#aizawa x reader

[kitkat13001]

shota looks up from his papers when you heave what’s probably the most dramatic sigh he’s ever heard. he casts you an exasperated glance before asking a reluctant, “what?”

you look up at him through your lashes from where you’re sat on the other side of the couch, prodding him with your foot. “do you even like me?”

he holds his deadpan gaze for a second longer before returning to his work. “i’m not going to answer that.”

“what?!” you sit up, appalled and scowling. you crawl over to lean heavy on his shoulder, determined to interrupt his peace. “what the hell does that mean?!”

“there’s no good answer for that,” he replies, (mostly) unbothered to your pervasion of his personal space. “if i say yes, you’ll say something like ‘so you don’t love me’ and if i say no, you’ll have a fit. if i say ‘i love you’ you’ll say i didn’t answer your question. there’s no winning.”

you sit, dumbfounded. he’s got you there... 

“but—”

“yes, i like you. love you, even. no, i don’t want to break up. yes, i think about you every day and yes, i miss you when i’m away on missions. and no, i do not want anyone else. just you.”

he looks up and holds your gaze steady, the hint of a self-satisfied smirk tugging his lips at your wide eyes and flushed cheeks. you huff a little, bashful as you settle back onto him, placated by his answer (…for now).

several moments pass in soft silence until you open your mouth to say something else and shota drops his pen, heaving out a long-suffering sigh. 

“and yes, i would still love you if you were a worm.”

[confessionsandcreampies]

sex ban for the mha boys 🙂‍↕️

— midoriya izuku - “the ban is for your protection too”

you’re sobbing. legs trembling. sheets soaked. it’s 2am izuku wipes your tears like a sweet little boyfriend… while still thrusting into you.

“you said one more,” you cry.

“i said i’m close, baby,” he coos, kissing your damp cheeks. “almost done—be good, you’re doing so good—”

you go limp. soul gone. the next morning, you can’t get out of bed. your legs scream in protest. your clit throbs in fear.

izuku peeks in, beaming. “want some breakfast?”

you throw a pillow. “i want a mobility aid, you sex-obsessed beast.”

he freezes, startled. “wha—i thought you liked it—?”

“sex. ban. five days.”

his eyes go wide, like you ripped his heart out. “five—five days? but what if i just eat you out?”

“no.”

“what if i cry a little?”

“…still no.”

now he’s pouting, flexing shirtless, doing squats next to you on the couch and muttering things like, “i’d treat that pussy with respect if she’d just let me see it again”.

— bakugo katsuki - “you treated me like a fucking pocket pussy”

you wake up in bed, bruised, dazed, and possibly concussed. bakugo walks in with zero shame, biting into an apple. “you good?”

you sit up with a grimace. “you choked me out on the headboard.”

he grins. “you told me to.”

“you said, and i quote, ‘i’m gonna split you open like a wishbone.’”

he shrugs. “and you came like a bitch in heat.”

“i had a vision. i saw my ancestors. sex ban. one week. non-negotiable.”

his jaw drops. “you got me fucked up—i should ban you, you’re the one who gripped my cock like you were tryna keep it.”

“you folded me like lawn chair mid-thrust.”

he scoffs, already adjusting his boxers. “you’re gonna break before i do.”

now he’s stomping around half-naked, fisting the couch cushions, moaning dramatically every time you bend over just a little too far. you’re not gonna make it to day 3.

— aizawa shouta - “you don’t get to break me and then nap”

he’s still asleep. you’re staring at the ceiling, completely naked and so overstimulated you’re vibrating. you limp to the bathroom, looking like you got hit by a train, and find hickeys down to your knees. you confront him in the hallway, wearing a robe and rage. “you fucked me like a criminal, and then had the nerve to fall asleep while i was twitching on the mattress.”

aizawa opens one eye. “you came four times.”

“you edged me for an hour then ruined me.”

he yawns. “you said you wanted something intense.”

“i wanted foreplay. not carnage.” you fold your arms. “you’re banned from my pussy. three days.”

he raises a brow. “is that so?”

“and no lazy finger-fucking while you grade papers either.”

now he’s dangerously silent. letting you sit in his lap during staff meetings, letting his hand hover just above your thigh… brushing your hair off your shoulder and whispering, “ban’s almost over, right?” you’re the one that caves hard.

— shigaraki tomura - “you said you’d be gentle”

you’re clinging to the headboard, shell-shocked. legs trembling. back scratched to hell. your voice is gone.

shigaraki stands at the edge of the bed, breathing heavy, sweat dripping down his neck. “you’re alive,” he mutters. “that’s what counts.”

you rasp, “you called me your little pet and choked me with your shirt sleeve.”

his lips twitch. “and you came so hard you squirted.”

“on the wall, tomura. the wall.”

he shrugs. “didn’t know you could do that. neat.”

you grab your robe like it’s armor. “sex ban. a week. you’re unstable.”

he scoffs. “you think i’m the problem?”

“you growled ‘mine’ and bit my inner thigh like a feral stray.”

now he’s pacing, jerking off with one hand while glaring at you. “if i don’t get to fuck you by friday, i’m decaying the bed.” he keeps leaving your vibrator on your pillow like a threat. you’re scared. and turned on.

— dabi - “you lit my soul on fire and then asked if i was good”

you’re curled up on the couch with an ice pack on your pelvis. dabi’s walking around shirtless, covered in hickeys he made you give him. “you okay, babe?” he says, lighting a cigarette.

you groan. “you called me your ‘favorite cum dumpster’ and then came in me four times without blinking.”

he blows smoke. “you said you wanted to feel used.”

“i said slightly.”

he smirks. “you were crying and saying ‘don’t stop.’ what was i supposed to do?”

you hiss. “sex ban. three days. minimum. i need to regenerate my spine.”

he leans down, whispers in your ear. “so i shouldn’t bend you over the couch right now?”

you kick him weakly. “i will die.”

now he’s tormenting you. letting you see his hard-on every time he changes, jerking off loudly in the shower while moaning your name, licking his fingers in front of you like he’s tasting you again. you’re gonna fold on your knees.

[etherealangell1]

. ♡ MY LITTLE DOVE

Shota Aizawa x Fem!reader

sypnosis: Bereaved mother reader who after losing her own daughter, starts developing a bond with little Eri. And newly formed dad Zawa who starts to notice this and follows his heart and goes for it.

notes: Most likely a oneshot! Wc: 3k. some pre.written past lore but it backs up the story's plotting. Kiss scene yay. Tension, deep tension.

- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -

Eri's eyelids grew heavy, her small head beginning to droop as you gently combed your fingers through her damp hair. The strands, soft and pale blue, clung together in loose waves, curling slightly at the ends. Curious, you gave them a light scrunch, wondering if the curl would hold once dry. You doubted anyone had ever taken much notice of her hair before—but you were happy that you could. That, for her, you would.

"Almost done," you murmured, sweeping a few stray strands into place and draping her hair delicately over her shoulder.

"Are you sure I can sleep like this?" she asked, her voice laced with innocent curiosity as she turned her head slightly to look back at you. You sat cross-legged on the carpet behind her, at eye level, your presence calm and steady.

"Mhm," you hummed, gently guiding her to face forward again. "I do it all the time when I don't have the patience to wait for it to dry. You'll be just fine." You ran your hands lightly over the crown of her head, smoothing the hair into place. A soft smile tugged at your lips as you caught sight of the exhaustion swimming in her wide crimson eyes. Such a pretty girl, you thought.

"Need anything before bed?" you asked, rising to your feet and offering her your hand. She clasped it with her tiny fingers, peering up at you and shaking her head, too sleepy to speak.

"Did you go potty?" you asked gently. She nodded again, her bare feet padding softly across the room toward her bed.

"Will you tuck me in?" she mumbled, voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled and nodded, lowering yourself beside her bed. You lifted the blanket, tucking it securely around her small frame, snug just at her shoulders. “If you wake up and need anything, you remember which door is mine?” You whispered, tilting your head as you admired her calm exterior. She hummed, already giving into sleep.

She did in fact have a long day of training with Aizawa, which you were proud of her for. You know how scared she was of her quirk.

"Goodnight, dove," you whispered, but only after her breathing had deepened and your fingers brushed slowly over her forehead, lulling her into peaceful sleep.

You hadn’t called anyone that name in so long. Not since your dove had left. It had only ever belonged to Dory. Just a nickname, but one heavy with memory and pain. And yet, somehow, saying it again—saying it to little Eri—mended something deep inside you.

Something that had been broken ever since you lost Dory.

An empty space, now not quite so hollow.

There he stood—Aizawa—leaning silently in the doorway, unseen until you flicked the light off. Stealth had always been second nature to him, a skill honed over years of experience, and tonight it served him well.

He watched quietly, eyes steady as you sat beside Eri’s small bed—the same one you had practically dragged him out to buy. You'd spent nearly an hour at the store, carefully scanning each mattress, frame, and sheet set, trying to imagine what Eri might love most. Something soft. Something safe. Something hers.

Now, he stood back in quiet observation as you gently stroked the child’s damp hair, your fingers making slow, soothing motions across her forehead and into her scalp. She'd begun insisting that you give her baths lately, choosing your presence over anyone else's. Aizawa had initially assumed it was because you were a woman—a maternal figure she trusted to give her baths. But watching you now, with how seamlessly you’d grown close to her, he knew there was more to it than that. He was grateful. Somehow, this—all of this—came naturally to you.

You instinctively knew the things he never did. What to do when she spiked a fever. What remedies to prepare. How to distinguish one type of illness from another with nothing more than a glance and a palm to the forehead.

You handled her school registration like you’d done it a dozen times—paperwork, checklists, supplies, and outlining the routine she would need to feel secure in a world that once terrified her.

You held her when she sobbed until she couldn’t breathe. You didn’t flinch. You didn’t panic. You simply knew—knew how to carry her trembling body, how to whisper through the storm until it passed. How your fingers instinctively knew all the different types of patterns you could rub on her skin in order to smooth her.

You connected with her in a way he hadn't managed yet. In a way that made him realize he had a lot to learn. He had never envisioned himself as a father. But now, he found himself hoping he could pick up a few things from you along the way.

After several quiet minutes spent watching her chest rise and fall in slumber, you finally stood, casting one last fond glance down at her sleeping form. As you turned, you jumped slightly—startled to find him in the doorway, arms crossed, watching with an unreadable expression.

He was dressed in his usual late-night attire: a grey V-neck and black sweatpants, relaxed and simple. You weren’t much different—an oversized, deep-purple long sleeve paired with slightly mismatched blue shorts. Not the most stylish pairing, but undeniably comfortable.

You offered him a small, knowing smile as you stepped toward him. “Hey, stranger,” you whispered, your voice soft so as not to disturb Eri.

A quiet hum left his throat in response, low and tired. You could hear sleep pulling at him too.

“Why aren’t you asleep by now?” you asked softly, crossing your arms and tugging your sleeves over your hands to fend off the hallway’s chill. The dorms were quiet, bathed in a hazy silver light spilling in from the moonlit windows. You and Aizawa walked in step, your footfalls soft against the floor as the shadows followed at your heels.

“When have you ever known me to sleep like a normal person?” he murmured dryly, voice low and rough around the edges.

You let out a soft chuckle. “Never.”

He glanced sideways at you, subtle but watchful. Your eyes were forward, heavy with sleep but still alert. You were clearly tired—your eyes carried that heavy kind of fatigue—but still present, still functioning

Your hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail—half-slipping out, strands sticking out everywhere. It should’ve looked careless. Yet somehow, he thought it suited you. There was something about this version of you—unpolished, relaxed, a little sleepy—that felt... genuine. Endearing. He liked this version of you. He realized he liked a lot about you.

This version of you—calm, unguarded, moving gently through the quiet of the night—was one he was starting to treasure. There was a domesticity to you like this. A warmth. And whether or not you meant to, you had settled into this role of caretaker so seamlessly, like you had always belonged in it.

“I’d ask why you’re still awake,” he said after a beat, his voice steady but laced with something else, “but I think I already know.”

You turned to him, brows knitting with mild curiosity. “Elaborate.”

He nodded slightly, hands tucked into his pockets.

“You’ve been spending most of your free time with Eri,” he said plainly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You paused. Had you really? You hadn’t noticed—caring for her had simply become part of your routine. Part of you. Life felt normal again. It hadn’t felt like effort—it had just felt… natural.

“Aww,” you teased, giving him a sidelong look. “You jealous, Eraser?” you teased, a quiet laugh escaping you, your voice cracking slightly from weariness, but your smile was genuine. You reached the common room together without consciously deciding to go there. It just made sense—like everything else tonight.

He scoffed under his breath. “No. I’m saying I appreciate everything you’re doing for her. She needs that kind of consistency. That kind of care.”

He turned toward you now, slowing to a stop. The moonlight cut across his face just enough for you to see the sincerity in his expression—quiet, measured, but there. You had to squint to make him out fully, while he saw you clearly: your tired posture, your slightly cracked lips, the way you hugged your arms to your chest as if to hold something inside. He liked how the moonlight highlighted your face.

You looked away and shrugged, your voice lowering. “Yeah… maybe I need it too.”

Aizawa studied you more closely. You weren’t just tired—you were carrying something. Something deep and quiet and fragile.

“You should get some real sleep,” you said, trying to shift the mood, meeting his gaze again. Your expression was soft, almost apologetic.

He tilted his head, dark eyes steady. “But not you?”

You shook your head gently, the corners of your lips twitching into a small smile. “Nah. I feel like being awake right now.”

“So do I,” he murmured.

And there was something about the way he said it—quiet and gravelly, with just the slightest rasp—that made something stir inside you. You didn’t respond right away. Just turned your face, a bit flustered, your cheeks warming from unfamiliar thoughts.

He noticed. But he didn’t comment.

“I meant what I said,” he added after a moment.

You blinked. “Meant what?” Your voice soft and slightly curious, your sweet voice was adorable.

“When I said I appreciate you.” He shifted his weight, rubbed the back of his neck—like a teenager speaking words that had sat heavy on his chest. “You’re not required to do any of this. You don't owe Eri anything at all.—but instead you just… gave all of yourself. Why?”

Your breath caught a little. The way he said it, the way he meant it—it felt like more than gratitude. It also meant he'd been observing you, noticing these things. But the question itself? That was the part that stopped you cold.

Because how could you tell him the truth?

How could you say ‘my daughter died and Eri fills that space’ without sounding like you were using the little girl to mend your own broken pieces?

The words stayed trapped in your throat. You dropped your gaze.

You had needed someone to protect again. Someone small who could lean into you when the world was too big. You missed brushing damp hair behind little ears. You missed lullabies and bandaids and warm blankets tucked beneath tiny chins.

You missed being needed.

And Eri… she had needed you. Just as much.

You lifted your eyes slowly. Aizawa was watching you patiently—not pushing, just waiting the way he did with students who needed time. You exhaled a shaky breath.

“I dunno,” you said. “I just… need her. In the same way she needs someone. I know that probably sounds selfish.”

You let out a quiet, nervous laugh, rubbing your thumb over your knuckles to ground yourself.

"You need her?" he echoed, his tone softer now, more contemplative than questioning. The weight of your words hung in the air, and he suddenly regretted asking. He could tell this was something deeper. Something he had no right to pry into.

You nodded faintly, twisting your fingers together, unsure how much more you should share.

He was quiet for a long moment. Then he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Well, no matter your reasons… I’m beyond grateful. For you. For everything you’ve given her.” He rubbed the back of his neck again, as though he were unsure whether the words should’ve been said aloud.

He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, like he’d just said too much—but you didn’t stop him.

You leaned against the frame of the common room window, arms still folded loosely across your chest, the moonlight painting silver lines across your face. You were quiet for a moment, absorbing his words—“I’m beyond grateful. For you.” They echoed in your chest longer than you expected them to.

“Thank you,” you finally said, your voice a bit gentler now. “I love Eri, really. It’s not just… obligation or some need to fill a space. I genuinely love her. She’s easy to love.”

Your eyes softened as you spoke, as if even the mention of Eri warmed something inside you. Aizawa noticed. You weren’t faking this closeness with her—none of it was performative. And he’d known that. But hearing it in your voice, watching the way your body subtly relaxed at the thought of her, confirmed what he already suspected:

You belonged here.

Not just in the dorms. Not just at U.A.

But here. In his life. In Eri’s life. Somehow woven into the parts of him that were once so carefully guarded.

He looked at you now—not just with gratitude, but with something heavier. Something deeper.

Because this wasn’t just about Eri anymore.

You made things softer, warmer, easier. You had slowly become the kind of person he found himself unconsciously gravitating toward, the way plants leaned into the sun. He appreciated the help, sure—but what he appreciated more was you. The way you carried yourself through life, the way you made others feel seen, the way your laugh cracked in the middle and your voice quieted when you were unsure.

It wasn’t flashy. It wasn’t loud.

But it lingered.

He studied the way your hair caught the light, that messy ponytail barely holding together. He liked that about you too—how little you seemed to care about appearances when it came to comfort. You were yourself. Unfiltered, unarmored. And he was fond of that. Fond of you.

He wasn’t sure when it had started. Maybe it was the first time he saw you brushing Eri’s hair like it was the most sacred act in the world. Or the time you stormed into the teacher’s lounge, covered in pancake batter and furious that someone had let the stove burn. Or maybe it was quieter than that. Maybe it had happened gradually, as all the important things tend to.

“You’re easy to love too,” he wanted to say.

But he didn’t. Not yet.

Instead, he just watched you in silence for a few seconds longer, his hands resting in his pockets, his mind already turning over the thought: Should I tell her?

He wasn’t a man given to impulsive emotion. But you weren’t just anyone.

“Eri’s lucky to have you,” he said instead, his voice low, deliberate. “We both are.”

The way he said we made something in your chest stir.

You tilted your head slightly, meeting his gaze again. His eyes were darker in the moonlight, unreadable, but focused—on you. Not on the room. Not on the floor. Just you.

You swallowed, your breath catching subtly at the weight of it all. “You know I’m not going anywhere, right?” you said, your tone lighter than your meaning. “Even if you never say it out loud, I know you trust me with her. That matters. I’ll stay as long as she needs me.”

There was a pause, thick with unsaid things.

His next words came slower. Like he was choosing them with more care than usual.

“And if I needed you?” he asked.

It wasn’t teasing. It wasn’t heavy. Just honest.

You blinked. Your heart tripped over itself for a beat. “Then I’d stay even longer,” you said, smiling just a little.

The silence between you stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was full. Weighted with everything that hadn’t been said—yet.

Aizawa hadn’t looked away from you. Not once. His expression hadn’t shifted, but there was something in his eyes now—an intensity that wasn’t there moments ago. It was quiet, controlled, but unmistakable.

You felt it too.

The way his words lingered—“And if I needed you?”—the way they hung in the air, making your pulse flutter just beneath your skin. Your back was barely grazing the edge of the window frame now, the moonlight pouring over your shoulder, painting you in soft, silver-blue.

His footsteps were nearly silent as he took one slow step closer. And then another.

You didn’t move away.

His hand lifted—hesitant, deliberate—and he brought it to the side of your face, his fingers brushing lightly against your jaw. You leaned into his touch without realizing it, eyes rising to meet his. His thumb swept gently across your cheek, and for a long, suspended moment, the world narrowed to just that point of contact.

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips.

You felt your breath catch.

Your own eyes dropped—just for a second—from his to his mouth. And that was all it took.

Your mouths hovered as he closed in on you—a breath apart. Close enough to feel the heat. Close enough to count heartbeats. There was still a choice to be made, still time to pull away.

But you didn’t.

And neither did he.

He leaned in, finally closing that final sliver of distance, his lips brushing against yours—light, tentative, testing. The kiss tasted like the cherry chapstick you liked. Rising onto your toes slightly, pressing back just enough to tell him yes. Yes to this. Yes to him.

And then it deepened once the hesitance disappeared and you'd both tested the waters.

His hand slid from your jaw to the back of your neck as he gently backed you into the wall near the window, careful but unyielding. Your hands found the hem of his shirt, fingers curling into the fabric like you needed something to hold onto.

He kissed you like he was memorizing it. Like he hadn’t meant for it to happen but had been thinking about it for longer than he would ever admit.

When he finally pulled back, just slightly, his forehead rested against yours. Eyes half-lidded and dead set on yours. His breath was warm, his voice low and rough. It made you feel hot, especially in this moment.

“This isn’t just about Eri, y’know.”

You blinked slowly, still catching your breath, lips tingling, eyes half-lidded with the softness of what had just bloomed between you. A little giggle bubbled up unprompted, breathless and delighted.

“I was hoping so,” you whispered, grinning like a secret had just been made real between you both.

He huffed a quiet laugh, barely audible, but you could feel it against your skin. His thumb brushed your cheek again, slower this time. Like he couldn’t quite believe you were really here, letting him hold you like this.

Neither of you had to speak.

You’d already said everything that mattered.

---

[yamsfrecklvs]

tbh although it’s obvious that aizawa is not the kind of man who likes any kind of pda (except for maybe some subtle touches that only you two notice) i am a firm believer of this man being the touchiest mfer ever when you two are alone.

sure, it does take him a little to warm up. a bit more than a little.

BUT! once you crack that tough-guy exterior of his?

oh, he’s all over you. constantly.

if you two are sitting together that big, strong hand of his is always on your thigh.

yes, even when he’s driving. (especially then)

hands under your shirt if he’s hugging you from behind. he loves to feel how warm you are under his calloused fingertips, how soft you feel.

plops you onto his lap when he’s grading. and also, definitely the kind of man who pats his lap once. and you know what it means. get on there immediately.

temple kisses! always! his favorite place to kiss dare i add!

hands threading through your hair when you’re speaking, or maybe caressing your head, or softly grazing your face with the back of his hand. that’s his way of telling you to keep going and that yes, he’s listening.

he’s not a big hugger, but! when you do hug him after a long day? oh, he absolutely melts into your arms. there he is, your big, strong boyfriend is suddenly putty in your hands. he’s also a secret fan of head scratches (who said that)

there it was thanks for coming to my ted talk!

[rueclfer]

CONGRATS ON 6K WOOOOOO

hi im the meow annon can u tell i like cats

anyways can we have cat wrangler aizawa x reader with a cat quirk and if i may request a personality thats a lil freaky like "you could wrangle me anytime wink wink" type shit

and i prefer s oneshot but whatever u want!!!

type shitttttttttttteow meow hiiiiiii meownon thank youuuuuu for the submission HEHE this is so sillyYY

cat wrangler!aizawa // job fair

event m.list

“picking up volunteer hours at the shelter are ya?” you tease from the ledge of a fire escape, “teaching isn’t keeping you entertained anymore?”

you lean your cheek against the cold metal railing, kicking your feet back and forth as shouta releases a deep audible sigh. his foot kicks up a bit of gravel as he stops and looks up at you in unamusement. 

“well, we both know i’d never willingly go up against you.” he shoves his hands into the pockets of his pants.

shouta almost rolls his eyes at the sound of the low pur coming from above, but can’t help but feel a bit pleased at himself.

“is the flattery at least going to get you to play nice?”

“all i’m hearing is that you want to play,” you pur, “but i promise it’s a lot more fun when i’m not nice.”

you already knew what drew him to you. an hour prior, you managed to gather every feline in the city’s shelter to a nearby alley- nothing too serious, but it was just a matter of time until tenants of the apartment building started to call in noise complaints from all the meowing.

“hm,” was all he responded with.

he ignores you and begins grabbing cats- swaddling them in his scarf and back into the arms of policemen surrounding the entrance of the alley.

you clutch the last kitten closer to your chest as he pulls himself up the fire escape. he doesn’t have time to wait for your next trick. you may be mischievous, but the “fight” you put up is just a game of cat and mouse that he doesn’t have the patience for tonight.

“you can’t be that bored to terrorize this entire apartment building at this hour?" he crosses his arms over his chest.

“what? i just wanted to hang out with some friends,” you shrug, a smirk growing on your lips, “and it got you out to play didn’t it?”

“you know, there are other ways to approach me. you don't have to try so hard.”

“and why’s that?”

“because i love cats.”

shouta crouches down and clicks his tongue, drawing the kitten out of your lap and into his arms. a primal instinct inside wants to tug you towards him too, into his lap, into his arms, and press yourself against the warmth of his body, but you remain still.

“guess that’s why they call you the cat wrangler,” you mutter, releasing a deep sigh in defeat.

“i suppose that is one of the reasons,” he shrugs, cradling the small animal in his arms.

he doesn’t notice your paused expression until the snort leaves your mouth. his head whips up to see you failing to cover up your snickers.

“what?”

“so cat wrangler,” you begin, unable to suppress a cheeky grin, “what are the other reasons? couldn’t have just been a college nickname right?”

“you’re a smart kitty, i’m sure you can figure it out.”

“why don’t you show me instead?”

[dee-writes-anime]

I LUV YOUR AIZAWA STORIES SO MUCHHHH!

Could you do a Dadzawa x reader where the reader was S@‘d from the neighbor and when he arrived home at midnight he saw her getting comforted by Hizashi since she was too scared to tell Aizawa? LOTS OF COMFORT PLS.

(I UNDERSTAND IF THIS REQUEST MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE. IM JUST REQUESTING CUZ I DIDNT GET COMFORT WHEN THIS HAPPENED TO ME.)

Erasure Lines

FEATURING Shouta Aizawa x Reader (PLATONIC), Hizashi Yamada x Reader (PLATONIC)

SUMMARY you thought it was fine. That if you just got home and locked the door, you could sleep it off. Oh how wrong you were.

CONTENT WARNINGS implied sexual assault (non-graphic), aftermath of assault, trauma response, dissociation, panic, crying, reader feels unsafe in their own body, protective Hizashi Yamada, protective Aizawa Shouta, heavy emotional themes

AUTHORS NOTE this story touches on sexual assault and emotional trauma. I know this stuff can be really hard to read, so please look out for yourself first—take breaks, skip parts, or close the tab if you need to. Your safety and mental health matter way more than anything else. Be gentle with yourself, okay?

It was just a knock. A quick, rhythmic thunk thunk thunk on the other side of the wall that separated you from your neighbor—the one who always smiled too wide, stood too close, stared too long. You never liked him. But you'd been trying to be polite. You were raised to be polite.

He said he just needed to borrow a charger. Five minutes, tops. He already knew you were home. You didn't want to seem rude.

You shouldn’t have opened the door.

By the time you got him out of your apartment, your hands were shaking. You locked the deadbolt, shut all the windows, turned off the lights. You scrubbed your hands twice. Then again. You changed your clothes. But your skin still itched. Like it didn’t belong to you anymore.

You sat on the floor of your bedroom for maybe ten minutes. Maybe thirty. Time stopped working.

You texted Hizashi. “Can you come over? Please.”

He didn’t ask questions. He was there in ten.

You didn’t realize you were crying until the door opened and his voice rang out.

“Hey, hey, I’m here—what’s—oh my god.”

You were on the floor. Back against the wall, arms wrapped around your knees, hoodie sleeves pulled down so far they covered your hands. The same hoodie Aizawa gave you when he noticed you’d been cold last winter.

Hizashi dropped to the floor beside you instantly.

“What happened?” he asked, voice soft at first—too soft. Like he already knew something was really wrong.

You shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut. “Don’t—don’t make me say it.”

He didn’t. He wrapped his arms around you without a second thought and pulled you close. “You’re okay now. You’re okay. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

And you broke.

The sobs that came out of you didn’t feel like yours. They felt too loud, too guttural, like they belonged to someone else in a different body.

Because you couldn’t feel your own.

Your arms felt too long. Your hands didn’t belong to you. Your skin was tight and itchy, like it was still holding his fingerprints.

“Shhh, I’ve got you,” Hizashi whispered again, one hand on your back, the other combing gently through your hair. “You’re not alone.”

You clung to him like a child, shaking uncontrollably. “I didn’t—I didn’t let him in like that, I just—he said it was just a charger—I didn’t think—”

“He touched you without your permission,” Hizashi growled. His voice was still low, but there was no mistaking the fury behind it now. “That’s all that matters. That was his choice. Not yours.”

You nodded shakily, trying to believe it. Trying to stop feeling so wrong in your own skin.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to see your face.

“Do you want me to call the police?”

You froze. Your breath hitched.

“Okay,” he said quickly. “Okay. Not right now. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

You leaned forward again, and he let you. You felt small. Dirty. Hollow.

“He’s not gonna get away with this,” Hizashi muttered, one hand still on your back. “I swear to god, if I see that creep—”

“Hizashi,” you choked, your voice hoarse. “don’t be mad, it’s not—it wasn’t that bad.”

Hizashi pulled back just far enough to look you in the eyes.

“Don't say that.” His voice cracked like something barely held together. “Don’t downplay what he did to you. You don’t have to do that with me.”

You blinked fast. Your breath came in short, shallow bursts.

“I just didn’t want to make it worse—if I said no, I thought he’d get angry—I didn’t know if he would hurt me—so I just…” Your voice trailed off into nothing. A whisper swallowed by your own shame.

“You froze,” Hizashi said firmly, finishing the thought. “Because your body was protecting you. That doesn’t make it consent. That doesn’t make it your fault.”

Your lips trembled, and you finally let your head drop to his shoulder again.

“I want to take a shower but I don’t want to be alone,” you mumbled.

“You don’t have to do anything right now. You don’t have to be alone for a second.”

His arms tightened slightly, grounding you, his tone gentling again. “I’m staying right here, okay? Right here. You’re safe.”

You sat like that for a while. The tears came and went in waves—some sharp and gasping, others quiet and slow. Hizashi stayed solid next to you, talking only when you needed him to, keeping a steady presence.

Then— The front door clicked. Your whole body went still.

It wasn’t the neighbor. You knew that. The neighbor wouldn’t use a key. But your gut still flipped, and you shrank into Hizashi’s side on instinct.

Then came the sound of boots. The keys hitting the hallway table. A long pause.

“…Yamada?”

You heard the voice before you saw him.

Aizawa.

You closed your eyes, heart climbing up your throat.

A few seconds passed. “Hey, man,” Hizashi called out, calm but not casual. Protective. “We’re in the living room.”

You heard his footsteps approach slowly. Hesitant. A little sharper than usual.

Then he stepped into view.

And stopped cold.

You couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t bear to see his face. You just pressed yourself tighter against Hizashi and tried to disappear into your own skin.

A beat passed. Then: “What happened?” Aizawa asked, low and level—but not cold. Careful.

“She doesn’t want to talk about it yet,” Hizashi said, his hand still running slowly along your back. “But something happened. With her neighbor.”

You felt Aizawa’s presence move closer—like a shift in the air. His silence stretched for a beat too long.

“Can I sit down?” he asked gently.

You gave the smallest nod.

He crouched beside you slowly, like you were a hurt animal.

When you finally looked at him, he was already looking at you. And he looked—soft. Not angry. Not disappointed. Just tired and worried and here.

“I should’ve told you,” you said hoarsely, not even sure why those were the first words out of your mouth.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me,” he said. “Not right now. Not unless you want to.”

You stared down at your sleeves. “I thought if I told you, you’d be mad. Or think I was stupid.”

His jaw clenched—subtle, but enough to see—but his voice stayed calm. “I’m mad at him. Not you. Never you. You did nothing wrong.”

The words hit harder than they should’ve. You felt your mouth tremble again.

“I just—he didn’t look dangerous. He just smiled. And I didn’t think he’d—”

“You don’t have to justify anything.” Aizawa moved in a little closer. “He used your trust against you. That’s on him. You didn’t fail. He did.”

“I feel like my whole body’s… off,” you whispered. “Like it’s not even mine anymore.”

At that, Aizawa’s hand moved—slow, deliberate—and hovered just above your shoulder. “Can I…?”

You nodded.

He rested his hand there. Light. Warm. Steady.

“You don’t have to stay in that feeling,” he said quietly. “We’re gonna help you out of it. One step at a time. You’ll feel safe in your skin again. I promise.”

You reached out blindly and grabbed the front of his shirt like a lifeline. And without hesitation, he pulled you into his arms and held you tight.

Not suffocating. Not overwhelming. Just safe.

Hizashi rubbed your back, his voice softer now. “We’re not going anywhere. Okay? You’re not alone in this.”

You cried into Aizawa’s chest until your throat went raw. And both of them—neither let go.

You stayed in that cocoon of quiet, steady care for what felt like hours. And when you finally whispered “Can we just sit here for a while?”—

They both answered at the same time, “Yeah.” “As long as you need.”

[chaeuvy]

HEY can i request.. literally anything with aizawa (i am starved for aizawa content like literally)

like literally just write whatever you feel like as long as its him😛😛😛

- 😼

⸝��� ＃┆ 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆! ⎯ 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐀 𝐀𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐖𝐀

summary: While getting ready for another early-morning class, Aizawa Shouta is pulled back into bed by the one person he can never say no to — his loving, dangerously persuasive wife.

warnings: soft seduction, morning sex, explicit content, wife!reader, whipped husband Aizawa, domestic fluff, lazy pacing, lots of kissing & touching, slow & sweet smut, playful dialogue, mild swearing, suggestive teasing, reader gets what she wants, pro hero neglecting duty (for good reason)

wc: 0.6k words.

😼: hi sweets, you’re lucky i just finished my aizawa Drabble <3

The sun barely peeked through the curtains when Aizawa stirred. You felt it — the way his body shifted under the sheets, muscles tensing, that signature sigh he always gave when he knew it was time to get up.

He sat up, rubbing his eyes, hair a wild mess around his face. His voice was low and gravelly when he muttered, “I have class in an hour.”

You reached out lazily, arm wrapping around his waist. “Mmm… no you don’t.”

He glanced down, already skeptical. “Don’t start.”

“Too late,” you whispered, pressing soft kisses to the base of his spine, your fingers slipping under the hem of his shirt. “You work too much. Stay. Just… this morning.”

“You said that yesterday.” His tone was dry, but his body wasn’t pulling away. “And the day before. And the—”

“Okay, okay,” you interrupted with a giggle, now pressing your body against his back, “But I’m persuasive. And you’re weak.”

“Not weak,” he mumbled as your hand trailed lower, teasing over the waistband of his boxers. “Just… married to a menace.”

“A menace who loves you,” you purred, nibbling on the shell of his ear. “And really wants to make slow, sweet love to you before you go pretend to hate people for eight hours.”

He turned toward you then, hair falling into his face as he looked at you with that half-lidded, utterly whipped expression.

“You know what happens if I stay.” His voice had dropped, deeper now, heavier with want.

“Exactly,” you murmured against his lips.

And he gave in — again — like he always did. He let you pull him back down into the covers, bodies tangling together, kisses lazy and full of heat. The kind of sex that wasn’t rushed or rough — just warm, slow, and intimate. Like you were the only thing on his to-do list that day.

Somewhere in the distance, his phone buzzed with a reminder. He ignored it, choosing instead to bury his face in your neck, groaning as you smiled smugly beneath him.

“You’re going to make me lose my job,” he said into your skin.

“You’re a teacher. You’ll just save someone and they’ll forgive you.”

“Tch. I really should punish you for this.”

You arched into him with a grin. “Then don’t go. Stay. Make me pay for it properly.”

And so he did.

Again.

← MHA ┆ NAVI →

a/n : thanks for reading..

© 2025 chaeuvy ; ━━ do not copy or translate my work !

[kitkat13001]

you have no idea how aizawa has put up with you for this long. 

“shota, baby, i need your help.”

you’ve practically got a master’s degree in bullshit, but even you’re struggling to keep it together with this one. 

you’d just called him up on the phone with what’s probably one of the stupidest ideas you’ve ever had, and now you’re trying to keep your voice even. 

“what is it, doll?”

you cover your mouth to keep from giggling and take a breath. “i’m in the kitchen right now and i can’t find the matterdaddy.”

“what?”

you cover the receiver and muffle a snort into the couch cushions. “i can’t find the matterdaddy, do you know where it is?”

“what the hell is the matterdaddy?”

he realizes as soon as it leaves his mouth and he heaves a great, disappointed sigh as you burst into raucous laughter. 

“i don’t know, daddy, what’s the matter with you?”

he makes a noise of distaste. “you’re depraved.”

“and you’ve got ‘gullible’ written all over your forehead,” you giggle. 

“i’m hanging up the phone now.”

“m’kay,” you hum, catching your breath. “have a good rest of your patrol. love you, mwah.”

he makes a low hum back. “i’ll try. love you too.”

“no kiss back?” you tease before he can hang up. he sighs loudly again, but you hear the soft smack of his lips on the other end as he pecks the receiver before the line goes silent. 

masterlist — dividers by @/saradika graphics — saw this reel n couldn’t stop giggling. may or may not be down bad 🤭

[m1sa22aman3]

When there isn’t 20 new fics for me to read after refreshing the tag (I just finished reading everything and have absolutely no patience)

[destinyintomadness]

I am so close to finishing Part 2 and I’m really excited about it. Ngl I’ve rewritten it now about 4 times but I’m happy with how it’s ended up. I just need to finish it up (which is always the hardest part) and get it proof read 🫶

Dark Eyes & Second Chances Pt 1

Pairing: Aizawa x Villain!Reader

Summary: After a mission gone wrong you have been caught. What you thought was going to be an integration might have become a second chance.

Tags: angst, villain/criminal reader, no use of y/n, non gender specific reader, adult reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, strong language, anxiety/panic, rough childhood, abandonment, gambling (if I missed anything let me know)

Authors note: I really enjoyed writing this one. I've played around with this idea for a while and I have a plan on how I want this to play out. I decided to make a part 2 because I didn't want this to drag out too much. I wanted to get the tone and then in part 2 explore your relationship with Aizawa a lot more. So in a way this is mostly getting the context without it dragging into a massiive fic.

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to MHA or the characters. This writing is for self entertainment and not profit

Masterlist

————————————————-

The situation was well and truly fucked.

The metal hand cuffs that bound you to the wooden chair wasn't the most uncomfortable, nor was it the white jumpsuit that felt like it had been washed one too many times with how stiff the fabric was. The room was bare, the only decoration being the dim lightbulb that hummed above you and the table that separated you from the man who had been intently staring at you since he'd joined.

This was not the first time you had met him. This guy had been a thorn in your side ever since you started working for The League. Eraserhead was the biggest pain in your ass. This was especially considering how much you relied on your quick during situations in the field. You weren't much of a fighter, close combat wasn't your thing. Your quirk gave you the ability to warp materials in your general surroundings, causing anyone within range to become confused and disorientated which allowed you to either rob them or flee. You had been told people by people you had effected that it wasn't too dissimilar to being under the influence of alcohol or very strong pain killers. During one instances Toga had told you it was "trippy".

When you were given your first contract by The League one of the first pro heros they warned you about was Eraserhead. As long as he could see your physical body, he could stop your quirk from working. Over the months this became a game of cat and mouse. Every run in you had with the pros it was your first priority to find him before he found you and hide before he could stop your quirk from triggering. He got you the first couple of times but practice does make you perfect.

Things got out of control in the last mission. It wasn't even a hard mission, something you had done countless of times even before The League. It was a robbery. You were suppose to enter a small bank on the outskirts of the city, get the money and flee. You and Mr Compress had done this several times together with no issues. But of course this time there was issues. Some pro heros who were off the clock unfortunately recognised you which had caused things to break out into a fight. If that wasn't bad enough, fate decided your time was up and the building had collapsed. Under custody you were taked to the local hospital and treated for your injuries. Couple of fracturs and nasty bruises. You had sustained much worse in the past but that didn't reinsure you. You knew you were caught. Discharged meant prison and you knew it.

You had accepted that long before you put the jumpsuit on. They were going to make an example out of you. You were the first member of The League they ever had in custody, the guards who collected you from the hospital mentioned that. It was how you found out Compress manage to give them the slip. You were on your own. They weren't your friends, more like your employers. They weren't going to risk losing more members to get you out this, you had to stick this one out on your own. Although you weren't directly responsible for anyone's deaths, you believed that didn't matter. You were going to be an example of what the Commission will do to anyone who had a relationship with The League.

So you sat there and faced the pro who had given you mutual grief. You weren't sure what to make of him. Eraserhead didn't have the same demeanour as other heros. You ran into the cocky ones, the arrogant ones and ones that seemed to have far worse anger management than you. Eraser was none of those. You didn't expect him to be warm and welcoming but you weren't expecting the calm either. He wasn't tense, he had slumped to the back of the chair and crossed his hands over his chest. He even let out a small sign as he sank down. His dark eyes just stared at you like you were already in deep conversation. You didn't break the stare, you were transfixed on the colour of his eyes. You had only ever seen them whilst he used his quirk, never crossed your mind they could be any other colour than the glowing red. He almost looked wrong and unfamiliar.

"I'm not going to lie you to," His voice wasn't you expected, it was low and gruff yet smoothing, "They're looking at putting you away for a long time,"

You didn't grace him with a reply. What could you say? It was no mystery to you how the world saw you. It did not matter how small or big your role was working with Shigaraki, guilty by association was still guilty. Regardless you had no intention of begging for mercy, pleading with them of your innocents. You would not subject yourself to that humiliation. You would rot long before you submitted to the likes of hero's.

Eraser leaned over his seat and picked up a yellow file from under it before placing it on the table. As he did so he brought his chair closer making a scraping sound that went through you. He opened it presenting a copy of your out of date mug shot with lines of script. You remembered getting that photo taken, it was your mid teens after you had been caught shop lifting one too many times and you'd been labelled a nuisance. You fought back a smile. Not because you found this amusing, it was a difficult time in your life. Your father, you're only present parent, ran off in the night with no warning and left you to fend for yourself. It was actually an act of kindness in it's own twisted way. At least your messes were your own after that. Here you sat ten years after that photo was taken potentially facing a life behind bars.

The man before you half heartedly flipped the few pages within the file, skimming over the words. He seemed disinterested. You imagined he was already aware of what was written inside. He let out a sign before propping his elbows onto the table and clasping his hands together, bringing his eyes back to yours. You didn't move.

"These records show you have an extensive history with the police. Even though they were petty crimes, they were still crimes none the less," He spoke clearly, matter-of-fact, taking his time with each word, "That being said, how does a petty thief find themselves working for The League?"

"You didn't bring me here to get my life story," You retorted. Maybe it was the uncomfortable cell beds or the long stay at the hospital, you did not have the patients.

"No," He slumped back into his original position, "The hope was to understand how someone like you ended up working with such a dangerous group of people," You clicked your tongue. It wasn't rocket science. You did what you needed to do to survive, money was money and Shigaraki paid. If you had to be honest you would likely admit you never intended to get deeply involved. They promised you a cut of each successful job and you were good at what you did.

You shifted your gaze to the locked door, the closest thing you had to freedom. You had no chance. Eraser knew you well enough to recognise your patterns before your quirk would trigger. Even if you got that far you weren't convinced you could outrun everybody.

"Maybe I'm just as dangerous," You lacked any confidence in your words but it was an amusing thought, "I gave you self-proclaimed heros a run for your money," Your turned your attention back to him, smirking at the memories of the many times you escaped him.

"Brave statement from someone currently handcuffed,"

The laugh came out before you could stop it. He got you there. His sharpness shouldn't have come as a surprise but you welcomed it. You finished your outburst with a sign but something caught in your throat. Something in his gaze that shifted, it was softer. Any tension in his features appeared to have smoothed out. You swear the corner of his lips were slightly turned upwards but maybe it was the trick of the light. Between the hospital and this meeting you had spent days staring at the same walls, maybe you were just craving some human interaction. Perhaps you had gone a little stir-crazy. You could justify it as much as you wanted until he spoke his next words.

"You're not a bad person," All the air left you. The rush that shot through you made you aware of everything. All of a sudden the underwhelming room was too much. You could feel everything. Your pulse was at your finger tips, your palms warm, your shoulders felt like a great weight was placed on them. Your tongue and gums became uncomfortable with how dry your mouth had become. You were uncomfortable in your own skin and you hated it. What you hated more than losing control was that there was nothing you could do about it. Eraser must have picked up on the newest tension, how your body language had shifted. "I don't believe you belong in here,"

"What would you know?" You snapped through gritted teeth. You could feel the burn in your cheeks as you tensed your jaw. You contemplated breaking out of your restraints and taking a swing at him. It wouldn't help your situation but it might make you feel better. He may be able to stop your quirk but he might not be able to stop your fist. You new harshness didn't seem to phase him. You can't imagine you were that intimidating or maybe he understood where it was coming from.

"I know enough," He sounded apologetic, "I know the difference between a bad person and a person who does bad things. You're the latter. You have been backed into a corner and did what you believed you needed to do,"

"Fuck you,"

He was unfazed by your interruption which only fueled your annoyance, "I am here to offer you an out,"

"Bullshit," You scoffed. There was no way there was an 'out'. It was a trap and you knew it. Your worlds may be very different but you weren't stupid. As much as villains had their fault, so did The Hero's Commission. They were just as secretive and double-crossing. They rug swept more problems than they solved. They didn't uphold the values they claimed. There was a catch and you could come off worse.

He ran a hand down his face and covered his mouth before letting out a long breathe. "Look," He placed both hands faced down on the table, locked his eyes with yours. You looked for anything, a sign he was lying but you found just him, "You go to a treatment program. It's six months long. If you were to successfully completely the program in the time given to you, you will be released under the supervision of a pro hero. There will be another agreed upon timeline of what will be expected of you,"

You pursed your lips together, rolling your tongue over your teeth, "That doesn't sound like an out to me,"

"They're never going to agree to let you wonder the streets tomorrow. You are too much of a risk," He flicked through your file again, "However, I don't believe you belong in a cell for something we could have prevented,"

You frowned at that statement. For a very long time, mostly when you were younger, you were angry that heros who never came to your rescue. Everyone talked about how amazing they were, as long as heros were around nothing bad would ever happen, they were there to save the day. Those statemnets played in your head as you wondered the streets looking for your next meal. You should have been in school like any other child your age. You should have been learning to read but instead you were learning to survive. It wasn't the heros fault you were in that situation, that blame was on your father and his nasty gambling habit, but you did resent the heros for never rescuing you. You would ask yourself why you weren't worthy of it, why had you been left behind. As time went on you learnt it wasn't you who was the problem, the heros had just been painted in a false light and only the privileged saw them that way.

So it had stumped you that Eraser saw this. Granted hind sight was a beautiful thing when it was written in front of him. He had read your file, the dates going back over a decade. He had seen the pattern. You had been missed by the system designed to protect people like you. He couldn't say you have fallen between the cracks because there was too many. You didn't stand much of a chance on your own. He could see the choices you had and the decisions you had to make. It wasn't fair you group you in with other criminals. He had encountered those who did what they did because they got a kick out of it, they enjoyed the chaos they brought. It was obvious to him you got no nothing out of it, it was the only survival you knew. He was determined to show you a new way to live and to show everyone else it was possible to save someone even when it felt like it was too late.

"If I refuse?" You're voice came out small, unsure why you asked as you already knew the answer but you needed to hear it. You needed to know that you hadn't just folded as the first chance, that you didn't just give in. You thought back to that teenager again coming home to that deserted apartment. You remembered the desperation, the thoughts of becoming homeless and fading into the city. You wanted to live a life. This all couldn't be for nothing.

It was like he could read your thoughts. They must have been written all over your face, in your eyes. You felt exposed under his gaze, your confidant and defiant front fracturing. You weren't sure if this opportunity could come back, if this was the chance you had spent late nights praying for. The stubbornness inside of you wanted to turn your nose up at it, tell this pro exactly where he could shove his offer. Yet you could feel it. The clammy hand itching to reach for him. It wouldn't exactly been the open door you imaged but maybe it wouldn't be locked anymore. Before you could back out, you gave your answer

"Deal."

[etherealangell1]

༊*·˚ The rain poured down in relentless sheets, turning the side streets of Musutafu into shimmering rivers of reflected neon. Shota Aizawa walked with his head lowered, his capture scarf trailing just above the puddles. The night was quiet aside from the hiss of rain and the occasional rumble of thunder—perfect for clearing his head after a long patrol.

He turned the corner near an old, shuttered convenience store, and that’s when he saw her.

She was standing perfectly still under the sickly yellow glow of a flickering streetlight, soaked to the bone, her hair plastered to her cheeks. She looked lost, shoulders hunched inward, eyes vacant as they stared at the rain hitting the pavement. Her clothes, casual but worn, clung to her form, and her breath came in shallow, misty puffs in the cold night air.

Even after all these years, he knew that face instantly. It was a face he’d tried to forget, buried under late-night hero work and mountains of reports. An old friend—someone from before U.A., before his days as Eraserhead. A girl who’d been quirkless in a world that never made space for the powerless. A girl he used to hold close to his heart.

Those he supposes she wasn't a girl anymore. It's been years since middle and high school.

His footsteps splashed softly as he stepped closer, but he kept a careful distance—three meters at least. She didn’t notice him until he cleared his throat, the sound barely audible over the rain. Her head snapped up, eyes wide, disbelief and something like hurt flashing across her face.

“Shota…?” Her voice was ragged, unfamiliar from disuse and the cold, but it still carried that familiar lilt.

He felt something tighten in his chest. The years apart, the silence that had stretched between them, all came crashing down like the thunder rumbling overhead. But he kept his hands at his sides, fingers twitching slightly.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked, voice low and edged with concern he couldn’t quite mask.

She wrapped her own arms around herself, hugging her elbows as she looked away, blinking rain from her lashes. “I… didn’t know where else to go. I lost my job. My apartment. I’ve been walking since noon.”

Aizawa felt a cold anger prickling under his skin—anger at the world, at the unfairness, at himself for not being there when she needed someone. But he stayed where he was, letting the silence hang heavy between them. Lightning illuminated her face, pale and hollow-eyed, and in that moment, all the old resentment he’d carried melted into a simple, aching worry.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone,” he said softly, almost swallowed by the rain. He shifted slightly, as if he wanted to step closer, but held himself back, eyes scanning the deserted street before settling back on her. “It’s not safe.”

She swallowed, eyes darting to him, then to the ground. “I didn’t think you’d want to see me.”

He exhaled slowly, his breath visible in the chill. “That doesn’t matter now.” His voice was firm but quiet, carrying an unspoken offer—a lifeline, if she chose to take it.

They stood like that in the downpour, a careful distance between them, the rain hammering the pavement around their feet. The city felt muted, as if the world had narrowed to just the space between two people who had once known each other better than anyone else, yet were now strangers trying to bridge a chasm of years and unspoken words.

The rain eased from a pounding downpour to a steady drizzle as they began the walk back to Aizawa’s apartment. The world felt hushed, their footsteps muffled by wet pavement, only the occasional car passing in the distance breaking the silence. They walked side by side but with a careful distance—far enough that neither brushed against the other, close enough that they stayed within each other’s fragile orbit.

“Where have you been staying?” Aizawa asked first, his voice calm but edged with worry as he glanced over at her beneath the rim of his dark hair.

She hesitated, eyes on the shimmering reflections of streetlights in puddles. “A friend let me sleep on her couch for a few days, but… I didn’t want to impose. I thought I’d figure something out.” She shrugged weakly, water dripping from her sleeves. “Guess I wasn’t very good at it.”

Aizawa let out a quiet breath that was almost a sigh. “You’ve always been stubborn,” he said, a note of dry fondness cutting through the exhaustion in his voice.

She almost smiled at that—almost. “What about you?” she asked softly. “I saw the news footage. The war… the League… U.A. itself. Are you… are you okay?”

He kept his gaze forward, his hair and scarf heavy with rain. “I’m alive,” he said, matter-of-fact, but his voice roughened just enough to betray the weight of everything behind those words. “U.A.’s standing. The kids are… resilient.”

She nodded, hugging herself a little tighter. She let her eyes drop to his legs for the briefest second—catching the subtle stiffness in his gait, the gleam of the prosthetic in the moments when lightning flashed—but she quickly looked away. It wasn’t her place to bring it up, and she knew it.

He caught her glance, though, and for a moment something flickered in his eyes—a vulnerable flash that vanished just as quickly behind his usual stoic calm.

They reached a crosswalk, waiting as the light changed, the red glow reflected in the sheen of rain on the road. The silence between them felt less strained now, filled with unspoken gratitude and old familiarity. When they stepped off the curb, their movements naturally fell in sync, like muscle memory from the days when they’d walked home together from late-night meetups he was coerced into.

“Do you have any family you can reach out to?” he asked, his tone careful but earnest.

She shook her head, strands of wet hair swaying. “No one left who’d take me in.”

He nodded once, eyes narrowing slightly as if making a decision. “Then you’ll stay at my place. For tonight, at least."

She looked at him sharply, surprise and hesitation warring on her face. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You won’t be,” he said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument.

They lapsed into silence again, the only sounds the soft splash of their footsteps and the rain pattering on rooftops. Every so often, one of them would steal a glance at the other—she traced the new lines of weariness on his face, the silver creeping into his hair, the fatigue etched deep into his posture; he noted the sadness in her eyes, the way she seemed smaller than he remembered, her shoulders weighed down by more than just the rain.

Neither spoke of it. Neither had to. The glances said enough.

As they turned onto a quieter road leading toward U.A., the massive campus walls loomed in the distance, lights shining softly through the misty rain. Even from here, the main dorm buildings were visible, their warm, steady glow a beacon in the storm. Seeing them made her falter for a moment—like stepping into a world she’d only seen in news broadcasts.

Aizawa slowed his pace just enough to keep her by his side. “You’ll stay at the staff dorms tonight,” he said, nodding toward the campus beyond the security gate. “I’ll clear it with security. It’s safe there. And dry.”

She swallowed, glancing up at the dark silhouette of U.A.’s fortified walls. “U.A… are you sure? I don’t want to cause trouble.”

“You won’t,” he said quietly but with a note of finality. “You need somewhere to stay, and I won’t leave you out here.”

They paused at the campus gate, the rain easing into a mist. Beyond it lay the main path leading through the grounds, lined with puddles reflecting the occasional campus spotlight. The dorms rose in the distance, tall and solid against the night.

She took a shaky breath, gaze flicking between him and the legendary academy she never imagined stepping foot in. He waited patiently, watching her with that same unreadable expression he’d always worn—but there was a gentleness there, too, an unspoken promise of safety.

As the security cameras above the gate rotated silently to track them, she finally nodded. “Okay,” she whispered, voice almost lost to the fading rain. “Thank you, Shota.”

The door clicked open with a low groan of hinges, revealing a small but comfortable apartment tucked into U.A.’s staff dorm wing. Aizawa stepped inside first, flicking on a light that cast a warm glow over the space. It was tidy but lived-in, a place clearly meant for someone who spent more nights here than anywhere else.

A modest kitchen lined one wall with dark cabinets and a compact stovetop, clean dishes stacked neatly in the drying rack. The living room was sparsely furnished with a low table, a well-worn couch draped in a dark blanket, and a small TV pushed against the far wall. Books—mostly hero law, psychology, and quirk theory—were stacked in organized towers next to a battered recliner. A single hallway led to a bedroom with the door half-closed, and the faint scent of strong coffee lingered in the air.

She stepped inside hesitantly, her shoes squeaking on the entry mat. Droplets of rain still fell from her hair, pattering softly on the floor as she took in his space—so unmistakably him, practical yet unexpectedly warm. It felt oddly safe.

Aizawa moved quietly to a small linen closet and pulled out a towel, holding it out to her without looking directly at her face. “Dry off,” he said gruffly, his voice softening on the edges. “You’ll catch a cold.”

She accepted it with a quiet “Thank you,” gripping the towel like an anchor as she dabbed the rain from her hair and face. The simple kindness in the gesture made something twist in her chest.

He busied himself with the kettle, filling it with water at the sink. The hiss of running tap water filled the quiet, and he moved with the smooth, economical motions of someone who had lived alone a long time. “You hungry?” he asked, his back still to her. “I have instant noodles. Or I can make eggs.”

She blinked, the question catching her off guard. “No… I’m okay. Really. Just… tired.”

He gave a single nod, shutting off the water and setting the kettle on the stove. “The couch pulls out into a bed,” he said, gesturing to it without turning around. “You can take the shower first. Towels are in the bathroom cabinet.”

She looked at him, her eyes softening. “Thank you. For this. For… everything.”

He paused, one hand resting on the kettle handle, the other braced on the counter. He didn’t look back at her, but his voice was quiet, almost hoarse. “It’s nothing. You needed help.”

Silence settled over the room, punctuated by the gentle drip of rain still trailing from her coat onto the mat. The two of them stood in that silence, stealing quiet glances when the other wasn’t looking—she noted the dark circles under his eyes, the deeper set of his shoulders; he caught the new lines of worry etched into her face, the exhaustion in the way she hugged the towel to herself.

She shifted awkwardly on the entry mat, eyes flicking toward the bathroom door at the end of the short hallway. The towel felt heavy in her hands, but the thought of a hot shower was enough to draw a shaky breath of relief from her chest.

As she moved to step past him, Aizawa’s voice stopped her. “Wait.”

She turned back, startled to find him already crossing the living room to a small dresser tucked against the wall beside his bedroom door. He knelt stiffly, opening the lowest drawer, and rummaged through neatly folded stacks of dark clothes. After a moment, he stood, holding out a set of clean, oversized black sweats and a soft, faded t-shirt.

“Here,” he said, eyes meeting hers briefly before darting away. “They’ll be big, but… it’s better than staying in wet clothes.”

She stared at the bundle in his hands, warmth rising to her face despite the cold. Carefully, she stepped forward and took them from him, her fingers brushing his gloved knuckles for a fleeting instant before both of them quickly pulled back.

“Thank you,” she said, hugging the clothes to her chest. Her voice was small, raw with gratitude. “Really.”

He inclined his head once, face unreadable but eyes softer than before. “Shower’s through there,” he said, gesturing to the hallway. “Take your time.”

She hesitated, glancing over her shoulder as she started toward the bathroom. Their eyes met for a moment—both of them searching the other’s face for something familiar, something that proved the person they’d once known was still there beneath all the time and pain.

Then she slipped into the bathroom, the soft click of the door closing behind her leaving Aizawa standing alone in the quiet apartment, the kettle beginning to steam on the stove.

Steam curled around her as hot water poured over her shoulders, washing away the grime of the city and the icy weight of the rain. She let the towel slip from her hands and rested them on the cool tile walls, head bowed, eyes squeezed shut. The water’s warmth seeped into her bones, loosening muscles that had been clenched for days.

She couldn’t stop her mind from spinning.

Shota. Seeing him again after all these years felt like a dream—sharp and painful but laced with a strange relief. He looked so different: older, wearier, eyes deeper set from sleepless nights and burdens she couldn’t imagine. Yet in his quiet words and careful concern, she glimpsed the same boy who’d once stood by her side when the world felt impossible.

How much had he endured? How many of those wounds were because of his choice to protect others—students, colleagues, strangers—while she’d drifted from job to job, never finding a place to belong? She pressed her forehead to the tiles, trying to steady the ache in her chest.

She remembered the footage of the Paranormal Liberation War: images of chaos and fire, heroes falling, students fighting with terrified determination. She remembered the moment she’d seen him on the screen, bloodied, fierce—and then later, the news confirming what he’d lost. Her eyes flickered open, staring at the bathroom door as if she could see him through it.

She wanted to ask about his leg, the war, the students who called him their teacher. But she couldn’t. Not yet. Tonight, she told herself, it was enough to know he was still here.

---

Aizawa stood at the stove, but his hands rested idle on the counter as the kettle whined with gentle steam. He stared at the rippling surface of the kitchen sink, eyes unfocused. His mind was anywhere but on the room around him.

She looked different, too. Paler, more worn, like life had kept knocking her down without giving her a chance to stand. The stubborn fire he remembered in her eyes was still there, but it flickered like a candle in the rain. It angered him—how unfair it was, how the world chewed up those without quirks and spat them out with no safety net.

He tried not to remember how they’d drifted apart. How he’d thrown himself into U.A. while she disappeared from his life in a slow, silent unraveling. Part of him had resented her for leaving, for not fighting harder to stay in touch. But now, seeing her shivering in the rain, the resentment felt petty and hollow.

The quiet of the apartment pressed in on him, amplifying the faint sound of water running beyond the bathroom door. He glanced toward it more than once, his eyes catching on the towel she’d left by the entrance, a small puddle forming around it. The sight twisted something in his chest.

He was used to solitude, used to the calm emptiness of his space. But tonight, the apartment felt less heavy with her here—even if it also felt fragile, like the thin ice of a frozen pond waiting to crack.

She emerged from the bathroom wrapped in warm clouds of steam, her hair damp and clinging in dark strands around her face. The oversized black sweats and soft t-shirt swallowed her frame, the sleeves hanging past her wrists, the collar of the shirt sloping slightly off one shoulder. She looked small and a little lost in the clothes clearly too big for her, but there was a softness in her eyes, a relaxed slump to her shoulders that hadn’t been there when she’d arrived soaked and shivering.

Aizawa’s gaze lifted the instant he heard the bathroom door open. His eyes lingered on her in his clothes, something unsteady shifting behind his tired expression. There was a familiarity in the sight—like an echo of old nights spent dozing together on cheap futons in tiny apartments, sharing quiet conversations that stretched until dawn. But there was also something strange, something almost intimate in seeing her like this again after so many years apart.

He caught himself staring too long and looked away, setting the steaming kettle aside with a quiet clink.

“You should shower too,” she said softly, voice husky from warmth and sleepiness. She pulled at the sleeves of the sweatshirt, fidgeting a little. “The rain didn’t spare you much either.”

His eyes flicked back to hers. For a moment he looked like he might argue, but then he just let out a low hum—barely more than a tired exhale of agreement—and nodded once. His capture weapon swayed slightly around his shoulders as he stepped past her, and she caught a faint scent of rain and his familiar, comforting soap as he moved.

She watched him go, her eyes drifting to the way his hair clung wetly to the sides of his face, the slight limp in his step that he carried with stoic grace. As the bathroom door clicked shut behind him, silence settled over the apartment again.

She sighed, the sound deep and unguarded, and padded over to the couch. She hesitated a moment, glancing at the hallway where he’d disappeared, then pulled the thick blanket from the back of the couch and curled up under it. The couch cushions dipped slightly beneath her weight, the old springs creaking softly. She tucked her knees close, the hem of the sweats brushing against her toes as she shifted to find a comfortable spot.

The warmth of the blanket and the soft, rhythmic patter of rain against the windows lulled her quickly. She fought to keep her eyes open, blinking at the ceiling light still glowing above—but exhaustion won out. Her breathing slowed, her hand slipping from under the blanket to rest limply over the edge of the couch.

Aizawa stepped out of the bathroom minutes later, hair freshly washed and clinging damply to his neck, a plain black t-shirt and sweatpants replacing his hero suit. He moved quietly, towel still draped over his shoulders, his dark eyes scanning the living room.

He found her fast asleep on the couch, bundled beneath the blanket, face soft and peaceful for the first time since he’d seen her that night. The sight made something in his chest loosen, a knot he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying. He stood there a long moment, towel in hand, simply watching the rise and fall of her breathing.

Finally, he reached up and flicked the ceiling light off, leaving the apartment in the dim glow of a small lamp near the kitchen. The rain whispered softly outside, blending with her quiet breathing. He settled into the recliner across the room, leaning back with a soft sigh. His eyes stayed on her until his own lids grew heavy, and for the first time in a long while, the thought of sleep didn’t feel so heavy or alone.

[lemonmoonmochi]

[kurokawaia]

BABY, YOU UP? 彡 Bakugou, Shoto, Dabi, Aizawa

| MDNI - 18+ | WARNINGS :: bakugou x fem!reader, hawks x fem!reader, dabi x fem!reader, x fem!reader, shoto x fem!reader, slight somnophilia!, pet names 'doll' 'baby' 'good girl' 'slut', voice kink, hair tugging, implied d/s in aizawas, praise, oral -> male recieving, possession + more? MINI ONESHOTS. total wc :: 2.7k

⋆·˚ ༘ *REQUEST :: Could you please write a headcannon about you wake the mha boys in the middle of the night because u are horny and wanna fuck but they have a mission in the morning. But reader is being a needy slut and they cant resist her. (pls with dabi,katsuki,Aizawa and maybe shoto or anyone you like). Could u please write is very nsfw/suggestive👉👈🙂‍↔️Thaaank u so muuch! - @carokitten

DABI

This man is knocked out, when he says he is going to sleep, he is going to sleep and not waking up unless it's important. What's important right now for him? Waking up for his mission tomorrow which (to him) is an ungodly time in the morning (7am). What's important to you? Quenching that heat that's blooming in your lower abdomen as you had just woken up from a particularly nasty dream with Dabi. He's dead asleep, sprawled shirtless, half the blanket kicked off, scarred chest rising and falling steadily.

You couldn't help yourself crawl over him, straddling his waist, kissing his neck and tugging at his pants, whispering, "Please, Dabi... I need you."

He groans, cracking one eye open with a lazy smirk. "You’re fuckin’ serious right now, doll? Got a raid at 7 AM."

Your hips grind against him and your voice turns breathy, whispering, "Can’t help it… you’re so warm and I just wanna be full of you…"

His hand grabs your throat gently, lips curling up. "Tch. You’re lucky I like when you beg."

He flips you over, mouth hot on your skin. "Guess they can wait a little longer for me, huh?" And his didn't waste a second longer pulling up your black silk night gown and pulling your thong to the side, arousal connecting to the cotton. The smirk on Dabi's face deepens, "Needy slut, you are," he murmurs against your neck. "Good thing you're all mine."

All you could do was helplessly nod as a whimper spills past your lips when you feel scared hands tightly hold the backs of your thighs, pushing your legs up beside your head, folding your body into a tight mating press. It didn't take him a second longer to take his semi hard cock out. and to push it into your sopping cunt. 

A loud moan emits from your throat from the sudden contact, and feeling his cock grow hard inside you, pressing immediately against that soft spot inside your cunt, making your silky walls clench tight around his length. "Fuck," you whimper, trying to squirm away but you couldn't, you were to tight under him.

Your poor body being folded in such a position this early in the morning was not ideal.. but you did ask for it, so you can't do too much complaining. "Ah ah ah," he tuts, slowly thrusting into your pussy, a lewd squelching noise sounding through your shared room. Your knees were already beginning to ache but you can't move, not until he gets off you. "You're going to take all of it, doll. Every single inch of me."

"M'kay," you mumble, whines spilling in with your words, your hair sprawled out on the bed as you could feel a coil tighten in your stomach as he continued to make an absolute mess of you.

Dabi lowers down to your trembling body, tingles were getting sent all throughout your body from the kiss, he was being so rough yet deep. The breath was stolen from your lungs every time he moaned into your own, and you had the same effect on him.

"Such a good slut," he hums against your skin, inhaling your naturally sweet scent.

"Feels s' full though, Touya," you sob. "Don't think I can anymore."

"You asked for this, so you're going to take it all."

BAKUGOU

Bakugou is out cold, his face buried in the pillow and his hair is a mess as he snores very softly, only just a little bit. While you have tried to get yourself to finish, twice, but you haven't even gotten close to how your man does it to you, your fingers don't compare to his own and you weren't going to come down from your pleasure. You weren't, not until you had your release. Katsuki has ruined that pleasure for you because now you can't even do anything yourself anymore, you need to have him help you.

You couldn't take it anymore as a frustrated whimper softly escapes your lips, pressing your bare chest against his back, hand slipping under the covers to palm him.

He jolts awake, confused as he rolls onto his back. "The fuck you doin’? It’s-" Katsuki checks the digital clock on his bedside table and he lets out a sigh. "-3 in the fuckin’ morning, baby."

Two of your fingers hook around his boxers, a pout rising on your lips as you tug gently on the cotton. "I’m sorry... I just... need you... so bad, Kats'."

His breath stutters when your fingers move from the hem, going lower, and trace his semi hard cock causing sparks to flow through his veins at your gentle touch. "You tryna kill me before this goddamn mission?" he says before letting out a deep breathy sigh, his dick fully hardened under your hand.

You were about to say something in reply before you were quickly grabbed by the hips, throws you under him, your breasts squished up against the bed and your legs spread my Katsuki's knees, leaving you completely immobile as you couldn't even attempt to squirm out the position. "Hope you’re ready to take responsibility then, baby."

If there was one thing you knew, it was that Bakugou is rougher when he's tired, less patient with you and he will not stop until you're crying out his name. And that's exactly what he was doing.

Fat, hot, tears stream from your eyes and all Bakugou could do was smirk at the sight. If you wanted to be needy and get fucked, that is exactly what he was going to give you. The only gracious thing he had done so far was putting a pillow under your hips before letting your body rest fully down on the bed. This was more so for him rather than you... he needed a good angle to fuck you good. 

Bakugou's mass pressing down against your back. His abs were flush against your back, hands gripping the backs of your own, pressing them into the bed. Bakugou's breath tickled your ear and you wiggled your head at the warm sensation, your core getting wetter, your body trying to squirm away from the imposing hold that he had on you.

Bakugou's hands moved slowly, changing his grip so that one of his hands held both of you over your head, being cautious not to get your hair entangled within the movement. A content sigh leaves your mouth when Bakugou raises his body ever so slightly, trailing his free hand down the expanse of your smooth back before his fingers meet your slick entrance, filled with his cum from previous rounds.

"I'll make sure you're filled up real nice," he mutters against your ear before taking a nibble at the collagen, you let out a gasp at the sudden action.

Then you felt a heavy, throbbing tip press against your clit once more and you moaned from the small touch. You tried to squirm away from the pleasurable cause but couldn't as Bakugou knew your body more than you did yourself, he knew you were gonna try to run from his body due to the pleasure. So, he pressed his weight against you once more.

You held your breath when Bakugou sank his throbbing cock into your spongey walls, his length getting squeezed by every ridge within your soaked cunt. A moan left both of your mouths as Bakugou's length nudged the deepest spot within you.

"That's it, your cunt knows me so well," Bakugou moans, relishing in the way your walls clench him, how could he not want to cum inside, you feel so good. "Still taking me so good, baby." The praise makes your brain go fuzzy, numb from the pleasure. Yes, this is exactly what you needed. 

SHOTO

If Shoto is anything, he is 100% a light sleeper, so you can't even get out some enjoyment, so the second you shift from his hold and place your hands onto his chest, he doesn't miss it, slowly he blinks open his eyes. The first thing he can register, is the lusted gaze that has coated your face and the arousal soaking his body, yours and his own.

"Is something wrong?" he asks groggily. You look up at him with flushed cheeks and teary eyes.

"No, I just… I can’t sleep. I need you so bad, Sho'…"

His breath hitches, and his hand instinctively cups your cheek. "You… want to do that right now?" You lean down closer to him, lips barely grazing his own as you nod, grinding hard against him through your panties. Moans string from your moan when you feel him grow beneath you and Shoto closes his eyes, strewn in pleasure an his thoughts about the mission he has tomorrow.

His cheeks tint a soft red as he pauses his thoughts- mission? what mission?-he thinks sarcastically as he pulls your hips down harder. Number 2 heroing can come later...

"Okay. I’ll take care of you. Just try not to scream too loud… we still have to wake up early."

Shoto flips you around, pinning you to the bed with your arms and spreading your legs with his knees before capturing your lips into a deep and heavy kiss. He can feel your chest stuttering against his own with every breath he steals from you, along with the whimpers that escape your lips. Whimpers not only from the kiss but how his clothed cock perfectly slots against your bare cunt.

You didn't know how long you were going to hold out for...

But lets just say he definitely didn't disappoint you. 

AIZAWA

With Aizawa, you have to be careful around him, or else it wouldn't be a surprise, you have to be sneaking around to catch him off guard. So here you are, carefully straddling him, pressing slow kisses to his chest while he breaths deeply, still taken over by sleep, completely unaware of your advances.

You suck gently over his abs, then go lower, peppering kisses around and on the tuffs of his happy trail. A sigh of satisfaction leaves your mouth, if you had to do anything for the last time, this would be it because lord, you love his cock (and him).

A shift is felt beneath you and Aizawa's cock jumps beneath your throat before you felt fingers lacing through your hair. Aizawa tugs your hair, lifting your head up from his lower abdomen to meet his eyes, a moan falls past your lips at the gesture, your panties getting further soaked with arousal.

"And what are you doing?" he asks slowly, his voice rough and slightly scratchy from sleep which just made the heat grow bigger. Gods, you love his voice.

A sweet, sinful smile coats your lips and your hand trails down to his sweats, palming his semi-hard bulge through the fabric, "Just want you. Just for a bit. I’ll be good, I promise."

He sighs, already getting hard at the sight of you kneeling between his legs, eyes wide and needy. He desperately wanted to say he had a mission in five hours but he couldn't because he can't resist you, not at all. Aizawa lets out a sigh, mumbling, "What am I going to do with you?" before sitting up, back resting against the headboard. 

A sharp tug of your hair from Aizawa caused you to let out a pained moan, sending a pleasured shock to your heated core. Your face only a few mere inches away from his clothed, hard cock.  "Fine. But I'm using you. You started this- so you better not cry when I ruin that pretty throat of yours."

"I won't," you say, thighs clenching together, trying to relief the ache in your pussy, arousal slicking your thighs. As your doe eyes stare up into Aizawa's deep slate iris' you couldn't help but a pout befall your lips. "I promise," your fingers playing mindlessly with the hem of his sweats. 

Aizawa lets a gentle smirk rise before his free hand cups your jaw, thumb rubbing your bottom lips sensually before slipping his digit inside your mouth. Your tongue immediately wraps around his thumb, sucking slowly. "Such a good girl."

"Now get to work, sweetheart," Aizawa huffs, removing his thumb from your mouth.

Lowering your head, per your control and Aizawa's as his grip tightened around your hair, you pepper slow kisses over his hard cock, feeling the twitch come from his length after every kiss. "Don't tease," he grunts.

The roots of your head began to sting softly but it made you feel so good, and pleasuring Aizawa was more than you could ask for. Taking one last glance up, you watched him swallow the lump in his throat, eyes shut, waiting. You knew that if you pushed his too far, he'd use you in a way that have your neighbours worried from your screams.

The position you were in now, though, is perfect to suck him dry. You tug down the hem of his pants just enough to let his cock loose, long and thick, hitting just at his belly button. Gently, you grip his base, your free hand cupping his heavy balls, squeezing softly causing a a deep groan resonate from him. 

Angling his throbbing length towards you, you place a wet kiss on his tip, making sure your saliva drips down, wetting his cock. "That's it, good girl," Aizawa praises, and it only fuels your desire, your lower abdomen fluttering in response, pleasuring him makes you feel pleasured as well, because your oral fixation goes crazy. 

Dragging the flat of your tongue up the underside of his shaft, feeling the veins that sprung up to the head of his cock, deep groans are the only noises you hear, along with the wet slicking noises from the contact between your mouth and him. You spread the pre cum spilling from his slit before taking his throbbing length into your mouth. Your tongue swirled around his swollen pink tip before you took his cock further into your mouth.

"Deeper, sweetheart," he says, his hips trying not to thrust into your face. Aizawa was trying desperately not to fuck your mouth, wanting to see your lashes well with tears. A hum is muffled by his dick, the vibrations causing him to let out a deep moan. "Shit," he sighs, fuck.

Aizawa couldn't handle it anymore. If you're going to wake him up in the middle of the night, then you're getting what he gives. You gag on his length when he pushes your head down all the way to his base, your nose tickling his hair around his cock, your hand quickly makes contact with his thigh.

"That's it," he praises, moving your head at a pace he enjoyed, letting him take control. Aizawa started moving more quickly, which made you start crying even more. When you hollowed out your cheeks, he let out a stifled sigh that made him hesitate to approach further. He pulls away from you, his load spilling into your mouth. "Let me see."

You lift yourself up from his cock and stick out your tongue just for him, he lets two of his own fingers massage his cum on your tongue. "Good girl," he praises. "Swallow."

You nod, doing what he says.

"Are you feeling better?" Aizawa asks and you nod.

"Yeah!"

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

honey's a/note:: i hope this was okay lmao, there def is grammar and punc mistakes in this but oh well, 3am is peak writing time for me, i should be working on my presentation thats due in a fornight but oh well. if anyone has any other characters for this idea lmk :) or maybe the reverse role 👀 i know that some of these were half asses but ill get back to them i swear

[rumisgf]

“ YOUR BEST EATER ! ” (MHA EDITION)

ꕥ summary: rating how well mha men would eat you out ! (this is canon cause i said so)

ꕥ includes: keigo takami, mirio togata, touya todoroki, shota aizawa, katsuki bakugou, denki kaminari, enji todoroki

ꕥ warnings: dom/sub implications, oral f!recieving, dirty talk, crack ofc this is for fun, slander (sorry lol), black!reader as always, timeskip chargebolt and dynamight

KEIGO TAKAMI - ♾️/10

⊗ he’s a REAL eater.

⊗ you have to cry and beg for him to pop his mouth off you because he has an addiction

⊗ he thinks you taste so good

⊗ there’s not one morning his head doesn’t end up between your thighs

⊗ and at events, he’ll find a way to pull you to the nearest bathroom and get a quick one out because you just looked too good

⊗ he loves having you sit on his face

⊗ “imma eat it. AHHHHH”

⊗ he doesn’t care if you just got off of work or if you’re tired he needs your pussy on his tongue stat.

⊗ he’s such a slut.

“please- ‘s too much~!”

“c‘mon i know you got one more, i got you~”

TOUYA TODOROKI - 3/10

⊗ you thought he was an eater…?

⊗ you’re funny.

⊗ yeah unfortunately mr. long dick over here doesn’t like eating pussy

⊗ his ego is bigger than his dick

⊗ however,

⊗ on the rare occasion that he’s feeling extra nice, he’ll do more than plunge his fingers into you before he makes you take him from the back

“o-oh~..!”

“couldn’t help myself…too fuckin’ wet…”

ENJI TODORKI - 0/10

⊗ like father like son (he’s much worse)

⊗ he’s not particularly a…. giver

⊗ he’s a meanie he’d rather manhandle you instead

⊗ he don’t even like his wife and kids so what makes you think he likes you enough to eat you out

⊗ besides….even if he tried…it wouldn’t be…well…good.

⊗ he’s too rough he might bite your shit i don’t know pookie

⊗ if you beg him enough he’ll do it for like a split second

⊗ you immediately regret your decision

⊗ help him.

“wait- it’s ok it’s o-ok. nevermind…”

“what’s wrong?”

SHOTA AIZAWA - 7/10

⊗ he likes to pretend he doesn’t like giving head

⊗ but you catch him on one of those days….

⊗ he becomes a different man

⊗ and he’s mean with it, too

⊗ your thighs will have bruises from the way he forces your legs open

⊗ he likes eating you out before just because he feels satisfied having you weak before he even fucks you

⊗ he’ll edge you and tease you just to have you begging him to cum

“stay fuckin’ still, or you’re not cummin’. understand?”

MIRIO TOGATA - 10/10

⊗ yes i’m sneaking my man in here. i do not care.

⊗ he’s a certified munch y’all hate to say it

⊗ he gets it from fatgum.

⊗ (i would put him in here but then imma get nasty)

⊗ please just sit on his face and give him three minutes you will be dripping before he even puts it in

⊗ he massages your thighs and kisses your clit ‘cause he really is just so in love with you

⊗ not only will he shove his head between your thighs before he fucks you just to get a quick taste

⊗ he’ll clean you up after he fucks you, tastes himself and you

⊗ he’s a huge giver

⊗ please marry him

“such a pretty pussy, baby…’m gonna clean you right up~”

BAKUGOU KATSUKI - 9/10

⊗ oh give him five minutes

⊗ put him between your legs and he’s done for

⊗ he’s a nasty FREAK and he cannot hide it in this predicament.

⊗ he swears up and down ‘he doesn’t eat pussy’ to all his friends and every girl who brings it up

⊗ but if it’s his baby? someone he’s really into?

⊗ you see a completely different side of him

⊗ and he makes everything so messy

⊗ he’s so focused when he does it and when he looks up at you… you are done for

⊗ he can make you cum quick to get you wet enough to just slip in– then he gets right to business

“kats~…”

“taste so good…so fucking good..”

DENKI KAMINARI - 11/10

⊗ y’all thought i wasn’t gonna put him here?

⊗ he refers to himself as an eater

⊗ he has no shame

⊗ he’ll eat it in the morning, for lunch, after dinner, for dessert- he really doesn’t care

⊗ he definitely can get off just from giving you head

⊗ the feeling of you dripping down his chin and the sound of your moans is enough to get him up

⊗ you will be orgasming more than once

⊗ and he can go on for hours if he really wanted to

“my messy baby…you sound so pretty~

©𝑹𝑼𝑴𝑰𝑺𝑮𝑭

[chericos]

men who are so sentimental and sappy it's PAINFUL

You’d always dreamed of your wedding—the venue, the bouquet, and, of course, your first dance.

you grew up watching your parents fall deeper in love with each passing year. spent days watching back through old family CDs of their wedding. of their first dance.

the video was practically worn out from the countless times you’d replayed it, watching their first dance over and over. you've practically ingrained it in your brain. every step, spin, dip, rhythm, the look of pure unbridled unadulterated love, that they shared between them. it was burned into your memory.

and naturally, you imagined yourself in their place. your arms wrapped around the person you'd spend the rest of your life with. your love. so when you met him. the man you couldn't envision a life without, you mentioned it. only once, in passing. and you never brought it up or thought about it again further down the line with planning.

so imagine the shock on your face, the venue packed with friends and family when the first notes of their song began to play.

he took your hand, his grip steady and warm, guiding you into the first step. for a moment, you hesitated, the familiarity of it overwhelming. but then he smiled, that soft, knowing smile that told you everything without a single word, and you let him lead.

the steps were the same. every turn, each twirl, the way he dipped you so perfectly, as though he’d practiced it for months (spoiler: he did). and you realized, as the music played on, this wasn’t just a dance—it was the dance.

when the song ended, you stood still, holding onto him tightly. “you’re unbelievable,” you said, your voice shaky.

“no,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to yours. “I just love you.”

LEVI, ARMIN, NANAMI, SUGURU, CHOSO, AIZAWA, SHOTO, IZUKU, VANDER, JOUNO, KUNIKIDA, CHŪYA, NOÉ, KYŌJURŌ, ROY, AKI, AKAASHI, SUGAWARA, + your faves

@ CHERICOS 2024 all rights reserved do not repost, edit, copy, translate or plagiarise my works

[chaeuvy]

HI HI !! i have an aizawa request for u !!

can u write a story of reader being kidnapped by the league of villains, she gets saved then she gets reunited with aizawa !!

it’s very simple but please and thank you !!

⸝⸝ ＃┆ 𝐒𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐃! ⎯ 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐀 𝐀𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐖𝐀

summary: Kidnapped by the League of Villains and held captive for days, you cling to one truth: your husband, Pro Hero Shouta Aizawa, will find you. When he finally does, the calm and composed Eraserhead tears through the city like a storm — ready to burn everything down if it means bringing you home.

warnings: husband!Aizawa, reader getting kidnapped, protective!Aizawa, hurt/comfort, emotional vulnerability, fluff-heavy, implied violence (off-screen), light medical setting, clingy!Aizawa, post-rescue comfort, soft kisses & forehead touches.

wc: 1.0k words.

The silence was deafening.

Your wrists were raw from the quirk-resistant cuffs, your body aching from the cold concrete floor of the abandoned warehouse. You weren’t sure how many days had passed — three? Four? You’d lost track when the League stopped trying to get information out of you and instead began using your capture as a bargaining chip.

But through the fear, one thought kept you anchored.

Shouta will come.

And if you knew anything about your husband, it was that he would burn the entire world down to find you.

Across the city, the hero known as Eraserhead was anything but calm.

“You’ve got three seconds to tell me where she is,” he growled, holding the trembling low-level villain by the collar, eyes glowing red behind wild hair and exhaustion.

“She—she’s at an old factory on the east edge! That’s all I know, I swear!”

He dropped the man with a thud and was already gone, scarf flaring behind him like a banner of war.

You were barely conscious when the noise started — a distant rumble, followed by shouts. Tomura had left hours ago, but Dabi was still lurking somewhere. Then came a sound that made your heart stutter:

“[NAME]!”

That voice — low, rough, desperate.

Shouta.

You tried to respond, but your throat was dry, your body heavy. And then the door blew open, and he was there, framed by smoke and light, red eyes darting around until they found you.

He crossed the room in two strides.

You couldn’t hold back the sob when he dropped to his knees beside you, hands trembling as he gently cupped your face. “I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you.”

“Shouta…”

“I’m here. I’m right here. They’re done. You’re safe now.”

His voice cracked, just slightly. Only you would catch that. Only you would feel the quake beneath the calm.

He pulled you into his arms like he couldn’t bear another inch of distance. You could feel his heart racing against your cheek, feel the way his fingers refused to let you go even as medics rushed in behind him.

Later, back at the hospital, he refused to leave your side — not for a moment. The doctors told him to rest, to let them handle things, but he stayed. He fed you ice chips. Held your hand through the IV insert. Sat beside you on the bed with your fingers tangled in his shirt like a lifeline.

When you woke the next morning, his head was on your stomach, scarf draped over both of you like a second blanket. His grip on your waist was firm even in sleep.

You ran your fingers through his tangled hair, and only then did his eyes slowly open.

“You’re really here,” he said hoarsely.

You gave him a sleepy smile. “I could say the same to you.”

He sat up enough to press a kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, your nose, your lips. Slow, reverent. “I thought I lost you.”

“You didn’t.” You cupped his face. “I knew you’d find me.”

“Damn right I did.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “I would’ve razed the entire city to the ground if I had to.”

You gave a soft laugh. “You’re such a drama queen.”

“No, I’m not,” he grumbled — but you could see the smile tugging at his lips. “I just… I can’t breathe without you.”

Your heart squeezed.

“I kept thinking…” He hesitated. “The last thing I said to you that morning was ‘don’t forget to feed the cat.’ Not ‘I love you.’ Not ‘be careful.’ I was distracted. I was—”

“Shouta.” You silenced him with a finger on his lips. “I knew you loved me. I always know. You don’t have to say it all the time for me to feel it.”

He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch.

“But I’m saying it now,” he murmured, voice thick. “I love you. More than sleep. More than coffee. More than peace and quiet.”

You burst into a watery laugh. “That’s how I know it’s real.”

He pulled you gently into his lap, tucking you under his chin. “When we get home, I’m taking a week off. Just us. You, me, the cat, and maybe a ridiculous amount of your favorite snacks.”

You relaxed in his arms, heart full despite the lingering aches. It didn’t matter how broken the world had felt for a few days — it was whole again now. Because he was whole again, with you in his arms.

← MHA ┆ NAVI →

a/n : thanks for reading.. i love aizawa !

© 2025 chaeuvy ; ━━ do not copy or translate my work !