Hahahaha! Right I Mean Im Very Okay With Dating A Villain

𝐈𝐆𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

hanta sero | f!reader, horny!reader, alcohol, bartender!hanta, car sex, riding, half-assed confessions, praise. minors dni!

— 2.9k words

"Look at you, shaking on my cock. I fill you up that well, Baby?"

"Okay, that's enough."

You whine when your shot is plucked out of your hands, your fingers grabbing around nothing once it gets too far from your reach.

"N-No wai—hic!—'m not done yet 'n I paid for that."

You don't even have the sobriety to act enthusiastic, and the bartender raises a pierced eyebrow.

"The club's closing."

You click your tongue at that and groan, before pushing your upper body away from the bar to see that there's no one else here but you and the bartender, with proper lights on to illuminate that the place is a fucking mess.

"What? What happ—happened to partyin' all night long..." You drift, eyes narrowing to make out the floating words on the bartender's name tag, "...Hinata?"

"It's been all night. And it's Hanta," he says curtly, drying what you think might be your shot glass with a fluffy white towel. What a waste. "Another ex?"

"Fine." you nearly yell, dropping your forehead on the bar so hard it hurts—or it would have if you were sober. Which you are. Totally. "And yes. I'm thinking of buying this one dead roses. For shits 'n—hic—gigs."

"Creative," he snorts, sliding his forearms onto the table until they bump into yours from the opposing side. A glass is set next to your head. "C'mon. I'll give you time to sober up while I put everything away. Deal?"

"'N how long 's that gon' take," you struggle to sit up, body tilting to the right despite your best efforts to sit up straight. Hanta shrugs.

"Thirty minutes?"

"That's fine then," you nod, looking around the place through swollen eyes. "'S empty."

"It is. C'mon, drink," he nudges the glass of water your way. You scowl.

"'S gonna make me sober?"

"Yup," Hanta nods, popping the 'p.' You sigh before tossing your head back with another obnoxious groan.

"Then I don' want it," and you contemplate tossing the drink onto the floor, but you figure Hanta wouldn't like that very much. You opt for a pout instead.

"Well, you need it. You're fucked," he says kindly, before picking up the cup full of water and dropping it under your nose. "Now drink."

You sigh, already feeling the sobriety kicking in as you grab your glass by the waist. "You're so fucking difficult."

"Sobriety is good," the bartender offers. You snort.

"Sobriety is fucking terrible," you reply, already hating that it's already kicking in after a few sips. "People come to the club to get fucked. No way I have to leave sober."

"Sober enough to get home," Hanta edits with a nod. It's tempting to throw your heel at his face.

"Sober enough to hate life again," You grouse with narrowed eyes. Hanta shrugs.

"And once you spend a few days hating life, suddenly it doesn't seem so bad," he smiles cheekily before turning his back to you to wash whatever, and you roll your eyes at his optimism.

You stare at him, lips twisted in a disrespectful confusion, and definitely not admiring how the muscles of his back roll under that tight black shirt while he washes the dishes. How can someone look sexy washing the dishes, one may ask, and the answer is—you can't. Therefore, you wholly and completely blame the alcohol for the flush in your cheeks as you pat your back pockets for your wallet so you can pay for a taxi and stumble home to deal with the hangover at work tomorrow.

"You good?" He raises a pierced eyebrow, turning around when you fail to speak. You grimace.

"...My wallet's missing."

Hanta's entire body sags, the rag in his hand hitting the counter as he gives you a look of pure and utter exasperation.

"You're kidding me."

"I..." you pat your butt, just to check and, "Yeah. It's fucking gone."

The noirette runs a heavy hand over his face, before rubbing at the corner of his eyes with a faint yawn. "Fine, then. I can take you home, but you have to wait until I'm done closing."

"Does that mean I can have another drink?" You ask slyly, inching so close your gut digs into the bar in question. Hanta gives you a look of near-disgust.

"No."

You pout, though you don't move away. He's close enough that he's starting to blur but not aggressively close. You notice the faint smattering of freckles against his cheeks, eyes flickering to Hanta's lips as a pink tongue darts to gloss them over.

"You're not bad up close, you know," you breathe, running a finger up the visible vein up his arm. Hanta's eyes dilate but he moves away, and you huff, returning to your seat with a pout at the brush-off.

"You're no fun," you grumble, tucking your hands under your chin. Hanta goes back to wiping down the bar with a chuckle.

"It's against policy," is all he grunts. You roll your eyes.

"Yeah well, your policy fucking sucks," your tongue curls to spit vitriol in a way you didn't even know you could. Hanta's eyebrows raise in amusement at your petulance. "And what's the fucking policy? Don't get laid?"

"No, it's don't take advantage of tipsy customers," he nearly barks with a snort.

"I'm barely tipsy," you offer. Hanta freezes to look you up and down.

"...Sure." You growl.

"I'm not!"

"Well. This is me."

Hanta cocks an eyebrow and the car rumbles to a stop with a jingle of his key in the ignition. His eyes follow yours to the front door. The car ride was pleasantly silent—pleasantly, excluding the weighty air, you couldn't cut with a steak knife that forces your thighs to rub together.

"This is you?"

"Yup."

You pop the 'p' and make no move to get out; he doesn't unlock the door.

"It's a nice place."

"Thanks," you smile, and you have half a mind to invite him inside. You don't, though—you shouldn't. Because what do you think will happen?

"Um...so I guess this is goodbye. I guess." His fingers drum against the leather of his steering wheel, and your eyes drift to his hands.

"Yeah," you eye the purse sat in your lap. "Yeah, right."

He unlocks the door and your grip around your purse tightens as you reach for the door handle. "Thanks, agai—"

"Uh, hold on, actually."

The doors lock. You fight a smile.

And he looks conflicted—drumming fingers changing from a random tap to an anxious beat, teeth digging into the inside of his cheek, and eyes darting everywhere but at you. You sit your elbows on the armrest console.

"Yes?"

"Um, okay," he huffs through his nose, dimples popping in a borderline acrid grin. "What if—what if I wanted to break the policy?"

You feign a gasp, placing a dramatic hand over your heart in sheer horror. "What? Not the policy!"

"Yeah, yeah okay," Hanta snorts, grabbing you by the back of the neck and grinning when you nearly squeal. "C'mere—I want to kiss you."

And, well. Who are you to deny such an offer?

Hanta tastes like gin. You wonder if he's allowed to drink on the job, but it's only a fleeting thought because he's tilting his head and moaning into your mouth, and you find yourself pushing back eagerly.

He's sinfully good with his lips, tongue, whatever—or maybe it's the alcohol. But either way, his lips are plush enough to enjoy but firm enough to dominate, and you melt into the seat as he pulls away and rasps:

"How're you feeling, Pretty?"

Is it just hot in here, or is it just you?

"Um," you flush in seeing his smug grin while he patiently waits for your answer, and it's aggravating. "Good—I'm feeling good."

The noirette hums, eyes dropping to your lips.

"Want to try again?"

You nod, "Yes please."

Hanta's chest rumbles and he's grinning against your lips. "Saying please already? Good girl."

When he presses his lips to yours again, it's with much more weight than the first kiss, and it nearly knocks you into the window. He trails hot kisses down the column of your neck, making you hiss when he bites right under your ear.

The next thing you know, Hanta's unbuckling his seatbelt and then yours, before huffing against your lips: "Backseat."

The moment you two squeeze between both seats, Hanta's pulling you into his lap, his hands taking possession of your waist as if they've always belonged there. As he sucks hickeys into your collarbone, he lifts an eyebrow in question as he slides his hands to the zipper of your dress. "Can I?"

You bite your lip and nod, hips rolling slowly. Hanta hisses and tightens his grip around your waist as he slowly pulls down the zipper, the sound of sliding metal bouncing off the doors of the heated car.

"Just as perfect as I thought they'd be," He groans, chuckling slightly when you berate him for being a pervert—not as if it matters now, with the top of your dress sliding down your arms and under your bra. His hips flex as yours pick up the pace, hiding a smile at the feeling of his hard cock growing against your inner thigh. Hanta shucks your dress to your waist with two big hands, keeping them at your ribs.

"Fuck—keep grinding on me, just like that baby," his eyes drop to watch your hips roll before he's recklessly shoving your bra straps down your shoulders. "You know, I always wondered how you dealt with those assholes. I wouldn't if you were mine."

"Is this your cheesy way of asking me out?" You huff a giggle, and Hanta's dimples pop.

"If you'll take it."

"Make me cum, first," you offer, hips stuttering when he tweaks a nipple. "And then take me on a date."

Hanta snorts, lips returning to your neck. "Aye aye, Cap'n."

You slap him across the chest and Hanta takes the brunt of it with a smile, slowly sliding a hand up your inner thigh that you didn't feel until right now.

He thumbs the hem of your panties in question. You nod without and he bites a lip as he pulls the flimsy thing to the side and slides a calloused finger into your throbbing cunt.

"So fucking wet, holy shit," he breathes against your neck. You rest a hand on the fogging window with a sigh, and pumps his finger slowly—whether it's to get you used to the feeling or to tease, you aren't quite sure.

"You can add another."

"I—" Hanta shudders, nails digging into the meat of your hips. "Okay. Yeah, okay."

As he pushes a second finger in with the first, you two hiss in unison, nails digging hot red lines into his muscled shoulders. Your walls bend around him easily, squeezing his digits with such a firmness it has the poor guy fantasizing what you'll feel like wrapped around his cock. He whimpers behind a bitten lip at the thought, thumb ghosting your clit with a determination to make you feel good.

"You're taking my fingers so well, Baby," he says, groaning when your hips gain a life of their own. Hanta wheezes a laugh at your desperation, strung tight from arousal. "What? Need me to go faster?"

You nod your head, whimpering a meek yes that would be embarrassing if you weren't so worked up. Hanta shakes his head with a low chuckle.

"Ask nicely, Pretty."

"Please!" You practically fling your upper body over his, "I wan—I nee—"

"What's that, my needy baby?" Hanta purrs behind a bitten lip, struggling to keep your hips from bucking because you just look so good. You know his hand has got to be cramping from the angle he fingers you at, but you figure that it doesn't matter—especially when he adds a third, to your pleasant surprise.

"Fuck!" You keen, body curling along with his fingers. Hanta groans as you contract around him and digs his teeth into the junction of your neck, making you gasp along with the painful pleasure.

"You need to fuck me like, right now," you pant, and it's clear you don't have to tell the noirette twice—his slick-soaked fingers rocket to his fly, pulling his cock out with suck a speed it would be worrying if you weren't equally desperate.

"Yes Ma'am," he smiles and you snort, rolling your eyes—though the light mood dies once the head of his cock kisses your entrance. Suddenly, you're not floating anymore but sat in Hanta's heated lap, making all of this feel so much more real—the fogged windows, the skin on skin, the heavy petting. You can't believe you've waited this long, but at the same time, surprised this didn't happen sooner.

"Ready?" You ask, knees digging into leather as you straddle his lap. Hanta's chest shudders.

"Ready when you are."

You roll your eyes. What a gentleman.

With that, you press against him with a little more insistence and he pops the head of his cock in with a huff, muscled chest shuddering as you force yourself down until you hit the base.

"Shit," Hanta wheezes, grip tightening around your waist. He keeps you there—forces your lungs to work hard around his cock—and you quiver around him like a leaf in the wind.

"Look at you," Hanta coos like you're the cutest fucking thing he's ever seen. "Shaking on my cock. I fill you up that well, Baby?"

"Y-Yeah, I—" your throat contracts as you shift, inevitably nestling him deeper and pushing a quiet eep from your throat. It's clear Hanta's getting impatient, hips wiggling as a hot hand reaches for your hands to pin them behind your back. As he holds you at a 45-degree angle, to the point where you're slumped against the seat in front of you, the hand on your waist lifts before dropping you down again.

"Fuck!" You scream, thighs flexing as his hips pick up the pace fairly quickly. The noirette chuckles, tongue peeking in concentration as sweat starts to soak his hair to his forehead.

"Sorry," he pants, though he doesn't really sound that sorry, eyes fixated on where you're connected. "Did you say something? Can't really hear you over all the moaning."

You snarl at that, though it's hard to when he holds you at such an angle. You have half a mind to shut the fuck up, acknowledging that technically, you're outside—but another part of you thinks fuck it, you're forced to hear your neighbors go at it like bunnies at least once a week. They can suffer this one time, right?

"Shit—squeezing me so tight," Hanta grunts under his breath, eyebrows folding in ecstasy. "You trying to make me cum early, sweetheart?"

You whimper and shake your head as Hanta chuckles at how useless you are, as limp as a ragdoll while you take all of him so well. So, so well.

His thumb returns to your clit, and you both moan—you from the stimulation, he when you tighten around him. Hanta adjusts so you're properly sat in his lap again, his hot skin pressed to yours before his palm cracks against your ass with the one order, "Ride it."

Your thighs quiver pathetically as you lift yourself up on his cock, your throat tightening in a muffled squeal when his head rams into your cervix. You've never considered yourself to be a screamer but you suppose there are exceptions, and you consider getting properly fucked by your bartender in a bartender's backseat is a better excuse than any.

"Fuck—fuck just like that, fucking take it," Hanta's grunts are only semi-coherent as his hips buck in time with yours, the flush on his face growing down to his neck with the tight grip on your waist. There isn't much you can do but take it—and the fact that he gives you no wiggle room to squirm away gets you more excited than you feel it should.

"Where—" he pants, the car rocking with your movement as he latches a hand onto the back of the driver's seat. "W-where do you want me to...?"

"Inside," you whimper without a second thought. "I-Inside, please I nee—"

"I gotcha," Hanta's movements slow, opting for a smoother glide instead, and you find that the change in pace pushes you closer to the edge—and as does the thumb on your clit, which is slowly picking up the pace. "You gonna cum, Baby?"

You nod, but it earns you a spank on the ass, "Words, pretty girl."

"Y-Yeah, just—" He rolls your hips—and hard—and that final grind sends you flying off the edge, eyes skewing as you gasp his name. Hanta groans at the sight of you coming undone—the sight of you coming undone for him—and that's enough to make him curse under his breath before his hips stutter twice, and he's filling you with a groan.

"C'mere," he says, and you're not even sure he's done coming as he scrambles to pull you forward via your condensed top (which is between your upper and lower half) to pull you into a spit fueled kiss. It's messy and you're both exhausted, all tongue and spit, but it gets your blood boiling nevertheless. You're the first to pull away.

"Wanna come in for a drink?" You ask, knowing it's an invitation to come clean up and knock the fuck out together. Luckily, Hanta gets the memo, with his flushed face and pierced eyebrow.

"I thought you'd never ask."

Lawd its all true!!

FACTS!!!😂

ass-eating headcanons

summary; how they like their ass eaten, with Izuku, Katsuki, Shouto, Denki, Eijiro, Tenya, Neito and Shihai. All characters are aged up and in their 20s

Izuku

Please eat his ass.

Literally in any way you can, he loves it.

But ESPECIALLY when he's laying on his back with your hand around his cock and your tongue deep inside him.

Will grind his hips into your face, he can't help himself, it feels too good.

Cannot figure out what to do with his hands so he ends up just balling them into the sheets and gripping on for dear life.

He'll cum so fast if you stroke his cock while you do it, too.

Very vocal, begs you for more, tells you how good it feels, thanks you for letting him cum.

Katsuki

He's on his back, knees bent and one hand reaching down to spread himself.

Degrades you the entire time while grinding himself against your face.

"Yeah eat my ass you dirty slut."

"God you're so nasty, eating my ass like that. Such a fucking whore, aren't you? Yeah, stick your tongue deeper, deeper bitch."

Literally he's so mean about it.

But when he cums while you eat him? He'll moan so, so pretty for you.

And returns the favor.

Shouto

He doesn't realize it's something he likes until you're doing it and his thighs are quivering because it feels so good.

He's not super vocal, but little "nnghs", "fuck"s, "hhhahhhh"s bless your ears.

He's face down ass up, and you're warming him up to take your strap.

Slowly pumping his cock, and laving over his pucker with your tongue makes him jolt and the moment you press in, he groans.

Actually loves it when you eat him, and doesn't care to bring it up to anyone who cares to listen.

Eijiro

Another one who prefers to be on his back. Preferably propped up with some pillows so he can watch you.

Loves the way his balls look on your face at this angle.

Also will be stroking your hair and petting you and praising you the entire time.

"God your tongue feels so good, baby."

"Y-yeah, hhhahhh like that...fuck."

Clenches his jaw tightly and bares his pretty teeth while trying to hold his moans back.

He fails.

Will cum untouched just from the way your mouth feels on his ass.

Gets the cutest flushed and fucked out expression when he watches you.

Denki

Bend him over the side of the bed, spread his legs apart and kneel to eat his ass.

He'll be putty in your hands.

Very, very vocal. Soft whines and begs flow like wine from his lips.

Grinds his cock against the mattress because it's just too good.

"hhnn p-please it's... hahhh it's so good. fuck. hhhhhh god I'm gonna-"

If you let him he'll pump his cock and overstim himself from cumming too much.

Praise him, tell him he's doing a good job taking it well and it's a one-way trip to subspace.

Tenya

Tenya's the kind of guy who eats your ass so good you wanna return the favor.

Lay him down, press his knees to his chest and massage his muscular thighs while you take your time.

He likes it slow and deep, and if you keep rubbing his thighs while you do it he'll be so, so hard and needy.

Like, precum pooling on his abs, face flushed and needy, he'd beg you to pay his cock attention.

Not vocal at all, that's just him as a whole. However if you make him cum first and slurp it all up and then start eating his ass he's a mess.

Overstimulated and weak, he'll try to hold himself back at first but then his cock gets hard again and he's reduced to groans and whimpers that turn into full on moans and groans.

Neito

Neito is such a brat but we been knew.

Will fight you at first, you gotta be persistent. But when he gives in?

He'll have his face buried in the pillow, laying on his side with his hands over his head to hide himself. One knee hooked over your shoulder while you go to town.

He's so pitiful as he pants and whines and moans, begging you to let him cum.

If you feel like being mean you can neglect his cock and just focus on his hole.

Or if you're nice, fist his cock until his hips are moving on their own and he's chasing his release because he just cant help himself.

Shihai

Okay, Shihai is a solid switch you can't change my mind. He makes you beg to eat his ass. He just loves hearing you desperate for him.

He'll prop himself on his arms or elbows and watch you intently, a dark blush darkening his already dark features.

When it starts to feel really good he'll throw his head back, exposing the long length of his pretty neck, and reward you with deep, throaty moans.

When he gets close he gyrates his hips against you and slowly strokes his cock. He likes to take his time and savor it, building up to an intense orgasm.

Busts all over his stomach and makes you lick it up, tells you how good you are and then kisses you after to taste himself on your tongue.

🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵

fem!reader. mdni.

Nanami Kento being the foodie he is, loves eating your pussy and he especially loves eating you from the back.

He sends you a text while you’re at home lounging around that reads, ‘I’m leaving the office. You know where I want you when I get there.’ And well, you do know where he wants you.

Because for the past few months, every time Kento has a stressful day at work (which honestly, was every day), he’s adamant on eating you out as soon as he gets home. You’re practically his dinner, the way he expects you as soon as he gets home and eats you out like a man starved. “It’s a stress reliever,” he always tells you.

And so when you know he’s nearing the house, you’ll position yourself on your shared bed just how he likes after ridding yourself of all your clothes: ass up in the air, backed arched, cheek pressed against the duvet, and ankles hanging off the bed.

You hear the front door slam shut and his heavy footsteps getting louder as he nears the room. He opens the door rather roughly, plopping his suitcase onto the floor and immediately walks towards you. “How was work?” You ask casually as if your bare ass is not up in the air.

Kento loosens his tie with deft hands and unbuttons a few buttons of his shirt, “work was shit.” And that’s all he says before he pulls you higher up to his face with his large rough hands on your hips, his mouth instantly sucking in one of your outer lips.

His hands move to hold the sides of your ass, spreading your pussy open for him before his tongue slides in between your folds. Kento slurps up your slick, loud wet noises filling the room. It’s evident he’s had a particular stressful day with the way he eagerly and roughly eats you out. “You always taste so good,” he breathes into you.

He sucks on your folds, digs his tongue into your twitching hole, and his nose bumps and drags along your wetness. You whine and mewl and finally, Kento runs his tongue against your clitoris in a soft manner, almost lovingly caressing your bundle of nerves.

His tongue is like honey, the way it smoothly glides along your cunt.

When you cum, it’s when his fingers sink down into your cunt while he lightly laps at your clit. You writhe underneath him, press your cunt closer to his mouth and moan mindlessly into the duvet. You clench tightly around his long fingers, juices spilling out as he thrusts into you continuously.

You can’t help but wonder if he’s doing okay, since he has not once taken his mouth away from your sopping pussy to breathe.

But Kento is doing more than okay considering his hard cock throbs in his black slacks, practically begging to be inside you. He drags a hand to his hardness, palming himself as he eats you out messily.

He finally pulls away when he’s made sure he licked you clean of yourself, his chin dripping with your cum. Panting as his fingers slide in between your wet folds, he asks you, “how about my dessert?”

Lord have mercy ⚰️☠️🥀💦🥴🥵

head empty.. been thinkin about this all day.

you and itadori fucking all slow and sensual until sukuna slyly takes over, causing him to rut into you almost animalistically. you scream and whine, begging him to slow down until you realize sukuna was the one behind the brutality.

“That idiot.. using my vessel to fuck such a filthy whore.” Sukuna chuckles, his markings slowly taking shape onto his handsome face.

You flush at his words, Itadori never spoke to you this way though it turned you on immensely. Yuuji wasn’t himself; flipping you over on your stomach and plunging himself inside you with enough force to knock the wind out of your body.

He continued to fuck you stupid, Sukuna working your body with a fist full of your hair. He was relentless, his strong and tattooed body seemingly made just to make your whole body cry.

“I can see why the idiot fawns over you, woman.” He growled, a weak and shaky mewl leaving your throat as Sukuna expertly found your g-spot as he knows your body like Yuuji did. You’re frantic; yeses floating out of you as the room around you seemed to fade. You neared your end, moaning impossibly louder as hot white lights flash before your eyes.

“He can switch back all he wants. He doesn’t fuck you well enough anyway.”

Oh 👏 dear 🥴💦 please though shinsou please use your quirk!! I don't want to think on anything BUT that dick!! 😩💦🥴😖🥵

Hello pretty human, I honestly hope you're havin an amazing day. I found your blog today and when I say I a hOOKED. ESPECIALLY YOUR BULL CONTENT MAKSKXKA

s o- that being said, would thee be any way to ask for bull Shinso and a chubby farmer? 👉🏻👈🏻

Yours truly, uh, idk, how about🦎(?)anon

he has his quirk in this bull universe cause I think it's cool omg

cw: slightly dark warning? past misuse of his quirk that is mentioned, previous brainwashing

You hate to say it, but Bull Shinsou is one of those bulls who you can forget about at times

He’s literally so low maintenance, it’s unbelievable!

Just clean his stable, bathe him, and bring him snack and he’s perfectly fine

The only time he’s needy is when he’s rutting, or about to go into a rut

He’s too precious to ignore like the other bulls

You’ll let him spit game as he leans over the top of his stable, dark circles under his eyes as he surveys your curves, grins lazily as he tries his hand at you

“Care to be my rut aid? I need something nice and plush to rest on after I’m done. Your chest is preferred.”

The lines are awful, but fuck, if he isn’t basically a snake charmer at this point

You’re getting railed over a stack of hay in no time

It’s kinda uncomfortable with how itchy it is against your back, but its worth it

He’s grunting quietly in your ear, hips snapping against yours, bruising your ass, his knot popping in and out wetly from your gaping hole

“S’glad you said yes willingly this time. Didn’t even have to use m’quirk on you for this rut.”

You’re too fucked out to really digest what he’s saying

More or less focused on how wide his knot is expanding and stretching you

It’s not until his rut is finished, when you find yourself stumbling out of his stable, wondering why you felt this same ache in your thighs now, as you did a few months ago when you couldn’t remember a whole three whole days…

Aizawa would totally fuck you in the dressing room he knows how to keep you 🤫🤫🤫

𝕽𝖊𝖆𝖑 𝕳𝖔𝖙 𝕲𝖎𝖗𝖑 𝕾𝖍𝖎𝖙

How they feel about hot girl summer + seeing you getting ready for it

A/N: This is because I’m trying to be prevented from participating in hot girl summer 🤕☝🏽 free ya girl please

𝕭𝖆𝖐𝖚𝖌𝖔 𝕶𝖆𝖙𝖘𝖚𝖐𝖎

Contrary to popular belief, he’s not going to stop you, in fact he’ll take this as an opportunity to leave marks upon marks on your skin

He’ll pass you his black card and drop you off at the mall with a wink and smack on your ass

Demands to see all the clothes that you got from shopping

Makes you model them for him

Ultimately gets fed up, strips them off of you and bends you over the bed to fuck you

𝕾𝖊𝖗𝖔 𝕳𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖆

Raises an eyebrow but won’t say anything, he wants you to have your fun after all

It’s not til you come home with bags on your arms he’ll say anything

Immediately bends you over the counter, pulls your panties down and eats you out

Makes sure you can’t walk for the next couple of days

𝖄𝖆𝖔𝖞𝖔𝖗𝖔𝖟𝖚 𝕸𝖔𝖒𝖔

Curious honestly, doesn’t quite grasp what you meant by hot girl summer until she walked in on you shaking your ass to City Girls

She’s going to let you do your thing but not before she makes sure you’re covered in hickeys and love bites

She’ll ogle you if you’re dressed particularly skimpy but keeps her composure otherwise

𝕬𝖎𝖟𝖆𝖜𝖆 𝕾𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖙𝖆

Isn’t having it at all, not one bit will physically throw you over his shoulder and carry you home

Insists on covering you up with his jacket if he sees people looking at you a bit to long for his liking

Doesn’t stop you from buying the clothes though, he’ll actually be there when you picking them and trying them on

Will fuck you in the dressing room

if you're black, reblog this

if you’re black, reblog this

if you’re black, reblog this

if you’re black, reblog this

if you’re black, reblog this

if you’re black, reblog this

if you’re black, reblog this

if you’re black, reblog this

if you’re black, reblog this

if you’re black, reblog this

if you’re black, reblog this

if you’re black, reblog this

if you’re black, reblog this

if you’re black, reblog this

if you’re black, reblog this

if you’re black, reblog this

if you’re black, reblog this

if you’re black, reblog this

if you’re black, reblog this

if you’re black, reblog this

I 👏heard👏 dah faq👏 outta that!!!

Bruno is 50yo yall 🧐

and i'd ride him like a rodeo and let him spit in my mouth.

I'm legal.

with daddy issues.

and insanely fertile.

thank you.

Oh my god. 🥵🥵🥵🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴💦

Ooh i’m so excited rn omg...what i need rn is more of aizawa and villian!soulmate reader. They just keep acting like a brat until aizawa takes them home and punishes them X3

Prelude - shoutout to y’all for being so patient with me! appreciate it so so much. Also, there was like one other ask that I wanted to include here but I couldn’t find it, so rip. Also, @bbygirlpastel ty for the “Villain? I’ll show you a villain.”

Pairing - Yandere Aizawa X Reader

Warnings - dub con, non con, NSFW, overstimulation, no actual penetration. Creepy Aizawa, vibrators, uhhh literally nothing good here. Dead dove man, if you look at a dead bird and KNOW it’ll taste disgusting and make you sick to your stomach.... DON’T FUCKIN EAT THE BIRD. listen to the warnings my dudes!!

Music -  https://open.spotify.com/track/6p8eEdiZLKJH8tcjGZuNTK?si=9r_2kgkoR56h9UkBCybxLw

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Maybe he wouldn’t be this infatuated, this utterly obsessed, this angry with you if you had just given in from the start.

You weren’t even a high-priority villain, just some desperate nighttime thug that preyed on innocent bystanders. Snatching wallets, causing a ruckus, stealing from thrift stores or gas stations a couple of times a week.  You were a nuisance, but not big enough to catch Aizawa’s attention - not until you stole a women’s watch right in front of him on the street while he was buying a snack from a food-cart before his shift started.

And yeah, Aizawa tried to keep a low profile, not flaunt his hero status in order to effectively capture and subdue villains, but surely you would’ve noticed the man clad in black, obviously sporting hero gear standing nearby. But you didn’t, and then he was grabbing your shoulder so he could drag you to the police station. Aizawa had been surprised when you wiggled out of his grip and took off, and damn, you were fast.

The game of cat-and-mouse had begun, and while the underground hero failed to catch you that night (and every subsequent night he saw you out on the streets) he was determined to do so. Well, maybe not /as/ determined. When it came to you, the man was easily distracted.

The clothes you wore were baggy, hid your form effectively. But if someone looked close enough, they could notice the curves of your body, especially as you ran, evading capture. Aizawa was loathe to admit at first, but it was tantalizing watching you flee from him.

He beat himself up over it. He’d always had a solid grasp of self-control, and usually he felt no attraction to his targets, even if they were wearing the skimpiest of outfits. One time he had turned in a villain wearing nothing but pasties over her breasts and panties (her quirk was seduction-based), and he hadn’t felt anything but utter boredom as he filled out paperwork at the police station while they found her some actual clothes.  It probably had something to do with the “soulmate” quirk he had been hit with once, but Aizawa had never really put much faith in it, nor thought about it extensively. He had always had a bit more self control than other men.

So for him to almost have feelings for some low-life idiot? It made his skin burn with irritation (and maybe something else, but he wasn’t ever going to address that). It didn’t make any sense. 

The fact that it didn’t make any sense did not stop his brain from plastering not-suitable-for-work thoughts about you whenever he ran upon you committing some minor crime. It was infuriating.

The satisfaction the man felt from finally pinning you down, taking advantage of a small stumble, tackling you down and pressing you into the cold concrete of the rooftop was probably unholy. It just felt so damn good, catching you, forcing you to submit, getting you underneath him. When he had flipped you onto your back, you wouldn’t look at him, just staring off to the side, almost as if you were ashamed.

You should be - stealing from anyone and everyone, being a brat, making Aizawa’s life difficult as you infiltrated every waking moment.

He had started to lecture you, starting out with his usual cool-headed, 

unbothered demeanor, but slowly getting more and more annoyed as you still refused to look at him. Pretending he wasn’t there, refusing to listen - Aizawa felt the urge to slap you, just to make you react.

He settled for harshly gripping your chin, forcibly turning your head so he could look at your eyes.  Eye contact was an important thing to Aizawa - it was the basis of his quirk, but he wasn’t prepared for the punch to the gut he felt when he looked into yours.

Words escaped him, mouth dropping open, his body frozen. There was - there was something going on. You took advantage of his pause, shoved the man off of you, took off running. Aizawa could do nothing but sit there, staring after your form with his own eyes wide and wondering. What had just happened?

He reflected on the moment for the entire rest of the night, musing over the strange feeling coiled in his stomach, the weird tug in his chest, his brain wanting and desiring and lusting and it was so distracting, he wanted it to stop, but at the same time, he wanted to indulge.

The realization finally hit him - the soulmate quirk he had been hit with, all those long years ago. 

Some lady had come up to him while he was shopping, smiling at him toothily before asking him wether he believed in soulmates. He had stared at her for a second, before blankly responding with a curt “no”, turning back to continue browsing the selection of applesauce packets. A hand on his wrist, a burning sensation from his arm to his heart, and then he was rounding on the woman, ready to drag her to the police station for using her quirk in public without a license. 

She had just cackled, citing something about soulmates and how he was going to believe now, he’d learn what it would feel like to find your true love when he looked into their eyes. Some sappy, romantic, crazy bullshit that he had ignored and promptly forgotten, before calling the police.

The lady had been deemed mentally ill, driven mad by the loss of her husband in a hero-based accident. Aizawa quickly forgot about the incident.

Aizawa didn’t believe in soulmates, and even if they existed, there was no way in hell that his soulmate would be a villain.

But apparently, the universe did not care about Aizawa’s opinions.

He tried to ignore it, turn a blind eye whenever he saw you sneaking around late at night, would turn and head the other way. But there was no denying the burning flame in his heart, the yearning to see you again, to talk to you, learn about you, what you liked, what you didn’t, where you had grown up, what your aspirations were. 

Aizawa hated it.

But he couldn’t ignore it.

The feelings grew and grew, festering in his body like an open wound, infecting his mind, crawling through his veins and slowly seeping into every aspect of his life, until all he could think about was you. The man needed it to stop.

The cat-and-mouse game was picked up again, except this time, Aizawa wasn’t going to give you any opportunities to get away.

You were able to sense the change, could see the rabid look in his eyes when he sought you out for the first time since the night you had slipped out of his grasp. There was something different, and it wasn’t good, it was dangerous.

You managed to dodge him for a time, and some part of Aizawa swelled with pride that his supposed “soulmate” was so clever. The other part of him wanted to break something.

He was almost frightened by the change in him, this volatile anger, the impatience and the lust. That wasn’t who he was, but ever since meeting you, looking into your eyes, it’s what he had become. Maybe if he tracked you down, got close to you, spent some time with you, this needy feeling would go away. You couldn’t run forever. 

Aizawa caught you during the daytime, when both of you were off-guard and not paying attention. It was luck, really, or maybe destiny or fate, that he had looked up to watch as passengers filtered onto the subway. You were wearing the same baggy clothes you always wore, hoodie over your head, earbuds in. 

There was a backpack slung over your shoulder, and Aizawa watched you sling it off to place it in your lap as you sat down before the doors closed. 

It was easy to follow you home, to the dingy little deathtrap you called your own, on the first floor of an abandoned, moldy motel building. It was even easier to follow you inside, through the broken window , his footsteps undetected through the blare of music in your earbuds.

It was less easy to subdue you, with the desperate fight you put up, trying to kick and punch and scream as soon as Aizawa’s thick arm circled around your throat. Still, the man had been subduing unruly villains for a while now, and it wasn’t hard for him to keep his hold on your smaller from, no matter how you thrashed in his arms. 

When you finally passed out from the lack of air in your lungs, Aizawa gently followed you down to the floor, staring at you for a moment (god you were pretty, how had he not noticed how pretty you were?) before looking around the room. 

It looked like a regular motel room, except there was no TV, there was signs of rot dotting the walls, and the air smelled decidedly unhealthy. He wrinkled his nose as he took it in - you would be much better living somewhere less unsavory. 

Which, Aizawa’s home was perfectly capable of hosting an unwilling guest. Aizawa wasn’t naive enough to think you’d be happy waking up in an unfamiliar room, but he figures it would be better than jail. Like hell was he going to hand you off to the police, not when the ache in his chest was subsiding in your presence, the burning need for something lowering to a slow simmer. Justice be damned, Aizawa was going to be the judge, jury, and executioner in this particular case, and he had yet to decide your fate.

----

“You are insufferable - if you would just give in, everything would feel so much better. Holding out like this is illogical.”

He was tired. Tired of your stubbornness, tired of your refusals, tired of your insults, tired of the way his skin itched and blood boiled every time you spat at him or knocked over the plate of food he brought to you. 

When he was met with silence, Aizawa sighed. This was getting old. It had been a month since he’d brought you under his roof, a month of holding back, a month of playing nice, a month of letting you “adjust”. But you hadn’t adjusted, hadn’t even tried, and he was tired.

“You’re only hurting yourself by acting like this.“

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to act like this if you hadn’t kidnapped me.” You spat, glaring daggers at the man.

Aizawa paused, almost humored by your spiteful response. “You would rather I have turned you over to the police? The prison system isn’t kind to pretty little things like you. No matter how tough you pretend to be, you’d be broken in less than a week.”

You scoffed, pulling at the chain that held your ankle to the wall. “As if this is somehow better. You’re a sick man, I hope you choke on your next meal and /die/.”

Aizawa gestured to the room, his patience wearing thin. “I could make it worse.” 

And he could. He could take away the thin mattress you were sitting on, shorten your chain so you couldn’t reach the bare-bones bathroom, he could stop feeding you, or make you eat scraps like a dog. Of course, he could make it much better too, but only if you’d stop fighting him at every turn.

“I don’t even know what you want. You’re just an old pervert, you’re no hero. You claim to be good and just, but you’re no better than the villains you put behind bars.”

Within a second, Aizawa was crouched in front of you, gripping your chin, yanking you forward until you could feel his heated breath across your face, could see the tension in his eyes.

“I want you to behave.”  He ground out. “I’ve treated you with nothing but civility so far, but if you’re so determined to see me as nothing but a villain, then fine, I’ll show you a villain.”

Aizawa was at the end of his rope. It was uncharacteristic for him to exhibit such anger, such impulses and wild feelings, but when it came to you, Aizawa felt like he was an entirely different person, ruled solely by his instincts. 

With a push, you were sprawled onto your back on the mattress, quickly trying to scramble upright, ready for an attack. But Aizawa just watched, letting you panic before you realized he was going to stay put.  Well, stay put for a time.

 There were some things he needed to go get, to show you how good he had been to you, to prove that he had been nice and accommodating. But if you wanted to play dirty, then Aizawa could play dirty.

He stood, shoving his hands in his pockets, keeping his eyes locked onto your face. You were such a shy thing, barely able to hold eye-contact, always blushing and stammering and fighting when he made you look at him. It wasn’t his fault that your eyes were enchanting, drawing him in like a spell. If he could, Aizawa wouldn’t mind spending a few hours just watching you, watching your eyes take in the world. Of course, that was an illogical desire, but the man found he was having a lot of those these days.

You huffed as you felt him watching you. “You’re a creep.” The man didn’t answer, and you deflated, voice coming out small “Please…. let me go. I won’t like, steal stuff anymore, alright? Just let me go.”

Aizawa could bet that you were scared - after all, you were nothing more than a common crook. It’s probably the first time you’ve ever been held hostage, the first time you’ve been immobilized. You were probably used to intimidation, maybe even abuse - someone living in a rotted, abandoned motel and living off of what they could steal each day probably didn’t have a good story to tell about what had happened to them. 

Either way, Aizawa didn’t really care.  If it wasn’t for the tearing sensation in his chest when he was away from you for too long, he’d definitely have handed you over to the police by now. It was driving him insane, how he couldn’t focus, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t think, couldn’t live now that his mind was constantly occupied with thoughts of you.

When he went out at night, he worried that you would hurt yourself, or escape - get away from him somehow. When he was at home, trying to do the “right” thing and give you space, not touch you, not invade your space, he was bombarded with the single-minded desire of holding you, feeling the warmth of your body against his chest.

It had to stop. He didn’t know how to make it stop. 

Aizawa had tried everything, from leaving you alone, to spending time watching you from the other side of the room - the man had even tried to erase the supposed “soulmate” quirk he was infected with by using his own quirk in the bathroom, staring into the mirror. Nothing seemed to help.

He had tried to be nice, he had tried to be good. But there was still the tugging in his chest, the itch he couldn’t scratch when it came to you. He wanted to do so much, but he wasn’t a villain, he wouldn’t force you.

But there lay the problem.

Aizawa wanted to.

He closed the door behind him as he left your room, the “torture chamber” he had said once, deadpanned tiredly in an attempt at a joke. You hadn’t laughed. 

The man supposed that this last month had really just been him warring against the dark, whispering corner of his mind that urged him to just take. To do what he wanted, to lay waste, to ravage you in every carnal way he so desired. To force you to lay by his side at night, force you to give him long, loving kisses, force you into domesticity.

Aizawa knew it was wrong. He had tried to ignore that part of him, push it down, focus on the logical solutions he could think of, the ones that kept his actions pure and heroic. But at this point, with you resisting so strongly? How you called him a villain, a pervert, a creep? Why not let the villain inside take a moment in the spotlight.

That’s what he was thinking as he gathered items into his arms from his room, spending hardly any time picking out what he wanted and needed. He’d had so many dreams, so many thoughts of what he would do to you once you finally submit to him. The man had plenty of ideas, especially now that he was deciding to throw his inhibitions out the window. 

The fact that you most likely weren’t going to be willing merely meant that Aizawa added a spreader bar and an extra set of cuffs to the growing pile in his arms. 

Stepping back into your room was almost thrilling, seeing your eyes snap up, to the bundle of items he held, then at his face. They were so wide, scared, panicked. It was a good look on you honestly, one that Aizawa didn’t mind seeing more often. He was done being the nice guy.

“This is entirely your fault, you know that (Y/N)?” He mused as he strode forward, crouching to set down a towel on the ground, slowly laying each item down onto it. Might as well build up your fear and anticipation.

“If you hadn’t provoked me so, I would’ve been able to be continue holding myself back.” He could hear your breathing pick up as each item was set down, had to fight down a mocking smirk. “You had to be a brat though, egg me on like that. Well, if it’s not apparent by now, you’re probably going to regret that.”

“Please, please, oh god, this-you don’t need to-you-there’s-“

“Didn’t you just accuse me of being a villain? I’m just trying to live up to your expectations here, isn’t that what you want?”

Aizawa finished emptying his arms, then headed towards you, holding the extra pair of cuffs in his hand. He caught your eyes, watching you beg, try to push yourself back into the wall, away from him. There was no doubt that you were terrified, practically having a panic attack as you hyperventilated, eyes darting between Aizawa, the cuffs in his hands, the items on the towel behind him. 

It was easy for Aizawa to grab ahold of your already-bound wrists, pulling them down to the ground, right above the top of the mattress. Quickly, one cuff was attached to your wrist, the other cuff slipped through a small, recessed metal ring in the ground. 

After you had…. “moved in”, Aizawa had done some renovations. The angle he had you trapped at now kept your arms stretched above your head, immobile and unable to move more than an inch in any direction. It’d be uncomfortable if you were left like that for too long, but Aizawa was still planning on being somewhat merciful today. 

You were still babbling quietly, pleading with the man. “You don’t need to do this, please, please please please please-!” You sobbed out the last “please”, trying to wrench your arms free.  Of course it was useless, and you were doing nothing but tiring yourself out, but Aizawa didn’t mind.

It was easy to attach the spreader bar to each ankle, despite the way you cried and kicked, ankles slipping out of his grasp a couple times before he could finally pin them down. Aizawa felt eerily calm, patient, but at the same time seething, excited, almost foaming at the mouth for what he knew was to come.

“Struggling won’t achieve anything, but feel free to do so.” He encouraged, shuffling backwards on his knees to look at you, stretched out body on display.

You were still wearing clothes, a thin t-shirt, a pair of loose basketball shorts - all Aizawa’s.  He had immediately told you to leave your old clothes outside the bathroom door when you showered the second day after he had captured you.

 You had resisted at first, but quickly relented when the man raised an eyebrow, shrugging his shoulders before advancing towards you menacingly. You had gotten the message loud and clear, immediately backing down, agreeing to wear the clothes you were given.

Aizawa retreated to the towel, swiping a pair of scissors off of it. Brandishing them, he snipped them twice in warning. “You might want to be still for this part. I don’t actually want to cut you, so if it happens, it’ll be your fault.”

And then he bent over, carefully snipping the clothes off of your rigid body. 

As soon as the last shred of fabric fell away, you breathed in air, immediately letting out a loud, tearful wail. Aizawa felt a twinge of regret, but the quickly-growing bulge in his pants currently outweighed any other feelings he might be having.

Putting the scissors safely out of reach, the man let himself rest back on his heels, surveying your body the way one surveys their food before taking a bite. And oh, was he going to eat you up.

You were writhing, tears falling from yours eyes, still babbling out nonsense as you begged for him to stop, to reconsider, to think about what he was doing. 

“I’ve thought about this plenty. It’s called fantasizing.” He murmured, before gently resting his hand against your naked hip. 

You spooked like a wild horse, thrashing the second his hand made contact, crying and wailing, shying away from his touch.

Aizawa was glad he had the foresight to bring a gag.

You were so worked up, you didn’t even notice him grabbing it, didn’t register his hand clamping around your jaw, wrenching it open and shoving the ball gag past your teeth. You quickly fought against that too, outright screaming, trying to shake your head, pull away from the hands fastening the strap around your head. But Aizawa was quick, and good with his hands, and your screams became muffled, nothing more than desperate background noise to the defiling of your body.

Resuming his exploration, Aizawa cradled your head in both hands, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. “If you relax, it won’t be as stressful for either of us.”

With another muffled scream, you turned your head, tear-filled eyes glaring at the wall. 

“Or you can be a brat.” Aizawa laughed, a sound he wasn’t used to making. “Either way, it’s not gonna change what’s happening.”

Returning to the towel, Aizawa picked up the next couple of items, turning back to see you watching him through teary eyes. He presented the items in his hands, showing them to you. If you were curious, might as well let you see how he was planning to take you apart.

The second your eyes fell onto the lube, the bullet vibrator, the skin-safe tape, you wailed again, closing your eyes in horror, shaking your head. Aizawa breathed out his nose, humored at your terrified reaction. Not so tough when you were tied up, at the mercy of a man, were you?

Your legs were already held apart by the spreader bar, and no matter how you squirmed when Aizawa kneeled next to your hip, you couldn’t close your legs. When Aizawa’s warm hand ghosted over your stomach, you cried behind the gag, and when his hand made contact with your soft pink folds, you absolutely bawled, the sound loud and pitiful even as muffled as they were.

Aizawa wanted to tease, to feel all around, rub against your labia, tickle your clit, skirt around your opening. He let himself indulge a little, before pulling back, squirting out a dollop of lube onto his fingers. When the cold wetness touched you, there was barely any reaction, the way you were already panicking essentially making you loose all feeling.

That was alright, Aizawa knew that would change soon.

He let his hand wander around your entrance, massaging the lube into your skin, taking special care of your clit, your inner labia, the puffy folds. The man got lost in the sensation of your warmth underneath his fingertips, eyes slowly falling shut, a low hum coming from his throat in a natural attempt to soothe you. 

The man didn’t know how long he stayed like that, gently massaging wetness onto your skin, humming, but by the time he opened his eyes, your weeping had essentially subsided. You were making cute little sniffling sounds, trying to calm yourself, your own eyes closed, limbs almost relaxed, as if you’d accepted your fate.

When Aizawa took his hand away to reach for the bullet vibe, you barely moved. When he pulled back the lips of your labia, nestling the small, ovular vibrator against your clit, you only flinched. He pinched your labia lips almost painfully, hiding the vibrator underneath them as he pushed it hard onto your clit, before taping thick strips over your skin. When he was done, the vibrator was firmly in place, immovable, covered almost completely by your labia, which in turn was held over the vibe with the skin safe tape. 

The vibe was turned on, and Aizawa swore that your back arched so fast and hard he heard it pop. You writhed on the thin mattress, pulling at the chains binding your hands to the floor, trying to turn onto your side, bucking your hips, jerking and twisting this way and that at the overwhelming sensation. Aizawa had never used the bullet vibe on himself, but he’d felt the strength of the vibrations against his hand as he decided on a setting for you, feeling the tingly sensations through your skin through the tape, before kicking it up a few notches. 

You were screaming behind the gag - Aizawa guessed you weren’t used to toys, but he felt no remorse. He put a strong hand on your hip, holding you flush to the mattress as your hips moved about wildly.

“This is what a villain would do. They’d tie you up, assault you…. Tear you down and exhaust you until you turn into a broken little cockslut. Aren’t I so much nicer? At least I plan on taking care of you after. Plus, I’ll still lo-“

He cut himself off, grimacing at the words that had almost slipped out. Aizawa wasn’t ready to admit that to himself just yet. He wanted to hold onto the allusion that he could resist you, that he didn’t need you, that you weren’t unequivocally important to him

Not like you were listening.

With a sigh, Aizawa sat back, content to watch you writhe as you wiggled your hips, the movement making your breasts jiggle slightly. Aizawa groaned internally, his erection straining, throbbing inside his pants.

“You’re so beautiful, your body is…. Indescribable really.” The man mumbled, eyes trained on your form. A sheen of sweat was covering your skin, making you shimmer, making you slick. Aizawa’s hands itched as he looked at you, wanting desperately to wrap around your waist, to hold you close as he rut against you. But he wanted to prove a point. He wanted to show you that he could be nice, that he had been treating you good, that you shouldn’t be a childish brat and shout insults at him every day.

But god, was it hard to just sit back and watch you.

He unzipped his pants, reaching past the waistband of both pants and boxers, hissing as he took his erection in hand. He was wet, leaking precum, but did he expect anything else? You were laid out in front of him like a feast, delicious.

You were so overwhelmed by the vibrator strapped to your pussy, you didn’t even notice Aizawa beginning to jerk himself off. It’s probably better that way, he figures - if you realized what he was doing, you’d probably have a fit. Your cries faded into tearful whimpers, long whines, which then morphed into guilty moans, enjoyment that you couldn’t hide. When you came the first time, Aizawa was watching your body, stroking his cock in time to the way your hips jumped against the vibe. 

When you came the second time, hair a mess, Aizawa moaned your name a little, his own cheeks flushed with embarrassment and desire as he squished his thumb against the tip of his cock.

The third time you came, screaming out muffled nonsense, Aizawa couldn’t take it anymore.

He leaned forward, quickly undoing your gag, having to let go of his cock to work on the straps. When the plastic ball was free from your mouth, drool slicked over your chin, gulping breaths being taken, Aizawa surged forward, pressing you back into the mattress as he kissed you hungrily. 

You whined into his mouth, naked chest pressed against his shirt, crying in overstimulation as the vibrations between your legs didn’t give up.

“Mhm, you taste-“ The man had broken away from your mouth, only to dive back in again for a quick taste before speaking again. “-so damn good.”

“Aizawa-Aiz-aah! Aah!” You keened, a fourth orgasm washing over you, leaving your nerves tingling, buzzy. 

“That’s right, that’s who’s making you feel so good. You feel good, don’t you?” He pressed, crowding closer to you. He was in the process of pushing down his pants, his boxers, kicking them off.

“No, no no no, can’t-can’t-it hurts! Mmmfh-!” You moaned, back arching again.

“Don’t lie. Listen to yourself, you sound like a whore.” Aizawa chuckled breathlessly, turning you slightly onto your side. He was feeling hot, flushed, feverish. He wanted to do so many things - fuck you stupid, cuddle you close, give you warm hugs and kiss your pussy until you ground against his face.

“No I…. I don’t!” You yelped, the way he was positioning you pushing the vibrator into a different position. “Aiz-mmmm, Aizawa! Please-oh god, oh god-oh, please, st-OP!”

A kiss shut you up, Aizawa licking inside your mouth, feeling your saliva smear against his stubbled chin, felt you fighting against your bindings again. Where did you get all the energy? 

He didn’t break the kiss to look down, to take himself in hand and guide his cock into the tight plushness of your thighs, right up against your dripping, messy cunt.

When he pushed forward, his mouth fell open. There was so much /pleasure/, he felt dumb, thick-headed and cotton-mouthed. You were so warm, so wet, and the vibrator was still buzzing away happily,  pulsating through his cock as it rested against your pussy. 

He wanted to cum, right then and there. 

Feeling his thick cock pressing between your thighs, you wrenched yourself away from the kiss, whimpering as he pressed his cock up to chase the buzzing sensation, increasing the pressure of the vibe against your skin.

“Wait, ah, wait! Please, no more-mhmm! I’ll-I’ll be gO-od!” You whined, hips bucking again as the feeling built up again. 

Aizawa thumbed at the wetness covering your face, trying to wipe away the tears, but simultaneously forcing you to look into his eyes.

“Shh, it’s okay. Let it out, I won’t look, there’s no need-fuck-no need to be embarrassed sweetheart.” 

He reassured, knowing you were close to humming again. This time, he didn’t want you to have to finish alone.

With another gentle caress to your cheek, Aizawa grabbed your hips, before smoothly sliding his cock through your thighs, fucking right against your pussy. It felt incredible, better than anything else he’d ever experienced in his sex life - hell, in his entire existence.

Aizawa tried to hold himself back from humping against you, pumping his hips wildly, but he couldn’t stop himself. Not when he was so worked up, not when you were moaning and gasping in his arms, shaking towards another orgasm.

“That’s it, almost there, just a little longer.” He reassured, voice strained and almost cracking in pitch as he neared his end.

“I can’t, I can’t, don’t make me! Don’t-aaah! No, no, plea-SE!” 

Your muscles tensed, Aizawa could feel it, your body pressed so tightly against his own. Then you were gone, eyes rolling back, mouth open in a silent gasp, brows furrowed as you were forced into cumming again.

It made Aizawa burst, feeling your thighs tense around his cock, your cunt convulsing, body trembling. He came easily, covering the inside of your thighs with his sticky seed, before quickly pulling himself free. 

He had just had an earth-shattering orgasm, but he needed to get you cleaned up. After all, you had just had /several/ earth shattering orgasms.

The vibe was turned off, the tape gently pulled away You flinched at every tug, skin burning with sensitivity, all of your nerves fried and overstimulated. 

Tape off, Aizawa reached up and unbound your hands, quickly throwing the vibe and extra set of cuffs back towards the towel (he hoped - his brain wasn’t working well enough to know if he was accurate or not).

Aizawa felt... good, warm inside. He didn’t want to acknowledge the feelings swirling around in his chest, the contentedness that came from just holding you, but he couldn’t exactly deny all of it either.

The two of you sat there, you lost in your own headspace (subspace? Aizawa didn’t know the terms.. but for you, he’d be willing to learn).

“You did so well, look at you.” The man breathed, looking down at your body. Fuck him, even covered in sweat and cum and fluids, you were still the most enticing thing he had ever seen.

You didn’t respond, just occasionally blinking at the ceiling, still as a mouse. 

You were submissive and compliant for the time being, not struggling when Aizawa gathered you into his arms, cradled your head to his chest. His heart soared at the physical contact - you hadn’t let him do so much as look at you without yelling or snarking some mean insult. This was progress.

Aizawa kissed the top of your head, noting that the two of you would need a long shower in a bit. 

You were so fucked out, Aizawa almost felt a little bad at your disheveled state.

At least he had been merciful this time.