[Aizawa Shouta x Reader]
One would think that having the word 'prison' on a resume would make the owner a wicked, dangerous character. However, that's definitely not the case with a doll-like, dramatic and very cheeky woman that goes by the name: (...
Rất tiếc! Hình ảnh này không tuân theo hướng dẫn nội dung. Để tiếp tục đăng tải, vui lòng xóa hoặc tải lên một hình ảnh khác.
There she was.
Sitting there with the confidence of the world.
Not the second-hand, cheap kind of confidence (Y/N) strutted around with ever since her license was revoked.
It was authentic sort. The one that demanded to be acknowledged and seen, despite its lack of a functioning quirk or an important position in society.
(L/N) (Y/N) had her legs crossed, her chin up and her arms spread out on the sofa's frame.
As if the spirit of a grand somebody had possessed her.
And it had.
Aizawa Shouta had possessed her body, giving her a flashback of what she once was because no mirror would've done it.
'How are you making me like myself?' (Y/N) had half a mind to profess.
Nothing stopped her from being honest, except this pounding heart and heating body were malfunctioning her circuits.
(Y/N) was in the body of a reserved man with few words and fewer reactions. He was the embodied representation of 'less is more' and it had a gripping affect on her actions at this moment; although, she did overcome it in some instances.
This time it put weights on her tongue.
(Y/N) didn't know if this was the sole working of Aizawa's body or a joint effort with her wavering feelings, but it was entirely new and strangely thrilling.
Eventually, a nervous chuckle lightened up her ability to speak, "thank you... for saying that. Um... about Pink's condition, it's a secret."
Aizawa raised an eyebrow in response to the timid reaction. He sat forward with his elbows on his thighs, eyes closing in and assessing, "you know me... a chatterbox."
The doll swallowed heavily at the close proximity and turned away. Her eyes swept the room for a distraction and noticed the hands of the clock. "Right! It's almost dinner time," she announced, standing up, "keep an eye on Tsubaki, will you?"
Before (Y/N) could successfully make her escape, however, a hand latched onto her wrist and drew her to a stop. Aizawa rose to his full height and even then he had to look up.
"I didn't think I could do it, but I'm through with this," his voice was low as he dove closer.
"What are you—" the question didn't carry through as lips layered steadily on (Y/N)'s.
Panic was spreading like a wildfire and all (Y/N) could think about was Tsubaki seeing this. Her abyssal eyes darted back to the child as her hands grabbed Aizawa's shoulders, pushing him gently away.
Aizawa shrugged her hands off and grasped her forearms, pulling her along with him away from innocent eyes. All the while his lips remained glued to hers as they stumbled to the corridor and he pushed (Y/N) against the wall with a bit of frustration.
