Midoriya's Italian Mother Series

When I'm depressed but still caked up

golden kamuy shitposts i made lmao

Papi💕 wip

Might delete later to post full version

I gotchu

"loser dabi" "loser tomura" "loser hawks" what about loser AIZAWA. what about old and awkward and bitter Shouta Aizawa who thought he'd never find love- until u appear in his life, pretty and a bit younger and full of brightness, the type of partner he'd never thought he'd have, and suddenly all of his nonchalant and quiet personality is torn away as he becomes an awkward and flustered mess. he doesn't know how to handle it, this influx of new feelings and attraction, and we all know he's not the best at people skills... not that you mind of course, to you, it's just endearing to see the strong willed and so called icy Eraserhead mumbling like a teen just because he's asking you to go out and get coffee with him <33

♡ Kissed By The Baddest Villain ♡

Link To Masterlist

WC: ~3,000

Ch 3: Hail To The Queen

Several weeks have passed now, and fall is in full swing, bringing with it a bite to the air that has you bundling in sweaters. This is your favorite time of year, when the leaves begin to change, the air shifting in such a manner that feels as if it’s taking you to the distant past; somewhere that ghouls and goblins roamed free, someplace where quirks were witchcraft and the world was made of magic. It always hits you with this sense of nostalgia for a time you never even lived in.

With Halloween now upon you, this meant that Musutafu was celebrating with a festival—something you had pre-planned to beg everyone to attend with you—but to your surprise, you didn’t really need to. Since this was a costumed event, everyone had agreed after your first “please” to go. You had assumed it was because there was such little risk of them being identified as villains when they were thoroughly disguised, and in that sense, you had assumed correctly. However, there was another underlying reason that they were all so eager to go to the festival tonight. 

They wanted to see you all dressed up. 

Dabi is already waiting on pins and needles for you to exit Toga’s room. He usually would find dressing up for Halloween to be pretty childish, and, well, lame. But with you so excited, he had to swallow his pride and throw something together. He didn’t want to look like he was trying too hard, so he grifted himself a set of vampire fangs, then added two dots on the side of his neck with a red marker. It was subtle enough to show he totally didn’t spend the last twelve hours trying to decide what to do, but still had that sexy edge to it.

Everyone had agreed to share you equally, but he knew better than anyone else that as soon as you walked out in your costume, even if it was you dressed as something stupid as hell, all of those promises would be out the window. That meant he needed to be the best of the best tonight. The coolest, the hottest, the most desirable. With his alt Lestat look, Dabi was convinced that he had this in the bag.

He was even more sure of himself when Twice entered the room dressed as a black cat with a moon on his forehead. Still donned in his typical suit, he was wearing a headband featuring two pointed ears, a tail, and even little paw gloves. 

“You look fucking ridiculous,” Dabi chides him.

“Oh yeah?” Twice has a haughty air about him that leaves Dabi worried, “Well I just so happened to have the thought to ask what her theme was. She wouldn’t say the exact person she’s going as, but she and Toga are dressing as characters from Sailor Moon. I’m Luna,”

“No, you’re a stupid asshole. She’s not gonna take you seriously dressed like that. Fuck, it’s like you’re trying to give the rest of us a leg up or something,”

“We’ll see how you feel when this gets a laugh out of her. Women love funny men,” Twice holds out his hand to check the nails of his paw, still confident in his decision, contradicting himself in the next breath, “I could take it or leave it no matter what she thinks,”

“Whatever, cat-boy,” Dabi sneers under his breath. 

The next to enter the room are Shigaraki and Spinner, both of whom also appearing to have gone with a humorous costume. Shigaraki’s costume looks to be about as low-effort as Dabi’s, having taped a blue construction paper “e” to his hoodie and circled his eyes with what was more than likely Toga’s eyeliner. 

“Are you.. what the fuck, Shigaraki? A dead E?” Dabi asks, tongue occasionally grazing his fangs. 

“Tss,” Shigaraki replies, crossing his arms and casting his eyes to the floor, “Stupid guess. And like I’m telling you. Find out when Yumemi gets here,”

Spinner is in a white button-up shirt and a pair of black sweatpants. Dabi opens his mouth to roll a snide comment off of his tongue, when Toga flounces into the room wearing full Sailor Moon attire. 

“I am the pretty guardian who fights for love and justice!” She announces, the heels of her boots clicking against the hardwood. She seems to have really gone all out, the buns on her head having each a tendril of hair let down to resemble Usagi’s classic hairstyle, the Spiral Heart Moon Rod being waved around as she speaks to Twice about what a good Luna he makes. 

“Toga, you’re Sailor Moon?” Compress questions her as he walks through the door, already deflating, “I thought Yumemi was Sailor Moon. That’s why I’m going as Tuxedo Mask,”

His shoulders slump visibly beneath his suit, the disappointment palpable as he wistfully drops the rose he's holding down at his side, red petals unceremoniously scraping his trousers.

“Wait, so you and Twice both knew she was doing a Sailor Moon thing?” Spinner looks as if he’s about to throw up. He runs his hand nervously across the back of his neck.

“Well of course. We’ve had a week to properly coordinate, thus, I acted accordingly and asked for her plans myself,” Compress regales this information with the flick of his wrist. 

Twice’s face becomes animated within his mask, “All you had to do was think about what she wanted to do,”

The feeling washes over Spinner, Dabi, and Shigaraki simultaneously. 

They had greatly underestimated the lengths the others were willing to go to for your hand.

Shit a brick through a fucking window, how did they not think to communicate with you? They’ve been outsmarted by both of these assclowns. Bested by a wannabe circus ringleader and some himbo with a traumatic brain injury. And now they’re going to look thoughtless. They didn’t even consider what you were doing. At least Toga would've had the excuse of obsessing over her crushes had she dropped the ball like this, but them? No. You’re their crush. There’s no excuse for that. They’re going to have to step up their game. 

The clicking of heels upon the floors catches the group's attention. When you walk into the room, you’re beaming, the atmosphere electric with your excitement—and burning with the heat coming off of you. You’re not one of the sailors, or a cat, or some other cutesy little character they expected. 

You’re dressed as Queen Beryl. 

Your hair is tucked back behind a bright red wig, eyes winged with black liner, lips painted a vibrant shade of ruby. Atop your head is the crown Beryl wears, and your shoulders are horned with a homemade prosthetic on each side. And that fucking dress… It’s floor length and purple, tastefully low-cut, hugging the absolute hell out of your waist and hips. With a giggle, you point your scepter at the room. 

They hadn’t even noticed it. 

“Doesn’t she look so hot as the Queen?!” Toga is the first to bring it up, sparing any decency she’s ever known, gazing up at you as if you really did have dominion over them all. She nudges you until you turn to the side and then, emphasizing your bottom, declares, “Your ass is killer in that dress, Mimi!” You blush deeply at her praise. 

The men, having what is essentially permission to look, fix their collective eyes to your ass. 

Yeah. 

It’s fucking killer.

“Oh God,” Spinner mutters to himself, and Mr. Compress elbows him, a reminder to be polite around a lady such as yourself. He picks his jaw up, “Y-you look just like her. Seriously, great job,”

“Absolutely stunning,” Compress adds.

“Atsuhiro, you’re Tuxedo Mask!” You clasp your hands together at the recognition, and he bows with a grin, “And Twice, I can’t believe you actually went as Luna! You’re hilarious, like I am weak, you even have the tail,”

Twice lifts his mask to mouth “told you” at Dabi as you buckle over with laughter. 

“Let’s see, Shigaraki…” He tenses at the sound of his name leaving your lips, “You’re not the ghost of an E are you?”

“No, but good guess,” Shigaraki mumbles, and Dabi tosses an offended look his way.

“When I said that you fuckin’ told me—!”

“I’m Internet Explorer,”

Shigaraki looks proud, smug even, when you bounce up and down I'm a fit of giggles. 

‘That’s so smart, oh man! I can’t believe you thought of that!”

Heat blooms across his face, keeping to himself about how he’d looked up clever Halloween costumes to impress you. 

“Spinner, I love mundane Halloween. Can I guess or do you wanna tell me?” You ask him with a grin. 

He watches your cleavage as you bring your hands to close, arms pressing at your chest. God, the room feels so incredibly small. And since when is he the type to get an eyeful of someone like this? It’s making him feel kind of scummy, but fuck, you’re just so perfect. 

Oh shit, you’d asked him a question. 

What was it again?

Right. 

“Go a.. g-go ahead and guess,” he stammers, forcibly removing his eyes from your body, his cheeks now covered in a smattering of pink. 

You tap your finger to your chin, “Are you… waiting for your slacks to get done drying?”

“That’s close.. But I… I’m a work from home business man,” the explanation feels hot on his tongue with the way you’ve focused your attention on him. 

You bark out a laugh, ecstatic and all too pleased with his answer. 

“You guys absolutely kill me. I like all you guys so much, seriously. Are we all ready to go?” 

The group nods emphatically, all of them following behind you like ducklings in a neat little row out the door. On any other day, it would be a fight for who got to walk beside you. Today, though, they would be fools to squander this view from behind. You look delicious. 

All of you are cloaked in the darkness of night for a majority of the walk to the festival, lead by the light of the moon, warm splashes from lanterns lighting up patches of your skin when you reach the grounds. Harvest glow seeps through the bare, knobby branches of the trees. The smell of confectionaries, caramels and sweet kettle corns alike, waft on the breeze. 

“Smells like candy apples,” you exhale these words, somewhat hazy. 

“Do you like those?” Shigaraki asks, making certain he won’t miss a single thing about you from here on out. 

“Well, yeah, doesn’t everyone?”

All ears seem to perk up, then the group disperses, the lot of them hurrying to the food stalls. 

Your eyes dart around frantically for any familiar face that still lingers, and you watch as Toga books it to the goldfish scoop, chirping about how she’s going to win so many prizes for Ochaco and Izuku. 

“Hey, wait!” You lurch forward, but are pulled back by your arm, a hot grasp keeping you in place. 

“Hold on,” Dabi croaks, and you turn to meet his gaze over your shoulder, “We can go do stuff on our own. I’ll get you a treat or something later,”

Dabi saw the opportunity and took it, swooped in like a stalking vulture. He was more than grateful that the others all bolted to those long as hell food stalls. Now he has you all to himself.

“O-okay, yeah. You wanna go play Katanuki?” Your voice comes out shy and girlish in a way you weren’t quite anticipating. 

He starts toward the Katanuki tent, and you quicken your stride to keep up with him, lights and sounds bleeding into the air around you on your way. The stands are all lined in neat rows, their coverings colorful and bright, people both in and out of costumes manning the front to accept payments. You can tell when you've reached the Katanuki tent by the smell of the sugar sheets. The two of you offer up two tickets when you reach the stall, and take a seat at a wooden bench to poke at the sugar wafer, the lines of his face harsh as he needles the shapes. He looks somewhat irritated that the sugar is melting a bit in the heat of his fingertips, hissing in vexation.

“I gotta say, I’m surprised you wanted to hang out with me,” your tone is hard and half a whisper. 

He lifts a brow, “Why?”

“You just always seem like you don’t want to be around me,” you confess, and he cracks the little heart he was needling at. 

Pain flashes briefly in his eyes before he flattens back to his baseline, lips sloping gently into a frown. 

“That’s.. that’s fucking stupid. I don’t not want to be around you, I…” the words feel impossible to pry from his mouth.

“You can tell me if I’m irritating you,” your voice plays at being content, but the way your eyes are getting all welled up and glassy says otherwise.

A lump forms in his throat. 

You care so much about his opinion of you. 

“No, I… you’re not. I wanna be around ya, doll,”

Dabi thumbs nervously at the Katanuki sheet, his stomach coiling, heart fluttering behind his ribs. You're so beautiful in this moment. Even when you've dressed yourself up as a Sailor Moon villain, you're prettier than any flower he's seen. You’re pale, shrouded in the moonglow, lantern light flickering in your eyes, which has a peculiar feeling curling within him. And like the little ghost you are, you’ve been haunting the chambers of his mind, each nook and cranny there having previously been devoid of anyone to occupy it. What does he even do with this? Why can’t he stop thinking about you? He’s horny for you, sure, but this feels like more than just wanting to sleep with you. This feels like it's coming from somewhere deeper. 

You sense how unsettled he is in such a way that’s only so intuitive due to your quirk, having honed pulling the true emotions from people more times than you can count. It’s easy to tell he’s nervous. Maybe you shouldn’t have made an assumption like that. You place your hand atop his, tracing your fingertips gently across his knuckles, your touch soothing and soft. His breathing is stutter-stopped, pulse pounding rapidly. When he locks his turquoise eyes onto yours, he feels like he’s going to be sick, something winding him up until he’s positive he’ll snap. 

“It’s okay,” the comfort you give him is simple, but warm, the smile spreading over your face so genuine and kind. 

Those dinnerplate eyes of yours tug at his heartstrings, dry up his mouth, have him impulsively curling his fingers around yours which drape so delicately into his palm. He can’t recall a time when someone touched him so sweetly, so purposefully. He couldn't wrap his mind around why your own impulse isn't to recoil. Look at him. He's covered from head to toe in burn marks, more monster than man. This combined with his checkered past had him writing off the odds of someone actually liking him. Why do you seem like you care so much, then? 

As you brush your thumb over the marred heliotrope skin that joins to his hand, he shudders as if he’s cold, the look you’re giving him settling into his bones like radium, and you glow all the same. He’s thought so many times about how he was going to kiss you the second he had the chance. But now that the opportunity has risen, he can’t will himself forward. He can’t breathe. He’s drowning, sinking, watching you through the dreamlike lens that you’re always covered in.

“Would you.. would you want to..” The words won’t come out, the plush strokes of your hand a distraction, “There’s a ferris wheel…” He gets to his feet abruptly, gathering up how to say, “Let’s get on the ferris wheel,”

You grin brightly, “I’ve never been on a ferris wheel before,”

“First time for everything,” he states plainly, already heading in that direction. 

You’re expecting it this time, so you catch up with him quickly and tell him, “Well I’m glad my first time will be with you, Dabi,”

He stops in his tracks, and you run into his back, the tiny gasp you let out only adding to the shiver that racks through him. You were being serious when you said that, he could tell. It wasn’t something you were teasing him with, but it still felt taunting somehow, the words echoing through his head: I’m glad my first time will be with you, Dabi. His toes curl at the thought, the curve of his cheek visible as he casts a moon-eyed glance over his shoulder. He studies your face, the gentle slope of your shoulders, the swell of your hips, eyes tracing the length of your legs. You’re too gorgeous. It shouldn't be allowed.

“Let’s go, then,” he turns and continues to lead the way. 

You two wait in line for a few minutes, him having to snarl at several other men who were eyeing your figure, flashing a blue-flamed fingertip at some asshole who pointed you out to his buddy. Not that he blamed them. You are hot, after all. But they needed to do a better job at sneaking looks, lest he have to lay someone out, which he was not above doing in the slightest. The man taking the tickets gulps as you two approach. And it's kind of weird, but he seems to be flat out refusing to make eye contact with you, despite your friendly demeanor.

The cab of the ferris wheel is roomy, a space on each side for people to sit, and you choose to sit right next to him. When you’re seated, the little stall shaking back and forth, you reach out for him without thinking. He goes stiff as a board, so tense he can feel every muscle in his body as you grasp his shirt in your fist. He sucks down a breath when you return your hand to your lap and separate yourself from him. He hates how much enjoyment he gets from knowing your first instinct was to cling to him for safety. Dabi wasn't someone who people tended to think of as safe. He was strong, and he was skilled, and he was sturdy--but he couldn't think of a single other time another person had reached for him like that. He touches the place on his chest where your hand had landed, whole body buzzing. 

“Sorry, I, uhm—I didn’t know it would—ah!” The stall moves again, tilting as it begins to take the passengers in a circle, and you press your weight against him. 

Dabi is sweating like a sinner in church when he tries to seem calm, “’S alright, doll, you can hold on to me,”

Now would probably be the perfect time to ask you out. You’re cuddled up to him, watching the festival lights flashing from up here in the sky. But you’re also trembling like a little leaf being blown around in the wind. You’ve got your arms wrapped tight around his waist, face nuzzled into his chest, heart beating so hard that he can feel it hammering through you. 

“S-sorry,” you apologize once more, a lilt in your voice that resembles the way you shake, “I don’t mean to ruin the fun,”

Your fingers dig into the flesh of his back, nails grazing him slightly through the fabric of his shirt, and he mirrors this for you as best he can, rubbing small circles where the dress exposes your crystalline skin. 

“You’re not ruinin’ shit,” his voice is barely audible in the crisp wind that whips past the two of you. 

“I’m glad you don’t hate me,” you chuckle nervously. 

“Yeah?” Dabi sounds a bit surprised. 

“Yeah,” you say softly, “I really like you,”

He fumbles this information around in his mind, flounders with it, completely and totally short circuits. You’d just told everyone how much you liked them not an hour ago. This could mean anything.

As a friend?

As a lover?

As something more than that?

How exactly do you like him?

He can’t figure out how to ask you that without seeming pathetic and desperate, though. So he does the next best thing and sits there with it like a fucking loser. Lets it eat away at him. 

This totally won’t keep him up every single night for the foreseeable future. 

It’s then that he resigns himself to pulling you closer to him, syncing his breaths with your own, relishing in the way you let out little gasps and squeaks when the wind rocks the ferris wheel. The time with you goes by much too quickly. You’re being lowered and let off of the ride before he knows it, the other members of the league waiting on the ground, hands full of candy apples—aside from Toga, who’s struggling to hold onto all of the toys she’s won. Dabi pulls a self-satisfied face at everyone while you step off of the ride, pierced tongue poking from his teeth, both of his middle fingers extended. 

“Jesus, that thing was scary! You guys, it just kept moving, it was like—!” You make a swaying gesture with your hands, puffing out your flushed cheeks, pinched dark with wind and exasperation. 

Dabi smirks when he realizes some of your lipstick has smeared. 

Did you guys kiss?

No.

But they were all going to think you did, and that was a close second to actually getting to kiss you. 

Toga shoves a bear in your face, explaining to you the names of all these stuffed animals, and who they’re assigned to. You smile down at her, happy to be a part of her antics. 

“This is from me,” Shigaraki boldly interrupts the conversation, handing you the treat he's acquired, “It’s got chocolate and caramel on it,”

“Well mine’s covered in marshmallow fluff!” Twice pushes the apple in your face, “Looks like it sucks,”

“Yeah, but the one I got has special almonds on it. They were grown right around the corner,” Spinner wiggles his as he speaks. 

Mr. Compress holds his apple as if it’s on display, “This one is a classic candied apple. You can’t beat the classics, I’m afraid,” 

You’re incredibly overwhelmed with all of the options, “Woah, I cannot eat all of these. We should get a plate and cut them up. That way, we can all share,”

Shigaraki rolls his eyes. He does not like sharing. Not even a little. 

But everyone else has begrudgingly complied, so he will, too. 

You all gather at a picnic table, Spinner slicing all of the apples with Toga’s pocket knife, showing off his skills in the process. You press your hands to your cheeks with excitement. 

“So many to choose from,” you whisper to yourself. 

“Allow me, Yumemi,” Atsuhiro removes his glove to take a slice with well-manicured fingers, “I wouldn’t want your hands to get sticky,” 

You tilt your head, unsure of the expectation he has of you. Upon seeing your confusion, Compress pinches your cheeks together, carefully coaxing your mouth to open. 

“That’s it, there you go,” he breathes while placing an apple slice on your tongue. 

Your whole body heats up. Something about this interaction feels sexually charged. Perhaps you just weren’t used to this much attention from men your own age. Older men tended to be very straightforward and brash, telling you upfront that they wanted to have sex with you; so surelysomeone would’ve mentioned it by now if they wanted to. You’re just overthinking things. Atsuhiro is a really old-fashioned guy. He more than likely really doesn’t want you getting your hands all gross from the candy apples. Still, you feel a tightness in your belly with the way he watches you chew, his finger and thumb still languidly idling on either side of your jaw.

Shigaraki sucks down the slice he had picked for himself, nearly choking, coughing as Dabi grits his teeth. Twice and Spinner simply blink in utter disbelief. Toga unhinges her mouth like a baby bird expecting to be fed, her canines gleaming.

Finally, things click. 

Everyone is picking up apple slices, offering you bites from their own hands, overwhelming you once more. 

“Guys,” you sigh, somewhere between exasperated and flattered, “One at a time,”

Real. There are days where I can't even do the necessary things that I need to because my body just will not work. Being chronically ill/disabled is a full time job on its own. Nearly every aspect of my life has to work around it.

do able-bodied people not understand that if disabled people call out of work every time they don't feel good that we would call out of work every fucking day?

like honestly. what do you think being disabled means?

When you don't immediately get views, kudos, and comments the second you post the fic you've been obsessing over.

hot for teacher

chapter two previous

pairing: shouta aizawa x f!reader

synopsis: You’re not expecting your day to fall to pieces at 8:21 a.m., but life hasn’t really been going your way lately. A string of lackluster dates, followed by two dead vibrators (with missing cords!), and the only outlet left for your mounting sexual frustration—the smut blog you diligently update—has been discovered by the one person you never wanted to find it: fellow teacher Shouta Aizawa. Who might just be the inspiration behind most of the fantasies you post about.

chapter cws: phone sex -> video call sex, soft dom aizawa being soft as hell, reader being vulnerable on main and hating it, gratuitous use of pet names, dirty talk, praise kink on crack, D/s vibes but never explicitly said, he talks you through it, reader referred to as girl once

word count: 2.2k

aizawa: You’re a good writer.

aizawa: This is Shouta, by the way. Shouta Aizawa, I mean. I suppose I should have started with that.

The compliment cracks your face into a wide, goofy grin that the rest of his texts only magnifies. He's a little clumsy with this form of media, and the thought softens the edge of anxiety.

You still can't wrap your head around the fact that Shouta fucking Aizawa not only found your blog, but was actually maybe into it?

You’ve mostly known him on the periphery, a part of the school’s landscape but never someone you felt comfortable becoming casual friends with. A crush of your magnitude already made talking to him difficult enough.

Which is probably best to not remind yourself of that fact before doing whatever the fuck it is you're doing with Aizawa.

The memory of fingers rubbing circles into your palm pops into your head. His touch had instantly calmed the riot of thoughts in your head.

You stare down at your phone. Thank you is not enough to say, and yet you have no idea what else to add. You shake your head. You’re a grown adult, for fuck’s sake. Surely you can respond to a text message.

aizawa: Can I call you?

You throw your phone across your bed. One of your cats, Bao Bao, raises his head to glare at you.

"Sorry, baby." You offer conciliatory scritches. He consents while your phone buzzes from the corner of the bed.

You pick it up with far more trepidation than necessary.

"Hi." You voices sounds wild to you, all high pitched and breathy with your heart thundering so hard in your ears you barely hear him say hello back. "How are you?"

You punch a fist into the bed sheets. How are you? Fucking seriously?

"Good. Are you nervous?"

You can't help but sigh. Clocked it in one. "Unbelievably."

A pause.

"Because it's me?"

"No, it's not that." You bite your lip. "I've just..."

It’s not like you’re inexperienced. You’ve fucked plenty of guys, but never really quite enjoyed having sex with any of them, which led to you churning out fantasies online.

"I've never really done any of the things I actually like with the people I've slept with. I guess I'm worried I'll be...bad, or something."

"Do you often think about your partner's experience over your own?"

This conversation is sounding more like a clinical psychologist appointment then a get-to-know-your-fuck-buddy chat.

A horrible thought occurs to you.

What if you're some kind of experiment to him? A curiosity? Rumi might know him from his college days and vouch for him, but you don't know shit about the guy.

"You know I can hear your brain whirring through the phone?"

"Fuck." You exhale out a laugh. "I'm sorry. I'm just finally realizing that I don't actually know what your intentions are. And men tend to be..."

"Manipulative pieces of shit?" he offers.

"Yeah. Something like that."

"I'm sorry. My 20 questions routine probably isn't helping."

You smile softly. "That and my anxiety. Always pushing forward the worst possible thought with little to no evidence. You're right, though. I'm usually in my head when I'm with someone. Can never get out of it long enough to actually enjoy myself."

He hums, considering. "What would help you not think so much?"

"Talking usually helps. I have a thing for nice voices."

"Do you like mine?" You swear you hear a touch of apprehension in his tone.

"Yeah," you say. "It's deep and kind of... I don't know, rumbley?"

"Rumbley," he repeats, chuckling. "I've never heard that before."

"It's a good thing, I swear."

"As long as you like it."

You have to strongly fight the desire to kick your feet up and down.

Keep it together.

Aizawa starts to speak again. "I know this is just words right now, but I want you to feel comfortable enough with me so you can tell me what you like and don't like."

Your stomach swoops at the calm intent.

"Right. I - " You swallow. "I want that, too."

"Good." The single word dries your mouth up. “Do you like to be called anything specific?"

An image of Aizawa's hand collaring your throat flashes through your head, his mouth an inch away from your ear as he tells you to behave—

"Isn’t this, I dunno, boring to you?" You toss the question out in a pitiful attempt at deflection. This conversation is already too honest, too real, too close to exposing who you are to another person.

He pauses. “Why would this be boring to me?”

"You know. We’re not doing the typical phone sex stuff. We’re just…talking."

"And you don't think that's enough to interest me?"

It never has been before.

You shut out the pitiful answer.

"Sorry. In my head again."

He's quiet for a moment.

"You’re telling me you’re not wet just thinking about the things I want to call you when we’re together?"

Your whole body flashes hot.

"I mean—"

"Tell the truth, sweetheart."

It’s impossible not to be, you realize; just from his voice alone, your panties are already damp and sticky with your arousal.

"Yes," you admit, and you wish you could see the look on his face when he lets out a gentle groan.

"I don’t care what phone sex is supposed to be like, I just want it to be what we like."

Oh god, you weren’t counting on Shouta Aizawa being sweet.

"That was one," you say, cheeks on fire. How is this both the tamest and sexiest conversation you’ve ever had? "I like being called sweetheart. But only, like, if I’ve been good."

Admitting this makes you feel off-kilter. You’ve never had such a frank discussion about what you like in bed, but talking to him feels safe, easy, even if your whole body aches, demanding to be touched.

"Oh?" His voice shifts, a deeper register making that single sound strike deep in your gut. "And what do you like to be called when you’ve been bad?"

You’re pretty positive that if Aizawa called you his little whore you’d detonate on the spot.

"You must have—"

"I know what you’ve written. I want to know what you like."

There's a bite in his tone you recognize, a struggle to keep himself quiet.

"Are you hard?" you blurt out.

His chuckle is strained. "Have been this entire time. And you called our conversation boring."

You grin at the teasing. "Can I see?"

You want to, suddenly, with a desperation that knocks you flat. If he were here, you're pretty sure you'd fucking crawl on your knees to get to him.

"Tell me what you like to be called, and I'll consider it."

You tell him instantly. "Slut, whore, brat. You could probably call me your little bitch and I’d like it."

"Fuck." He sounds wrecked. "Are you touching yourself, sweetheart?"

The pet name washes over you like sunshine.

"Umm. No, actually. I was..."

Waiting for your permission.

You handed him the reins a while ago, you realize, as soon as you obeyed his command to tell the truth.

"What are you wearing?"

Your thoughts stumble.

"The truth, y/n." His voice is so low now it's almost a growl. "I don't give a fuck if you're in a teddy or a trash bag, I just need to know how to get you naked the fastest."

"A t-shirt and panties," you breathe out. Arousal makes your skin tingle and pulse, every intonation of his voice drawing you closer to the edge. Rubbing your thighs together does nothing to ease the ache.

"Shit. You probably look so fucking cute in your bed right now." You hear him grunt and then a drawer shut. Thinking about Aizawa slicking up his hands and fucking his fist drives another thrum of desire through you. "Spread your legs apart, baby, pretend I'm right in front of you. Can you do that?"

You can barely breathe you're so turned on. "Yes, I can do that."

"Good girl. Now pull your panties to the side. Tell me how wet you are."

Just the caress of your fingers on your hips and inner thigh is enough to make you tremble. A light buzzing fills your ears and the world drops away to just your fingertips gathering the slick at your entrance. You graze your clit and gasp.

"I'm - " You suck in a breath, trying to articulate the words. "I don't think I've ever been this wet. Fuck, you're not even here and I'm practically soaking through my fucking sheets."

A second later, a video notification comes through.

You answer and Aizawa's face appears, his stubble heavier than normal, eyes hungry.

"Knew you'd look fucking beautiful like this," he says before you have time to speak. His eyes rove over your face like he's mapping it.

You wriggle under the compliment, under the implication—had he thought of you, too, before the blog?

"You look so good," is the only thing you can think to say, but Aizawa doesn't seem to mind. His eyes crinkle into a small smile. It's one you almost wish you hadn't seen, its sincerity something so rarely turned toward you it nearly stings.

"Thanks, honey."

Oh, you're never coming back from this.

"You still want to see?"

Really, truly, never coming back after Aizawa pans down his stomach, passing over a dark happy trail that makes your mouth water, and angles his phone over his cock.

Your pussy clenches around nothing.

"ohmygodyou'rebig," comes out in one long rush.

His head falls back against his headboard. He sucks in a breath and you watch, mesmerized, as he starts stroking his shaft slowly. He squeezes and twists the head, a little bit more pre-cum glistening at the tip.

"You've gotta stop lookin' at it like that, sweetheart, or I'll cum like a fucking teenager." Pride washes over you at how destroyed he sounds. It's like he would push himself through the phone if it were possible. "You have something there that will make you cum fast? I'm barely holding on and I want to finish with you."

You fumble for your rose, a thought occurring to you. Normally, you'd be too embarrassed to even suggest it, but you want to with Aizawa.

"Do you want to see me?"

The sound he makes is pornographic. You bite your lip, twisting your inner thighs together.

"Yes. God yes, I want to see you."

"I know you said you wanted me naked earlier, but maybe I can leave my shirt on?"

He nods. "Yeah, baby, let's do that. It's not like I don't want to see all of you. I just—"

"Want to save some things for next time?" you supply.

"Yeah." That soft smile again, the one that feels like your heart's being set on fire. "Exactly."

You do the same general pass over your body that Aizawa did, tracing over your waist and hips, encouraged by the way his eyes drink in every inch of exposed skin. Before you turn the rose on, you sink two fingers into your pussy and slide back out, slick webbing in between your fingers.

"Jesus, you're soaking wet." You can hear the lewd squelch of his hand along his dick and the moan you let out rivals his from earlier. You're shaking you're so turned on. "Turn your rose on, sweetheart, and then come back to me. I want to see you when you fall apart."

The toy suctions against your clit. A whimper falls from your mouth, and then several more, as Aizawa's voice washes over you. You lose track of how many times he tells you how good you're doing for him, how beautiful you look, but it feels like only seconds later that you're cresting toward your peak.

"Shouta," you breathe out, gasping for breath. His eyes are fixed on you, something unnameable in his gaze. "Please please please—"

"Cum, sweetheart," he says, and your eyes fall shut, voice keening into a wail as you thrash on your bed in the fiercest orgasm you've ever had. "That's my girl, showing me how much she wants me there stuff her full. Fucking perfect, so fucking perfect—"

Through the haze of orgasm, you barely register Aizawa's own orgasm, your own name echoing in your head as he finds his release.

"That was..." you trail off. You have no idea how to describe what that was besides life-changing, but that feels a little too intense to say.

"Amazing," he finishes. "Absolutely amazing. You were incredible."

You're pretty sure your body temperature could set your bed on fire you're so pleased by the compliment.

"You know you're cute when you're embarrassed," he teases.

You groan. "Your pillow talk needs work."

You were joking, but his face turns serious. "Got it. You were okay the whole time?"

A smile takes over your face before you can stop it. "Yeah. I was great. The whole time."

"Good."

You both don't say anything, and then you realize you're just staring at him, and the comfort is starting to make your skin itch. You aren't used to this.

"I should go to bed." The time on your bedside nightstand reads 1:03 a.m. "You too if we're going to get all the exams graded before break."

"Right. Good night, sweetheart."

You fall into sleep after the call clicks off, a trace of a smile on your lips.

You don't see the email come through.

SL: TIME SENSITIVE: SPRING BREAK - DEBATE TEAM COMPETITION - CHAPERONES NEEDED

taglist: @phaticserpent, @magidzi, @hotlosergirl17, @luckybibucky, @heyithinkilike, @getoisinnocent, @personally4runa, @kennys-partner, @geektastic84, @wave2mia, @bakery-angel, @constanttea, @aryuunachigiri, @sskorvid, @therefore-evermore, @one-scarred-mofo, @food4dead, @alphabetsoupyum, @cielito--lindo, @rentheannihilator, @juiceeypeach, @imastorytelleritsondvd, @ivydoesit23, @anotherfuckedupdayinthelifeofme, @deputy-azor, @ibby-miyoshi-nerd, @h3rmit-purrrrple420, @lousypotatoes, @hisbitch101, @greedygobbo

(･ω･)つandy's notes: another outrageously self-indulgent chapter that i had SO MUCH fun writing and I really hope you all enjoy it, too!! the posting schedule is Mon/Fri, hope u follow along! <3

ALSO ALERT ALERT AIZAWA POV NEXT WEEK

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It’s uncanny how similar Trump is acting like Hitler. People are now doing the Nazi salute. They’re drawing the symbol. The KKK was seen in Kentucky asking people to join them. ICE has been ripping families apart. Companies have pulled back Diversity Initiatives. We’re no longer part of WHO and there won’t be any communication from the CDC at least until February 1st. We’re being censored and the news can’t be trusted. Thousands of Americans didn’t know there were protests against Trump yesterday outside the U.S. Quotes from The Handmaid’s Tale and Anne Frank have been compared to what’s going on right now.

According to The Lemkin Institute for Genocide Studies and Prevention the U.S. has officially been given a red flag alert for Genocide.

I’m exhausted but I will never stop being angry.

As someone who grew up in a southern Baptist household who has recently deconstructed, writing smut has been healing for me. I was never allowed to view these things as normal or okay. Sex was not just taboo, it was sinful, disgusting, and wrong, especially if you were a woman. I was told as a teen, in leue of a sex talk, that sex was not meant to be pleasurable for women. That sex was for procreating and for the pleasures of men. That women who enjoyed and expressed their sexualities were used up and worthless due to throwing away their virtues.

Sex is a very normal part of life because we are animals. It's okay. You aren't gross for being interested in it and there's nothing wrong with it existing in literature.

Enjoy writing smut.

Enjoy reading it.

If you've always wanted to try it but are feeling as though it's wrong or dirty somehow, go for it.

i love writing porn and i wont feel bad about it. understanding the eroticism of a character is character analysis if u are enlightened.