume it’s the same type of flirting you’ve always done, and just brush it off.

Enji has never been in an actual relationship based on love, since his relationship with Rei was a quirk marriage and he focused so much on becoming strong in his teens, that the thought of dating didn’t even cross his mind.

So, when you start getting touchy with him, like squeezing his biceps or wrapping an arm around his waist, he thinks you are just taking your usual play flirting farther than before.

I can’t imagine Enji is the type to flirt back, even if he returns your feelings. Hes way too stoic and serious, and again, part of him probably doesn’t think he deserves it after everything, or he fears messing that up too.

You don’t let that discourage you though, as you keep flirting with him, hugging onto him, or complimenting him and bringing him gifts and trinkets, which he always ends up accepting even though he scoffs and grumbles about it.

Getting Enji to believe you that you actually have feelings for him is an uphill battle, so you gotta be real determined for it to bear fruit. But when it does, you get to see parts of Enji you never imagined you would ever get to see.

As he starts to gain feelings for you in return, he will start to get the smallest of flushes to his cheeks when you flirt with him. Its barely visible since he already runs very hot, and he’s trained himself to be in full control of his emotions, for the most part. But it’s there.

He has no idea what to do with the fluttering in his chest that you cause, since again, he’s never felt that before, and Enji doesn’t really feel like he has anyone to go to with these feelings.

Of all people, I could imagine he ends up spilling it to Toshinori, most likely on accident. Much to Enji’s surprise, Toshi actually helps him figure out his feelings and how to process them. Enji being Enji would mumble a small thanks and go about his day.

He might clumsily and kinda stiffly try to flirt back, but it just ends up being stuff like him complimenting your form during a fight, or telling you to be careful. You’ll most likely start finding small gifts in your bag or locker back at your agency.

Unknown to himself, Enji starts leaning into your touch when you hold onto him, as he’s probably super touch starved in general. Ends up finding out he’s super sensitive too when you rub at his neck and he almost melts into it.

He kinda reminds you of those battle worn, older male street cats, with their big pouchy cheeks, scars and tired eyes. You joke that if it was possible, he would be purring, especially when he almost arches into it when you run your hands through his hair.

In the end you most likely are gonna have to outright tell him to his face that you like him and want to date him. Enji is still emotionally constipated, but ends up mumbling out that he feels the same, but he has no idea what he’s doing.

Even after you guys start dating, you still flirt with him and get super touchy with him, except now you can also kiss him all over, which always leaves him a little flushed.

Since hes not one to express his feelings much, when he finally does it, it means so much. Like when he kisses the top of your head during patrol, or mumbles a compliment in return to the hundreds you shower him with every patrol.

Barrack bunny ~ BNHA guys x Bottom Male Reader

Military AU Characters: Bakugo, Deku, Shoto, Kirishima, Sero, Kaminari, Hawks Art Credit: KADEART (Hawks) - couldn't find artistis for the other 2 nsfw! minors dni & fem readers dni!

In an all men's unit, within which all of the guys worked out constantly and looked the part, you were different

You were evidently gay, something which is thankfully accepted nowadays

But most of the guys took a liking to you despite you out-ly being gay - something still slightly frowned upon in the army

You weren't annoying and you did your job, but you were nice to everyone and would always check in on guys when they looked down

But the thing that your peers noticed the most was the fact that you were the dictionary definition of a barrack bunny

Not that any of them were complaining about it - they were all young men around their 20s which still had hormones and needs

It just became tricky when most of the guys took a liking to you which was further than a sexual one

Katsuki Bakugo

The man was practically made for the military - he follows orders to a tee and sticks to the set routine

Bakugo is serious about his role in the army, even if he is in the lowest rank there is

He takes training seriously, which is very evident when you take a look at his body - he looks like he was sculpted by a god

The blonde's pecs and abs were chiselled as hell and his back was massive just like his arms

The way Katsuki carries himself just exudes confidence - and holy fuck he just looks right with a rifle in his arms

Bakugo had noticed you around, you did stick out like a sore thumb at the end of the day

The blonde really did take a liking to you, despite not really showing it

He would subconsciously look out for you on the field and would blush whenever you helped patch him up

And whenever the explosive man would need to release some steam, you were always there for him

Katsuki had never questioned his sexuality - he'd always thought of himself as straight

But hey, the army brings out parts of men that they didn't know they had

Whenever Katsuki wanted you- no rather he needed you, the blonde would walk over to your bed and knock on the frame three times

A small signal he'd established with you to let you know he needed to feel you around him

You would then tip-toe over to somewhere quiet and go at it like bunnies - just like your nickname suggested

You'd always found Katsuki at his hottest in his uniform, so he made an effort to wear it most of the time when fucking your brains out

He looked so good, maneuvering your body and making you do exactly what he wanted while in uniform

The muscular man also would go fully out when fucking, a dominating and sadistic persona coming out of him - to your utmost of pleasure

Katsuki would make you worship his body toe to head (litterally)

The man would make you kiss his boots, make you take them off and kiss his feet before letting you move up all along his body

The blonde would make you choke on his veiny, sweaty dick, his bushy pubes stuffing your nose and limiting the already little oxygen you were receiving

Bakugo loved having power over you, so most of the time he'd let you put in little to no effort while he ruined you

Katsuki covers your body in his own unique marks while he pounds into you

He forces you to kiss him and his body while he drills his dick into your prostate

By the end of the night, you've both came twice and half the barrack is awake - but neither of you could care less

The two of you were like a perfect match, affectionately and sexually - so it made things complicated when Bakugo began wanting you to himself

The built blonde started showing his affection towards you more publicly

Katsuki would also be more brutal during training, shooting glares at his peers which are also frequent visitors of your barracks

And the sex would only get more possessive and more rough as Katsuki's feelings for you strengthened

He wanted you to himself more and more

Izuku Midoriya

If there was another person that didn't really fit in with the other soldiers - it was Izuku

He was more meek and less hard-core about the army than his peers

However on the training grounds, it became evident that Izuku belonged in the army

The man was ruthless, he had his mind set on the end goal and we would reach it

His body was incredible, built perfectly - he wasn't incredibly muscular but he most definitely wasn't un-fit

Midoriya and you became friends the first day of your mandatory service, and he immediately took a liking to you

The green-haired man found you caring and calming - he could always be relaxed around you

Being wreckless on the training grounds meant the man was always in need of bandages

And Izuku loved how carful and dotting you were whenever you patched him up

The meek man, of course, knew about your reputation as the unit's barrack bunny, but he couldn't care less - it just meant he had more reason to like you

Whenever Izuku craved your touch, craved your body, he would tiptoe to your bed and scratch your head, ruffling your hair for a hot minuet before making hid way to the disabled bathroom

No-one in your unit was disabled, so that poor bathroom was your go-to spot for sinful activities

Midoriya loved it when you rode him, he loved holding your waist with his rough, scared hands and just admire your the contrast between your bodies

The muscular man also wasn't small whatsoever, the small bulge in your abdomen everytime you sank on his veiny cock was proof of that

You loved listening to Izuku try to hold in his moans, small whimpers escaping his throat through his gritted teeth, his face scrunched up as he struggles not to cum while holding in his noises

The sound of your ass slapping against Izuku's muscular thighs would echo throughout the bathroom along with your moans - which you never bothered to hold in, half the barracks had heard them before at their own hands

Izuku would kiss you constantly, your lips plump from how long the man makes out with you for - and when he isn't kissing you, he's marking your neck eith his own light pink lovebites

And due to Izuku'a fit nature, he can last for a long time

Your poor self is fully spent, having came 3 times by the time Izuku finally shoots his boiling hot load inside of you

What pushes Izuku over the edge of lust to love is the many moments you two have shared after the green-haired hunk has re-aranged your guts

Your heavy breathing harmonising with his as you comfortably lay your naked body on Izuku's

Midoriya likes to run his rough fingers up and down your back, the two of you Chat about almost anything during that time - he's never been so close with someone before

When Izuku comes to terms with the fact that he likes you, he starts to be more possessive of you - he calls out his peers when they talk badly about you and glares at guys who say they need a piece of you

But mostly, Izuku's sex drive increases ten fold - he fucks you day and night, at the training grounds or even your own bed with the others around

Shoto Todoroki

Shoto was ranked just slightly above the others - of course due to his efforts in the army, but mainly due to his father making a generous donation

He still slept in the same barracks and would only be in charge of your unit if absolutely no other superior was on the field

The others liked Shoto, he didn't get much special treatment and he still put in a lot of work - he would train like a maniac

The stoic man would spend most of his free time in the gym rather than anywhere else

Shoto knew about you, but he'd never really been interested in you

He'd heard his peers talk about how good you were and how charming you were, but the half n' half man was never really interested

That was until he really paid attention to you on the field

You caught his eye and he couldn't wrap his head around 'how someone could look so good on the field while also doing so well'

Shoto really admired your dedication to your role - and it really did help that you were fucking drop dead gorgeous

The tall soldier had decided he wanted to see why everyone was so smitten over you

So the two of you started talking quite a lot; to the point where Shoto would subconsciously look for you first in a new room

Another perk that came with his father's donation was that Shoto had a private bathroom - a room which the two of you became very familiar with

Shoto would even bother being sneaky about it, the man's ego would actually get inflated when he would ask you infront of everyone to go fuck

"(Y/n), join me in my ensuite?" That's all the man would say and you're already perking up and following behind the tall soldier

For a sheltered rich boy, Shoto can sure get down and dirty with you

He strips down fully and likes to watch you stare at his slim-toned body, a blush creeping on your face as blood rushes to your dick

If there's one thing Shoto likes to always do with you it's watch you squirm against him as he fingers you ruthlessly

The toned man puts his slim, long fingers to good use, sitting you naked on his lap - your skin against his - as he abuses your prostate constantly

Shoto fucking loves watching you squirm and try to hump against his dick while he curls his fingers against your gummy walls

The man gets off to your whimpers too much for his own good

And by the time he re-aranges you to impale you on his dick, you're already stretched out enough to only feel the pleasure of Shoto's skinny, veiny 8 incher

Shoto's go-to is having you lay on the closed toilet while he towers his thin, muscular body above you - his dick plowing into you while he hand wraps around your throat gently

Your moans fill his ensuite immediately, accompanied by Shoto's own moans and groans at full volume - the privacy of his ensuite coming in clutch, as the two of you like to get noisy

The man holds you in place gently by your throat, his thumb caressing your cheek as he wipes away the tears his dick is forcing out of you

Shoto also loves to tease your dick, wanking you off while he pounds his cock deep inside of you - teasing your dickhead from time to time, his moaning chuckles echoing in the room as he watches you writhe in overstimulation

Once Shoto discovers that he has feelings for you, his ego becomes a real problem

The two-tone haired man wants everyone to know that you belong to him - whether you actually do or don't

Shoto wraps his arm around your waist and makes you sit on his lap whenever the unit is hanging out during free time

Or he'll fully tell other guys to fuck off of they're with you

He also fucking lives off of the looks other guys give him when he does things like that

Shoto just can't help it, he needs you to be his

Eijiro Kirishima

The redhead exudes masculinity - he really was made for the army

Kirishima is one of the most well-liked of your unit, almost second to you

The man is extroverted and helps out his peers when the need it, but best of all, he looks really fucking good in camo

Eijiro immediately took notice of you, he was one of the first to talk to you and eventually get with you

The redhead was quite fond of you, he liked how you cared about your role but you weren't too hard-core

You really liked Eijiro too, he didn't go to the gym much, despite staying so muscular somehow

He was very well built, his back and arms looking perfect 24/7

It was almost impossible for you two not to have sex at some point

It just so happened that the aforementioned point in time was very early

Kirishima also fucks like a beast - while also looking like a sex-god as he plows your brains out

The redhead likes to pull you to the side whenever he's horny and he drags you to a place where he can get it on with you

Kiri also knows how horny you get whenever he wears his tank top, so he most definitely wears it every time you two get it on

His arms and back just look so good in it, and he likes to watch you physically get turned on by his body - it seriously inflates his ego

Ejiro also fucking loves to dominate you - it's a common trend amongst military men

The redhead loves to force your body into positions where he holds all of the power

Full Nelson is his favourite by far, Eijiro loves showing off his strength by holding you up, forcing your body down on his thick cock with such ease

The muscular soldier also can't deny his affinity for being worshiped

Especially his smell, Kirishima gets so turned on when he makes you smell his sweaty body after training all day

He makes you sniff his musky balls and dick before sucking him off, forcing your nose into his forest of pubes for minutes at a time just forcing you to inhale his scent

Kirishima also likes making you ride him, watching you struggle to take his thick, veiny cock while you moan and whimper, dick twitching pathetically

Eijiro particularly likes to take control once you get into a rhythm and give your system a shock with a new pace, a rough pace

It then that Eijiro grabs your hair tightly and forces your head into his arm pit while he fucks up into your abused hole

Your head woozy from the muscular soldiers musky sweat and your body trembling from his cock plowing into your poor prostate

The man also doesn't keep quiet, so your whole barrack can hear Kirishima as he cums deep inside of you, claiming you as his own for just that little moment in time

However, once the Beast of a man has had his fill, he's incredible at aftercare

Kirishima goes out of his way to clean you up to a tee and then let's you rest on his warm, muscular body while he plays with your hair

Eijiro really enjoys the moments after sex, sometimes even more than the sex itself - the first time he thought time it immediately clicked that he liked you

Initially, Kiri is subtle about the fact that he likes you

He might be more physically affectionate when around other people

Or he may be more careful with you in bed even though you insist you can take more

However, once other guys start to show interest in you in more possessive ways, Kirishima feels the need to match their level

So his arm is around your waist whenever the redhead can get it there

And if any other soldier tries to make a subtle move on you, Kirishima finds that the best deterent is to awkwardly call out their behaviour

"Are you trying to flirt with, (y/n)? You think you have a chance?" In the most sincerely confused tone was Kiri's go-to and it sure did work

Sero Hanta

Sero was another one of the more social soldiers

He did his job when he had to, but an opportunity to slack was never not taken

The two of you were friends before anything happened between the two of you

You would only hangout with eachother, Chat and play shitty games - like normal friends

He knew you were a barrack bunny and he couldn't give less of a fuck, he would call out anyone bad mouthing you and would say "that's a slay from you though" when you would tell him about a recent fuck of yours

The two of you were nothing more than close friends, you two weren't afraid to shoe physical affection

So one time when you were sat in Sero's lap facing him, most people would of thought something was going on there - but there wasn't, not yet at least

It was when you fell asleep that the problem began

It was late at night after a huge training day, so while the other members of your unit played a game of cards, you were sleeping like you'd never slept before in Sero's lap

But once everyone else had gotten tired and gone to bed, you and Sero remained on the floor - your unconscious body snuggling into Sero's

Unfortunately for Sero, you move a LOT in your sleep, resulting in the poor man popping a bonner

Which would just not go away! Mainly due to your unconscious and accidental grinding against his dick

So, as Sero profusely blushed and tried to move you off of him, you woke up

And you felt Sero's raging bonner pushing against your ass

What happened afterwards was a blur but it went along the lines of you two rushing into the bathroom and going at it

Sero's very gentle with you - despite his slim-toned build

The man focuses on your pleasure, your moans and whines egging him on as he fucks up into you while playing with your nipples

The two of you don't fuck very often, but when you do it's earth-shattering and comfortable at the same time

It also isn't awkward to stay friends even though you two share such intimate moments, the real problem arises when Sero's platonic and sexual feelings for you become slightly romantic

His behaviour barely changes, but when you two are doing your usual clingy friendship activities, the toned soldier holds onto you just a little tighter

He also becomes obviously upset when you're hanging out with someone else

And during sex, Sero hugs you and kisses you while softly fucking into you - marking your neck with soft hickeys

He softens even more than usual when he starts to like you romantically - it's a nice change, contrasting your other peers who absolutely demolish you

Denki Kaminari

Unlike most other soldiers in your unit, Denki slacks at any given moment - even if he knows he'll get in shit for it

He's such a dumb yet lovable idiot, his shocked and scared expression slightly charming when he's getting an earful for dozing off on lookout

He's one of the more hormonal soldiers to say the least - and it doesn't help that he has quite the perverted side to him

So when Kaminari heard that your hobbies include getting fucked by every other member of your unit, he knew he needed to get a piece of you

The two of you were friendly to begin with, but the fact that you had a soft spot for goofy men who look fucking hot in uniform really helped speed your relationship along

All it took was for Denki to accidentally blurt out that he thought you were ridiculously attractive and that he didn't mind getting shouted at by superiors of it meant he got to sneak around with you - and with that you were ready to pretty much jump on his dick

If there's one thing Denki likes to do with you it's make out

The soldier will drop all his duties and sneak around the superiors just to hide away with you and hold you in his lap while the two of you kiss messily for half an hour - Denki dry hummping his clothed crotch up into the smooth curve of your ass

The blonde looks so, so good in uniform, his white tanktop highlighting his slim, muscular body while the camo cargoes just suit him so well

He doesn't like to be subtle about the fact that you and him fuck, so whenever it's just your unit with no superiors, he likes to rub it in the others faces that you and him are heading off to a supply shed

And holy shit is Kaminari good at what he does

After making out for God knows how long, the man will move you into his arms, Denki standing up while his tongue is still playing with yours

The blonde likes to show off how strong he is - despite being a slacker, he does train a lot

Denki holds you in his arms, your legs around his waist while he one handedly unbuckles his cargos and pulls yours down the curve of your ass

Kaminari certainly shows off his strength when he moves you up and down on his veiny dick with such ease, hitting your prostate with every thrust while you hold onto his broad shoulders tightly

Being kind of a perv, the blonde fucking loves watching you drool and blush from the size of his dick, your fists tightening to hold Kaminari closer and your eyes being forced to look up from the pressure and pleasure his dick was forcing onto your ass

It's only when your chief loudly bangs on the door of the shed that you're fucking in that Kaminari takes his eyes off of your fucked out face and slows his pace down

"Kaminari! What's taking you so long?" The chief shouts

Denki quickly moves his hand to your mouth, his rough palm keeping all of your moans from escaping

"S-SORRY SIR! C-CUUUMING NOW!" The blonde shouts as his pace quickens, your walls clenching against Kaminari's thick dick so tightly that he actually starts cumming

You can hear your superior walk away faintly, the sound of his steps mainly blocked by Denki's whimpering and grunting in your ear as his cum seeps out of your cock-filled hole

"Sorry I couldn't help myself... You're just toooo warm and good~"

Now while Denki may be very sex-brained, he struggles to separate sex from romance - so he falls for you pretty quickly

He's one of the only members of your unit to loudly state that they like you

Most of his peers make fun of him for saying things like

"I can't wait to leave here and date, (y/n)..."

Your peers telling the blonde that you would never settle for him in a million years

But Denki couldn't care less about what they say - he's ups his game by being super sappy and clingy around you, but you don't mind exactly; you can't deny that you like the attention

The rest of your barrack is fucking fuming that Denki gets to do shit like that with you, so most of them follow suit and try to one-up eachother - all thanks to Denki

Keigo Takami (Hawks)

Keigo is one of the older members of your unit - he's a 30 year old surrounded by mainly 24-26 year olds

But he's got a young spirit, so he fits in exceptionally well

And fucking hell does he fit into the army well as well - he's another one of the guys which was made for the military

The blonde constantly works out and takes his role very seriously - his body reflects that on so many levels

His arms and his back are insane, and this legs are so built it's crazy

Keigo had noticed you immediately, the man knew he was bi and couldn't turn down releasing some stress so the two of you were on eachother almost straight away

Being older, Keigo has so much more experience, so you've always liked being with him - whether you two were spending time together or he was fucking the daylights out of you

The blonde soldier was charismatic and affectionate but not in an over the top way - which got you riled up all the more

He would have one of his veiny hands on your waist or shoulders all the time, he'd smirk at you while looking down into your eyes with his arms crossed - the man was incredibly attractive to say the least

When hanging out with other members of your unit, Keigo loves to exert dominance by having you on his lap, an arm around you waist and his head resting on your shoulder - smugly grinning when the others give him a jealous glare

And when he wants to let you know he wants you cumming on his dick, all Keigo does is gently grind into you - but if you're already in bed, the tall blonde bend over you and kiss your neck slowly

Keigo would then leave to the bathroom, chuckling to himself when he hears your hurried footsteps behind him

The man fucks like an animal in heat

He likes to strip you naked but keep himself fully clothed in his casual uniform, bending you over on the ground as he plays with your exposed hole

"So fucking tight, even with all the dick you take, sweetheart" Keigo compliments you as he smacks your ass, hard

He likes to push on the small of your back as he lines his hard, veiny, uncut dick with your entrance - forcing your back to arch perfectly for him

Keigo likes to start slow with you, sinking his cock all the way inside of your tight walls and immediately starting to thrust into you slowly

Your breathy moans echo in the bathroom while Hawks' rugged moans grace your ears

The muscular blonde then likes to pick up the pace, fucking you rougher and harder by the second until your a drooling, moaning mess

He also moans really loudly, his masculine groans filling your ears along with sadistic chuckles and laughs from the immense pleasure Keigo is feeling from your tight ass and watching you look so whorish

He fucks you into the ground, his thick dick spliting you open while your dick dangles between your legs, leaking precum constantly

As Keigo starts to lose himself in the pleasure of fucking you, he moves his bare foot onto your head, pushing your head harder against the ground as his body shifts to get his dick into you deeper

The blonde laughs and moans as his veiny hands grip onto your waist, pulling you hard onto his dick

The usual slapping sound of sex is muffled by Keigo's cargoes and his tanktop is now see-through as its drenched in his sweat

The older man's pace speeds up even more when he cam feel you tighten, your moans raising in pitch as your dick twtiches in pleasure

By the time your loud, slutty moans are registered by Keigo, he's balls deep in your ass shooting his hot, thick cum deep inside of you - rutting his hips against your ass, therefore rubbing his tip even more into your prostate, overstimulsting you just enough so that it's still pleasurable

Once the blonde soldier pulls out of you with the wet slurp of his cum-covered dick, Keigo likes to watch his thick cum drip down your thighs and onto the floor

He admires his work for a bit and then cleans you up

Keigo is extremely good at aftercare - even military men need to be taken care of!

The two of you lay on eachother and tiredly chat about life - during this, Keigo likes to roll his fingers over your body, admiring you

He never thought he'd fall for you - Keigo always saw himself as above the other, more mature, he thought he could handle a no-strings relationship

But seeing you with others, knowing that other men get to experience the heaven that is being around you and being inside fo you - it really pisses Keigo off

The man, just like most of the other members of your unit has fallen for the barrack bunny - he becomes slightly more possessive than he already was

But again you don't mind, it may make you seem like a bad person, but the attention is a nice bonus on top of the good dicking down you get everyday

Boyfriend(s) ~ Bakugo x Male Reader

Mostly sfw with reference to nsfw Both you and Bakugo are in the same class at UA - aged up to be in your 20's Inspired by boyfriend - Ariana grande word count: 1.4k

'Cause I know we be so complicated, But we be so smitten, it's crazy...

It was obvious to everyone that the two of you were literally wrapped around each other's pinky fingers, but no-one understood why you two wouldn't just get together already!

Katsuki was very evidently nicer to you than to others, holding himself back from insulting you and preferring to tease you instead. He'd also clearly go out of his way to ensure that the two of your 'randomly' ended up spending time together; whether that be by making sure you two were partnered up for training or by hanging out in room you like to spend time in

He really likes you. Katsuki can't put a finger on why, maybe it's the way you manage to keep up with him in training, or the way that you hold his face so softly to look up at you as you clean his face with a damp cloth after he gets roughed-up; either way, the man lives to be near to you

On the other hand, you were also clearly infatuated with the blonde, 'sneaking' looks at him whenever you could and always rambling about your aggressive classmate to your friends

The clear infatuation with each other didn't entirely make your relationship perfect though, as Katsuki's way of dealing with his emotions is anything but healthy; which has resulted in pleanty of little fights between the two of you, but none that weren't fixed with a little hate-sex

Your relationship with the man is complicated to say the least, but fuck you two can't deny that even just being in each other's presence doesn't up your heart rates

You ain't my boyfriend, And I ain't your boyfriend...

What people didn't know though, was that you and Katsuki were already acting on those obvious feelings - just not all the way!

As already mentioned the two of you go crazy in the sheets after an argument, but also just after spending more than half an hour together (usually because your touches on Bakugo resulting in him popping a boner)

But it doesn't go any further than that.

Sure, you and the blonde would spend entire nights - staying up past Katsuki's strict sleep schedule - just to make out in each other's arms, or fuck feverishly as you mark each other and kiss; but that was as far as your relationship really went

The muscular man hadn't sorted through his feelings enough to ask you out, and you were too scared to in case you and the explosive man were nothing more than sex for each other

But the two of you were happy for now, sleeping with your limbs intertwined, sharing passionate kisses and spending time together whenever you could really

all that was missing was the label of 'boyfriends', and you could live with that

But god damn did Katsuki catch himself fantasising a little too much about taking you out on dates, PDA with you, or even marrying you! He was absolutely smitten, you were the first thing he'd think about after waking up and the last thing he thought about as he went to sleep

And even though you two weren't dating, you could still feel the blonde try

Random gifts turning up on your desk with vaguely familiar handwriting, his muscular arm just a little tighter around your waist as his spoons you to sleep, and hand-holding when he was absolutely sure no-one was watching

But you don't want me to see nobody else, And I don't want you to see nobody

Now, while the two of you were missing the label, that doesn't mean that Katsuki didn't treat your relationship as exclusive... Which, knowing the blonde's temper, has lead to plenty of jealousy issues and ugly scenarios

It really didn't help that you were one of the most good looking guys at UA; you had the eyes of many guys and girls from all years on you!

Anytime the blonde would see someone try to chat you up or even confess to you, he would light up - literally, the man would start to sweat and his palms would start to combust

But figuratively, Katsuki would explode in anger; which would either lead to some really great angry sex, or the man would storm up to the person you're talking to, which never ended well...

The man has been lectured by so many teachers for starting quirk-fights in the middle of the day just for seeing a guy talk to you - his argument saying that he could 'see them undress you in their mind'

But when Katsuki feels less challenged by whoever is hitting on you (which is usually either a girl or Deku), he will just interrupt with an arm slinged round your shoulder and an evil lookin smirk on his sexy face

What makes up for the muscular blonde's jealous outbursts is how he talks to you after; getting you up against a wall or below him on the bed, your cheek in his rough palm as Katsuki either looks down at you or kisses your neck whilst mumbling about how 'your his' and how 'they don't deserve you' - damn it he was so sexy like this!

Oh and just because Katsuki gets jealous that doesn't mean that you don't too!

Anytime you'd see a girl hit on the hero you would sour in your mood; resulting in Katsuki having to pry out why you were mad at him, which ends up giving the blonde an ego boost when he hears you got jealous

Or sometimes you do intervene, sliding an arm around the man's slutty, muscular waist and interrupting whoever was talking with an 'Katsuuu... I'm bored, wanna go back to my room?' - that usually shuts up whoever was talking to him

You're also quite fond of marking your attractive classmate, leaving hickey's on his neck, lovebites on his huge shoulder's and plenty of scratch marks down his muscular back

And that goes for Bakugo too, the man gets so turned on when he sees the pretty purple marks which litter your neck and body - his possessive side getting stroked so nicely

Even though you ain't mine, I promise the way we fight make me honestly feel like we just in love

Back to your kinda common fights with the man, they're usually triggered by one of two things: Katsuki being a dick, or you not giving him enough attention (Katsuki being a dick)

If you catch the blonde giving anyone a hard time (especially Deku) you will tell him to shut up and then go OFF on him once the two of you are alone

This always ends up in a shouting match between you two, Katsuki's argument usually being 'oh so you give a shit about them??' and your counter argument being 'yes i have basic empathy'

These arguments almost always end up in make-up sex after Katsuki crawls back to you with an apology - and you have seen improvements in his behaviour! Less snide comments to others and more playful banter, almost as if Bakugo cares about your opinions and views

It's hard to distinguish those fights from the other kind - as both usually result from Bakugo being a dick

But, if Katsuki is being a dick to you, that's when you know that he's upset at you for not 'being with him enough'

The blonde wants to seem as anything BUT clingy, but in reality, if he could morph his body into yours to constantly feel you, he would.

If you haven't flashed the muscular man a smile within the first five minuets of seeing him, or if you haven't bushed the back of your hand against his that day, or you haven't looked away and giggled when his eyes catch yours - Katsuki takes that as you loosing interest in him, which he doesn't take lightly

In turn, the blonde will start to throw insults he saves for others your way instead! Or he'd choose to ignore you (which would fail horrendously as Katsuki can't keep his damn eyes off of you)

Either way, it would end in a small argument between the two of you, where the blonde would absolutely refuse to admit that he felt you weren't giving him enough attention

Steamy make-outs and sex always followed though, after you assure the insecure man that you were thinking about him and always want to be near him

Sure doesn't sound like two guys who "AREN'T DATING" if you ask me!

How they act after you break up with them.

(I made sure to check but there might be small grammar errors, and this is a long one so strap in 🙇, but hope you enjoy angst+fluff here) but not me actually feeling bad for them after-

Is more out of it then usual.

The reason you broke up with him is because you felt like it wasn’t a real relationship. And more like you sometimes got to talk during class, and sometimes out of school.

He writes in his a separate notebook of ways he could’ve done better

Starts comparing himself to other guys more often

Leaves earlier then everyone else to got to dorms.

Mumbles even more then usual, and sometimes the only person that can snap him out of it is Aizawa.

Sometimes takes it out on his friends

“Hey Deku!-“

“Not right now Uraraka.”

“Oi, Deku nerd, the-“

“Can you not right now Kacchan?”

“HAAH?-“

“Midoryia! Would you like to study?”

“Maybe later Iida...”

Todoroki offered him soba but it resulted in Midoriya slowly slurping up soba as he looked into the void of people

He shut everyone one out and didn’t talk barely most of the week.

He’d take out a lot of his anger during training.

It somehow finally clicks into place how bad you feel and how much you miss him when All Might pull you aside and asks. “Uhhh...Is Young Midoriya ok? I’m getting real worried....ITS NOT LIKE I DONT WORRY ABOUT MY OTHER STUDENTS HAHAHA! HOW’S-

There’s 15 minutes of your life awkwardly telling All Might how all your classmates are doing.

Which made you want to jump off the top of UA at the moment.

You decide to head to his dorm and ask him about it, cause you feel like it’s your fault.

You walk in on him crying, clutching the shirt you bought for him on his birthday.

You almost dropped to your knees in guilt at the sight

You rushed over and sat by him, comforting him, though it wasn’t much as you started crying too.

Basically a crying festival for an hour.

“Please....Please Y/N I love you so much, I promise I’ll make it work, and I’ll do my best to make it up to you, just please...PLEASE don’t leave me.” You kiss him on the lips and then his hand, “Babe it’s not all on you, I promise I’ll do better this time too, I’m so sorry for being selfish, I love you, ok?” Another crying fest.

After you start dating again:

Always makes sure you’re comfortable, and checks into your dorm before he starts a study session.

Helps you with your work before his. ( Though you insist he doesn’t as he’s gotten points off multiple times for turning in his work late.)

Goes on dates every time you have some free space in your schedules. Somehow ends up in an All Might merch shop 80% of the time.

!!CUDDLE SESSIONS AFTER HERO TRAINING AT ALL TIMES!! Even in Recovery Girl’s office, though many times she bops you both on the head and tells you to get out.

(If you both like All Might) You both geek out over new All Might stuff, and his old interviews while wearing an All Might onesies.

(If you like a different hero) You could spend hours bickering on who’s best hero, pulling up recordings and articles on the. With you holding your favorite hero plushie and him wearing All Might pajamas.

And waking up early just to take a long route to school together.

Makes sure to say ‘I love you’ at every small moment, and compliments you, though he can’t take compliments himself-

If it’s a permanent breakup:

“I...I understand, but why?”

Tears well up in his eyes and he for once he keeps eye contact with you, without looking away

It takes everything in you to not breakdown

“I’m sorry Izuku, I just don’t think it’ll work out in the end.” He grabs your hand and holds it both of his. He puts it to his forehead, nearly on his knees at this point. You try not to cry with him, but you knew it wasn’t going to end up a happily ever after in the end. And you wanted to break it off before that could happen.

“Izuku, I know, I know, I’m so sorry, I wish it couldn’t end like this-“

“Then don’t let it. Please Y/N don’t let this end.”

You eyes welled up as you put a hand over your mouth while repeating ‘I’m sorry, so sorry Izuku’. You looked away from him as you slipped your hand out of his, you close your eyes painfully, the tears finally running down your face. You couldn’t help but look back one more time, and almost wanted to run to where he was and take it all back. He sat on his knees, his head in his hands as painful sobs wracked his body. You quickly leave the room, shutting the door behind you.

You both were pretty quiet and emotionless the whole week.

Midoriya was even worse then before,

It got to the point where sometimes he didn’t eat or sleep

He barely responded to anything anyone said

Hell, even Bakugo was worried at some point

Midoriya would always go back to his dorm and cuddle with the gifts you gave him while you were dating.

It took a long time for him to get over it, and even when he thought it did, he still gets emotional over it

Even after highschool it pains him to see your off doing your own thing without you at his side the whole time

Quieter then usual

Is so deep in thought, sometimes forgets he’s in class or what he’s doing

During tests, or while working on assignments he’d be so deep in thought he didn’t realize he broke his pencil, or used his quirk on his desk

Instead of having his usual outburst on people he’d just walk off, or click his tounge and walk off

Even during Hero Lessons he’d be less calculated, and not as pumped up

When anyone tried to ask he’d just say “Fuck off, I’m fine.”

His grades slightly dropped

He had bags under his eyes, and had even worse posture then usual

When it came time to leave, he’d be the first one out, and no one could find out where he’d go

A permanent frown was on his face at all times (basically him most of time but with a deeper frown)

No one knew what to do at this point

It didn’t click with you until one day during Hero Lessons

He was sparring with Kirishima and all of a sudden he fainted

Everyone was surprised to say the most

You rushed with Kirishima to Recover Girls office

You both almost busted the door off it’s hinges

She wacked you both on the head but quickly tended to Bakugo, surprising you both as she checked on him

“Oh....I wouldn’t have expected this from Bakugo.” You and Kirishima had confused looks on your faces. “Well he passed out from exhaustion, which I usually see with that foolish Midoriya boy. This one usually keeps up with himself, something must’ve happened.” She cut herself off as she saw the look on your face that said it all. She beckons Kirishima to follow her out, as he still wasn’t getting what was happening.

You finally got a good look at him, and saw just how exhausted he looked. The bags under his eyes, his bruised body, and how pained he looked in his sleep. You hugged the non-bruised part of his arm, and finally let the tears you held let go. “I’m sorry Katsuki...I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner.” Before you realized he woke up, he placed his free hand on your head, rubbing small and soothing circles on your head. “S’okay, let’s make this work.” You knew you didn’t have to say anything else as you both stayed like that until Recovery Girl came in to kick you both out.

After you start dating again:

Comes to your dorm everyday to get you up knowing you’d oversleep if he didn’t (also wants to see your sleeping face...not in a weird way)

Cooks you breakfast in bed on off days,

You guys cook something together when you have a movie night

Instead of yelling most times, he just makes sure he understands your side of everything before jumping to conclusions

Makes sure he isn’t too rough with you verbally (lol not sure physically)

Brings you to his parents house during some free time since you get along with his mom and dad well

Won’t admit it but adores the fact that his parents love you

Whispers ‘I love you’ when he’s made sure your ‘sleeping’ (you’re not, you just wanna hear him say it all shy like)

You guys go on training dates, where you both train together, then have a picnic where you just trained

Him being more open with PDA, like holding your hand, or laying his head on your shoulder, etc. just small stuff

He loves playing with your hair and twisting it around his fingers while cuddling or studying

You both cheer on your favorite hero during a fight on TV, or you pick a random channel on TV and you just listen to him rant how stupid something is while you lean onto his shoulder at 2am (somehow got him to stay up this late)

If it’s a permanent breakup:

“No...no...you can’t, you can’t be serious”

He sounded so broken. His fists clutched so hard you thought his bones would pop out

Anger was evident in his face, and he honestly scared you with the face he was making

“Y/N....are you joking?” You frown and step back a little, did he really think everything you said was a joke? “No Bakugo, I just think this isnt gonna work out in the end.” You heard him click his tongue, then just look at you in shock, then anger. He looked down, his bangs covering his expression. “So you’re just gonna end it like that? No working anything out, just break up? It was one fucking mistake Y/N.”

“Yeah one big mistake, you don’t suck faces with some other person on accident, Bakugo.” The venom in your voice slicing through the tension filled air. “Can you just fucking forgive me? I won’t do it again.”

“You said that last time, Katsuki, then you go and clown off again-“

Before you could get anything else out Bakugo already had his quirk going in one hand, and the other holding your shoulder down. You both looked surprised, even as he backed away. “No..nononono fuck Y/N baby I’m sorry-” you smacked the hand that reached out for you. You started packing everything, Bakugo’s eyes widened as he just stood in shock. Before he knew it you were leaving already.

“N...NO NO Y/N PLEASE, I’M SORRY-“ he grabbed you by the arm that reached for the door knob. You quickly shrugged him out of his grasp, and opened the door. “Goodbye Bakugo, I hope well for the next person with you.” And you slammed it in his face. He stood there, it’s like the emotions he felt before were completely wiped when you slammed the door on him. It was 8:03pm, he should start getting ready for bed anyway.

For a few weeks he was unresponsive, and only talked when he needed to

His movements were sluggish and he’d often stare at nothing

Bakugo didn’t even glare, or really do anything when Midoriya tried talking him

Or shittyhair, dunce face, raccoon eyes, or soy sauce face

They were all the same, and just molded into one voice every time someone tried talking to him

After a while he got over it, but he still regrets what he did

You helped him through so much yet he went off and did stupid shit

Even after highschool, he’d still keep up on you frequently through social media

Basically stalking you on there, guessing he never truly got over it once he felt tears subconsciously stream down his face as he saw you with someone else, happier.

He felt like he didn’t do anything wrong, and he was confused at the throb in his heart every time you looked away from him or ignored him.

So he did ask you, and all you did was look at him like he just hit you.

Why did you look so hurt?

Todoroki shrugged it off, thinking you’d come back like you did after every fight you guys had

But you didn’t, and that’s what took an actual toll on him

More emotional

A permanent frown on his pretty features most of the time

All he mostly eats is soba

He didn’t know how to handle this in all honesty

Sometimes he’d just stare at you, and even when you looked back he’d just stare...

Sometimes he’s so out of it he doesn’t realize he’s either froze the entire classroom or was a living breathing radiator, or both (rip Momo, Satou, and Tokoyami)

He’d ask Midoryia for help but it came out as a fumbled mess most of the time:

“Midoryia...how do you hurt....them, a lot...without...? Can you help?

Midoryia is just like:

(Sorry I had to add that in I was cackling sm from it)

“I think you should just talk to them Todoroki.”

That was harder to do then he expected, you mangaged to avoid him pretty well,

One day he was just fed up and as soon as the bell rang he took your hand and left the class

He takes you to an empty classroom, his left side nearly giving you frostbite

You were about to yell at him before you saw his broken expression

“What...what did I do for it to be like this?” You we’re now quiet as you saw the confused and hurt expression on his face. Him barely being able to control either of his quirks, he was shaking, yet still held a confused expression. It just clicked with you, Todoroki wasn’t used to the sudden emotions or feelings, and when one of the people he’d usually go to to talk about it wasn’t there, he started to crumble.

You hugged him tightly , not caring if his quirks messed up your uniform. “I’m sorry Y/N....I’m sorry I’m not enough, but-“ You cover his mouth as tears fell from your eyes and onto the ground or his uniform. “I- I-I’m so sorry Todo...it’s just you never gave me affection and I was being so selfish and petty about it, I just- I didn’t realize that you went through your own experience for it to turn out like this. It’s not your fault, and I love you the way you are Shoto.” Todoroki didn’t even notice the tears come down his face as you kissed him over and over again. A small ‘I’m sorry’ from you every time. His quirks calmed down and now you were holding each other in a random classroom. You’re heart nearly stopped as you looked up at him and saw a small, teary eyed smile.

After you start Dating again:

Todoroki was much more observant

He’d stay up late readings articles saying “How to understand emotions” or “Is there other good food then Cold Soba” wait-

Regularly gets you gifts, even though most of the time you make him return the stuff since he’s been getting so much with his dads card

Endeavor ended up yelling at you both in a 7/11 while you were stuffing your faces with a soba flavored chips

You both figured out a way to get Todoroki to express himself without words

He’d slightly activate his left side if he wanted any sort of attention, and his right side was if he was feeling stressed or upset

He subconsciously goes to your dorm now to check up on you to make sure you’ve had a glass of water, dinner or anything really (He just wanted a reading to go to your dorm)

You played with his hair once, and he’s never going back

When cuddling he’d lay his head in the crook of your neck, hoping to feel you playing with his hair

You push him to start taking therapy sessions to understand what emotions he’s feeling and how to express them

Takes you in your free time to an empty field just to hear you talk, and learn more about you

And he’d always wake up early and made sure to get a few snacks for you before you woke up and brought them to your dorm room (Last time he tried to cook he almost burned the kitchen down)

Overall Todoroki just loves giving you small head pats now, you don’t know where it came from but you didn’t complain

Poor bby stuttered so hard the first time he said ‘I love you’ you giggled

Ended up making him feel embarrassed and like he did something wrong, but you quickly kissed him/praised him

He can’t stop saying it now, one time you picked up his pencil, before you could hand it to him just a sudden “I love you Y/N” the entire class looked at you both in shock

“STOP SUCKING FACES OVER THERE!”

“SHUT UP BAKUGO”

“HAAAH?”

Todoroki is the happiest he’s been.

If it’s a permanent breakup:

“Over? What do you mean we’re over?”

You felt so horrible by the the pure confusion on his face

But the rude things he said to you, over powering your want to get back with him

Lately Todoroki has been more protective, and rude. Insulting everything you do, belittling you slightly. It just added up and you were tired of it

Todoroki tilted his head to the side, deep in thought.

“Y/N your being on the dumber side again, are you hanging out with them too much?” You were taken aback by how nonchalantly he insulted you and your friends. “Excuse me? Todoroki did I hear you right?” You stepped foward leaning your head toward him. “Of course you can, or did Bakugo’s yelling make you not hear so well?” The fact he said it with no emotion, or nothing to it was making you clench your fist. “The hell has gotten into you Todoroki?” You shove his shoulder a bit. He frowned at you heavily making you flinch. “Well if you didn’t go and ignore me most of this week maybe I wouldn’t be like this. I usually hold my tongue but you’ve been rude this entire week.”

You stood there speechless. “Well Ex-fucking-cuse me Shoto. Maybe if you didn’t insult me all the damn time I wouldn’t ignore you, or wait for an decent apology.”

You drag out the last words as you glared at him, Todoroki giving one back. “I’m only telling the truth so you don’t look dumb. I’m helping you out Y/N, I thought you’d understand.” You scoff in utter shock, you couldn’t help the sudden urge to slap some sense into him. Now he stood speechless, the force in that slap causing his hair to look messy, and a red mark on his cheek. Tears were in your eyes as you clenched your fist, biting your lip from cussing him out on the spot. “Your lucky I don’t beat your sorry ass, just...just the the fuck out Todoroki!” You pushed him toward the door. He looked at you with no emotion in his face as he saw you start to bawl your eyes out. “Just...just get the hell out Todoroki, it’s over, we’re over.” He felt a pang in his heart, but choose to ignore it and just left.

It only actually came to him during the night as he was about to walk to your dorm after a nightmare, when he realized the entire conversation

He tried knocking on your door but you didn’t answer, even though he could hear your music

He went back to his dorm, sat on his bed and just had a full mental breakdown

Realizing his main emotional support that helped him through mostly everything was gone

He felt he said stuff his father said to you already which made it even worse

He tried texting and calling you but you had him blocked on everything

He repeated the entire conversation in his head, just now coming to how disgusting he really did sound

Todoroki for that whole week was an emotional wreck

During hero training if he was thinking about you or what he did he doesn’t notice poor Satou trying to get out of his wall of Ice.

Is always with Midoryia at some given time,

He kind of clinged onto people in his circle that gave him attention of some sort

When he some time passed he eventually got over it

After Highschool you both kept in touch, but it pained him when he saw you engaged and happy with another person

But he was happy if you were happy.

Heyyy so this is probably the longest thing I’ve written since like my last Wattpad fanfics I used to do(yikes). But hope you enjoy, and don’t be afraid to request! I’m taking them now so go wild.

Sorry that they were all confusing it’s my first hcs+scenario thingy, but I have a few other things in the works so... 💃🕺

yO omg i just found ur page and i love it so hi im requesting : )

can i get izuku x male reader (or gn! idrc) where the reader is pretty stoic, like todoroki times a billion, and is only friends (boyfriends LMAO, i should mention id prefer if they r already in a relationship) with izuku, like mutters to him to talk, n just follows him around most of the time, n is kinda insecure since he has a bunch of scars and his arms are messed up because of his quirk (like discoloured skin and such) and because him n izuku are childhood friends hes kinda clingy, and is only soft with izuku

but then one day izuku is kinda havin a tough time, and snaps at the reader by accident (the reader kept clinging to him cause he didn't know where else to go and couldn't read the social cues of izuku being frustrated) and just the most heartbreaking angst with a nice fluffy ending of izuku after like a day of realizing the reader hasn't been clinging to him or talking to him and him going to see the reader in his dorms and just walking in on him curled up with a plushie or smth that izuku bought him n trying to sleep and izuku just breaking

you dont have to do this!! have a great day/night and stay hydrated!! im gonna go stalk ur bnha masterlist now ;)

ndsjafbiw i love angst sm

And feel free to stalk my masterlist lmfao i get really happy when i put more and more stuff on there and it gets longer and longer...

brheupqbufverpw also i was listening to bad habits by steve lacy and i llove you so by the walters and bjhsbafw it set the scene so good yall omg.

Whew this has been sitting in my drafts collecting dust since I lost the motivation to write when my account was nuked, but it's back, so I'm back and you guys can have this as your peace offering :D

Masterlist <3

Warning: Scarring, mentions of vomit...

Izuku x Male!Reader - Quiet

You were practically Izuku's shadow. Everywhere he went, you went too. At the beginning of the year you were incredibly quiet and didn't really react to much. You just kept to yourself, really. You had been suffering with some pretty damn crippling anxiety at the time, and it almost had you staying home and ghosting the entrance exam because you couldn't stop thinking about what could go wrong.

You had nearly forfeited your dream because you were scared.

What if you're too weak? What if they reject you? What if you humiliate yourself?

What if somebody sees the horrible scarring on your arms and says something? It's not your fault you're so hideous, but that doesn't stop you from feeling like it is.

Things stayed that way until Izuku spoke to you again for the first time in a few years, making your little heart thud in your chest as he mumbles and mutters hypotheses about your quirk and about how glad he was to have seen how you'd grown. The boy is so open and friendly, and so talkative that it more than makes up for your lack of input in the conversation. It had been that way before as well.

You both had been childhood friendsat some point, but for some reason you'd grown apart. It broke your heart, but lo and behold the quirkless boy is entering the exam too. Who knows, when you both fail maybe you could be friends again.

At least that was what you'd thought.

Except, you didn't fail. And neither did he.

You had stuck around him after that, following him to class and for lunch until he started to get a little freaked out when leaving for the dorms only to see you still trailing behind. He confronted you and bashfully asked why you've been shadowing him the whole day with an awkward smile, unknowingly hurting your little guarded heart as you realised that your company was apparently unwanted. Of course it was. What were you thinking?

When he saw your dejected face, and felt you practically deflate in front of him, speaking up quietly for the first time the whole day, he immediately felt bad and invited you to his dorm room to talk at you some more, since he knew you wouldn't be replying much.

"S- sorry... i'll go. 'didn't mean to bother you. I just felt safe..."

His poor little (gay, but he doesn't know that yet) heart melted on the spot.

It was from then on that the two of you stayed as close friends again, and Izuku became your safety net. Every time you would panic or cry and cower away in your dorm room he was there, ready to help you challenge your negative thoughts and give you the confidence to step outside again. You had grown even closer than before despite the rift that had previously grown between you.

When he had gained the patchy, discoloured scarring on his arms from abusing them so much with his quirk, he had smiled, and held your arms close together with his.

"We match! ... You still think we're so hideous?..."

Your heart had skipped a beat when he said "we", implying that he would share this burden with you.

Over time, you started to grow closer and closer, until one day, you cleared your throat to speak while sitting in Izuku's bed with him, some random hero documentary playing on his TV. He immediately shut up at the time, listening to you speak because it's so rare that you'd break your silence unless you were with him and he was honoured that he was the one to make you feel that comfortable, and you would never forget how his cheeks started to glow when you confessed to him that day. He was so proud that you were able to tell him, and immediately accepted your confession of love.

Ever since then you had hung around him at all times, clinging to his blazer with an outstretched hand when the halls got busy and even following him to the bathroom, his blush ever present every time you did. He didn't truly mind though.

But today, he had been in a rather sour fight with Bakugou, and he was reeling. You had never really been privvy to social cues, so when he let out frustrated sighs and huffs, and held his head in his hands during break, you just thought he was feeling a little off today.

Discoloured, scarred fingers reach out to hold onto his blazer sleeve when you start to feel a little unsettled, huddling close to him and showing him your affection, but he does not take kindly to it.

A sharp smack fills the silence of the room as Izuku swats your hand away harshly, growing irritated with and overstimulated by everything around him. You know he must have been having a bad day, but it must've been you. You didn't realise that you had ruined his day and part of you almost thinks of this as his way of breaking up with you, but you don't have much time to think on it before your boyfriend is yelling at you.

He had never yelled at you before.

"What's is it now?! Can't you see i'm not in the mood?! I can't do this right now. You don't have to cling to me every second of the day!"

Everything feels numb when, for the first time ever, Izuku raises his voice at you. He definately wants to break up. Didn't you hear, idiot? He said he doesn't want you near him anymore. He doesn't like you anymore.

It doesn't even take a second for the overwhelmingly depressing and intrusive thoughts to infiltrate your mind and swarm you, and you freeze up as he walks away from you, your throat suddenly closing up as your eyes sting from the salt in your tears.

For hours you sit alone in your bedroom, curled up under your sheets and crying so hard you almost vomit. Of course he doesn't want to be with you anymore, look at you. Your face is bright red and your skin is raw and sore from all of the tears and the wiping of your face. It hurts. And it looks like it does too.

You curl up into a large dragon plush that Izuku had won for you at an arcade date the two of you went on. It was one of your first dates and still remains one of the best memories of your life. The fur of the plush is absolutely ruined with snot and tears, and your voice is hoarse and it carries in your cries how torn apart you are. It's sad, the first time you've used your voice this much in such a short space of time is when your crying into a plush over your boyfriend. Or your ex.

Your hair is slick with sweat and tears and a few strands cling to your face as you cry, and you're completely exhausted by the time midday rolls around.

The next day, you skip school and stay in your room, your head pounding from the dehydration of crying out all the fluids in your body. You're only brought out of your trance as you hear a tentative knock on your door. Is the school day over already? Oh...

You didn't even bother to go to dinner, and you haven't eaten all day because you hadn't the guts to come out and face everyone after sonething like that. You may be a strong hero, but without Izuku, your crutch, you felt like nothing.

The last thing you expect to see is Izuku walking in to find you curled up in your bed, in a state worse than any he's ever seen you in. Considering that he's seen every one of your panics attacks since you had grown close, that's saying something.

Immidiately he's by yourside, relising how bedly he had fucked up. You were still cradling your hand close to your chest in an effort to stay close to the last place he touched you.

The freckled boy had come to apologise for snapping at you the way he did, but he never expected it to be this bad, and he truly worried when he didn't see you in class this morning. He felt unsettled not having you there beside him since you were both a package deal, and everywhere you went, you went with Izuku in tow.

His heart just about shatters as you look up at him with confused eyes, the colour in them appearing so much more intense with the flood of emotion and the redness of your sclera. your eyelashes are dark and bunched together with little tear droplets and the image is so etherial to him. He's so in love with you that it hurts, and there's an uncomfortable tightness in his chest and a lump in his throat at the sight of you like this. The second he saw you curled up and crying into his plush his heart had dropped to the floor and he had physically felt it.

In seconds he's apologising and tearing up, crying with you while he gets under the covers to cuddle.

"Baby, I- i'm so, so sorry! I never meant to hurt you like that, I swear! I was stressed and I took it out on you- i'm sorry! I've been a horrible partner- but i'll make it up to you, I promise..."

You didn't doubt him. The boy was torn up about how he treated you and the relief and comfort of finally being back in his arms again, coupled with the realisation that he didn't break up with you had your heart stuttering and racing and a hundred miles an hour while you cuddle the fluffy haired boy.

Your hands are already buried into his hair and he practically whines as you press your forehead against his under the sheets. As he rambles about how sorry he is you just scratch his scalp, still recovering from the heartbreak of what you thought was a split between the two of you, and you say nothing back.

Izuku knows you though, and he knows your silence isn't one of rejection. He holds you close with surprisingly strong arms, holding the hand he slapped away in his and trailing his thumbs over the discoloured scarring there. As much as you see Izuku breaking every record with his astounding strength, he's still just that squishy baby in your mind, with hamster cheeks and big, beady eyes that are like glass windows to his soul.

It brings a smile to your face and fresh tears to your eyes. You're so in love that it hurts.

Alrighty then! Ima go for it! Believe it or not it is neko based. But, with a male y/n to be exact lmao. The quirk being Cat: The user is given cat like ears and tail, however they are givin feline like instincts that they can’t necessarily control. But the user is aloud to transform into a house cat, and can look like their natural hair color. The user can only meow in this form, they can’t talk like a human duh. The user has cat like senses, being able to hear very well, see in the dark, and have really good balance. The user can talk to/ attract felines alike mostly house cats as they seem to be the most popular in Japan. They are known to be flexible, and have balanced landing. And oml that is heckin long look i just copied and pasted from the last time i wrote about this quirk i hope you can forgive me. 😔 But anywho, i can just see Aizawa being absolute friends with this chad, like maybe y/n is a therapist to kids because he can literally comfort them due to his quirk, or just like a detective of sorts because of he can turn into a cat and be an excellent spy. Im so terribly sorry if this is long, i guess this more of an idea giving thing, maybe some inspiration for ya? I wanna see what you come up with. I think it’s about time we get some Neko Dilfs in our lives. 😎 what do you think?

Ooo jejkdbfkd I haven't even watched that fricken program and I'm already thinking of chat noir 💀

But of course I had to make it cute and romantic <3 sort of

Masterlist <3

Aizawa x Male!Neko!Reader

It was hard not to stare at Shouta Aizawa when you first met him. He was in his usual outfit, teaching his class 1-A and training with them when you had arrived at the training area, where the class was being held.

You had just been hired as a new teaching assistant because of your reputation as an underground hero, and their thoughts were that it would be best to have another underground hero to teach you the ropes.

He was standing there in all his glory, looking over the kids and making sure that they were making the most out of their training by giving them pointers and keeping track of their progress. It was so hot.

You tried your best not to fanboy over the poor man but you really just can't help yourself at this point. What makes it so much worse is your daddy issues, so this is kind of like waving candy in front of a kid and being like "Yeah you can only look, and you can't eat it. Have fun!", as if!

You were a complete simp for this man, and you always have been since you first heard of him.

He had taken some time out to train you alone in both the physical and mental areas of being a teaching assistant, and his very few complements and praises stuck in your mind like glue.

"I see... A cat quirk, huh? I'll tolerate you because cats are my favourite animal, -but only because of that."

That was a complement in your eyes, at least. He likes you! And he acknowledges your quirk!!

As of right now, you're halfway through your training and you've gotten pretty close to your mentor, though you've told him nothing of your dream to meet him, or of how much his mentoring really means to you. You both regularly chat and you pride yourself on even having made him laugh on some occasions, though he has absolutely no clue how much you admire and crush on him, and he never will.

At least, that's what you think.

In reality, Shouta Aizawa is a much smarter man than you give him credit for, and he could tell from the get-go that you were crushing on him, and hard. He had grown a soft spot for you in the time you've gotten to train and work together, and he had grown to love those twitchy, fluffy little ears of yours, and he wanted to pet your tail so direly, because this man is just an absolute sucker for cats.

He could also tell you had some rather substantial daddy issues too, from your aversion to part from him and your inferiority and abandonment issues, along with your constant need for validation. He found it very, very amusing that you thought he couldn't tell.

As you sit down with him in the faculty room, alone, you have to physically restrain your tail from patting happily against the sofa, your eyes, pupils as wide as the iris itself, avoid making contact with those of your hero.

He chuckles at your shyness despite that fact that it's been almost half a year now since you've met, and the two of you, along with the entire class, have been through thick and thin together and bonded like superglue.

Why were you so shaky around him all the time?

He sits with his legs crossed, an arm slung over the back of your couch and behind you, making you almost quiver as you keep averting his gaze out of sheer embarrassment at this point. He had grown to truly respect you and your accomplishments, knowing about your past with providing free therapy for kids.

That was one specific thing that caused his respect for you to increase dramatically when he first heard about it though, especially since it hit so close to home. His students have been though so much already that most rookie, full-time heroes haven't had to deal with yet, but somehow none of them classified for therapy? Or could even get it at a reasonable price? It was a longstanding struggle that Aizawa had fought long and hard against for his kids, yet he didn't have the power to do anything more for them until you came along. And you did it for free?!

He knew that he wouldn't have much trouble getting along with you at least, since your moral standpoints seemed to allign quite nicely.

He turned out to be right, although somehow no amount of psychology training could help you resolve your own issues, apparently.

"Why are you so tense all the time? 's not like I'm about to drag you to the nearest dark alley and threaten you for spare change. You need to relax"

All he receives in response is a shaky nod, and that's when he gets fed up, taking your chin in his hand and tilting your head towards him, forcing you to make eye contact with him. Your pupils are blown wide with love and adoration, much like that of a real cat, and your left ear twitches slightly, prompting him to pet it as he leans in to press a peck to your lips.

You freeze. It was like you had been struck with Todoroki's ice, because you could only sit in shock as your long time crush kissed you. He's just so dreamy and hot, and you can't stop your cheeks from going bright red again.

"I-... I-... S-so..."

"Let's date."

You nearly faint.

You can't help but ask if you're dreaming, and this only ilicits a low chuckle from the dark haired man which has your knees and heart weak, and as you look back at him and take the sight in fully, your little heart skips a beat. You must be the luckiest guy in the world right now.

I want to ruin my life and throw myself into an arc so uhh

Can i request class 1-A but like outcast reader? Angsty yk where theyre always dismissed in training and forgotten

Oooo I like this one lmfao I want so desperately to make reader this feral little cicin mage like from genshin 😭 buts gonna be gn

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 <3

𝐀𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐰𝐚 𝐚𝐧𝐝 1-𝐀 𝐱 𝐆𝐍!𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜) - 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤

Aizawa was starting to become a little worried about you. He had been so busy with Shinsou and his problem children to focus much attention and direction to the rest of the class. Every time he would try to work on it, yet another calamity would occur and force his attention back on the main parties.

He was working on this little flaw of his, continuously checking in with and directing the others during training period. He never got to help you, though. It seemed that whenever he would look for you, you would drop from the face of the earth.

You were avoiding him.

You would sit on your lonesome in class and at lunch, with your head kept down. He's never once seen you exchange small talk. In all honesty, he's less worried about your physical capabilities, and more worried about your mental state. He has a bad feeling.

In reality, you just hated this class. Every day, someone would open their big, ugly mouth and out came nonsense that further convinced you of how undeserving they were of being at the top. You were only here because you were recommended. Your quirk isn't nearly as powerful or flashy, either. Why does everyone else get all the attention when all they do is fuck up and ruin everything?!

All of this comes to light during the next sparring period. You were towing on the edge of keeping up with one of the class' best, until you were unexpectedly knocked down. That was your last straw. How fucking dare he?

You were suffering a humiliating defeat as you sit on your knees on the floor, staring into the distance without focus, until your sight was infiltrated by the image of Midoriya. You hate that stupid brat. The hatred in your veins is only fuelled when he offers a hand to you and a pathetic smile.

Within a second, his hand is slapped away and the room goes silent.

"Get the fuck away from me. Fuck you."

The bite of your words is only dulled by the waver of your voice, and the tears in your eyes. Izuku is stunned, as is the rest of the class. Even Katsuki thinks you're overreacting. Kirishima steps in with a frown. "Hey, man... That wasn't cool-"

He's interrupted when you turn around and walk away, brimming with anger and frustration. How is he so much better than you?! You train every day and constantly home your skills, so how did he beat you faster than you could blink?

Maybe you were being a little horrible, but you've never learned how to offset your anger in healthier ways, so for now, you're happy taking it out on others.

Are you really that weak? Maybe, after everything, you're the one who doesn't deserve to be here...

How come they could always be nice to eachother, but they could never talk to you? Why were you ignored or given strange looks when you tried to open up? How come noone wanted to be your friend?

Aizawa, of course, figured you might react in such a way. Loneliness can easily turn into bitterness if you take your eye off it for too long. He needs to help you fix this.

He wants to keep everyone in this class for as long as he possibly can, and allowing you to exclude yourself any more than you have would be dangerous for everyone, including you.

It's with that, that he starts putting people in pairs for everything. He would force you to socialise if it was the last thing he did.

Every day you would argue with your pair, but it was worth it, because when you were offered kindness or compassion, no matter how reluctant you were to accept it, he could see that little spark in your eye. It was the kind of spark that made him aware of your guard dropping. You were actually starting to care about your classmates.

Obviously Toshinori immediately knew what he was doing when he saw Aizawa put you in a group of three since the class was uneven on a specific day, and he would offer up a smirk and subtle glance as if to say "wow, you finally got through to them".

He supposed that it's not your fault you don't know how to cope with your... Emotional baggage, much like Shouto or Katsuki, but he likes to make you very much aware that it's your responsibility to learn how.

When the day comes that you finally think to apologise to Izuku, the boy you've grown an annoying fondness for, he actually starts to cry. He's so proud of you for not staying emotionally constipated like Katsuki, that he actually floods the room and Aizawa has to open the window for him to violently sob out of so that the entire class doesn't drown.

Slowly, you start to grow a kinship with a few people in your class, and you grow especially close with your bubblegum haired friend Mina, and Jirou, who liked to do her part by teasing you out of your shell. Maybe, you could even learn what it's like to love and be loved back.

Class 1-A is introduced to you, the new student

Quirk Class 1-A is introduced to you, the new student

Quirk: Blue Flame, you can expulse blue flames from your entire body, and also from individual limbs such as arms, legs, feet, etc.

Drawbacks: Because the flames are so hot, you are more susceptible to heat stroke

Reader is referred as he/him, and uses nicknames like “man, dude, guy, etc”

This is pre-sports festival

The class was roaring with chatter. You stood outside the classroom with Aizawa, relaxed, before he opened the door and walked inside the classroom. You stayed in the hallway, waiting for Aizawa to call you in to introduce yourself.

“Alright, everyone settle down. I have an important announcement.”

That sentence surely got everyone’s attention.

“We have a new student. A transfer from a different hero school from overseas.” Aizawa looked towards you, and you took your first steps into the room. Everyone looked at you. Everyone except the blonde boy near the back of the class.

“Hi, I’m y/n.” You say, nonchalantly and quietly. To be honest, you were incredibly nervous, but you didn’t want them to know. You tried playing it cool. You placed your hands in your pockets, and tried to calm yourself down, playing with some coins you had.

“Y/N doesn’t enjoy talking about his quirk, so if you don’t mind, don’t ask him about it. We, as an administration, are helping him through some fears he has regarding his strengths and weaknesses. Please be kind.” You could almost hear someone scoff at you in the back of the room. You could see the green haired boys eyes light up with curiosity. You quietly walked to an empty desk when asked.

During the lesson, you paid attention to everyone and their personalities. You stayed silent, carefully observing each of your classmates. Some had a temper, some were too smart for their own good. Some were creeps, and some were just stupid. This class really had it all, didn’t it?

Pretty soon, class was dismissed, and you were the first to get up to leave.

“Y/N,” you heard someone call your name, which grabbed your attention. You looked towards the person who called your name. It was Midoriya. He seemed nice from what you gathered from hearing him speak in class, so you didn’t mind too much. You placed your hands in your pockets.

“Oh, hey there, Midoriya.”

“Oh wow, your voice is very soothing,” he muttered under his breath, causing a slight blush of embarrassment and flattery to spread across your cheeks.

“Anyways,” Midoriya continued, “We’re going to get some snacks and we’re gonna go train for the upcoming sports festival. Want to come watch? You don’t have to use your quirk if you’re not comfortable.”

That sentiment rang in your ears for a moment. He remembered Aizawa’s words, and took them into account? He cares about my feelings?

“Sure, I’d love to watch.”

“Y/N, are you sure?” Aizawa asked. You nodded your head. Aizawa closed his eyes.

“Alright, I’m coming with you. Just to be on the safe side.”

“Safe side?” Midoriya questioned.

“When Y/N is riled up by someone, his quirk can get out of hand. And seeing that Bakugo is also attending after school training, it’ll be safer if I’m near to erase quirks if someone’s anger gets out of hand. We might want to make sure that no one gets hurt.”

“Wow, your quirk must be pretty strong then, huh?” Ochaco asked.

“Eh, I’d rather not talk about it-“ you reply, scratching the back of your head, nervously.

“Oh, right. Sorry for asking!” She replied, almost begging for forgiveness.

You and your new friends arrived at the training grounds, and you sat on a nearby bench, watching the students learn to improve their skills. Aizawa stood in front of the bench, giving students some tips to help further improve their abilities.

“What a damn nerd…” you heard from behind. Pretty soon, Bakugo was walking past you, and looked at you menacingly.

“Do you think you’re so powerful that you can’t use your quirk around me, hot shot?” Bakugo said. Your eyebrows furrowed, and Aizawa heard the commotion.

“Bakugo, leave Y/N alone. Don’t mess with him.”

“Awe, come on. Surely he’s not that great. Maybe you can’t control you little quirk like that moron, Deku. Did you suddenly develop a useless quirk too?” He said, smiling in your face.

You could feel the heat in your body start to brew. You were getting angry, but luckily, Aizawa was there so you wouldn’t make a scene.

“Bakugo, leave him alone. His quirk is more powerful and dangerous than anyone’s right now. You’re strong, Bakugo, but I have to protect you from him now. Choose your enemies wisely, Bakugo.”

You were still angry, and you walked out the facility and slammed the door. You walked back to UA, and spoke with you counselors.

UA had specifically designed a fireproof room for you to let out your anger, and there you went, and unleashed all your anger. You body went up in blue flames, so high, they touched the ceiling. You threw some punches and balls of fire at the furthest wall to let off some steam. Aizawa walked into the counselors room to watch you from the other side of some fireproof glass.

“He’s got a temper, but at least he knows when and where to let it show.”

Your screaming and yelling in anger lasted about 30 minutes before Aizawa had to step in. He could tell you were getting overheated, and didn’t want you to suffer from the drawbacks of your quirk, which was heatstroke.

Since your flames are so hot, you easily heat up, causing you to sweat and be more susceptible to heat stroke. Aizawa erased your quirk before you realized. Your eyes had closed as you became more tired, yet you still tried throwing punches. The heat from the room was excruciating.

“Y/N,” the sound of Aizawa’s voice snapped you out of it. You looked towards him and saw his red eyes, and noticed you couldn’t use your quirk anymore.

“Come on, kiddo. Let’s get you some water and some food.”

You shuffled your way towards Aizawa and he wrapped his arm around your waist, to help you stay up. The counselors helped cool you down and brought you some water to drink. As your body cooled, and you calmed down, you became tired. Usually it’s just another affect from the heat you endure.

The reason you’re here in the first place isn’t because you want to be a hero. You needed serious help, and going to a school where pro heroes taught seemed like a safe place for you to openly experiment with your quirk without hurting anyone. In your past, you hurt someone you dearly loved.

You vowed to never use your quirk again. Soon, you proved yourself wrong. When someone hit a nerve with you, you again, used your quirk to hurt another, thus beginning showing signs of anger issues, and lack of self control.

That is why you are here at UA, and you were paired with Aizawa’s class. He was the safest bet when it came to controlling your quirk.

AN: Let me know if you’d like to have this as a several part series! I find this character incredibly fun. I’ll probably still continue this story anyways!

¡¿The UA students fuckery and Y/N's need for mischief¡¿ Pt.1

A series of short scenarios that you, the UA students and Faculty will be put through :]]

Warnings: Under-aged use of drugs, Swearing, mild violence, Y/N being inappropriate

《▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎》

Y/N: Hey shinso, what's your type?

Shinso: *Flat faced and muttered* You

Y/N: S-sorry what? 😃🤨

Shinso: Y-YOUR CLASSMATES *flustered*

Bakugou: Fucking idiots

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

Todoroki: Why is this food so dry?

Midoriya: Yea, it needs something....maybe sauce??

Denki and Y/N staring at eachother: WHERE THE FUCK IS THE LAMB SAUCE?!

Mina and Sero: W-w-what the fuck you two *Absolutely dying*

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

*Sero and Y/N walk in red eyed and delirious*

Y/N: I'm just saying if Bakugou had style he'd pull more fishes

Sero: Did you just say wishes?

Y/N; FISHES, BAKUGOU NEEDS FISHES

Bakugou: What the fuck are you idiots going on about? *Sparky boom hands* 💥💥

Y/N: *Slaps him and runs outside not at all prepared for tornado warning weather*

Iida: Y/N GET BACK IN HERE NOW, QUIRK OR NOT NO ONE SHOULD BE OUTSIDE DURING A TORNADO WARNING AND YOU AND SERO NEED TO STOP COMING BACK TO THE DORMS UNDER THE INFLUENCE

Bakugou: Alright what the fuck is wrong with this mad house of a school

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

*Mirio in a wall with his head poking out*

Y/N: *Dragging a very large and suspicious bag outside towards the forest and looks up at him* Well, uhm- *smacks lips* If you fuck off and tell no one of what you're seeing I will suck your dick 👀

Mirio: *Slowly sinks back into the wall while giving them a thumbs up*

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

Ojiro: *Working out in the gym*

Denki: *Flies by outside the window*

Ojiro: Alright what the fuck *Looks outside to see everyone using denki as a ball playing hot potato*, Nope nevermind

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

*Y/N asleep on the couch*

Shouji: They don't get enough sleep do they?

Midoriya: No they don't, their sleep schedule hasn't been great since well birth. I'm sure they have insomnia

Iida: I suggest we wake our classmate up so they can sleep peacefully in their room! *hand chops*

Bakugou: You wake them up and you'll lose your hands four eyes *💥💥*

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

*Y/N walks into the dorms red faced and hazey*

Denki: What's up with you?

Midoriya: Mirko Complinted their fighting style, so now they've been giddy all day

Y/N: ☺ *off in their own world*

Sero: What a simp

《▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎》

Hope you enjoyed!! :]]

Be sure to always tell me if I accidentally gender the reader, I try my best to be inclusive to my fellow Enbys ^^

Don't tag with Gn!reader or any of the sort if it has pronouns other than they/them, it's un godly annoying 😒

Like and reblog if you can relate to this

GN and Male Readers when they see a Female Reader story in the GN and Male Reader tags:

(in)correct Bnha quotes Prt. 4 --ｷﾘﾄﾘｾﾝ--

at a sleepover Reader, talking about their crush: "I dont want to be too graphic, but I want him to crush my throat, snap my back and hide my body" Uraraka: "Same girl, periodt" Yaoyorozu: "Yall need Jesus❤️" ☆━━━━━━━━━━━☆ Ashido: " I love going as Zombies for Halloween" Sero: "How do you do that?Just not wear any concealer?🤡" Ashido:"6ft under the ground would really suit you rn♥" ☆━━━━━━━━━━━☆ former Todoroki:I make loneliness✨look cute. Maybe I´m born with it, maybe its the clinical depression"

☆━━━━━━━━━━━☆ Kirishima: "What that mouth do?" Bakugou: "Argue" Midoriya: "mutter mutter mutter" Mina: "Talk shit and complain" Reader: "Imma Eat" ☆━━━━━━━━━━━☆

Bakugou: "The only time I´m totally chill is at yoga or hiking" Sero: "So youre trying to say that the whole other time youre whimsical and fun?" Kaminari:"-wait are we going to ignore the yoga part?" Bakugou: "You always have to open your damn mouth" Kirishima:" yes Denki, we are" Sero: "What´s that supposed to mean?!" Ashido: "I wonder if he knows the updog" Bakugou: "I won´t fall for that"

Being Aizawas husband and bringing him his lunchbox at work cause he forgot it at home, and just fluffy situation happening<33

Forgetful

Btw this is more of a Drabble thought sort of thing sorry in advance I’ve been under some wicked writers block :]

Female aligned and minors dni this is an 18+ only blog

Aizawa had just left your shared home to go to work, you look over the counter and see he has forgotten his Lucy “gosh he is so forgetful in the mornings” you mutter aloud and you grab the lunch and soon walk out the door. On your way to the school he works at you had to take the bus. When you got off the bus and made your way to his classroom, you gently knock on the door, it soon opens with your husband standing right there, “what are you doing here y/n” the tired man exclaimed in shock “I’m bringing you your lunch since you forgot it at home, dang your so forgetful” you feel eyeballs burn into you as you see a bunch of teens staring at you “hi I’m aizawas husband y/n shouta” you say and the room grows very quiet but shortly followed by gasps and shocked looks. “Husband!” You hear a yellow haired boy say in shock chaos soon broke a lot of teens ran up to you and started asking questions “well I’ve got to go honey but consider this punishment for being so forgetful” you said while walking out of the classroom only hearing all the kids and a long sigh from your tired husband

𐔌  ᩙ   ᦏ♡᪔  ໒꒱ IF I WAS A ZOMBIE, I'D NEVER EAT YOUR BRAIN ..

REMUS !! | it/he/she | nonbinary | 18 | shigaraki's dumb mutt

masterlist | what i write | who i write for | requests: open !! gender neutral / male reader blog ! sfw and nsfw themes !

I'D JUST WANT YOUR HEART 𐔌  ᩙ   ᦏ♡᪔  ໒꒱

idk if this would be too niche would you be willing to write something (headcanons or whatever you want) for shiggy with a trans bf with health problems and how tomura would respond to that and his bf holding onto him/resting on him when he runs out of energy (which is fairly often)

⸻ i've never written for shiggy ( even tho he's one of my favorites ) so please bare with me. & these kinda suck so im sorry :(

++ i haven't had an asthma attack in a few years & i didn't want to write it wrong so i didn't write anything about the reader having one !!

tw !! touch starved shiggy, mentions of someone "falling" down a flight of stairs, reader w/ asthma

the first time you reached out for him, he flinched. he couldn't help it, it was a muscle response. he's not used to getting touched or touching someone without them being scared he'll turn them to dust

but then he saw how out of breath you were, how splotchy your cheeks were, and just how tired you looked. he hesitates for a moment, before letting you lean against his shoulder

it takes a while for him to get used to it so he's thankful that you don't push a bunch of physical affection on him all at once

the slight tugs at the hem of his shirt or belt loops ( not that he ever wears a belt ) is just something he has to get used to, he tells himself. and, eventually, he does

he embraces ( usually only when the two of you are alone. but some times he will make an exception ) your gentle touches, your soft / heavy sounding breaths against his skin, your weight against him. he's learning. he's trying.

if you get worn out in the middle of a battle, regardless of the fact if you're a hero or a villain, he will stop at nothing to get you out of the battle and to a safe place that you can relax with him

he will not tolerate anyone making fun of you, even if you say it's okay. dabi makes a snarky comment? oh no, it looks like he accidentally fell down a flight of stairs xoxo