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As We Were

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Suki Kitigiri — So this song sets the mood that I was aiming for,...

Suki Kitigiri

29, loves Shota Aizawa, and Hizashi Yamada. I like writing fics for fun Some would either be paired with music or a movie cross over. Please have your age in your bio or confirm with me that you are 18+ or I will block you. Proflie and header pictures by: Spookylittlegwisin on instagram.❤️ 18+ CONTENT IS ON THIS PAGE MINORS PLEASE DNI this is not for you.


29, loves Shota Aizawa, and Hizashi Yamada. I like writing fics for fun Some would either be paired with music or a movie cross over. Please have your age in your bio or confirm with me that you are 18+ or I will block you. Proflie and header pictures by: Spookylittlegwisin on instagram.❤️ 18+ CONTENT IS ON THIS PAGE MINORS PLEASE DNI this is not for you.

  • As We Were

    So this song sets the mood that I was aiming for, so I hope you enjoy <3 Masterlist is here <3

    Characters: Hizashi Yamada x Reader 

    This Fic is meant for adult enjoyment and I do not consent/ condone any minors reading or sharing this material.

    Please be advised of the content warning below.

    Word Count: 4262

    TRIGGER/CONTENT WARNINGS: Mentions of flashbacks, grieving, slight angst, mutual masturbation, porn and fluff.

    Hizashi: 

    He wasn’t sure how long he could endure this, how many fake smiles would he have to cast your way to mask the fact that he was shrieking in pain inside? How many times did he have to remind himself to give you space and not push you? He didn’t want to push you away - feared it, in fact. Adjusting to this new normal was painful yes, but deep down, he knew unequivocally that it was better than being without you completely.

    That isn’t to say that living with the shell of a ghost was any easier though. He just wanted to envelope you in his arms, feel your warmth and hear that soft giggle you did whenever his mustache tickled you from tenderly kissing you all over your face. To see that gleam in your eyes while you admired how the sunlight would streak through his hair. Instead, he saw this nervous, confused stranger. A stranger who was walking on eggshells. Who would avoid prolonged eye contact to mask the bewildered or worse, empty look in your eyes. It was enough to drive him insane. In the matter of months since your return from the hospital, your shared home became a tomb of memories that haunted him, and was tearing at you with guilt. Since the last incident where he tried to force the memories back, he had since resolved to retreat to his room earlier in the evenings to wallow in privacy. Could you grieve someone that was still alive? You were yourself; yet, not yourself at the same time. Hearing  your cries, and whimpers of sadness on the other side of the wall made him crumble as he let his fingers trace his ring, and clasp yours that now hung on a chain around his neck. He wanted to comfort you, give you reassurance and hold you. But you didn’t know him. His comforts would feel alien, and knowing this reality is what made him cement himself in place. In order to respect you, not pressing you to remember everything all at once. Even though he would love nothing more, he understood that forcing you was the quickest way to push you away. The last time he had forced his hand had proven this fact, terminating all motivation to continue his active provocations.

    There was still one thing left that he could do, and maybe it was the only option for the both of you really. Which was to wait. He had hope after all, so until the day the look of adoration, and recognition returned in your eyes, he would sit in the kitchen each morning to greet you at sunrise. Silently hoping that the early morning light, hitting his features, and perhaps saying the right things would somehow unlock the memories your amnesia held captive. “Yes, this is it.” he thought to himself. This much is alright, he would wait till his last day if he had to. He was quickly pulled from his thoughts at the sound of your bedroom door opening and seeing your silhouette emerge from behind the door frame.

    Y/N:

    “Hey, there ya are, little rock star!” the blonde man cheerfully greets you. Seated at your coffee table he motions to a mug that is placed adjacent to him, you welcome the morning caffeine and stride over to the kitchen to join him. The open kitchen window allowed the cool morning breeze to lazily roll through the sheer curtains. The morning chill crept into the apartment, along with the early streaks of twilight of the morning sun bleeding in through the window. It lit up the kitchen in a warm glow of orange, soft yellows and faint greens. The soft lighting enveloped Hizashi’s features, deepening his bejeweled eyes, highlighting the soft shine of his messy morning bun. The sharp point of his nose and the smoothness of his lips looking so inviting you caught yourself staring and had to pull yourself out of your trance; missing the longing look he was giving you. When you make eye contact with him he freezes much like the way a puppy sits up waiting for their treat. This would be cute, if not for the crushing feeling of guilt when you see the slight crumple of his eyebrows, and sheen of tears being held back, signifying his disappointment, and sadness. He was expecting you to remember something, and realizing that you had not, hurt him. Inwardly you knew that there must be a memory of a setting similar to this. You were certain, because this had been happening for the past two weeks and your curiosity was gnawing at your gut. “you alright?” you test the question on him, and with bated breath he sizes you up before he responds honestly. “ I just thought, for a second, that you remembered something ya know? It’s ok, I know it will take time and I don’t want ya pushin it ya dig?”

    Your heart squeezed. What he said wasn’t what was hurting you. It was all the thousands of micro messages he was sending you in his tone, gaze, and body language. You really wished that you could remember your feelings for this man, remember your relationship with him period. But everything still felt fuzzy, out of focus and out of reach. It was simply infuriating. You take your seat across from him and notice how he blushes as you reach for him but stop just short of clasping his hand. Was that something you typically did? Oh, right. That makes sense since your love language is touch. This was just another subconscious indicator that  your body, and some part of you that’s locked away remembers him. Craves him even. When you would brush your hand against his in the morning he would wait for you to take another step first, when you would sit on the couch with him, and instinctively rest your head on his shoulder, you felt the tension from him trying his best to restrain himself. You knew he was trying so hard, every second of every day, to respect your boundaries and wait for you.

     Now seated with your mug between your palms at the table, you cleared your throat to get him to look up at you as you took a second to mull over your request.  “I want to try to remember something.” you announced. This was a sensitive subject. One that distressed both of you, and was the cause of the awkward interactions. You were suffering from amnesia, the result of a horrible accident you were both caught in. It managed to snake into your mind, and black out the last 8 years of your life. It robbed you of your married life, your intimate memories of dating, and even memories of having a crush on him were locked away by this faceless thief in your head. The memories that remain portray him as Hizashi Yamada, your classmate that you are friendly with. You felt for him stalking the halls of your house looking forlorn. It must be devastating having a wife that doesn’t know who you are, going from being someone’s everything to nothing because of this accursed condition.The longer you spent time with him the harder it was to fight back the overbearing temptations to touch him, to provoke the memories that danced behind a screen of fuzz to come forward.

    Hizashi on the other hand felt differently. He would rather snip every sinew of his vocal chords, rather than put you through that ordeal again. 

    The event where  he had tried to help you regain your memories with an aggressive approach. He armed himself with movies, photos and a clip from his radio show, but it turned out horribly. There was a loud noise that startled you from the static of the radio. What it triggered was a flashback of the accident. The result sprung on nosebleeds and a mind splitting migraine that would have you writhing and bawling in agony. Since then all his efforts halted. But did he know? Did he know that you would hear him from your room cry? That you caught glimpses of his grief and it broke your heart? That you noticed his latest technique of snapping his wrist with a rubber band to hold off from touching you the way your body craved to keep his own impulsive behaviour from overwhelming you?  His answer brough you both back out of the depressing recollection. “No can do. I’d sooner cut my balls off than see you fall apart like that again. Let’s just wait it out yeah?” His answer is flat. Matter of fact, and his expression tells you that his decision is final. Further discussion is over. Seeing that there was no room to argue, you surrender your argument on the matter. 

    When evening came, you trekked back to the bathroom where you last had your headband. Stopping short to gently rasp your knuckles against the door. “Hey, Hizashi? Can I come in? I need to grab my head band.” you ask, and wait for his reply. “Yeahhhhh!, com’on in, i’m decent” the answer makes you smile, and you enter the steamy bathroom, halting your stride at the sight of him in his towel. Water droplets descending the silk strands of his hair, forming small rivulets down his broad shoulders, trickling down his toned abs. The sight brings up a faint memory, one where you run your hands down the expanse of his chest, feeling his pleased hum rumble  through his chest. Snapping your eyes shut with a sharp inhale, you ground yourself to look up at them man, in the present time. He’s casually getting his things ready, drying his hair with another towel, eyeing you with mild curiosity. “Everything alright?” He eye’s you with a quirked eyebrow of mild concern. “Y-yeah! Mmm’kay” You mutter turning towards the bathroom vanity and looking up to the fogged over mirror to avert meeting his gaze.” Your mind careens back to a flash of  you looking at yourself in the same mirror you stand at now. The stark contrast is that you are bent over, moaning out Hizashi’s name, eyes rolling back, his fingers snake around your throat, the pressure of his grip and the sounds of his hip snapping into you fill your ears.his free hand slamming down into the tender swell of your ass. The sound of impact brings you out of your flashback, and back to the matter at hand. “Right!,” you exclaim, swiftly grabbing the headband resting at the side of the tap and clumsily clambering out the bathroom muttering a thanks to Hizashi. He sighs staring after you, finding your behaviour endearing, and saddening all at once. Not too long ago, you would have reached out and touched him, letting his towel fall to the floor, as he pulled your small frame against his. Breathing a sigh, he makes his way back to his bedroom for the night, seeing you have done the same.

    Another long night where sleep evades the both of  you ensues. Alone in the dark your body is buzzing, as your restless mind recants the sights of Hizashi. Your body practically calling out for his touch. Your skin flashes with gooseflesh as you wonder how satisfying it would be to feel his slender fingers delicately wrap around your throat with one hand, while the other would strum fingers against your swollen clit. Sliding up and down your puffy lips, and then slowly sinking his middle and ring finger into the depths of  your aching pussy. The pressure on your throat would give him the vantage of contorting the volume of your wanton moans, working your body like he worked the strings of his acoustic guitar. Yearning for the touch of this stranger to your mind, but a familiar to your flesh. Hoping against hope, that he would not hear your hushed whimpers and muffled moans. But this man knew you so intimately, and his ears were fine tuned to your voice, of course he heard you. The sweet high pitched whines that would slip past your lips and the muffled moans that you tried to stifle with your pillow only spurred him further into stroking his own aching cock. The voice hero having superior control of his own voice, eagerly listened to the sweet song of your hushed mewls and moan as he reached his own release to the unmistakable sound of your finale. Melancholy hung over the two of you, both coming down from satisfying the current need of the body, while neglecting the heart.

    The next morning, Hizashi takes his usual place at the kitchen table prepared with the morning coffees. His breath hitches when he notices you stopping in the door frame of your room admiring him. That’s when it happens you get a flash, a memory of seeing the rising sun wash the world in a bath of golden light. When your eyes meet the jeweled green irises dancing  in a pool of appreciation. You feel sheepish taking in the shades of the first stray colors of light casting themselves against the golden silk of his hair softly billowing in the morning breeze. The moment is breathtaking. Even though the morning was chilly you feel warm gazing at him, drinking in his raw intimate beauty. A side of him that he keeps from the public. Reserved for his closest friends, and of  course, you. “You alright there little listener?” his voice rich, and smooth as honey in audio form brings you back to the present time. After going through all the flashes of memory last night, keeping your wild temptations at bay, the man seated at the table looking back at you with a warm smile, and your morning coffee, isn’t your classmate, Yamada. This was your husband, Hizashi. In this moment you were going to take and let him know exactly how you felt. “Did you know your beautiful Hizashi?” You whisper to him. The question pins the hero to his seat. His typical charismatic smile washes clean off his face, replaced with a slack jawed look of shock. 

    In uniform steps you close the wide gap between you two, giving him a nod from across the table. Confirming what he had hoped for the past eight painful weeks. You looked at him the same way you did that day, awash in the twilight of the day; soft lavenders, pale pinks, and golden streaks crossing the sweet sheepish expression on your face. “I said,” your voice calls out to him again, coaxing his answer. “Did you know that you’re beautiful Hizashi?” You repeated. His chest tightened, he was scared to breathe in case this was a dream. It was too good to be true wasn’t it? Is it possible to die staring into the gaze of the woman that you love most? He kept himself in check, avoiding overcrowding you, restraining himself from touching you when tempted and bit his tongue so hard he thought that it would sever. All to avoid saying something that might push you too hard too soon. He was cautious of his actions since the last time he got caught up pushing you to remember led to  a series of migraines that had  your shrieking in agony and writhing in pain. There were nights where he kept himself up with the dread of guilt sinking him down in his grief of 1. Losing a part of you that he feared was forever 2. Spiraling you into this suffering for his selfish reasons of wanting his lover to remember him, and their life. So now that the moment was beginning to play itself out in this present time. Right before  his eyes, it was surreal to say the least.

    Looking at you, his lower lip quivered, tears pricked and welled in his eyes, while his cheeks flushed. “D-do ya really think so?” he asks, his voice trembling in a low acoustic feedback. You smiled at the reaction, his voice was hard for him to control when emotions ran high in him. You remembered this. These were the same words he used back then. Standing and rounding the table to approach you,  he relaxed some to allow you to reach out and card your fingers through his silken blonde locks, watching the breeze caught it. The sight of him was truly mesmerizing. Finally, you remembered his touch, his kiss, his voice, the tender moments you shared and all those micro signals that were once a foreign, are now your native language. You were ready to let your body speak to him again. Wrapping your arms around his waist you felt his body relax in your embrace. He rested his forehead against yours, letting his hair curtain around you. Carefully, slowly he traced the tip of his nose down your own nose bridge, and peered into your eyes. Looking back at him wasn’t the stranger from yesterday, the timid, scared woman that was walking on eggshells. The eyes that were looking back at him were Y/N, his wife. At last. Standing on the tips of your toes you pulled his lips to yours letting him drink you in. Winding his long arms around you he whisks you into his bedroom, laying you down onto the bed. “You have no idea how much I love you y/n” he mutters before kissing you again, the need for you rolling off of him, stirring you to kiss him back just as longingly, desperately even. His lips run down your jawline, along your pulse point, making you shiver and your breath hitch. Descending to the curve of your hip, while he slides your shorts and panties down your legs. The feeling of his fingers gliding down your skin ignites a fire inside you scorching every doubt, piece of restraint and fog of amnesia. Your thoughts are full of memories of him. His touch, his smell, his smile, his voice. His SOUNDS. Heightening your need you mewled out and bucked your hips into the empty air. Hizashi smiles looking down at you through his lashes, beginning to drag his tongue down your pelvis, to the warm depths of your pussy lips. You opened your legs to let him settle between them. You grasped the bedsheets in anticipation of his warm hot tongue adorned with a silver stud. He never disappoints, the pink muscle licking a slow sensuous stripe up your slit, ending with the tip of his tongue prodding at the sensitive bud of your clit. He pulls back to kiss your inner thigh, grazing his teeth up along them to return to teasing your bundle of nerves. His hands ran the expanse of your trembling body, spread out before him. Smoothing over your soft middle, creeping down the plush of your thighs, the soft touch transitioned to a firm, possessive grip. One that translated “I’ve finally gotten a hold of you, and have no intentions of releasing you.”

    Moans spill from your lips at the feeling of his fingers, gliding over each sensitive part of your exposed skin sending delicious tingles through you as the ridges of his calloused fingers move. He knew where to touch, where to grip, and when he plunged his tongue into your ravenous cunt, it convulsed, pulling him in deeper like quicksand. His moans reverberated inside you so intensely, you swear if you opened your mouth his voice would be the one emitting from your throat. Working you like his own personal Mic. It didn’t stop there though. The voice hero contorted his tongue within you with every drag of his deliciously long muscle you bucked further into his mouth, encouraging him to devour you from the inside out. The sounds coming from Hizashi  were animalistic, filthy and sinful, revealing how starved he was for you. The ferocity in his groans and growls only deepened the reverb that echoed through your velvety walls. Your back was arcing off the bed, eyes brimming with tears. Slowly he slips a finger into you while suckling on your clit, sending your voice up an octave. You felt as if you were levitating, off the bed, out of your body, only to feel you come crashing down to the sensation of your first orgasm, overwhelming every thought in your mind and rendering every sound in the room to absolute silence, surrendering to the sensations flooding your body. Hizashi ravished you, gulping down the slick springing from you like a dehydrated man finding a spring of water, saving him from the brink of death. “Zashi~” your trembling hands overlap those that are above your pelvis. Without hesitation, his lithe body sprang up on the bed, caging you in between his arms. Your blissed-out face flushed with heat and coated with a sheen of perspiration was exactly what he missed seeing on those lonely nights, confirming he was doing his job right. “Want a reminder of how beautiful I think your voice is?”  he asks with a lilt in his voice and runs his weeping cockhead along your drenched pussy lips. He gently prodded at your entrance, sucking in his bottom lip and biting down on it when he felt you shudder around it. he obliged you and thrusted his entire length into you. Your silken walls eagerly swallowed him deep inside you. Wrapping your legs around his waist, hands cradling the back of his head, you crushed your mouths together. Bucking your hips up into him, and twisting your waist allowing his cock to snake through you, dragging against every ridge, being choked by the softest, warmest place on earth, you were his piece of heaven. Throwing caution to the wind he fucked down into  you at a rapid fire pace, drawing out the sweetest moans from you, he could feel the it emerge from deep within your chest, and distort every time he snapped his hips into yours. 

     “What is an artist without their muse? A song without it’s melody? I was the loneliest acapella performance with you gone.” You couldn’t verbalize your reply, reduced to whining and moaning for him, “that’s right baby, sing for me.” Holding your face still to watch you come undone under him, your moans rose to a crescendo, the sight of you unraveling like this sent tingles through his groin, accompanied with shivers up his spine. The feeling of you spasming around him was making him lightheaded. Each pulse of your pussy began milking him, sensitizing his entire body. Every movement you made brought him closer to the edge. “Zashi, please” You mewl out to him. The feeling of you bear-hugging his member sends him over the edge, pulsing in tune with your orgasm, he collapsed into you. Burying his face into the juncture of your neck and groaning in ecstasy as the rift of your harmonized orgasm came down to its finale. Once you caught your breath, you kissed the crown of his head and whispered “thank you”  His heart skipped. “ What are you thanking me for? I’m the one that should be on my knees thanking you for coming back to me.” You smiled meeting his gaze of adoration. “ Hizashi, I will always come back to you. I’m thankful for you waiting for me to remember everything, to remember you, and remember us, as we were.” you gush, “as we are” he corrected. Nodding in agreement, you wrap your arms around him, humming in appreciation. “One more thing” he added, reaching down to his chain, and yanking the ring free. “May I?” he asks, “please” you rasp, your voice seized by your emotions, but that’s ok, your voice hero can read the look in your eyes, feel the rhythm of your heartbeat through your chest, and all the micro-expressions that cross your warmed skin. Sliding the ring back to its original position, it signified that you finally found your way back to him. You found your way back home. You finally know who he is.

    Bonus ( Memory):

    It was chilly that morning, still dark out as the two of you huddled up together on the balcony of your building waiting for the streaks of color the sun would paint the horizon with its slow and beautiful arrival. Watching the first streaks of color paint his features, took your breath away. You couldn’t hold yourself back as you watched, mesmerized by how the easy morning breeze billowed through his silk tresses. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he teases with a mirthy grin. You cover your face attempting to hide your sheepish expression with your hands. Only lowering your hands you hear his light-hearted chuckle. The sound makes your heart flutter. “Did you know that you’re beautiful?” his laughter halted at the question.  A slight blush brushing his cheeks and the tips of his ears. “Y-you think so?”  he asks in a hushed tone. “Yeah, I really do.” You smile warmly at him, taking his hand. He pulls you toward him and kisses you softly for the first time. The two of you melt into each other’s embrace as the colors of the rising sun wash over you. This was a memory the two of you cherished. Your first day being together, the kiss that started it all. Every now and then when he would catch you looking at him with that look in your eye, you would ask him that same question, and kiss him. It was one of his favorite acts of endearment.