“Watch And Learn” (Shouta Aizawa X Reader X Shinsou Watching Lemon)

Half-Full, Half-Empty - Chapter 5

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Can you do a Smut Karl fic with female reader as Ethan Focused on the part that Karl proposes to Ethan an alliance but with the reader accepting it?

I really like your writing and I think you would do it really well ^^

Oh god, oh jeez, first ask for exclusively NSFW--

2 things: one, there's going to be a little bit of buildup before the "good bits", because I wound up writing a whole-ass fic, and two I have never written a whole-ass fic like this before. Let me know if you like it, I would be more than happy to re-do with bullets if you prefer!

TW: NSFW (Meaning 18+), female reader, Reader is Sassy, rewriting the Heisenberg confrontation, and Heisenberg is a little smitten already, also crazy long post. As In 3259 words total.

Let me know If I miss anything, so I can add it to the list above. NSFW newbie (read: I've got no idea what I'm doing), so I don't know what/how to tag. Enjoy!

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"Truth Hurts, don't it?"

You spin around, coming face to face with the man who's been harassing you for the past few hours.

You kiss your teeth and say nothing.

Karl Heisenberg, the last Lord in your way, doesn't seem to mind your lack of response. Instead, he grins, like your reaction pleases him.

He takes a drag of his cigar. "You think that you can just take me out like the others and then you get to go and save Rose, right?"

It's like he's implying that you can't, and after the day you've had it lights a fire in your stomach.

"She's just a baby," Your voice shakes with barely suppressed rage. "She doesn't deserve any of this. I won't let it happen."

"Easy there, Buttercup," Heisenberg takes a couple steps closer to you, exhaling a cloud of cigar smoke that drifts out from underneath his hat. He smiles like he's about to sell you something, and it puts you on edge. "You've got this all wrong. I--"

There's the sound of a revving engine and your anger fades as you ready yourself for a confrontation, unholstering your gun and looking for the source of the noise. Heisenberg swears, glancing between you and a grate on the floor, before stalking over to it and wrenching it open.

"Shut your fucking hole!" he yells, and the engine makes a stalling sound before cutting out completely. He slams the grate shut, and you take advantage of his distraction to reload your magnum. You don't want to run out of bullets if this encounter goes...south.

There's an awkward pause in the new silence before Heisenberg speaks up again.

"Sorry about that," he mutters. The apology comes off as weirdly genuine.

Before you can stop yourself, a laugh bubbles out of your throat, "Oh, just for that?"

For a split second, you think you've made a massive misstep, because Heisenberg takes a few quick steps in your direction, pointing a hand at you like he's going to get in your face--

Then he stops short, so close that his face is less than a foot away from yours. He lowers his hand, takes a deep breath, and works his jaw for a couple seconds like he's getting his thoughts together. His expression--weirdly enough--settles into a smile.

"I'm a little out of practice for apologies, Buttercup. But you're alive right now because you proved yourself. Which means, you're an asset. I'd take the win if I were you."

You might have been intimidated if that didn't just push every annoyance button in your soul. The anger that you just managed to suppress simmers a little higher as you search his face, hoping to get a read on what the hell this asshole might have been thinking. Unfortunately, the dark glasses obscuring his eyes do too good of a job at hiding any emotions other than what's painted on his lips. He's a good looking man, with an excellent poker face. All you can register is his amusement.

Frustrated, you can't resist rolling your eyes. "Oh, so I'm supposed to be grateful that you had me chased by lycans and forced through a meat grinder?"

His smile widens at the words 'meat grinder'. "It stopped before it killed you, didn't it?"

"Spare me. Like you had anything to do with that."

Heisenberg's smile drops.

Shrapnel and spare metal suddenly whirls off the floor in a tornado of blades, the grates on the floor rattle and the furniture around you twists through the air. One of the sharper pieces of metal whips through the air and presses a dull edge to your throat. Pipes start to creak, door frames warp in place and through all the chaos Heisenberg glowers down at you.

"You have no idea what I can do," he snarls.

Apparently your sense of self-preservation has been irreparably damaged after your experience today, because you ignore the shrapnel at your neck and laugh again, inching your head close enough that your nose nearly brushes against his. "Now, now, handsome," you coo, sweet and teasing and low, "you're supposed buy me dinner first!"

You only say it to throw him off his game, to be condescending and rude and to show you're not afraid of him...But. But. But.

Heisenberg wets his lower lip with a quick swipe of his tongue.

A noise too soft to be a growl rumbles through the air, and the sound is so deep you can feel it in your bones despite the distance between you. He tilts his head ever so slightly--causing the tip of his nose to brush against yours so quickly you think you've imagined it--and exhales a long hot breath in you face, just over your mouth.

Then with a loud clatter, the metal in the room drops back to the floor.

Heisenberg takes a step back.

Your brain short circuits. What the hell.

Heisenberg chuckles thinly, filling the silence between you both, then takes another drag from his cigar. "Fair enough, Buttercup. But, uh, let's save dinner till after we talk business."

With a flick of his wrist, a metal chair skids across the room to screech to a stop right next to you.

"Have a seat," He gestures theatrically to the chair, and you slip past him, making a point to drag your gaze ever so slowly from his feet, up his legs, lingering on his muscular chest before resting on his face.

It's meant to be an 'I'm watching you' gesture--and a callback to your attempt at an insulting flirtation--which is why you're surprised when he averts his gaze and clears his throat.

Heisenberg stalks over to the cork-board.

You oblige your "host" and sit, but decide to keep your gun out. When he turns to face you again, you flick the safety off the magnum and prop it on your knee, the barrel pointed directly at him.

You see him raise an eyebrow over his glasses. "Is that really necessary?"

You smile pleasantly at him and bat your eyelashes. "Oh I couldn't possibly say. Why don't you tell me?"

"Cute," Heisenberg lifts a finger, and the safety clicks back on. You scowl. "But I am trying to build a little trust here, Buttercup. A good partnership takes trust from both sides."

You blink, stunned. "Partners."

So he was trying to sell you something.

"Partners," he repeats back with a sharp grin. His smile is dangerous, but the adrenaline that's been powering your every action since you got to this little slice of Hell makes you focus on the curve of his lip and the sharpness of his canines.

You shift in your seat and take a long, slow breath. There's a heat curling in your abdomen that makes you cross your legs and force yourself to refocus. You really shouldn't have flirted with him-- it's clearly made your brain misfire in all the worst ways. Now was really not the time.

Thankfully the man across from you interprets your silence as permission to continue.

"Listen, Buttercup, you're being played," Heisenberg drops his cigar to the floor and stamps it out. "Miranda's got you so focused on Rose you're missing the bigger picture here."

Your eyes narrow, then dart over to the gilded photograph of the strange hell angel who had sentenced you to death when you first arrived. There's red string branching out from the photo like legs on a spider, and it loops around pins across the cork board to make an unsettling web. There's a lot of thought put into it's assembly.

Getting you here, setting up this whole scenario, with props and photos and pages of research, would be the world's most pointless, complicated double cross. Heisenberg clearly believes what he's telling you is the truth.

So.

"Tell me what I'm missing, then."

Lord Heisenberg's smile gets this manic tilt to it. "You're being tested. It's something Miranda likes to do, you see. Experiment," he spits out the word with earned resentment. "She wants to see if you're strong enough to be a part of her little family."

The words "Oh Hell No" come out of your mouth before you even process them.

Heisenberg laughs, long and loud. "I knew I would like you! Y'see, I'm of the same opinion," He makes his way over to you with slow, measured steps. "She's been using you as her glorified cleanup crew, starting from the bottom and making you move right up the chain! So I figure, why not give the lady a choice?"

There's a little thrill that jumps through you the closer he gets, and you need to shut that down fast. And babies have a remarkable way of killing the mood. "How does Rose come in?"

Heisenberg snorts, "Do you have any idea how powerful that kid is? Even Miranda is scared of her."

He then takes off his glasses, allowing you to finally get a good look at his eyes. Steel Blue--and they're unwarveringly, unflinchingly focused on you.

"You and me? We go save Rose, and then we can use her, to grind Miranda into paste," his hisses with relish.

Your eyes once again dart between the conspiracy theory board and the man who put it together. There's this edge to him that's almost... desperate. Hungry.

Finally, you gather your thoughts enough to speak. "If we're going to be partners, we can't use Rose like that."

Heisenberg's eyes flicker, and he straightens up slightly. "Now what's that supposed to mean?"

You stand up and put your free hand on your hip. "It means Rose is a goddamn baby, not a weapon. Considering the fact that I already took out the rest of your family without her, I'd say you and I have a pretty good shot at this, without stooping to Miranda's level."

"Not that I don't appreciate a gun and a can-do attitude, but Miranda's more powerful than you think--"

"Heisenberg," you taste the name on your tongue slowly, and stop kidding yourself--you're hit with a punch of lust when his pupils visibly dilate at your call. "I have the number of a strike team that was specifically created to eliminate and contain biohazards. We could probably just nuke her, if you want to play it that way."

The Last Lord looks at you like you've gifted him the greatest possible visual he could have ever conceived. "I do believe that would solve the problem," he beams so bright you could swear his eyes start to glitter under the brim of his hat.

"Then do I have your word that we leave Rose out of it?"

Heisenberg steps into your personal space yet again, but this time you feel the hairs on your arms stand on end. It's like his excitement has charged the air around you with static. You immediately refocus when he holds out a hand for you to shake.

"It's a done deal, Buttercup."

Sliding your gun back into it's holster, you extend your hand to grasp his.

In a moment like this, after sealing a deal, you would expect a quick shake before getting down to more official business. Instead, the both of you are caught in the moment--relief and anticipation and a twist in your belly that's making your blood run hot. Heisenberg doesn't seem to be too eager to break the silence either, and though you pick up satisfaction in his expression, the hungry glint in his gaze that you noticed earlier is still there...

...And he's not letting go of your hand.

In fact, his grip tightens on your fingers as he leans forward, pulled towards you like you've become a gravitational force. His eyes are half lidded as he looks down at you, greedily taking in everything that he sees.

"To killing Mother Miranda," He murmurs, his face close enough that you could count his eyelashes, "before she destroys any more fucking lives," he growls.

"God, she's such a bitch," you breathe.

Heisenberg lunges forward to kiss you so hard you feel his teeth collide with yours.

Your self control snaps and you pull him even closer. Your hands scramble up his back, under his jacket, digging into his shirt hard enough to tear the flimsy fabric. Tilting your head, you part your lips and allow him access, and he immediately takes it as an invitation to run his tongue against yours, groaning so deeply you feel the sound in your own lungs. It's like you're trying to devour each other. Somehow you stumble backwards, pulling Heisenberg with you until he's the one actively pressing you into the wall. His thigh slips between your legs, and the friction is enough to make you moan. He finally breaks the kiss and rests his forehead against yours.

His eyes are glued to yours, and his breath is hot and fast in the space between you. "If you want to stop, it's got to be now," he warns. "I'm not the kind of man who can easily stop once I get what I want--"

Impatiently, you cut him off by grinding down on his thigh, "If you don't hurry up I'm doing this myself."

He chokes on an inhale at the sight before him before finally finding his voice, "You're something else, you know that?"

"We're Partners now," your voice wavers when you hit just the right spot, eyelids fluttering from the sensation. "I-I'm sure you'll get used to it."

"Fuck's sake," is all he says, forcing his mouth back over yours.

You dip your hands to your waist and pull your pants down over your hips while Heisenberg does the same, neither of you breaking the kiss. You only part briefly to shake them off your legs. Heisenberg doesn't bother with his, instead occupying himself with leveraging you against the wall and hooking your knees up and over his hips.

"Shirt off," he growls. You hastily comply, and your new partner wastes no time dipping his head to your collar bone to press his lips to your pulse point. Your heartbeat jumps and Heisenberg smiles into your skin.

His kisses turn into little love bites along your collarbone and dipping down between your breasts, occasionally sucking a hickey into spots that make you hold back little whines and gasps.

It's too much. It's not enough. Your hips cant forwards against his hard on, making him gasp instead, and he pulls back enough that you finally see what you're working with. His cock is thick and long, and he's apparently worked up enough that the tip is already dripping.

You reach up to tug the hair at the back of his head, forcing him to make eye contact with you again as you use your other hand to gently work yourself onto his dick. He's big enough that there's a stretch despite how wet you are, and you bite your lips to hold back a whine, but it's entirely worth it. The face he makes is perfection--a furrowed brow with pupils blown wide and swollen lips parted. It's an extremely satisfying expression to see on the Lord of the Factory.

You both pause, just taking in the new feeling, but eventually the sensation starts to get to you. You clench your walls down around him and he hisses, glaring at you halfheartedly. "Come on now."

You snicker. "I'm trying to."

Karl snorts. Then he snaps his hips into yours and it cuts through your laughter.

"Fuck," you gasp in surprise.

"I'm trying to," he mocks back.

It's annoying as hell, but you can't be mad when he starts to fuck you in earnest, his cock sliding into you deep and hard.

Time feels like it's running in slow motion, and you try to match his thrusts, swiveling your hips to drag out the sensation. Eventually the two of you hit a rhythm that has you both sighing in pleasure--Long steady strokes that make your thighs clamp down on his hips.

It's still not enough. You're starting to get desperate. You move your free hand down to where your bodies connect, your finger slipping past your lips and just far enough inside that you can feel yourself take every stroke. It's full and tight and good enough that your brain is going numb.

Heisenberg is equally appreciative, groaning while biting down so hard on your shoulder that you know it's going to bruise black.

You moan in response, moving your attention to your clit and trying to chase the feeling higher. You just manage to catch the right rhythm when Karl lets go of one of your legs to force your hand away.

Just as you're about to let out a noise of protest he cuts you off with a swift kiss. When he pulls away, his smile is dark enough to send a shiver down your spine.

"None of that now, Buttercup. Either you let me do it, or it's not happening at all," he says.

You curse but wrap your arms around his neck, wordlessly letting him do what he wants. You're rewarded when a calloused thumb starts to rub circles into your already sensitive clit, and the rough texture paired with the steady tempo makes your toes curl and your eyes roll back in your head.

"Fuck, fuck, just look at you," Heisenberg sounds almost drunk as he gasps out the words, hiking your legs even higher on his hips. The shift in angle makes you let out a soft whine, and your head thumps back into the wall. "How am I supposed to take my eyes off you, huh? Making a face like that."

Your mouth falls open, but words don't come.

Heisenberg snarls, pressing you even harder against the wall. With every thrust you're pounded back hard enough that the cement starts to scratch you up through your shirt. His head drops to your neck, and you can feel his lips shift against your skin before your ears actually pick up what he's saying.

"--You an' me, Buttercup, just you an' me, and we're gonna get our fuckin' dues--"

He's babbling, practically feral as he ruts into you, and you can barely hold it together. Your walls start to flutter and you know what's coming, but just as you think to warn him, he pulls out of you almost completely, and then slams back in.

You see stars.

It only takes a few more thrusts before your pleasure peaks like a flash of electricity, and you cum with a cry. Karl follows you seconds after, groaning into your neck and continuing to grind into you, working through the aftershocks.

It takes a while for your your thoughts to get coherent again, but there's no rush. Heisenberg keeps you pressed into the wall, leaning his forehead against yours and using his free hand to rub circles into your hip bone. The quiet is soothing, and it's the safest you've felt all day.

As you both take in the afterglow, there's another rumble of an engine from the grate in the floor.

Heisenberg sighs, and lifts his hand. The grate lifts, and with a twist of his wrist a hammer from the worktable flies down the shaft. There's a loud clang, and then the saddest little whirring noise you've ever heard.

Catching your breath, you meet his gaze, "That happen often?"

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. "Don't you worry now, Partner. You'll get used to it."

Deserving Reward

Darth Vader x f!reader (18+)

Summary: Laid bare on a table at Lord Vader’s disposal, you agreed to his offer to pleasure you. What had you to lose? Nothing.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warning: Smut, Darth Vader, slight act of violence (not on you tho)

A/N: I wasn’t really happy with how this turned out, but oh well. The vibes are kinda there

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Yandere Mr Compress (Part 1?)

My first ever fanfiction, enjoy and please let me know if you want more! I may be continuing this.

TW Kidnapping

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It starts off very innocent. You’re walking back to your apartment after a long day at work and you find a bouquet of flowers sitting at your doorstep. Puzzled, but somewhat excited, you pick them up and take them inside, setting them on your kitchen counter. You check the card “Your beauty is like the waves of the ocean, relentless, wondrous, and potentially disastrous to a poor, lost soul like mine.” It isn’t signed. You could, of course, take this note the wrong way, how could beauty be disastrous? But you figure it just came from an especially stricken admirer. You haven’t had an admirer since high school, how could you not find it sweet? Smiling, you set the card to the side and arrange the flowers on your dinner table. It’s a nice gesture, you assure yourself.

A few days pass and you’re unconcerned about this “admirer”. In fact, it puts a little pep in your step, so to speak. So far, you’ve received the flowers, a teddy bear, a box of chocolates, and of course the usual unsigned notes. Nothing too strange or alarming. But today was a little different. You come home to find a small red box waiting for you. You take it inside, eagerly rip it open, and find a gold necklace with a heart pendant. Your stomach drops a little. This is expensive. Not only that, but you were just eyeing it the other day, thinking about buying it for yourself for your birthday next week. But it’s not like anyone would have noticed that, right? Whoever the admirer is, he must have just seen it and figured it would be nice, right? You set it aside, pour yourself a glass of wine, and put it out of your mind.

The week passes without any more gifts. You’re a little disappointed, but also somewhat relieved. Maybe the admirer just lost interest. Anyway, it’s your birthday and you’re going out tonight, so you’re excited. You go on your usual lunch break to your usual coffee shop, order your usual cappuccino extra foam, and walk outside. You always take an alley back to work, it’s quick and it’s not even a dangerous area, there are heroes everywhere. You’re so absorbed in thinking about your work, the proposal is due today, you don’t even notice the man standing in the shadows with a Rorschach mask and yellow trench coat. But his voice pulls you out of your thoughts. 

“You’re not wearing it.”

You stop in your tracks. “E-excuse me?” you ask, without turning around.

“The necklace.”

Your heart stops.

“You haven’t worn it at all. I thought you’d like it. I saw you looking at it and smiling.”

Run. You have to run. Or call for a hero, just DO something. You open your mouth, but by the time you even think to scream for help, you’re breathing in a chemical-soaked rag. And you’re out.

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When you wake up, you have a headache. You don’t really remember what happened, did you have a bad dream? Did you end up going out with your friends? You look around for some water, aspirin… your phone? Anything? Your mind finally clears and you realize, this is not your room. The bed is huge, probably a king. The sheets are regal, red satin with a maroon fleur de lis pattern. Where the fuck are you? You begin to panic and try to get up, before realizing you’ve been tied to the dark, oak bed frame. Shit.

The events of earlier today begin to return to you. The coffee, the alleyway, the man. He was the one. The admirer. He WAS watching you. You look around frantically, looking for anything to cut the restraints. The room offers no solution. No way out. You can feel the tears starting to prick at the corners of your eyes as the bedroom door opens.

“Ah, you’re awake.”

You turn your head to meet the voice, a tall man wearing an orange button up shirt with a bolo tie, black vest, and black dress pants. Even after having the audacity to kidnap you, he still hides his face underneath a black balaclava mask.

“I do apologize for the restraints, but I’m afraid I just can not let you run off. Not when I’ve gone to all this trouble to acquire you.”

“Acquire me?” you spit. “What am I, a Picasso?”

He laughs, a real, genuine laugh, like you’re on stage at open mic night. “A Picasso? Oh dear, no, you are so much more beautiful than that.”

You blush, despite yourself, but continue to glare at the man. Who does he think he is? You don’t expect a real answer, but you do ask him, “Who are you?”

“Forgive me, where are my manners?” He says with a smile. He flourishes his hand down into a deep bow, “Some call me Mr. Compress, but you, my dear, may call me Atsuhiro.”

kitten i'll be honest daddy isn't sure he's cut out for full time employment

“Ao3 needs an algorithm” no it doesn’t, part of the ao3 experience is scrolling through pages of cursed content looking for the one fic you want to read until you get distracted by a summary so cursed that it completely derails your entire search

Day Two

Ship: Aizawa x Fem!Reader Prompt: Sexting Trigger Warnings: dirty talk, mutual masturbation, sexting A/N: Day Two of Aizawa Madness!  Hope you guys are enjoying it so far!

Shouta: Are you at home?

You glanced at the text Shouta sent you with a curious tilt of your head.  He wasn’t one to text first, not usually.  You pulled the towel around your shoulders and plopped onto the couch.

I am at home.  Do you need something?

A cheerful meow pulled your attention from the phone.  Fuzz hopped up beside you and bumped his head against your hand before collapsing into a pile of purrs next to your bare leg.  The vibrations were relaxing as you gently scratched his head while waiting for Shouta’s reply.  The news played in the background while Fuzz meowed whenever you stopped petting him.  “You are so spoiled.”  He purred in answer as your hand went back to scratching his head. 

Shouta: Be late coming home.

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so turns out I'm into some nasty shit

Okay but on the exhibitionist Drabble with erasermic, imagine aizawa s/o looking mic dead in the eye as she’s getting railed and just saying “am I doing a good job, Yamada-sensei?”

Warning: teacher role play

Jesus fucking CHRIST WOFJOEKS.

Shouta’s fucking you just right, cock harder than you’ve ever felt it. Knowing Hizashi’s there, watching him absolutely dominate you, made him lose his cool.

He pushes down between your shoulder blades then moves his hand to hold your cheek against the mattress. The view is perfect. He loves watching you take every inch while you pant and moan his name, every so often answering his “who do you belong to?” with a fucked-out, “y-you sir!”

Hizashi has died and gone to heaven. You look so good getting fucked. Your body’s just so sexy and pliant as Shouta pounds you into the mattress. His eyes are half lidded, and he’s pumping his cock to match Shouta’s pace.

The tension between you is palpable. Those heavy, hypnotic malachites watch your every move, his lips slightly parted as he slicks a bead of precum over his tip with his thumb.

“So fuckin’ good-“ he mutters, only to hear you moan his name and Shouta comment on how tight you just got.

You look him right in the eyes and ask, “Am I doing a good job, Yamada-Sensei?”

It turns him on so much he almost bursts then and there. He groans long and loud as his hand works frantically up and down his length, tightening and twisting as he focuses more on the head-

“Fuck baby, yeah you are. You gonna be a good little girl and let him cum inside you?”

You nod and whimper, meeting Shouta’s thrusts with greedy little jerks of your hips.

“You want us to teach you a lesson? Make you our cute little teachers’ pet?”

Shouta groans at that, hips moving faster as he grips yours with a knuckle-white grip. You’re babbling now. An endless steam of “yesYES please cum in me pleaeplease!” and then Shouta’s giving you what you want, cock throbbing hard as he fills you with rope after rope.

The sight pushes Hizashi over the edge. He bites his lip, thumbing the underside of his cockhead as he shoots all over his abs and tattood chest, stroking loose and easy until the last throb.

His hands flop to the side, stomach heaving as you all try and catch your breath.

“You know I’m never gonna knock again now, right?”

Toga: I don’t friend-zone people, I relationship-zone them.

Toga: You wanna be my friend? Too bad, we’re dating.