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Flowers and Sunday Nights

Read part two here!

Pairing: Aizawa Shota x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Stinky drunk man who doesn't know how to back off, mention of a broken nose, Aizawa being a softie.

Word count: 1,483

Description: On a peaceful patrol, underground hero Eraserhead, finds himself meeting someone as beautiful as the flowers in her arms.

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Author's note: This really came out of nowhere, but I had so much fun getting into my feels🥺 I'm thinking of following up with a part two— let me know what you think!

••••

Aizawa loved Sunday nights.

After a full week of juggling his U.A workload along with his night patrols, with barely any rest in between, Sunday nights allowed him the chance to catch his breath. It’s almost as if Japan as a whole decided to take these chilly nights off and sleep in, which made the erasure hero’s patrols so much more bearable than usual.

Perched on a rooftop, he let himself breathe in softly, a long-awaited sense of peace filling his lungs as he rested his sore eyes just a moment. Cool currents of air swept his hair back, allowing his skin to catch the silver light of the moon as he tugged his scarf closer to his face in an attempt to shield himself from the cold.

Fluttering his eyes open, he let his gaze trail over the city, a part of him realizing how little he’s actually seen of it. Sure, he’s a hero who patrols the area every night and protects it with everything he’s got, but to him, it felt like this was his first time actually seeing it. The towering buildings that trapped starlight within their windowpanes, the slow rolling of clouds over the inky night sky, the soft sounds of a quiet life that he could only yearn for. It was all so familiar, but so new at the same time.

It almost made him smile.

Almost.

His head snapped to the side at the sound of a disgruntled voice, his brows pulling together in confusion before his mind could respond to what was happening.

“Hey, I told you to back off, you mouth-breather!” you shouted, annoyed, one hand pressing a bouquet of flowers close to your chest as the other slapped over the drunken man's face.

The man stumbled back a few steps, his eyes widening in shock before narrowing darkly as your handprint revealed itself on his cheek. “You little brat! And here I thought we were having a nice bit of fun,” he snapped, tearing the flowers from your grasp before fisting your shirt aggressively, pulling a gasp out of your lips as the stench of alcohol reached your nose.

Aizawa didn’t wait to see what this scumbag thought he would do to you; he jumped from his ledge on the rooftop and landed a few feet away from you, ready to break the man’s hold on you. His eyes glowed red as he glared at the man menacingly. “Word of advice? Listen to a woman when she tells you to back off.”

 He was about to step in when the man’s eyes flickered to him for a brief second, giving you an opening to slam your knuckles into the bridge of his nose, a satisfying crack emanating from his nose. The hit you landed made his hold on you slip as he stumbled back and slipped on your flowers, tripping over his feet before landing on the cold ground. That was enough for Aizawa to trap the drunk in his capture weapon before knocking him out cold with a snarl on his lips.

“They’re ruined,”

The hero turned with a tilt of his head, watching as you gingerly knelt down next to the now-destroyed bouquet of flowers with a frown, your shoulders slumping in disappointment.

 He looked back at the man who was tied in his capture weapon, a low huff of amusement escaping his chest as he noticed the trail of blood that trickled down the man’s face. “You broke his nose,”

You looked up at the hero before flickering your eyes towards the very man who ruined your night. A glare settled on your eyes before you shrugged. “A small price to pay for ruining my flowers.”

That got a hum from Aizawa, his eyes twinkling with amusement before he knelt by your side, watching as you picked up the crushed flowers from the ground with a sigh.

“Are you alright?” he asked, trying to make his low voice as soft as possible as he looked at your hands, trying to see if you bruised up your knuckles when you threw that punch earlier. His dark eyes then settled on the flowers in your hold, a frown settling on his lips. “Who were the flowers for?”

You didn’t look away from the torn, colored petals you held when answering. “I’m fine— slightly pissed off, but fine.” A tired laugh shook your chest softly, the sound warm and inviting; Aizawa couldn’t help but smile. “And the flowers were for me, but I guess I can’t go a night without getting something nice for myself just to have it ruined.” Your tone was bitter–sad even– as you spoke.

That got a frown out of the erasure hero. He could feel your disappointment rolling off of you in waves, a part of him sympathetic towards you as his eyes flickered down to the assortment of flowers in your grasp. He eyed them silently, trailing over the soft hues of the petals that once seemed so gentle and alive.  

A single flower seemed to have survived being trampled over, its lovely, blossoming self almost shining in the moonlight in a way that could be described as angelic.

Softly, Aizawa picked it up in between his fingers, your eyes following him as he held it out for you. “Not all of them are ruined.”

The gesture was so small, so simple, yet there was something so gentle in it that it almost seemed intimate.

Your eyes twinkled with a new light as you gazed at the small flower in his hands, an awestruck smile curling your lips. “Yeah,” Taking in the hero’s face as you glanced up from his hand, a softer look flashed in your eyes.

His sore eyes seemed almost gentle as his gaze locked with your own, his hair gently pulled back by a soft breeze that tickled your noses. Even with his rugged complexion, he looked ethereal under the moonlight, a blossoming sense of peace making itself at home in your chest as the corners of his lips curled into the ghost of a smile.

He’s beautiful, you thought to yourself, your eyes widening as heat rose to your cheeks.

Clearing your throat, you accepted the flower from his hand, your fingers sparking with electricity as they graced his skin momentarily. “You’re Eraserhead, right? I think I’ve seen you around the area a few times.”

The hero looked down at his hand, his skin tingling where your fingers had brushed over. “Uh, yeah,” He shook his head softly, snapping himself out of a daze. “I patrol this sector every night.”

His eyes lingered on you as you nodded before standing up, tossing the crumpled flowers into a nearby dumpster while still holding the unscathed one in your other hand. His heart leaped to his throat when you turned to him with a smile. He followed your lead and stood up as you walked back to him, clutching the small flower close to your chest.

“Thank you, Eraserhead,” you breathed, your words heavy with a genuine sense of gratitude towards the hero.

He snickered, quirking an eyebrow at you. “For what? I believe you handled yourself decently— you basically did my job for me.” he mused, tilting his head towards the man who was still out cold in the clutches of his capture weapon.

Heat rose to your cheeks as his praise sunk in, making you dip your head in an attempt to hide your embarrassment from him. Shaking your head, you looked back at his dark eyes. “I, uh, thanks,” you laughed nervously. “But I mean thank you for the flower.”

The poor hero didn’t have a chance to react to your words before you gently cupped his face with one hand, pulling him close enough for you to tuck the small flower behind his ear, sinking the stem into his hair delicately. His breath hitched, his eyes wide as he told himself not to lean into the inviting warmth of your skin. His gaze followed your hands as you pulled away, his heart soaring as you looked at him as if he were the most beautiful man you’ve seen.

And for a moment, he let himself believe it.

“I hope we’ll meet again soon.” You smiled, waving him goodbye as you turned to go down the road.

He was stunned, at a loss for words. Part of him wanted to run after you, keep you there for a moment longer as he cursed himself for not even asking for your name. His eyes lingered on your retreating figure as you disappeared from his line of sight and merged with the night.

All he could do was bring his hand up to where your warmth still graced his skin, his fingers soon feeling the soft petals of the flower you planted in his hair. He smiled.

Aizawa really loved Sunday nights.

Expecting: Life with their Pregnant Partner

Featuring Aizawa, Fatgum and Hawks

Aizawa x pregnant GN! Reader; Fatgum x pregnant GN! Reader; Hawks x Pregnant GN! Reader

Warnings: fluff, reader being a little reckless

AN: I was reading through my google docs and found these 😄 absolutely zero clue when I wrote these. Honestly love that for me.

Aizawa

"YN what the hell are you doing?" Shota shouts as he walks in, seeing his heavily pregnant partner perched along the baseboards of class 1-A's dorm floors.

"Shota! Just in time, I need you to change my water bucket. Look how dirty these baseboards are! Can you believe that?" you say, smiling at your husband as you go back to dipping the cloth in the bucket and wiping the soaking cloth along the now sparking boards.

"YN, seriously? I can't leave you alone can I?” He says going to help you up from the ground, fussing over you as you stand.

"You know the doctor said to rest right? I mean you and I were both at the last appointment. I'm pretty sure I heard him say that about 15 times,” he says, looking at you with a scowl as you roll your eyes in response.

"I'll have you know I did rest sweetheart. But then Miydoria came in and asked if I wanted a snack. So I said 'yes let me help you' so then I got up. I walked to the kitchen and noticed some dirt on the floor. So I got the broom out. Then I swept the dirt and noticed a scuff on the baseboards and well we can't have a scuff so I went and got a bucket. Then one scuff turned into two and then three and then five,” you say gesturing to the floor boards.

“YN seriously,” your husband said, crossing his arms over his large chest.

"You really want our baby to be born with filthy floor boards Shota?" You say, crossing your arms and waiting for your husband's reply.

"YN the baby isn't going to be studying the floor boards when they arrive. Plus I think you should be worried about more important things like, and maybe I'm just being dramatic here, but oh I don't know labor perhaps?" Shota says escorting you to the nearest coach the rest. You scoff at your husband once more as Midoriya, Bakugo, Kirishima and Todoroki walk in.

"I'm going to need you all to watch YN for me,” Shota says standing up and walking towards his students

"Excuse me? I'm very capable!” you shout, shocked at your husband's words to his students.

"YN I have a patrol tonight. There is no way I'm leaving you to your own devices. You'll probably end up repainting the whole common area,”he says looking at you.

"Didn't you already by paint YN?” Todoroki says before you quickly interject

"Well would you look at the time! Come on boys, let's go start dinner,” you say waddling towards the teens

"YN you have got to be kidding me right now?!?” Shota says rubbing his temples

"Have a great night love!” you say pushing the boys towards the doors.

Fatgum

"YN I'm home my love",” Taishiro shouts. The apartment smells amazing and he is starving. After a long night fighting crimes and arresting villains, Taishiro only wants two things.

To have a good meal and to see his beautiful partner.

"In here my love! I'm just finishing supper,” you shout as you wipe your hands on your apron.

Taishiro stoped and looked at you. His beautiful partner, pregnant with his baby and making him his favorite meal.

"Honestly I could get use to seeing you pregnant for the rest of my life YN,” Taishiro says pulling you into a hug and kissing your forehead lightly.

You giggle and pat his stomach as you head back towards the stove to stir your vegetables.

"Lets get this one out first and then we will talk,” you say rubbing your belly as your stir the food and grab plates.

"Busy day my love?" He asks, washing his hands and sitting at the table.

"I went by the new fish market today and grabbed a huge variety! Then I went to the farmers market and got these and some fresh produce,” you say pointing to the freshly cut bouquet of sunflowers sitting on the table.

"YN I thought the doctor told you to stay away from fish,” he says worryingly.

"Love I can eat some cooked fish but I mostly got it for you! I've been watching this cooking show I wrote down some awesome recipes to try!” you say plating Taishiro's food and setting it in front of him

"Baby you should be resting during the day,” Taishiro says scolding you

You look at him, deadpan. "Babe I literally sit on the coach and write down recipes. I'm not running a marathon," you say rolling your eyes.

"I just worry about you YN. You do so much for me and I want you and the baby to be healthy,” Taishiro says, grabbing your hands and pulling you close.

You smile at your husband and give him a soft kiss. "Taishiro, you have Kirishima and Tamaki check on me at least twice a day when you are at work. Plus you text me every hour. Aizawa even came by last week to make sure I didn't need a snack. I'm well taken care of love!” you say smiling at your husband as he smiles back.

"Ok YN,” Taishiro says smiling as he grabs his fork and begins to eat.

"I did lug the groceries up the 5 flights of stairs today tho,” you say resting your hips against the back of the counter and smiling at your husband as he chokes on his food, quickly reaching for his water.

"YN seriously?!" Taishiro says clearing his throat as his eyes widen on you

"I'm joking babe," you say smiling. Taishiro breathes out a sigh of relief as he goes to take another bite.

"It was only four flights," you say laughing as you walk out of the room, leaving your husband hanging, fork halfway to his mouth.

Hawks

Hawks walks into his apartment to hear music coming from down the hallway. He smiles as he sets his keys down, removing his goggles, headset, boots and coat before heading to see you.

He knows you’re in the baby's room. That's where you've been for the past few days. Your nesting has kicked into full gear as you prepare for the arrival of your baby any day now.

What Hawks doesn't expect is to see you singing 5 feet above the ground, as you balance atop a ladder pounding a nail into the wall.

"Holy crap YN!" He yells as he goes to steady you and you smile down at him.

"Hey baby! So glad your home safe! How was your night?" You say smiling down at your husband

"YN what in the hell are you doing? Get down from there!" Hawks growls as your roll your eyes, setting the hammer on top of the ladder and climbing down.

"Ok I'm down here now what?" you say looking percuriously at your husband.

"Well for one, no more ladder,” Hawks says grabbing the ladder and folding it up, hauling it out of the babies room.

You sigh and follow your husband as he puts the ladder away.

"Keigo I have things to do!” you say your hands now on your hips as your husband glares at you.

"Do I need to put a lock on this door YN? Because I absolutely will!” he says narrowing his eyes at you.

"Keigo the baby is coming and their room isn't finished!" You say pouting and stomping your feet.

You husband sighs and rolls his eyes, walking up to you and pulling you into a hug. He knows how stressed you've been about your babies arrival.

"YN the baby isn't even going to be sleeping in their room remember? You have time love," Hawks says nuzzling your nose.

"Keigo first impressions are everything! And I want to give the baby a tour when we bring them home. And that includes their FINISHED room!" you say with emphasis, throwing your hands in the air.

Keigo looks at your, trying not to laugh at your pure ridiculousness.

"I'll tell you what YN. How about this weekend we do the finishing touches together?" He says as he notices your mood perk up at the suggestion.

"Babe that would be so awesome!" You answer gleefully.

"I mean I have to put the crib, swing and rocker together anyways. Might as well do it all,” he says as he notices your eyes widen and you look away from him.

"YN-"

“Ok so I may have accidently out the swing together,” you say, grinning at your husband.

Hawks sighs, his hand doing to his head, "what in the world am I going to do with you?"

Heyyy! I love your writing btw , it’s so cool <3 may i ask a hawks and aizawa headcanons about a quirkless s/o but is someone who’s working hard to make a name for themselves despite its difficulty,, (i was thinking of a more detective-like s/o but you can do another occupation if you want!)

a/n: LETS GO WITH DETECTIVE S/O

Hawks and Aizawa having a detective s/o.

Hawks:

He’s a proud boyfriend, supports you along the way and encourages you to keep going if you start falling behind and thinking on quitting. He can’t understand what you’re going through about being quirkless, but he will be your support. Usually whenever he’s on patrol and he sees you and other detectives on a crime scene he’ll watch from afar, you’ve told him that some detectives have deemed you “fragile” since you’re quirkless, but that doesn’t stop you from going head on into a crime scene.

Calls you his little detective, “how’s my little detective doing? Catch any criminals yet? “Hey detective I’ll be late today, don’t stay up too late.” Even at some point calling you Sherlock Holmes when you decoded a message “hey look at my little detective! Becoming Sherlock Holmes hm?” He’s proud of you though, you obviously have a talent of being able to decode things easily he wonders if you’d be able to decode things he found at the LOV..

He has to remind you to take breaks though, he applauds you for working hard; but please make sure to take breaks. Even at some points he has to drag you away from your desk to come cuddle with him, he has to be the way to lay down on your chest so you don’t go back to studying/working. “Keigo! I need to-“ “what you need detective is to cuddle with me, please?” He says fluttering his eyes at you. Damn it

Aizawa:

Supportive as fuck, he knows people without quirks are seen lower or fragile or needed to be protected. You proved that wrong though and he loves seeing how passionate you are about being a detective and making a name for yourself, you held your head high and fuck does it remind him why he fell in love with you. Often during his break he’ll send you a text on how you’re doing, sometimes you’ll be able to reply and sometimes not; but he understands your busy at the station.

REMINDS YOU TO SLEEP, he’s happy that he can see you working hard, but please for him take a break. He gets worried when he sees you still up at 3am working on a paper, or studying a picture trying to get a clue or a reference from your notes. Just like Hawks he’ll pick you up around your waist and drag you to bed, “Aizawa! What are you doing I was studying..” he pulls you against his chest mumbling into your hair “cuddle with me before I have to deal with children.” You laugh at his statement.

If you graduate from detective to chief Inspector he will literally be there for it, he’ll ask another u.a teacher to cover his class while he goes to your ceremony. If you start crying HE MIGHT start crying too, he knows you worked hard to get where you are now.

"i made coffee for you, love."

strong arms wrapped around you from behind as your husband's voice whispered in your ear. you smiled and leaned back into him.

"i see that, thank you."

he kissed your neck, hands moving to your hips.

"shouta," you laughed, "we need to get ready."

"mhm," he agreed, spinning you around and placing a gentle kiss on your forehead, then your nose, then your lips. the two of you broke apart, laughing lightly. his hands came up and rested on your cheeks.

"shouta," you whispered against his lips, "we're gonna be late."

"yep," he kissed you again, the taste of coffee lingering on his tongue.

"we gotta get ready, babe."

"but why?" he honest to god pouted, forehead knocking against yours, then resting.

"because we both have jobs."

"we should quit."

"as if, you love those kids like family."

he sighed, knowing he couldn't argue with you.

"one more kiss?"

you rolled your eyes and succumbed to the knowledge that you were probably going to have to work without lunch.

"one more kiss."

this work is the property of @/k0dzu1. do not copy, repost, or translate.

i just know whenever you bend down to pick something up aizawa instinctively covers any table/ furniture edges with his hand so you wouldn’t hurt yourself on them

he’s super protective of you and wouldn’t let you get hurt ever, yet when you do walk up to him with a bruised knee or an injury in general he sighs but in his mind loses it at the thought of you actually getting injured badly

He’s just so afraid of losing you/ having you hurt :(

a/n: this inspired me so here's a lil drabble nonnoe bc u are so fucking right 😍

warnings: death and injury mention, body horror imagery i think, nightmares, kinda angsty but also fluff if you squint

gn!reader

he's seen it one too many times. his classmates when he was in high school. his friends when he's out on missions. his students now that he's a teacher.

he's seen broken bodies, smashed bones, what seems like gallons of blood that flowed across ground.

shouta can't help but panic a little when he sees a bruise or cut. his instinct to protect you, to make sure you're always safe kicks in. he can't help it that when you bend down to reach something, his hand automatically positions itself that you don't bump your head. or how he instinctively puts himself in between you and the road when walking down the sidewalk.

he knows that it might seem obsessive, but if you don't mind his protective instincts, than what does it matter? he just can't bare the thought of you, your perfect and wonderful self, torn to shreds. ripped apart. he can't bare the thought of a coffin and gravestone with your name engraved into it.

though a little bruise on your knee may seem minor, he holds you tightly for the rest of the day. images of you laying in a pool of your own blood flashing through his mind.

and you know. you understand. you let him hold you, whispering reassurances, cuddling him closer. you smile at him when he moves his hand after your head pops up. you comfort him when tears come in the middle of the night. when the nightmares are so bad he jolts awake, trembling in your hold with wet cheeks. you see all of that and you love him regardless.

you're all he has. he can't loose you.

this is a work of fiction that belongs to @/k0dzu1. do not copy, translate, or repost.

Eraserhead x Reader How Convenient!

There were perks to working the night shift at Al Deraan’s Convenience Store. You got to pick the music playing on the old stereo, because there were rarely any customers present or sober enough to complain. You can be on your phone if nobody else is around. All you really need to worry about is turning off the lights before heading home, and locking up. Most nights, you are alone with the smell of window cleaner and prepackaged pastries.

Sometimes, he stops by.

He’s a pro hero. A real one, with talent and history. Every time you see him, he exudes mystery and steadfastness. He is the coolest man you have ever seen, dressed all in black except for his scarf and protective eye-wear. You hang on every gruff word he speaks.

Which is usually limited to, “Keep the change,” or, “No bag is fine.”

Keep reading

EXCERPT FROM EDEN ┊ AIZAWA SHOUTA

synopsis: the further you delve into the forest the farther you find yourself from your village's good graces—subsequently pushed into the arms of a creature you were warned to stay away from.

tags: NSFT, AFAB reader, fantasy au, naga aizawa, human reader, childhood friends to lovers, mention of violence (reader has bruises), reader is an outcast, bathing together, nesting, monsterfucking, mating bites (not A/B/O), aphrodisiac venom (so no prep needed), dubcon (for the venom) but v enthusiastic consent, non human genitalia (hemipenes), grinding, unprotected vaginal sex, multiple orgasm, creampie, aizawa carries reader (he is big n strong)

wc: 7.3K

There are monsters in the night.

Adults would spin tales about them when you were young. You were warned not to go near the forest. To never stray from the path. If a voice calls to you, do not answer. Look at your feet and cover your ears. Thoughts filled with blood-steeped, ugly stories of such creatures: half man half serpent taller than an ogre swallowing impious people up whole. Naga, the true tempter, the harbinger of misfortune.

Children spent idle time feigning courage and taunting the so-called beasts in spite of it; playing at the treeline, skittering over the border and rushing back with a surge of adrenaline, as if the creature had been right there awaiting a meal. But above all they liked to frighten you, the runt of the litter. Snakes like to eat mice, they would jeer. Little mouse they would call you. Perfect bait.

It had been dewy that fateful afternoon. You were chased deep into the unknown. Petichor hung thick around the trees after a sun shower. Summer was drawing to a close. Shorter days, darker mornings. Your elders would call the weather ‘temperamental’ and you liked that. As though the Gods were children clinging onto those last dregs of heat, unwilling to let go.

Grass flattened wet under your bare feet, you ran from sharp stones and sharper words. Ran until the only voice left in your head was your own. Lungs tight and spasming for oxygen. You felt eyes on you the moment foliage snapped under another tentative step—but the figure before you did not move. He remained on his stomach, arms folded beneath his head, body stretched long and bare across the narrow clearing to bathe in the sunspot. Lower, right at the base of his spine, pale skin faded seamlessly into black scales that made up the thick, sinuous tail of a snake.

Your knees stung where small open wounds touched the air. A gentle breeze flowed in through the underbrush, took your slight apprehension and whisked it into the thinning redwood canopy. As a child you simply couldn’t connect something so non threatening and lazy to the monsters of old.

You approached the naga with slow, telegraphed movements. Thin pupils drenched in vermillion glow observed behind a half lidded stare. Closer then, trembling hands tugged and stretched the hem of your shirt, popping the old stitching. “Hello,” you said, voice small even to your own ears. “I—I’m not a mouse. Just so you know”.

Something flickered in his expression; a stifled inhale, a brief shift, the naga sighed. It rolled through his body, belly turning toward the sky. Sunlight reflected on the exposed underside and shimmered iridescent, stealing your breath. “That much is obvious,” he replied tiredly.

“Then, you won’t eat me?” before he had the chance to answer, you’d already been emboldened. You tottered toward him with a surge of energy and sureness. “Thank you. Can we be friends?”

“No,” he muttered, retreating into his coils.

A familiar sensation stung behind your eyes and your bottom lip trembled fiercely. It built up in your body and collapsed. Loneliness, shame, the incessant, throbbing ache in your limbs after sprinting so far. You tried again, a quiet warble. “Please?”

But a stern voice rumbled from the layers of muscle, uninterested in your swelling emotions. “Go away kid,” the naga demanded. “It’s not safe out here”.

“M’not a kid,” then you kicked the dirt in a burst of wounded anger. While bigger than you, this naga wasn’t even close to towering an oni, so you bluffed petulantly, “You’re a kid too”.

“While that may be true I am still older than you,” came the disgruntled remark. Then, faster than you could register, an arm shot out from between the dark coils and took you by the throat.

Reflexively, you gripped the naga’s wrist with both hands. But you didn’t flinch. Rather than fight his hold you waited, rabbit-footed heart beating in your chest. Violence was nothing new to a runt like you. The hand slid up to your chin and forced you to keep his gaze. His eyes flickered strangely there in the darkness. Red like fresh blood. The ire in them faltered at your spiritless reaction.

“Annoying human. Your lack of instinct will get you killed,” the creature stated. You said nothing. He continued, “You’re far from home. Follow the river to your settlement. Do not come back here”.

You recall how abruptly your senses sharpened at his mention and latched onto the distant sound of running water. He freed you from his grip, pale limb slinking back into the recesses of his twisted tail. He reminded you of a snail receding into its shell. Boring, lazy and slow moving. Naga were not so frightening, you concluded.

You returned with reluctance, following the riverbank until the end of your new world where it broke into a wishbone shape and wound around the village. Adults frowned at the dry mud caking your feet, ankles and calves. Their calloused fingers squeezed roughly around your wrists and dragged you to the springs to scrub you raw.

“Where on earth have you been?” one asked, mouth set in a frown. Another held you by the shoulders, thumbs pressed into your collarbone with intention to bruise. “Your stupidity is going to curse us all,” they shook you in place and their strength only grew the more you fought. “Do not provoke the naga. Understand?”

Faces twisted in disappointment haunted you all through the night. Eyes sore and puffy. Tears soaked into your shirt; you could taste them in the back of your throat. Oval-shaped bruises adorned your collar yet your throat and your jaw remained unblemished, if not a little tender. You were hurt, but not by the one you were warned against.

Your second excursion into the forest to see the naga was of your own volition. He was not where you first met him but nearby, curled up beneath an ancient tree, right where her bole has spread and warped to create a small depression in the trunk. The wind billowed. Branches swayed and bent their spindly fingers, pointed at you, almost accusingly.

He appeared to be sleeping. Again. Arms folded atop his tail, chin rested on the cradle it made. Perhaps there was something wrong with you—as the elders often stated—but you were not entirely stupid. You kept your hands to yourself, letting only your eyes wander as you crept close enough to see the soft curve of his jaw, the sloped nose, the youthful cheeks.

Long dark hair draped loosely over pale shoulders, expression serene while he rested. You thought he was lovely. Not at all beastly. Right down to the dip of his stomach, where skin vanished into bony hips and an obsidian tail.

A guttural hum startled you where you stood. Unmoving, the naga murmured, “Do you have a death wish?”

That voice untied every knot in your body. “N—no,” you held strong. “I told you, I want to be friends”.

“And I told you that’s not happening”.

When he peeked at you through dark curtains into those dim eyes there came a softness, as though atoning for his harsh words. Under that gaze your stomach started to rumble. “You’re hungry,” you shrunk, palms pressed flat as though to snuff out the sound. “Humans need to eat multiple times a day, do they not?”

“…Sometimes,” your agreement was barely a mumble. “If there is enough for me”.

The naga scrutinised you and your answer, displeased by it. After a long silence he unravelled and asked, “Do you want food?”

Hope filled you from root to stem. You bloomed. Stretched for the open sky like a flower seeking sun, bouncing on the tips of your toes. “Food?” you echoed excitedly. You trailed after him and nearly tripped in your haste. He caught you with the end of his tail and sighed. It coiled tightly around your middle and inched you along with him.

Having glanced surreptitiously in his direction, your warm human hand swept across the cool dark scales. They were glossy and smooth, unlike anything you’d ever felt. As he moved you sensed the power in his limb.

“What do naga eat?”

“Anything. Fish, birds, insects,” he told you. The coil around your waist flexed as if to check you were there. Hearing your trepidation his tone lilted as he added, “But what you’re really asking is if I eat humans, aren’t you?”

You rubbed where you thought his belly might be and pondered aloud, “Would you, if they deserved it?”

He scowled over his shoulder and came to an abrupt stop. “What kind of a question is that, kid?”

You wilted at the sharp verbiage, feeling scolded, though unable to understand his offense. After all, that is exactly what the villagers would say of you if ever he decided to.

That only seemed to fuel his frustration. You worried in the face of it, for a weak moment. Warnings you’ve clamoured in your conscience, soon chased by immediate guilt. Your new friend had offered kindness and there you were, assuming the worst of him.

Sensing your turmoil the naga cautiously brought his hand to your head. Front to back, pausing at a vulnerable, unmarked nape. He attempted to pet you. Wide eyed, you stared ahead until every leaf in the grove coalesced into a green blur. His touch had been deliberate, soft and soothing despite the tension set in his face.

Laid in the palm of his other hand was a pile of plum red berries. The coils relaxed to recline you into a comfortable position and wordlessly, you shared the small treat together. Teeth glinted sharp in the daylight, made to rend flesh from bone. They sank tender into thin skin until it burst and he hummed at the flavour enjoying a simple pleasure like any human boy would.

Their fruity tang clung to your tongue. You took your fill and more. “Thank you…” your voice lost strength, no name to fill the blanks.

“Aizawa,” he muttered. A rough swipe of his thumb across your lips wiped away the citrus. “It’s Aizawa Shouta. And don’t speak with your mouth full”.

The sky darkened on the eventide. Aizawa bid you a flippant farewell, your name at home in his mouth, and you erred on caution, changing course to wash the dirt and foliage from your body. Loud was the pounding of your heart against your ribs, a frantic beat. But nobody batted an eye at your presence, nor the absence of it.

Those short excursions continued for some time. Be it a stroke of boredom, or loneliness, you would find yourself treading back through the banks, to Aizawa’s territory. There was never a discernible path leading to him. Your legs would simply take you there, heart magnetised like the arrow of a compass. Whilst the village raised you with harsh, inattentive hands, he became your North. Years passed together and eyes turned as your insatiable curiosity grew, along with your carelessness.

And with that carelessness came consequences.

Fate is a funny thing. You are sprinting through the forest, feet pounding against the dirt alongside the ghost of your childhood self. The enraged shouts have long since tapered into silence yet you can’t allow yourself to slow. Your limbs ache, a bone deep permafrost, fatigued muscles clenching.

They’d followed you yesterday. Unexpected, given how deliberately people avoided the village border. Everything collapsed in one fell swoop. A single misstep and your life was upturned. You heard their plans to confine you in the shrine and knew—you’d never be able to see Shouta again.

Lost in your muddied stream of consciousness your foot is caught in a bundle of jagged roots. Mossy fingers coil around your ankle. You stumble, taking impact to the knees. The sting is muted as it knocks the air from your burning lungs.

You gasp, a wet and raspy breath; an apocalyptic spring fills your chest. The trees are in bloom. High above the blossoms are pale pink, like branches covered in snow. Ash flowers fell slowly to coat the ground. They get in your hair, your clothes and your eyes.

Shouta finds you there. He has always had the uncanny ability to sense you in his territory, as though the forest were an extension of himself. Your neck strains to lift your head, looking through lashes to see his silhouette. Red eyes flash in the distance, and in a mere blink he is at your side.

“Shouta—”

A low, guttural sound reverberates in the back of his throat. You’re scooped into his embrace. He is gentle with you, always aware of the difference in size and strength, and your heart beats harder for it. “You’re early,” he says. “What happened?”

You exhale through the fresh tenderness searing, “They know”.

Shadows shift above you. A curtain of hair hangs in your periphery. Shouta sinks until your eyes are level. Big. He hit a frightening growth spurt after his juvenile shed. A broad chest, shoulders corded with muscle, his long tail heavy enough to disturb the natural topography of the forest floor. Uneven scars littered across his skin from territorial disputes that you were not privy to. The most recent curves along his right cheekbone, fresh and pink.

Your gaze lingered as you took in his expression. Mouth downturned in obvious discontent but eyes dark, pensive. Beautiful even when he is doing nothing at all.

Shouta’s irises flickered in the softening light of the afternoon sun. Fingers drumming on lacquer scales. “They know?” he repeats. Irritation coated the words, as it often did when speaking of your village. “They should have realised years ago”.

Like him, you had shed your own urgent adolescence. The world became smaller and you preferred it that way. It spun around Shouta as if he were your own axis. When you were with him there was something much bigger than childlike wonder.

“That’s different. I wasn’t anything important. But now I’ve… been slacking on my duties to see you,” embarrassed, you tear up the thinning grass, seated at the foot of his coils. “I’m old enough to be of use, so my absence is noticeable,”

“You were a child. Running off God knows where. You’re lucky an orc didn’t decide to pick his teeth with you,” the snap in his voice almost hurt, but there was no bite nor true anger aimed at you. You’ve had these arguments before.

“I’m lucky because I had you to protect me,” you amended gently, a small smile curled at the corner of your mouth. It took a while for you to realise that he tailed you home each time you visited, just to be sure. His scales shift at your back, carrying the praise through his body. “I know it bothers you, Shouta, but this is just how things are. Don’t worry, I’ll be more careful from now on”.

“This is not about you being careful,” Shouta mutters, though you get the sense he has no energy to truly argue. You hesitate in the brief silence. He takes you by the wrist, not the hand, and you pout about it.

He encourages you to come. You tread through the thick, clammy air as the sun beats down on your shoulders. Shouta takes you up the valley. Where the treeline ends the mouth of the river funnels south, surface glittering softly as the currents part around a large rock in the centre; top smoothed down flat for sunning. You watched while he sunk into the water, tail disappearing behind him as it submerged and disturbed the silt.

“Come on,” he coaxes begrudgingly. You dither by the edge, picking at your sleeve.

“I can’t get my clothes wet”.

Shouta reaches the rock, bracing an arm against it. Draped in open sunlight he turns to level you with a flat look. “Then take them off. Don’t bother giving excuses. I already know you’re wounded, I can smell it”.

Shit. You wince, resting a hand over the marks across your ribs and hip. You were so sure he hadn’t noticed anything.

Anticipation churned in your stomach. You’ve never been nude in front of him before—though not for lack of wanting, and you suppose he himself has always been naked in human terms. You swallow down trepidation and lift your shirt over your head, gaze resolutely pointed away from the river, which rippled with every minute shift Shouta’s tail.

The currents are a cool caress against your body as you step into the river, soothing the bruises. Tentative, you wade further, arms folded over your breasts for some semblance of modesty. Once you’re standing in waist high water something hard, smooth—Shouta’s tail wraps around you and pulls you close.

“Deep water,” he mutters softly. You’re pressed skin to skin. His throat bobs and he looks away. “Can’t have you drowning”.

“Right,” you say, left breathless by the proximity. You can feel his chest rise and fall. Sinew and muscle expands. Rigid scales dotted along his navel press against your abdomen as he sprawled around the sunning rock. “Thank you”.

He hums in lieu of a response. Small waves lap up your spine as he adjusts his grip, holding you with one arm around your lower back. Shouta traces his thumb over the large mark on your pelvis, the claw tip catching. “You said they found out. So this is the result?”

You grimace weakly at the subject. It was naïve to hope he would let it go. “It’s my fault. I was careless,” you tried, slumped in his embrace as though filled with wet sand. “They’re just afraid of what they don’t understand. I should’ve tried to explain years ago—”

“You and your misplaced guilt,” Shouta’s jaw ticks. He inhales deeply, his next words quieter on a long exhale. “Stop rationalising their mistreatment. They’re stuck in their ways”.

“Maybe. But I…”

The truth was that an ugly part of you had never wanted them to change for the better. You wanted Shouta to yourself for as long as he’s willing and their ignorance made it so. Fear kept them away. But it also stoked their anger.

“I can’t help but wonder why they're so against it,” you tuck your chin and smile despite the lump lodged in your throat, suddenly feeling naked in all manner of ways. “They treat me like a curse. And I know it’s natural to fear what you don’t understand, but if they just knew you—!”

“Humans should fear my kind,” Shouta interrupts, a bite to his tone. Your eyes dipped low, and you traced your fingers over the intricate mosaic of scales across his clavicle to avoid his sharp gaze. A short moment passes. “Your association with me doesn’t make you a harbinger of ill omen,” he murmurs, sweeping his hand along the planes of your back in silent apology. “If anything you’ve been protecting them from one”.

You lift your head. His pupils dilate, soften. “I have?”

A broad palm wraps around the nape of your neck, the other resting over your bruised hip. Shouta’s thumb brushes over your pulse. “If not for your insistence and naïve altruism I would have killed them for neglecting you,” Shouta admitted, bringing you tighter to his front. You’re taken deeper, until your feet no longer reach the riverbed and the cold no longer bites.

“When will you prioritise yourself?” he continues. “I’m starting to think you would pull out your own teeth if it could guarantee you’d never hurt anyone”.

You smile, a little dazed by how favourably he regarded you. His skin is cool under your fingertips. “That’s not quite true,” you trace the scar beneath his eye and he slows, turning into your palm. The pad of your thumb brushed the corner of his mouth. There you find those monstrous teeth, large and sharp behind his lips. The touch feels momentous, like something only lovers do. “And either way, I’d still have yours to protect me”.

Shouta rumbles at that. The vibrations loosen up the tension in your chest and satisfaction gathers warm in your belly. “Lean back,” he murmurs. Anticipation swoops through your belly as you recline in his arms, cradling you above the ripples to wash your body with his own hands.

“This water has healing properties. Further down the mountain the river splits and forms a hot spring,” Shouta’s claw-tipped fingers brush your nipple, pert under his attention. Your breath hitches. He pays it no mind, palm sliding over each breast and along your shoulders, wiping down the sweat and dirt. The pressure remains delicate around your waist, careful not to agitate the bruises.

Shouta kneads the soft parts of your body even after the filth is gone. You hum, allowing yourself to enjoy his attention. Everything feels heavier. Gravity bears hard on your arms as they lift to brush the wet hair back from his face and you marvel at how his eyelids flutter closed, one after the other. You comb through his roots, scratching lightly over his scalp before working loose the knots at the ends.

Something is beginning to swell beneath you but a quiet contentment overwhelms the reciprocal arousal stirring in your gut. Watching the tension in his face trickle away, eyes falling closed so dark lashes fan over pale cheeks. Your fingertips trace along the smattering of scales by his temple and notice a new vivid sheen to them.

“You look brighter,” you murmur, curious.

Awareness flies over his features. You almost miss it given how swiftly he buries it, taking on that familiar monotonous air. After years spent detailing the subtleties in every fleeting expression and spoken word you’ve become quite accustomed to Shouta concealing his embarrassment.

Turning away from your prying eyes, the line of his jaw becomes sharper as he swallows. “It’ll soon be my seasonal rut,” he tells you, feigning indifference. “My scales are more vibrant for the purpose of attracting a mate”.

“A mate?” you echo uselessly. Dread churns in the pit of your stomach. You knew well what having a ‘mate’ entailed. A white hot sensation prickles at your nape that not even the cool water can quell. In your naivety—and perhaps, selfishness—you’d never considered that he might find somebody else. Somebody suitable. “That’s… really great, Shouta. But who? I thought you chased off the last bed of naga that passed through?”

At this, a frown etched into Shouta’s brow. “You’re making a few unnecessary leaps in that head of yours,” he mutters. “At what point did I say my mate needed to be a naga?”

There’s something in his voice that gives weight to what he’s doing. It echoes an unspoken proposition. Unbidden from the recesses of your mind rose the wishful thoughts you’d imagined so often they were practically dogeared. A shiver trickled down your spine, caught in a gauzy yet comfortable silence as Shouta continued to clean your body.

The tip of his tongue peeks out to taste the air once he’s done. You fruitlessly will your body to temper its desire, to feign some semblance of control as you lift your head, no longer denying him the answer written plainly on your face.

“…I want that,” you confess, picking up the thread he left. You rub across his shoulders and bring your palms together in the middle of his chest, folded over his heart. “I can't go back. Take me home with you. Keep me”.

Shouta looks surprised—a microexpression, if anything; imperceptible to anyone but you—as though he hadn't expected you to accept. You’re warmed by the idea that he might’ve been hoping for more without expectation.

That’s all you’ve ever known, failed expectations.

A beat passes. You think he might be giving you a grace period—allowing time for a regret that never comes. When he realises you’ve no intention to take it back he sucks a hiss through his teeth, and you’re close enough to see his thin pupils spill into his irises until they’re inky black.

The river breaks around you, water foaming at the surface as Shouta unwittingly guides your knotted bodies to the shore. “I see you’re still as reckless as you were when we were children,” he says, sounding hoarse. “You have no idea what you’re agreeing to”.

“I’m saying yes to you, Shouta,” your voice strains, desperation creeping in when you feel his arms loosen and your feet brush the wet bank. “Teach me what I don’t know because I hate leaving. I hate missing you”.

The rough sensation of Shouta’s scales against your inner thighs rippled through your body, core tightening as he retained his grip around your waist. “This is not a conversation we’re having in the open,” he takes you both out of the water and you shy away from the cool air.

He bends over to collect your clothes and drapes them in your naked lap. You clutch the fabric close, “Where are we going?”

“To my den. No questions until then”.

The journey to Shouta’s den is long, deliberately so. Caught in his coils you go, without trepidation—like a willing little mouse, your mind whispers. Only on the third cycle do you realise that he is purposefully traveling in circles to cover his tracks. Aside from the occasional birdsong and cicada you don’t hear anything for miles. It’s so peaceful that you forget that a world exists outside of this vast, sprawling forest.

In time he reaches the den. The sky has darkened to an early dawn, the gloaming orange light casting shadows over Shouta’s face as he leans over you to shield you from the overgrowth to get to the entrance.

Arched tall and gaping, the bumpy outer walls of the cave are fissured with fingerlings of old tree roots. Shrouded in darkness, Shouta slithers around the stalagmites protruding from the floor with ease. Inside the air is thick, humid as he carries you deeper, metres further down, refusing to release you from his coils.

Meandering into a broader section, Shouta spreads out easily in the cavern. You blink around as your vision adjusts and notice narrow streams of light threading through the stalactites hung on the ceiling. Twinkling are various trinkets, tied around and dangling from the spikes. Jewels, chainmail, rusted daggers, cutlery.

When you were a young you’d spend sleepless nights imagining where Shouta lived, conjuring possibilities only a child could. Despite that curiosity you never asked to see his home—you knew, innately, as an avid observer of creatures big and small, that it would be an invasion of his privacy. But of everything you imagined it had been nothing like this.

There’s a wide alcove at the back of the cavern, housing what appears to be a nest near an extinguished fire pit, still carrying the faint scent of smoke. Shouta lowers you into it and slinks away for a moment to discard your clothes. Warmth engulfs you, insulated in the structure. There are branches both large and small intricately woven and padded with an assortment of pelts, lichen and moss. Most notable is the snakeskin used to hold together the joints of the nest.

You pinch a piece delicately between your thumb and forefinger. It’s thick, smoother than expected. “Is this yours?”

Though far off his voice reaches your ears, “Is that your first question?”

Shouta returns holding what looks to be a blanket. His tail drags behind him. The sound ripples around the space. When shaken out and draped over your bare lower half you discover that the blanket is actually the rest of his shed. It’s beautiful, inexplicably silky while being heavy and tough.

You tug the snakeskin higher up your body and note how fervently he tracks the movement. “Yes, it’s mine. It strengthens the nest,” Shouta explains, beginning a languorous dance circling the nest as though he were adding himself to it. Your attention does not stray as his tail coils upon itself, lap after lap until you’re entirely surrounded.

“You’ve been planning this,” you comment. How long had it taken for him to craft it? Did he imagine what you’d think? “It’s beautiful”.

Pleased with the height, Shouta’s upper body slinks down into the centre where you wait. Home. Not simply a place but an extension of his body, like the forest. You’re directly in the heart. A place that you alone have been allowed to see.

Your mind drifts to the feckless creatures and travelers who’ve wandered this way only to be killed. But rather than fear, or sorrow, a distinctive emotion welled up inside you. You felt special.

“It’s mainly instinct. Not much planning,” he says.

You reach to cup his cold face in your hands. Cheeks flush, like all the blood in him had rushed to the surface to greet you. He rumbles as your thumb traces an arc along his newest scar, tucking his chin to nuzzle into your palm. It’s cute, though you wouldn’t dare say that.

A content hum vibrates behind his ribs, “You’re so warm”. Then you feel the tentative press of lips and of fangs underneath. He kisses your heartline. You falter at the uncharacteristic show of affection, clutching his snakeskin tighter. His dark gaze falls to your partially covered chest. Low and supple he asks, “Do you know what it means to wear a naga skin?”

You slowly shake your head.

“Naga gift their sheds to be used in nests or as armour for their mates,” propped onto his arm Shouta presses closer, forcing your thighs to bracket the thick of his tail. “It’s viewed as a public claim,” he stops short a hair's breadth from your wanting mouth, sharing a shallow inhale.

Filled with intrepid awe, your fingertips walk the slope of his throat, hands laying flat to his chest. A hummingbird’s wing, a pulse belying his nerves. You reach for your voice, “Does this make me yours?”

Shouta blinks, pupils dilating. The distant trickle of water dripping from the stalactites echoes throughout the cavern. You feel his stomach clench where your touch slips lower, “Are you sure you want to be?”

“Since you fed me those berries in the east valley”.

“You were a child,” Shouta huffs, doing a poor job at appearing unaffected.

“Children sometimes imagine falling in love, you know,” a small, sad smile comes unbidden to your lips. “I never had anyone to play pretend with,” you tell him softly, meeting his eyes. “You always took care of me. Back then I wondered if that’s what it’d be like to have a husband when I came of age”.

With a furrow in his brow, Shouta cradles your jaw. He tucks his thumb against the corner of your downturned mouth, “A husband?”

“The human equivalent of a mate. A husband or wife,” you say. “Marriage is a promise to be together for the rest of your lives”.

“And you want that. The rest of your life,” Shouta’s words are hoarse, they sound thick in his throat. He brings your foreheads together, almost reverential, and dark tendrils of hair fall around you. “With me?”

You swallow. “Yes. I want…”

Your wandering hand stills at his navel, right in the bend where skin turned to scale. You’re reminded that he isn’t a human man. What you’ve been taught about sex and the parts that go along with the act—that knowledge is mostly worthless here.

Curious, you palm the growing bump where a cock would be, index finger tracing the thin slit along the middle, teasing him as you would tease yourself. Shouta grabs your wrist, arm braced above your head to rock into the touch, a frisson of iridescence rippling through his scales.

The airy groan in his throat quells your anxiety and feeds your longing. Chin tilted, your mouths aligned, a petal-soft brush that shakes him from his reverie and draws him back. You complain and curl your arms around his neck, missing him. He huffs a short laugh but doesn’t retreat any further.

“Careful,” he lifts his upper lip and pushes the tip of his tongue to his left fang. A pinprick of his blood wells there. “You’ll catch yourself”.

“Are you venomous?” and you pout, noticing the mirth flickering across his face. “What?”

“Not in the way you’re imagining. Pay attention,” he answers, and bends to tuck his nose into the hollow of your throat. His jaw unhinges, tasting you with a deep inhale. Oh. Your pulse rockets when he drags his fangs there in suggestion of a bite—breath held as they barely break skin and an abrupt heat tingles around the scratch.

“Wh—what does it do?” you gasp in wonder, poking the blooming mark as Shouta hums, descending to drag his lips over the peaks of your breasts.

“Humans call it a lot of things. An aphrodisiac, drug, relaxant,” he says. Each word is a kiss left everywhere but the one place you need it. Blood rushes to your ears. “A mating bite eases the burden. Makes sure your body ready for me,” you watch on with bated breath while he reaches lower, and jolt, ensnared in his half lidded gaze as he lightly drags his knuckles through your wet folds. His thumb finds your clit, massaging a few light circles around the swollen bundle of nerves. Your hips twitch, and Shouta grins at your soft whine, “Though you’re already doing that beautifully on your own”.

Desperate, you grapple at his shoulders. He rises with an indulgent smile and you lean to kiss him. A clumsy thing, open mouthed and needy, receding enough to make room for protest before kissing him again, and again, nipping the seam of his lips. Hair stands on end as the world suddenly tips on its axis and your positions are reversed.

You’ve no chance to mourn the loss. Shouta lay on his back. He sinks into the nest and draws your knee over his hip. A shiver licks up your spine as you sit low on his navel, entirely bare and wet; with him being so sensitive to his surroundings there’s no doubt he can feel the beat of desire between your thighs.

The flesh spills between his fingers as Shouta squeezes your waist. “I can feel you throbbing,” he murmurs. His own heat is swelling between you. Sticky arousal smeared on your inner thighs. Shouta’s vent pulses in time with his heart—and yours. You exhale a shaky breath, relieved and exhilarated that he wants you too. The growing pressure pushes against your clit and your hips twitch, a fleeting stutter to relieve the ache.

Shouta groans. Large hands find purchase at your hips, appreciating how your body yields to his touch, and encourages you to move. “Oh,” comes a soft gasp, feeling his swollen slit flower open beneath your cunt, leaking arousal. The friction, or lack thereof, is incredible, and you repeat the motion, seeking it again.

It’s slick where your bodies meet. The obscene wet sound of you rocking together leaves you dazed. Shouta’s lower half shifts as arousal zips through him and the nest creaks. “Fuck, feels good. More,” you demand breathlessly. Something else nudges against your clit with every pass, two heads budding from the vent, and your eyes screw shut—

Two?

A groan falls from Shouta’s mouth and your frantic realisation dissolves. You can hardly think. He licks the curve of your throat, nuzzling the barely-there-mark he’d left. Infinitesimal and yet it hasn’t stopped throbbing. An ache spreads through your hips, his hands rutting you against the swell with a desperate rhythm.

“Shouta,” you say, overwhelmed. “Do it. Bite me, fuck me, please. Please. I want—I want to—!”

The sharp pain is dulled so quickly you’re not sure it was ever there. Shouta sank his fangs into the juncture of your neck, a hand firm at your nape to keep you still. Vision blurred, your mouth drops open around a silent scream as your orgasm rips through you—the venom close behind, forcing your seized muscles pliant and stoking your arousal until it’s burning from the inside out.

Shouta releases your neck and trails his fingertips along the length of your back. You whine, a helpless and confused little sound, when the heat allays under his affections. Your thighs are trembling, slipping down his hips as you use the last of your inertia to curl into his chest.

He cradles your limp form amongst his coils, creating a protective barrier around you in such a vulnerable state. “I have you,” he says, the shaky baritone of his voice coaxing your eyes open. Half-cognisant, not quite in and not quite outside of yourself.

“…It’s too much,” you pant.

“I know,” Shouta kisses your temple, paving his way to the corner of your mouth, “You’re doing so well”.

You turn lazily into the kiss. Your thighs have fallen open further, and you subconsciously raise yourself up to better the angle. The blunt tip of one of his cocks nudges through your folds and a white hot sensation prickles over your skull. Shouta lowers you onto his cock with care, muscles corded tight in obvious restraint, wanting to ease you into the stretch. He’s thicker than a human, subtle soft ridges lining the sides, caressing you in places your fingers could never reach.

You begin to tremble and the air is pushed from your lungs with a gasping sob as he splits you open. The sensation is hard to decipher through the haze. Your ears ring, the sound high and metallic. It isn’t numbing—no, you can feel everything, every minute shift, pulse and ridge. It’s an intrusive, satisfying ache, an insurmountable pressure. There’s no part of you he isn’t touching. You consider, the thought vague and half-formed, that when Shouta bit you something in your brain must’ve rewired itself. Synapses crossed, addled by venom, convincing you of pleasure where there would otherwise be pain.

Your small world grows ever smaller. Shouta is all encompassing. His dark hair is tickling your face, smooth scales rippling under your cheek. He’s saying something—he must be, because his mouth is moving above you, murmuring what sounds like sweet incantations of your name.

An immaculate red glow pools into his irises as they roll skyward, brow furrowed in concentration. His second cock drools across his belly, where it lay trapped by your bodies. The slick underside of his cock wet and pulsing against your clit, fully sheathed.

“Do you have any idea how you feel—fuck,” Shouta’s jaw clenched as his cock recedes, leaving only the tip kissing your folds, before he fucks into you again. A shudder quakes through his coils. They constrict around the nest and Shouta pins you to his chest, thick arms held firm around your shoulders and back, tightening with every squirm. “Mine. Knew it had to be you,” came his hushed babbles, composure finally fraying at the seams.

With the surety that you’re not in pain, his pace grows, his rhythm earnest. Laved in shared arousal, you’re so wet every ingress is indelibly easy. To call yourself helpless would be to imply that you wanted to escape. You surrender to the unending, overbearing rapture, sprawled over your Shouta’s lap like a pile of loose skeins with a drunken smile. Chest heaving in exertion despite doing so little. The atmosphere is so oppressively humid that it’s hard to catch your breath.

It feels like he’s carving out something irreplaceable inside of you. A space that only he can fill, a craving only he can sate. Your hips stutter uselessly, grinding your clit against his other cock. Rather than building to a climax it feels as if you’ve toppled into one that never ends, only ebbs and flows without ever ceasing.

Shouta pulls you impossibly closer, so close your could feel the long stretch of his torso, every raised scar and curve. He nudges your temple until your head lolls back against his shoulder, and you’re looking at him. “Soft. You’re so—shit. You’re so soft. Human,” he rasps, pressing a kiss to your forehead. There’s a sheen of sweat on his brow, short tendrils of hair sticking to skin. You flutter around the flared head of his cock as it pulls out, “Look. I can feel you sucking me back in. Made for me, weren’t you?”

You follow his gaze, watching the dark, inhuman length of his cock disappear between your folds again and again. “Shouta,” his name feels thick in your mouth. You blink, air cool against your wet cheeks. “I need—I need you to—”

Nodding deliriously, his bruising grasp on you shifts. Shouta fucks into you feverishly, with an intensity that you fear might engulf you.“Fuck—!” a tremor quakes through his coils. Something audibly snaps in the nest. Shouta’s hips stutter, a long, breathy moan pulled loose deep in his chest, drawn out as a wet, sticky heat fills you—so much that it leaks between your thighs—and the immediate relief of his release has you clawing crescent moons into his shoulders.

Tipping over the crest, a final wave crashes over you. The convulsions force your eyes shut, so tight that pinpricks of light pierce the solid darkness, transforming into a kaleidoscope of vivid colour. The world falls away for a fleeting moment and you only feel yourself clamping around his cock, soaking his lap.

You resurface slowly, as does the sensation returning to your limbs. Venom remedied, easing in your system. You inhale, wince at the tenderness making space beside the contentment in your body, and Shouta runs a smoothing hand down your spine. It sweeps back up to your nape to gently trace the bite on your neck. “How’re you feeling?” he asks. “Did I hurt you?”

You press a kiss to his collar, another under his jaw, “I’m sore and sticky. I’ve never orgasmed that hard in my life. But you didn’t hurt me”. Shouta purrs at that. It’s a noise you’ve only ever heard in the golden hour, when he’s sunning himself. Pure contentment.

You cup his cheek and gently turn him to face you. You kiss him, mouth bruised, fangs peeking through parted lips. Dark eyes soften. He’s no longer inside of you, noted with a weak clench, and his second cock remains half hard between your stomachs. Free to move, you wiggle in his embrace until it lines up, the suggestion kindling to the now twinging emptiness.

Shouta huffs, a loving admonishment, and carefully guides his second cock inside you. You hiss at the sensitivity but it isn’t unpleasant. Satisfaction balloons in your chest and you curl up against him with a pleased hum; no urgency, together for the sake of closeness.

“I’ll feed you and help you wash after I’ve calmed down,” he says. There’s no sign of discomfort or regret in his voice as he stares toward the mouth of the cave. Just a primal need to be alert, to stay vigilant for his mate. “I’ll be a little overbearing for the rest of the night. Be patient with me”.

Your gaze too lingers at the maw, recalling those blood-steeped, ugly stories of monstrous creatures. Indeed there are monsters in the night. But none of them are here.

A wide smile pulls at your lips, “We’ve got all the time in the world”.

PLEASE (if you feel like it) WRITE FOR AIZAWA! A SICK READER TROPE MAYBE?

Btw ur fics are so good and are part of the reason why I’ve gotten back into mha <333 I love ur writing style sm and ur hawks fics??? That was amazing

hi my love! thank you so much omg that’s so sweet, i’m happy i helped you rekindle your love for mha again lol! <3

sick (but never of you)

contents ౨ৎ ⋆ s. aizawa x fem reader. fluff. cursing. 997 words ★ your husband insists on taking care of you when you fall ill, despite your protests.

Not this shit again. 

You groan as your eyes flutter open for the second time after you said you were fine, then proceeded to dramatically faint in Shota’s arms in the middle of your patrol and sit up, hurriedly tossing the pile of soft blankets off your body.

You shiver despite the warmth radiating from the heater nearby. Shota must have brought it out for you after getting you home.

“What do you think you’re doing?” 

The disapproving voice of your husband floats over, and there he is, leaning on the doorway with a steaming bowl of something in his hands. You perk up despite yourself. Miso soup? 

“I don’t have time to sleep off a little cold, Shota!” Your arms tremble as you try to force yourself off of the plush king-sized bed. “It’s already past nine, I have to head to the agency.”

“Don’t care, didn’t ask.” Shota wraps his arms around you to trap you in place, ignoring your insistent budging. “You’re staying home today with the cat.”

“But—But they need me…” You weakly mumble in his firm grip. It was no use trying to break free, and you’re not sure if you even want to anymore with how nice he feels against you.

“And I need you here.” His stern gaze doesn’t waver, and his hand guides your head from the back of your hair, which you’re certain looks like a disaster zone right now, to rest on his chest. “It’s my job to make sure you’re safe, happy and healthy.”

Shota brushes a hair from your face and tucks it behind your ear. The little beads of sweat on your skin don’t bother him in the slightest.

“So let me do my job.”

“Are you using your teacher voice on me?” You grumble into the dark fabric of his sleeveless shirt. He smells warm and like all things good, as if he just came out of the shower. 

“I vaguely recall someone commenting that it was ‘hot.” Shota’s gravelly voice teases your ear and his stubble tickles your cheek as he smirks, knowing he’s won the battle when he finally feels you melt in defeat against him. 

He brushes a soft kiss to your forehead. “Stay in bed, sweetheart, I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.” You say in a tiny voice, weakly slumping back into the sheets. 

Shota comes back with a spoon and a folded piece of paper. A hint of a smile tugs at his lips as he holds it out to you.

“Looks like I’m not the only one that wants you to stay home.”

Your eyes widen as you look at the get-well card in your hands.

feel beter soon!! lots of loove, eri it said, with millions of tiny hearts doodled around your name. You choke back a sob as your eyes fall onto the little stick figure drawings of you pushing the little gray-haired girl on a swing set. 

It looked just like the one from the playground nearby that you would often take her to on your days off.

us when youre not sick anymor! :D

“Shota, give me that damn soup.”

He chuckles deeply and scoots closer on the bed to feed you. You squeeze your eyes shut as a sharp throb suddenly pierces through your head.

“The room’s spinning again, that’s not normal is it?”

“No. No, it’s not.” Shota’s forehead creases in concern, bringing the spoon of warm soupy goodness up to your lips while his other hand holds yours.

You part your lips to drink it, letting the rich, comforting flavor of miso spread across your tongue.

Letting out a little sigh of relief, you’re about to lean back before Shota sets the bowl down on the nightstand to prop up the pillows behind you, making sure you’re comfortable before he picks it back up again and holds up another spoonful to your mouth.

“Come on, one more for me sweetheart.” 

“Not hungry anymore,” you huff, turning your head away from his outstretched hand.

He lifts an eyebrow. 

“We can cuddle after you take your medicine.”

“...Can you rub my tummy too?”

“You know I will.”

You sniffle and reluctantly open your mouth to sip a spoonful of the soup once again.

“Atta girl.” Shota smooths a kiss on your forehead, rubbing circles against the back of your hand. 

He reaches over to the nightstand to grab your medicine he picked up from the local pharmacy earlier, and hands a small cup of what he pours to you. 

You grimace at its cherry-colored contents and tilt your head back to drink it in one go like a shot.

“Good job. Now come lay on me.” He didn’t need to ask you twice, but Shota’s hands are already on your waist to gently flip you over him as he takes your previous position on the bed, setting you down to rest your head on your usual spot on his chest.

He strokes your hair gently, arm snug against your back while he presses you to him. “How are you feeling?”

“A little bit better,” you mumble, absentmindedly tracing the outline of his abs under his shirt. It's always been soothing to you.

Shota’s chest rumbles as he lets out a husky laugh. “Are you just saying that so you can keep tracing my abs?”

“Maybe.” You giggle against him, which turns into a cough and he firmly pats your back. His hand slides under your pajamas to rub gentle circles on your tummy like he promised. You softly squeal at the ticklish feeling of his hard-earned callouses against your skin, and Shota tenderly kisses your cheek once, twice.

All your senses are numb, but you can still feel the overflowing love behind them.

“Go to sleep, sweet girl. I got you,” he murmurs into your hair.

“Okay.” You comply easily this time, nuzzling deeper into his chest. “Goodnight, Shota.”

“Goodnight, angel. Love you.”

“Love you too,” you mumble before drifting off to sleep in the safety of his warm arms.

Maybe being sick wasn’t all bad.

dying, dying, dying. Seriously. Why. 😳 I am red as a London Bus, seriously-

College!Class-1a! X Fem!Reader 18+Drabble

This is really starting out as imagination for being shared by the characters, then I thought of this. So in this the class has eyes on you and can’t help it but always wanted you. Then one day your professor takes it a step further. This is yanderish.

Class 1A: Izuku midoriya, Shoto Todoroki, Ejiro Kirishima, Katsuki Bakugou, Ochaco Uraraka, Mina Ashido, Shōta Aizawa, Hanta Sero, Denki Kaminari, Tenya Iida, Fumikage Tokoyami, Momo Yaoyorozu, Kyouka Jirou

Warning: Sex watching, teasing, degrading, yandere content, masterbating, touching oneself to someone else, slight circle jerk?, professor x student, being used, authority play, hair pulling.

This is content that isn’t light of heart, filthy shit. So, dead dove do not eat. All characters are of age and consenting.

It was just another day in class, your classmates would drift their eyes to you occasionally to stare lovingly then turn away. You looked so cute today, like you did everyday, they always appreciated how beautiful you looked for them. Each time you’d look down or wrote in your notebook, Aizawa was staring at you. His eyes however didn’t look at your face but below the open deck to between your legs. That showed your pretty pussy all to him.

He could barely focus on his lesson with the picture of you in his mind, so he’d trip in his words and forget about what he was saying. This was new for him because he was always calm and steady, bored even. So the whole class took noticed his actions.

It wasn’t until he stopped fully while looking at you and the whole class followed his gaze in confusion. You didn’t even notice because you were taking notes and blocked him out until you got passed a point. “Y/n.” He sounded annoyed. Looking up to meet his glaring gaze you stare wide eyed at being in trouble.

“Yes sir.” He leaned on his desk and pointed in front where you would stand in front of the whole class. You gulped, “Stand up and go to the front of the class.” You flushed embarrassment at all the attention but followed his instructions to not get in anymore trouble. They all kept their eyes on your shy figure standing before them all in your school uniform. Aizawa made his way around and stood by you while putting a hand on his chin, inspecting you.

Turning his attention to the class, “Can anyone tell me what’s wrong with Miss L/n’s outfit?” You stared panic. All eyes looked at you from head to toe at the same outfit you wear every day, and they noticed everything you did. So the class stayed silent. Aizawa sighed and clicked his tongue.

“Surprising, you guys watched her like little bitches in heat.” He said amused with a eye roll, his demeanor changing quickly. The group looked at each other taken aback. Oh, you remembered clearly what you had done today. “I’m sorry-” his hand covered your mouth quickly and pushes you against the desk, the others getting defensive.

“Clearly your peer forgot the dress code,” you squealed when his other hand tugged at your skirt and lifted it. You struggled against him and tightened your legs together with tears picking up in your eyes. It was embarrassing…But also gave you a thrill.

“No panties under her skirt, she didn’t even close her legs.” You huffed as they all looked down at your cunt. Each of them turned red and moaned at the sight, the girls getting wet and the boys pants getting tight. “Shy? Awe, that’s pathetic.” He pushed you back and you were forced to take a seat in his desk.

“Show them, you know you want to be a good little slut.” You looked up at him with puppy eyes while he just smirked devilishly. But the problem to fighting back was simple. You didn’t want to. You spent nights imagining being fucked by your dorm mates, all of them you thought about along with your professor. So you nodded and slowly opened your legs for them to see each detail, your holes and clit. 

Now your eyes cried while your sweet moans poured out, the wet sounds of your pussy while his fingers thrust into you. Hands gripping the desk for support at how good the pleasure felt, your stomach twisting and turning. You couldn’t focused on your classmates to long while they all touched them to you.

The girls parted their legs while rubbing their clits and you could hear them too. Ochako and Mina fingered themself to match what you felt so they could feel one with you. The boys were surprisingly louder then the girl while stroking their cocks. Bakugo was more growling while fucking his hand as fast as he could go, Kirishima was soft and slow along with sero. Deku and denki were the loudest in the room, who got yelled at because they couldn’t hear you. But the other boys and girls kept quiet while touching themselves, afraid to make a sound.

Aizawa was painfully hard and made you rub him threw his pants for some relief, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. The way you cried, moaned just by him fingering you. It was intoxicating. “Cum- Oh fuck, going to cum.” You announced with your eyes rolling back.

“Dumb girl, think that’s what you get?” You cried out when he pulled out of you quick and left you empty. “All of you stop or I’ll fail you.” They all stopped and panted, caught in a haze of the high. “At least you all listen to me now, now pull up your pants and shit.” Groaning they all listened, the reality sinking in on them. You wiggled to get off the desk but he stopped you.

“Shoto, Ochako are the only ones who get to finish.” The two looked up and the rest looked at them. “Y/n here will finish you off,” your hair was gripped and pulled you off the desk. He forced you down onto your knees, “Well?” The two thought for a second but stood up to walk over to you, standing above you.

“All of you get to watch, be thankful.” He left you and walked to his chair and leaned back. So, you licked her pussy and gave him a hand job until they both came. Todoroki’s cum splatter on your face as you cleaned her pussy up, you got breathless fast. The end of class was awkward and silent, no one knew what to do or say. So you all just left.

But it was only a matter of time before you got home and the class was waiting for you to get their turn. Willing to do anything to get you.

Recovery

Summary: Aizawa has always been protective of you, almost to a fault. After a perilous battle with one of the strongest Nomu you've encountered yet, his protection intensifies, much to your shagrin.

Pairing: Shota Aizawa x fem!Reader

Power/Quirk: Magnetism

Request: Yes

Warnings: Unless you're against fluff, no warnings.

A/N: Thank you for the request! Life has been busy but lots of fun thanks to the summer heat :). This prompt was perfect cause I need a break from the close to 4k angst fest I've been working on lately. Hope you enjoy @itspauvr !

Request?

!Masterlist!

Fuck the League of Villains.

Especially that Dabi kid.

The crew had resurfaced with newer, stronger Nomu, cascading in the night to cause the most chaos. This one must have had 8 plus quirks, using them all at random or together. To make things even more complicated - Dabi was hidden behind the beast causing more chaos. You could barely keep the Nomu at bay as Aizawa battled the kid.

By the time Endeavour and a very grumpy-looking Hawks had arrived, your head and abdomen were oozing blood from the multiple hits you had taken.

You worked with them, killing the Nomu just in time to watch your husband get knocked to the ground by the villain crew kid, hand ready to blast Aizawa's fast off in his flames of fury.

Without thinking, your hand reaches out, gripping onto the metal that lined the boys body and yanked him towards you. As you landed a solid punch to his face, his quirk activates and burns your from your shoulder down.

All you could remember before blacking out from the pain was sending a flurry of very sharp daggers into his back.

You woke up to a very pissed-off Aizawa.

"What the hell were you thinking back there, (Y/N)? You could have gotten yourself killed."

The firmness in his voice was one that was so similar to the one he used with his class, it made you chuckle only for it to be followed by a wince.

"I'm not one of your students, Shota."

"I know you're not. You're my wife, you're more important."

You smile as much as you can through the haze of drugs you felt pumping through your system. But you weren't too hazy to hear him mumble:

"Even though you're just as impulsive as them."

That earned a metal tray to the back of the head and another stern glare from Aizawa as you glared back at him with a quirked eyebrow.

"How about a thank you for saving your ass, hmm?"

Only a chuckle leaves his lips before leaning back in his chair and you smirk - knowing you won this fight.

Oh, how you were wrong.

As soon as you were home, Shota might as well have used his capture weapon to keep you in your shared bed. If you were busted out of bed by the time he was home from his classes you were in a ton of trouble.

He took the whole 4-weeks of rest a little too seriously.

While, yes, you were a bit bored throughout the day, it wasn't all bad. Eri would come in for cuddles with you and Shota every morning. She would snuggle carefully close you while she talked about everything and anything under the sun. Shinso would bring you lots of books to read from the school library he thought you would find interesting.

But the best was the weekends with Shota. After being integrated into Class 1A - Shinso had made a few friends that he didn't mind hanging out with or training on the weekends. And after lots of begging from Midoriya and Togata, Eri gets to spend some weekends with them at UA.

With the house to yourselves, Aizawa would bring home your favourite food, as well as some healthier foods (a man can hope) and climb into bed with you. You'd spend the weekends talking about future plans or watching cheesy comedy movies that made your husband groan. He truly didn't mind though, whatever he could do to put a smile on your face is worth it.

Eventually, though, you would fall asleep and he would sneak away to grade worksheets and papers. And every time without a doubt, you would waddle out of bed to join him.

"(Y/N), you're not supposed to be out of bed." he would grumble.

"The doctor said rest, not bed rest Shota," you say with a cheesy grin while grabbing one of his coveted red pens.

"Sitting up with your abdomen covered in bruises doesn't count,"

A glare is shot your way and you return it with a smile while tucking a stray piece of hair that had escaped his bun behind his ear.

"I promise I'm okay. I just want to spend time with you before the week starts all over again,"

He sighs and relents, turning back to his papers before portioning off a small section for you to grade. It only took 20 minutes of grading before you fell asleep at his desk. A rare smile graces his face before he lifts you back into bed.

After he tucks you in, he lays a soft kiss on your forehead before returning to his office.

Yeah - getting taken care of by Shota wasn't the worst.

Bonus:

After a few weeks, the doctor cleared you for any and all activities since you had fully healed. Let's say, you earned your punishment.

Little Moments

Summary: A typical morning with Shouta and your little family.

Pairing: Shouta Aizawa x fem!reader

Power/Quirk: Telepathic Illusions, Memory/Conscious Manipulation,

Request: No

Warnings: Unless you hate fluff (which I get) then no warnings here.

A/N: This was originally meant for my discontinued Like the Incredibles series but it was too cute to delete <3

Request?

!Masterlist!

Quiet footsteps pitter-patter across hardwood floors as you stand at the stove, watching the bubbles begin to break the surface of the egg you had just placed in the pan. Turning around, a smile etches onto your face when you see doe eyes that belong to Eri; still in her Eraserhead pyjamas and clutching her Illusionaire stuffy.

"What are you cooking?" she whispers softly before clinging to your leg.

"Hmm, I don't know, maybe my favourite little girl's food in the whole world."

"You're making tamagoyaki?!" she yells in excitement.

"Shh!" you say softly with a giggle before gently rubbing her back. "But yes, I'm making tamagoyaki along with some miso soup, rice and fish cakes."

Eri stays quiet after that, clinging to your leg as the smell of eggs fills the room, causing a small smile to form. Once you finished a few of the cylindrical omelettes, you feel Eri tug on your shirt, wanting you to bend to her level. When you do, you get a kiss on the cheek and a quick;

"Thank you, mommy,"

She takes the plate with a gleeful smile and quickly makes her way to the small dining room table you had placed just outside the kitchen. An even brighter smile replaces your previous one as you stand.

"She really loves you,"

Turning around you see Shota with his hair in a bun, grey sweatpants and a black shirt hanging off of him from the night's previous rest. With a grin, you begin to clean up.

"I was so worried she wouldn't accept me, or even Shinso wouldn't want me around."

"Well they both love you and everything you do for them," he says as he dries his hands off from doing the dishes.

"They love you too you know,"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. Probably for different reasons though."

You snort softly before pulling him close to you by his sweatpants, gently swaying your hair out of your face with the flick of your head.

"And? Do you love me?" you ask with a grin.

"Shut up,"

He kisses you in between giggles, your arms slowly wrapping around his neck as your lips play an intricate dance. You feel his hands wrap around your waist, slowly lifting you up from the floor a little as you nibble on his bottom lip just a touch.

"You two can be really gross,"

With a soft groan, Aizawa breaks the kiss and nuzzles his head into your neck out of both embarrassment and annoyance. You slightly turn your head with a grin to see an exhausted Shinso, looking just as annoyed as his (adoptive) father.

"Go help Eri set the table and we will be right there,"

He simply nods before walking away, a subtle 'humph' coming from Aizawa once he leaves. You reluctantly pull away, tucking a stray piece of hair behind his ear with a smile. You hand off a few plates to him which he expertly takes into the next room. Following with the last few dishes, you look at the little family before you.

Aizawa already helping Eri put food on her plate while Shinso lets a soft grin slide. The way your daughter's eyes light up and the sight of the fluffy egg. To put a cherry on top, you gently placed a fish cake on the side before laying them on the table for everyone else to eat.

Yes, looking at your family, it was little moments like these that gave you peace.

𝓓𝓪𝔂 25 - Good Morning, Kitten || Shota Aizawa x f!reader

Masterlist

Summary: There's always a way to make sleepy mornig better.

Warnings: smut

Word count: 495

Author: Cass

A/N: The prompt for today is: Morning Sex

You filled the cup with coffee while yawning loudly.

Mornings were the worst, especially on a school day and following a difficult night patrol.

You dreaded getting out of bed so early, but you had to keep an eye on your sleep-deprived husband to get him to leave the bed.

But he was finally there. His arms were wrapped around your waist, and he sighed exhaustively as he rested his head on your shoulder. "Here you are, kitten. I was concerned that you had abandoned me."

You smirked and moved your hand back to scratch the top of his head gently.

Shota purred quietly and hugged you even more tightly. As a result, you could feel his hard member pressing against your groin. This explained a lot, because you suspected him of leaving bed on his own.

"All right, all right," you made a remark and rolled your hips against him, eliciting a soft growl from him. "Perhaps someone needs his kitten?"

He cradled you in his arms and kissed you on the cheek. Kiss was slow and lazy, but it took your breath away easily.

Before you could say anything, Shota had picked you up and placed you on the nearest kitchen counter.

He stood between your legs only to kiss you again as he removed your shorts. His hand quickly moved to your pussy.

Shota smiled as you pulled away with a loud gasp, his finger playing with your clit. "Take a look at yourself, kitten. I only just touched you, and you're already wet. I'm curious what got you going in this direction."

You smacked his arm with a growl before letting out a quiet meow at his touch.

He teased you for a moment longer before moving his hand away to push his pants down, hissing and releasing his already hard cock. "My lovely kitten," he hummed, running his tip across your pussy lips before pushing into you and bottoming out.

You only uttered a quiet curse and drew him in for a deep kiss.

Shota's hips moved slowly at first but quickly picked up the pace, causing you to moan his name against his lips. "Fuck, Shota," you whimpered, slipping your hand into his tangled locks and gently pulling on them. 

This caused him to growl loudly. He fucked you gently, allowing you to feel every move. Your lower belly tightened as you felt his member fill you up so nicely.

You weren't going to be long.

The same was true for him, especially since your soft, warm walls hugged him nicely and sucked his cock further in. Shota's moves became sloppy after a few more deep thrusts, and your walls tightened around him, milking him dry. Shota groaned against your shoulder, wrapping his arms around your waist as tightly as he could. He muttered, "Good morning, kitten," before kissing your temple.

You couldn't help but laugh as you played with his hair. "Good morning to you as well, grumpy."