#aizawa drabble

[sorrowfulrosebud]

Thinking about Dadzawa giving his daughter away at her wedding.

Being anxious all day, swallowing down tears as Present Mic is openly sobbing, crying that his little girl is all grown up.

Him tapping away anxiously on his fake leg, a nasty habit you usually tap his hand for.

Putting on his suit as you pop your head round the hotel room door, smiling widely when you see him dressed to the nines for your big day. Hizashi sobs, hugging you both tightly. Aizawa holds you as closely as possible, pressing a small peck to the top of your head. You scamper off tearfully to your makeup stylist, and your fathers don’t see you until it’s time to give you away.

You chose for Aizawa to walk you down the aisle. As much as you love Hizashi, he has a nasty problem of bawling his eyes out. Aizawa was struggling to keep it in though. Finally seeing you in your dress, hair and makeup done perfectly.

He has to choke back a gasp. His baby girl looked so perfect. So much like your mother. Onyx eyes brimmed with red as he moves a stray hair out of your face. Holds you close to him one last time before he gives you away to Bakugou, who was equally as wet in the eyes.

Slowly walking towards the aisle, chest feeling so constricted with pride? Fear? No. He knows just how much Bakugou loves you, and just how much he would die for you, as your father would do the same.

He gives you away with a final hug and a loving forehead kiss, murmuring that he’s so proud of you, before shooting Bakugou a glare that clearly said “hurt my daughter and I’ll rip your throat out”. Bakugou clearly gets the message by holding you close as Eri brings the rings.

He sits with Hizashi, struggling to keep it in. Despite his husband not being able to control his emotions, he simmers down and holds his husband’s hands. His fingers trace gently after their own wedding bands, fond memories of toddler you being their ring-bearer in their own wedding that they had in their living room.

Finally lets the tears fall when the priest allows you to kiss, dabbing his one good eye as he follows everyone to the reception.

Despite his hatred for public attention, he sways with you for the first of two daddy-daughter dances. He still hasn’t been able to stop his tears leaking as you look at him with your own misted orbs. He murmurs to you that you’ll always be his little girl, that you’ll always be welcome in his home.

Aizawa hates that you’re growing up so fast, but can always bully Bakugou if he treats you wrong.

[tsubaki3192]

Men who are so emotionally constipated, or have been through enough trauma that they don't... exactly... do well with touch, but are extremely touch starved and crave love beyond anything else physical.

Men who suddenly gain an adorable S/O who is willing to do all that and more.

Men, who suddenly find themselves having someone to come home to every night; who find themselves lying beside said person every night; who's willing to hold them for as long as necessary when it gets difficult; who refuses to abandon them no matter the circumstance.

Boyfriends, who find it difficult to truly express themselves when they want to, and get frustrated whenever they have that difficulty.

Boyfriends who find their S/O so attractive that they can't help themselves, so they end up blurting out the thoughts that come to mind.

.

Boyfriends who become your husband because he made that same mistake one day, and scrambled to grab the ring.

(The same ring that had been sitting in his pocket for the last three months.)

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

JJK: Gojo, Megumi,

ToRev: Hanma, KAZUTORA, Shinichiro, SANZU, Izana, Kokonoi

HSR: Blade, AVENTURINE, DANHENG,

Genshin: KAEYA, DILUC, Scaramouche/Wanderer, Xiao,

BNHA: Aizawa, TODOROKI, DABI,

Haikyuu: OIKAWA, Atsumu,

[dollyfetti]

"can you just try?" your boyfriend gruffs, his tone gentle as he folds his arms. sitting across from you at a quiet cafe, his fingers lightly caress the back of your hand, sending a flutter through your chest. he's asking you— again— to order for yourself, just this once. he promised, "it'll feel good, trust me," but the thought of speaking up sends a shiver down your spine. you can't even remember the last time you asked for something from anyone.

"yeah, but it's their job to serve you..." he grunted with a tiny chuckle when you'd told him this the last time.

"i know, but i still feel bad..!" you muttered, twisting the hem of your maxi skirt around your fingers. he had grinned, pressed a kiss to your forehead, and let it go.

until now, of course.

he remembers when you were rambling to him one night, frustrated with how you could never speak up for yourself in any situation. you'd felt like a loser. (you are, but he refrained from saying so at the moment hehe)

"just try." he repeats, offering a rare, almost tender smile. you nod, a tiny smile pulling at your lips in response. the waitress comes back, notepad in hand as she asks for your orders, starting with your boyfriend.

"mapu tofu— please." he says, closing his menu with a small nod as she takes it from him.

she smiles, turning her attention to you. your gaze drops back to the menu, but it feels like you’re studying it for the first time. “what would you like?” she hums.

"umm," you mumble breathily. you blink at the many food choices, even though you already know what you want.

"i'll have the.. kimbap, please." you speak lowly, your voice quiet and tentative. your hands cling to the fabric of your skirt, shoulders slightly hunched as you unintentionally try to make yourself smaller.

the waitress leans in slightly, smiling sweetly. "i'm sorry, what was that?"

you feel them both watching you and shrivel in your seat. you inhale sharply, looking up to meet the waitress's gaze before quickly looking back down. "kimbap." you repeat, your voice a little steadier now, though your nerves still tangle in your chest.

she nods, jotting it down before walking away, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. you can't help but feel a little proud of yourself.

"jesus christ, felt like i was catching your introvertness." your boyfriend teases.

"shut up," you giggle, sliding your drink towards you.

"wasn't so bad, right?"

you shake your head, taking a sip of your drink as if it might help calm your racing heart.

"told ya so." he smirks, nudging your foot with his under the table

bakugou, aizawa, toji, zuko, eren, kuroo, + your favs !

[xothatnerdykid]

read your mind

You’re a newly minted pro-hero with a quirk that lets you to read the mind of anyone you touch. So imagine your surprise when you accidentally read a certain stoic, brooding hero's mind and find out he doesn't hate you like you thought, but rather, something dangerously close to the opposite.

Aizawa Shouta/Eraserhead x fem!reader. NSFW but not very explicit. 5,002 words.

“Your form was sloppy,” he says in lieu of a greeting.

You used to cringe when he’d tell you things like that, become sheepish and apologetic. Now, after months of knowing him, you'd simply smile and quip, “Awww, you watching my saves on the news again?”

You hated bumping into him. He was the reason you tended to leave mission briefings early: the ever-stoic, perpetually unimpressed Pro Hero Eraserhead.

As a relatively new hero working in the same city, you were thrilled at the chance to learn from someone as experienced as him. But your excitement quickly dimmed the first time you met as you noticed his gruff demeanor and critical, scrutinizing gaze.

You knew he was tough on everyone, but there were times when it felt like his criticism was directed at you more than anyone else. And no matter how hard you tried or how much praise everyone else gave you, he always found something to correct.

So, for the sake of keeping your self-esteem intact, you’ve resorted to treating his criticism like a game, teasing him back whenever he dropped one of his classic deadpan remarks. It was either that or crumble under the weight of his seemingly endless disapproval.

But today, all you can muster is a grunt in response, head throbbing from fatigue and chronic sleep deprivation.

“That’s my line,” he says flatly. Because apparently, someone always has to be the cheeky one between the two of you.

��Can we just…” You rub your temple, wincing as the pain spikes. "Can we just not do this today?”

“Are you feeling alright?” His voice loses a bit of its usual sharpness as he steps closer, eyes narrowing in concern. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

“I’m fine,” you huff, waving him off. "Just tired. We can't all function on only ten shots of espresso a day."

"Seven actually. I'm not a maniac. And you don't sound fine."

You roll your eyes, feeling too drained to banter with him. "I said I'm fine. Can you spare me the lecture?"

You mean to walk past him when you feel his hand wrap around your wrist, startling you. Suddenly, there’s that familiar buzz in your mind — your quirk activating with the skin-to-skin contact. The headache momentarily takes a backseat as his thoughts flood in.

Is she really okay? She looks like she’s about to collapse.

Why does she always push herself so hard?

You look up at him, eyes wide and unblinking.

He yanks his hand away as if he’d been burned, the flood of his thoughts abruptly cut off. His dark eyes flicker with something—surprise? Guilt? He takes a step back.

“Sorry,” he mutters, his voice rougher than usual. “Didn’t mean to…”

You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. How are you supposed to respond to that? All this time, you thought he was just cold, that he only ever saw your flaws. But just now, he…

He was worried about you?

“I—” you start, but your voice falters. He’s still staring at you, his expression carefully guarded again.

“I’ll see you around. Feel better." His voice is clipped, betraying none of the thoughts you just heard. The words sound so casual, so dismissive, that for a moment you wonder if you imagined it all.

You want to say something to break the tension between you, but you're suddenly nervous. Your heart races, pounding with the weight of this new knowledge. Before you can compose yourself, another hero calls his name, and he mutters a quick response before leaving.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ 

You promised yourself you were going to avoid him like the plague.

Later that day, when you were tossing and turning in bed, still overthinking your last encounter — you promised. You even came up with (what seemed to you) a solid game plan: You were going to focus on hero work so much that you won’t even have the time to think about him, much less see him.

But the mission had gone from bad to worse in a matter of minutes.

What was supposed to be a simple recon had turned into a full-on chase through the streets when the criminal you'd been tracking for weeks unexpectedly showed up at the deal you were sent to bust. Orders be damned, you vaulted over the rooftop ledge and ran after them.

You leaped across buildings, adrenaline spurring you on. Your mind was focused, heart pounding in rhythm with your footfalls. You’d chased this villain twice before, and both times, they’d slipped through your fingers. You weren’t about to let that happen again.

The villain was fast, but so were you. With each bound, you closed the gap, watching as they darted into a narrow alleyway below. This was your chance. Your heart surged as you prepared to drop down and cut them off.

Suddenly, a figure descended from the shadows, blocking your target from your sight. Your stomach dropped.

Of course it was him.

"Stay back. This is too dangerous for you to handle alone.” His voice was firm and authoritative. Even with the goggles on, you could feel his dark eyes trained on you with that same stern expression you’d come to dread.

"Dangerous? I've been on this case longer than you have!”

You stepped forward but so did he.

“I said stay back,” he warned you. “Don’t be reckless. He’s already evaded you twice, and now he’s cornered. Desperate villains do desperate things.”

“He’s getting away! You’re ruining my chance to finally catch him!”

“And you’ll get yourself killed,” Aizawa snapped. “I’m not going to let a rookie run into a trap.”

Anger flared in your chest. You knew he didn’t respect you, hadn’t from the start. Always criticizing, always watching with that disapproving scowl. You try to push past him, but it’s no use. He’s stronger than you, and maybe even more stubborn.

“Wait here and let me handle it,” Aizawa growled, his voice low and commanding. His scarf moved like a serpent around him, a silent warning that he wouldn’t hesitate to use it if you pushed any further.

You clenched your fists but did as you were told. Much to your frustration, the villain was apprehended quickly after that. You watched from the rooftop, fuming as Aizawa cornered them with ease, his scarf tangling around the villain's limbs like it was second nature. Within minutes, the situation was over, and backup arrived to escort the criminal away.

You stayed put, your heart still racing with the adrenaline of the chase and the frustration of being sidelined once again. The cool night breeze did little to calm your heated emotions. It wasn’t fair. You’d been so close, only for him to swoop in like you were some rookie who couldn’t handle their own mission.

Now, you watch as he finishes giving his statement to the police and then make his way towards you.

You cross your arms tightly, readying yourself for whatever critique he’d throw your way this time. But when he stops in front of you, he doesn’t say anything right away. He simply takes off his goggles and looks at you.

His silence is almost worse than his usual condescending remarks. When he finally speaks, his voice is gravelly, strained. More measured than you expected.

"Are you okay?"

You blink. "I…I'm fine," you answer, maybe a bit too defensively.

Aizawa's eyes narrow, and for a moment, you think he’s about to call you out for your tone. But he just stares at you, his expression as unreadable as ever.

You shift on your feet, feeling the weight of his scrutiny. The silence stretches between you both, heavy and awkward, until he exhales and rubs the back of his neck.

"Good," he mutters, his voice softening just slightly, but there’s something behind his eyes—a flicker of something you can’t quite place. His hand lowers back to his side, and as it brushes yours for the briefest moment, something happens.

Skin contact.

Before you can stop it, his thoughts are bleeding into yours, loud and clear.

I should’ve handled that better. She probably thinks I hate her…

Dammit, I don’t want her to hate me.

Your breath catches in your throat. A rush of emotions flood your mind: frustration, concern. Genuine fear.

She doesn’t need to prove herself to me. She’s already good enough. More than good enough.

Heat floods your face, your pulse quickening. He… cares? Before you can process it fully, the connection snaps. A sudden coldness washes over you as your quirk is forcibly erased.

Aizawa’s eyes lock onto yours, his irritation visible in the sharpness of his gaze and the tight line of his mouth.

"I…I didn't mean to," you tell him, your voice barely above a whisper.

Something like uncertainty flickers in his expression, and his hair falls down in waves as he shuts off his quirk, too. His jaw tightens but his brow furrows as though he’s trying to decide what to say.

“I...know you didn’t,” he finally says, his voice low and rough.

You flinch, guilt bubbling up in your chest. “I’m sorry,” you murmur again, dropping your gaze to the ground. You didn’t want to invade his mind, but now you couldn’t unhear what you’d discovered.

Just like before, he turns to leave.

“Wait—” you blurt out, reaching for him instinctively. You don’t know what you’re going to say, but you can’t just let him leave like this. Not again.

He pauses, half-turning to glance at you over his shoulder. Your heart is pounding in your ears. The words are there, but they feel jumbled in your throat, tangled up in the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions swirling through your mind.

“I—I didn’t know. About any of it.”

Your eyes search his face for any sign of what he’s thinking, but his expression remains impassive. You fight back the urge to touch him.

“I thought you couldn’t stand me,” you admit in a small voice.

Aizawa heaves a sigh. His hand rises to pinch the bridge of his nose, and for the first time, you notice how tired he looks; exhausted, worn down in a way that makes him seem more human, less the untouchable figure you’ve always seen him as.

“I’m not trying to be hard on you,” he says after a long pause, his voice softer now, the anger draining away. “But you don’t always think things through, and that’s dangerous. You’re talented. You don’t need to prove anything to me or anyone else.”

His words surprise you, and you look up, meeting his gaze again. There’s no scowl, no biting critique, just honesty. You swallow hard, feeling an odd mix of warmth and discomfort settle in your chest.

Before you can think better of it, your hand moves instinctively, brushing against his arm. You freeze, realizing what you’ve done, but this time, he doesn’t pull away. And though he has every opportunity to, he doesn’t erase your quirk either.

I’m too close to her. The thought is faint, hesitant. She’s already in my head… and it’s getting harder to push her away.

Your breath catches in your throat. He’s not just frustrated with you — he’s frustrated with himself.

You pull your hand back, not wanting to intrude further.

You don’t know what you expect to see on his face; surprise maybe, or even anger. But for the first time since you’ve met him, you see something warmer in his eyes — something that sends a flutter through your chest.

Aizawa takes a half-step closer and your pulse quickens at the proximity. Then, in a voice so soft it’s almost a secret, he murmurs, “Don’t make me worry like that again.”

“I won’t,” you manage to whisper, your heart caught in your throat.

He takes a step back, as if remembering himself, and his usual stern demeanor slips back into place.

“Go home. Get some rest.”

You nod, still too flustered to speak. The warmth of his touch lingers long after he's gone.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ 

It’s well past midnight, the city quiet except for the soft hum of distant traffic and the occasional sound of wind rustling through the streets. Your patrol route brings you to the edge of a quiet park, where you catch a familiar figure standing in the shadows, keeping watch.

“You really like brooding in the dark, don’t you?" You smile at him from over your shoulder, though your usual sarcasm is gone.

“It's my favorite pastime,” he deadpans, but you don't miss the way his dark eyes hold yours a beat too long.

“Right,” you snicker. “The city’s most stoic hero. I bet you even scowl in your sleep.”

Aizawa’s lips twitch, the tiniest of smirks threatening to break through. “You can’t prove that.”

"Oh?” You smile sweetly, batting your eyelashes for good measure. “Something tells me I can.”

His gaze sharpens slightly, and for a moment, you’re sure he’s about to call you out on your teasing. But instead, he steps closer, his tall frame looming over you.

“You’re bold tonight,” he says, his tone somewhere between amused and intrigued. “Careful, I might start thinking you’re actually enjoying my company.”

You bite your lip to keep from smiling any wider. “And what if I am?”

He steps just a fraction closer, and you can feel the heat radiating off him in the cool night air. His voice is low and smooth when he says, “Then I’d have to wonder what it is you think you’re getting yourself into.”

The air between you thickens, the playful banter now laced with something a little more dangerous, a little more exciting.

“You know, I could buy you a coffee sometime,” you offer, hoping to diffuse some of the tension, keep the conversation light. “To say thanks for helping me out with that last mission.”

He pretends to mull it over but, before you can react, he reaches out and grabs the coffee cup you’re holding. He takes a deliberately long sip, watching you with an intensity that makes your skin tingle.

When he lowers the cup, he meets your gaze with a half-lidded look that sends your pulse racing.

“Consider it done.”

Your face feels impossibly warm now, and you’re sure your blush is painfully obvious, but you manage to keep your voice steady as you quip, “An indirect kiss? Maybe you’re the one who needs to be careful, or else other people will start getting the wrong idea.”

With a low laugh, he hands the cup back to you, and the subtle brush of his fingers against yours sets off another wave of his thoughts.

I wonder if she realizes how much I want her.

Your breath catches.

For a split second, you think you might’ve misheard it, but the heat in Aizawa’s gaze as he watches your reaction tells you otherwise. The cup is back in your hand, but your fingers are numb. Your focus is entirely on him, his thoughts still rattling around in your mind.

His lips twitch again. “You’re awfully quiet all of a sudden,” he teases, his voice low, almost a purr. “What’s going on up there? Something I should know about?”

You swallow hard, trying to gather your composure. He’s looking at you like he’s daring you to admit what you heard.

You take a deep breath and decide to play along. “Oh, nothing. Just wondering if you always flirt this shamelessly.”

“Maybe I just wanted to see how you’d react.”

Your heart is racing now, fingers trembling around the cup in your hand. His gaze is dark and intense. Unwavering. He's looking at you like he knows exactly the effect he’s having on you and he’s enjoying it.

Your quirk had always been a double-edged sword; sometimes it revealed things you wished you hadn’t known, and other times it brought clarity to situations that seemed hopelessly opaque.

This time, it left you with a dilemma.

“Go ahead,” he murmurs, as if sensing your thoughts. He’s close enough now that you can feel the warmth of him, his presence overwhelming but not uncomfortable. “Since you’re already in my head…why stop now?”

Your breath hitches. His invitation is dangerous, yet impossible to resist. There are a dozen reasons why you shouldn’t — you work together, it’s an invasion of privacy, you hated his guts just a few weeks ago — but the temptation is too strong, his presence too intoxicating.

Hesitantly, your fingers brush against his once more, and his thoughts flood in again, more intense and vivid this time.

She’s braver than I thought. I like that.

I shouldn’t be doing this. But damn, I can’t stop thinking about her. The way she looks at me…

“Good girl,” he cooes, his voice a low rumble that sends a flutter of excitement through you.

You feel lightheaded, dizzy with the weight of his thoughts, the tension between you at a boiling point. You swallow hard, trying to regain some semblance of control, but the way Aizawa’s eyes are fixed on you — dark, intense, hungry — it’s making it hard to think straight. He wants you to know. He wants you to feel what he’s feeling.

And you do.

You feel everything.

His desire is a palpable thing, hanging in the air between you, electric and heady. You can see it in the way his gaze lingers on your lips, the way his breath hitches ever so slightly when you lean in.

“Hardly seems fair. I don't get to know what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours.” His voice dips lower, enough to send another wave of heat crashing over you. “Are you going to keep me guessing?”

Your voice wavers slightly, but you manage to respond, “I’m not sure you’re ready for what’s in my head.”

He chuckles, a dark, low sound that makes your stomach flip. “You might be surprised.”

You can barely breathe as he brushes the back of his hand against your jaw, his thumb pressing lightly on the corner of your mouth. You feel his thoughts ripple through you again, even stronger this time.

I want her. God, I want her so badly…

Your knees feel weak, and it takes everything in you not to lose yourself completely in the moment, in him. The tension between you feels unbearable now, as if one wrong move could send you both over the edge. And you’re not sure how much longer either of you can hold back.

Aizawa smirks, just a hint of satisfaction flickering in his expression.

I could kiss her right now. It would be so easy.

The thought lingers between you, thick and heavy, and you can’t tell if it’s yours or his anymore. All you know is that just the idea of his lips on yours is making your entire body hum with anticipation.

Aizawa watches you carefully, as if waiting for your reaction. He knows you heard him, and he’s not backing down.

You swallow hard, the weight of his gaze pinning you in place. “Go ahead then,” your own voice sounds small and distant to your ears, but it’s enough to tip the balance.

His lips are on yours in a second.

The kiss is soft at first, tentative, as if he’s testing the waters, but it quickly deepens as the tension that had been building between you finally breaks. His other hand slides around your waist, pulling you closer, and you feel his thoughts rushing through you again.

God, she tastes even better than I imagined.

Your knees nearly buckle, and you can barely focus on anything except the way his lips feel against yours — firm, warm, demanding yet tender. He’s kissing you like he’s been holding back for far too long.

When you finally pull back for air, your heart is pounding, your breath shaky. Aizawa’s forehead rests gently against yours, his eyes half-closed as he catches his own breath. His thumb brushes lightly over your cheek, a small, affectionate gesture that has you smiling up at him in a tizzy.

“Still think I hate you?” he murmurs, his voice low and full of heat as he slides his hands into the curve of your waist.

You laugh softly, pulling him closer by his scarf. “I think I might need a little more convincing.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ 

The days that follow your little late night tryst at the park are deliciously unbearable.

It’s as if you don’t know how to be around him anymore. There's tension during training sessions. The gym hums with its usual energy, but you can’t focus. Not with him in the room. You’re sparring with someone, half-heartedly dodging and throwing punches, but your mind is elsewhere, replaying the feel of Aizawa’s lips on yours, the heat of his body pressed against you.

Across the room, he’s speaking to a group of trainees, the same unreadable, stoic expression in place. But there's a flicker of something else in his eyes when they briefly meet yours, a look only you recognize.

Your opponent lands a hit on your shoulder and you nearly stumble. You grit your teeth and bring yourself back to the present moment. When the sparring session ends, you grab a bottle of water and try to catch your breath.

He walks over to where you’re sitting off to the side, seemingly doing the same. His voice is low enough so only you can hear. "You're distracted."

You flush, struggling to keep your expression impassive. “And what if I am?”

“Focus, or I’ll have to give you some private training later.”

His words are a promise, dripping with intent, and your blood sings. You can’t find a response quick enough before he’s already pulling away, leaving you flushed and even more distracted.

It’s not much better during night patrol, when the city streets are dimly lit and mostly empty. Although the two of you are supposed to be overseeing different sectors, you know when you turn a corner into a dark alley that he's following silently, closely behind.

You walk deeper into the alley, pretending to scan the area, but the quiet crunch of his footsteps has your heart racing. Just as you’re about to turn back, a hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you into the shadows, away from prying eyes.

You open your mouth to say something, but he’s already on you, crashing his lips against yours.

“You’re making—it hard—for me—to concentrate,” he murmurs between kisses, each word punctuated by the soft graze of his mouth against yours. His hands press against your hips, pinning you gently yet firmly to the wall, and a wave of heat spreads through you.

Suddenly, an image flashes in your mind: him trailing his mouth downwards until he’s on his knees, hooking your leg over his shoulder and eating you out. A thought that isn’t your own.

“You’re one to talk,” you shoot back, though there’s no real bite to it. If anything, your voice is barely steady. “You’re supposed to be patrolling your own area.”

He runs his fingers along your jaw. "And let you wander into dark alleys alone?" He leans in, lips brush against your ear, nibbling. "Not a chance."

He crooks a finger under your chin and tilts your head up, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat, his teeth and lips lingering just enough to make you gasp.

I want to taste you. All of you, he thinks. I want you to make a mess on my face, on my fingers, and then lick it clean.

You grab a fistful of his hair and tug. He presses you harder against the wall, and it’s dizzying, intoxicating—

Until the sharp crackle of comms cuts through the haze.

“Report. Any activity?”

You both freeze, breaths mingling, still pressed close. His eyes flick to yours, and there’s a hint of amusement dancing in them.

“Nothing to report,” he says, voice calm and collected as if he hadn’t just been kissing you senseless a moment ago.

You look up at him, dazed and wanting, heart pounding. He tilts his head at you and you realize they’re expecting a response from you, too.

“N-no activity here either,” you manage despite the tightness of your throat.

The comms fall silent once more. Aizawa is looking at you through half-lidded eyes and a self-satisfied smirk. You hate him as much as you really don't.

“We should get back to our routes before someone decides to check on us," he murmurs.

“Oh, so now you’re concerned about protocol?” You arch an eyebrow at him, though you’re sure your flushed cheeks betray any semblance of teasing bravado.

"For now." He leans down to brush the shell of your ear with his lips. "But if you keep looking at me like that, I might just break a few more rules.”

A few days later, you find yourselves seated across from each other during a mission debriefing. The room is full of other pro heroes, but it might as well be empty for all the attention you’re paying to anyone else.

Your thoughts scramble every time Aizawa's knee brushes against yours beneath the table. He, on ther hand, is the picture of composure, listening to the debrief with his usual detached focus.

This meeting’s dragging. I can think of better ways to pass the time with you.

You try to focus on the mission details, but half way through, he moves his hand atop your thigh and you shiver.

How long do you think it’d take if we just slipped out, right now?

You steal a glance at him, and there’s the barest flicker of amusement in his eyes when they meet yours.

You force yourself to look down at your notes, but your mind is elsewhere, his presence impossibly distracting. Fuck it, you think before you slide your foot up his calf.

He sputters a cough, a rare crack in his usually unshakable composure, and you feel a surge of satisfaction. Under the table, his hand tightens on your thigh, his grip firm, almost possessive, and the thrill of it has you biting the inside of your cheek.

Keep doing that and I won’t be responsible for what happens after this.

As the meeting draws to a close, everyone rises to leave, and Shota gives you a barely perceptible nod toward the hallway. You follow at a careful distance until you reach his office, entering a good few minutes after he does so as not to arouse suspicion.

He backs you gently against the door as he locks it behind you, his gaze pinning you in place. His eyes are dark and stormy, with that half-focused look you’ve come to love so much. When he speaks, his voice is soft, a murmur meant only for you. “You’re going to get us caught, you know that?”

You smile up at him sweetly then tip-toe to give him a soft, lingering kiss. "You’re the one who can’t seem to keep things professional,” you coo, your fingers tracing along the collar of his shirt, teasing.

A muscle in his jaw twitches. “Is that so? Funny, I don’t remember you objecting."

“Of course not,” you confess breathlessly, head thrown back in pleasure as you tug at his hair. You can’t make out the sound of your own voice over the blood thumping in your ears. “Do you know how many times I’ve imagined us doing inappropriate things in your office?”

Your words seem to snap the last of his restraint.

A low growl escapes him, and before you know it, he’s gripping your hips and lifting you just enough to press the hardness of his length against you. You gasp. His mouth finds yours with a raw, pent-up hunger that has you clinging to his shoulders, heart racing wildly.

“And here I was, thinking I was the only one losing sleep over this,” he murmurs between kisses, tugging your bottom lip gently between his teeth.

He pulls you flush against him as his tongue explores your mouth, and you trail your hands down his chest and the ridges of his abdomen just as eagerly. You grind your hips down on his erection and he lets out a deep, guttural groan, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Fuck, baby,” he pants, his warm, rough hands slipping beneath the hem of your shirt. “You’re lucky we’re alone.” His tone is half-warning, half-promise, and you can feel his heartbeat racing beneath your hands.

"I know somewhere we wouldn't have to worry about being interrupted," you tell him breathlessly. “My place. Tonight. If you’re up for it.”

He lets out a quiet chuckle, thumb brushing over your lower lip. "I'll clear my schedule.”

[majoryeager104]

went on a bit of a break but I’m baaaack I had a crazy weekend but like not in a good way 💀

But anyways check out this ART omg

Do I ship it? No. Am I betting money that Aizawa is five seconds away from adopting another traumatized birdie? Absolutely

He looks so done already tho lmao 😭😭

creds to artist! (If anyone recognizes the artist lmk bc I fucking love their style omg)

[corollaservant]

There’s just something about lanky men. (18+)

You know, the type of man who’s scrawny, awkward and with a small ribcage (not from working out, genetics, you cuss). The one who doesn't put emphasis on his clothing, wearing whichever clean tshirt he can find, a pile of dirty clothes accumulating in his bedroom. The one who has water bottles, take out bags, cigarettes or weed papers and a nasty sink in his apartment. The one who has messy hair, tired eyes and cannot socialize for the life of him. The one who scratches his head, looks down awkwardly as he crosses his legs and sits weirdly on a chair. The type to never initiate a first move, friendship.. let’s not even talk about sex. There’s something about these men, you wouldn't call it a fetish, no, you don’t judge people by body types, that’s weird. It’s just that you notice a pattern here. Cause everytime you find these traits, you kind of guess their personality too. And maybe sometimes..you’re wrong.

They’re the same ones that will bend you in half, once they get the slightest hint you might be into them. The type to inexplicably know how to work their fingers in your little cunt, hell, you’d think they were pros in another life, the mastery in pace, roughness and multitasking is crazy here. These guys have you wet your panties like you can’t. By yourself. Alone. They kiss you while they’re at it too, don’t think they can’t do both. They kiss softly, open mouthed but desperately at the same time, kind of like they don’t want you to be able to breathe anymore. And… you can’t, but they don’t stop until you push their shoulders back, breathing through your nose isn't enough.

They’re the type to stay silent when you suck them off, concentrated and focused on your performance. They might bite their lips and hum softly, you’d think they don’t even like it even when you’re gagging down their whole length (palm included, as they’re large and girthy). Your throat aches and you haven’t even stopped the act and here they are silent and unappreciative, you might think. Well, you’re wrong. They appreciate it more than they let on. Do you know what it took for them to master this composure? Endless nights of jerking off just to the sight of your pretty pussy, cumming and cumming until they could build up some endurance. Mind you, they are talented but lack in the sexual experience department. Porn doesn’t get them off, they think it’s performative and staged, can’t get hard watching some poor woman fake moan and look at the camera, they think it’s embarrassing. No, instead they can easily picture you, with your legs spread and your pretty cunt glistening — anticipating their touch. Be it their skilled, slender fingers, their drooling mouth (yes, they drool inside) or their throbbing cock, they can’t get enough of your widened eyes and parted mouth and you can't stop silently begging just for a touch. And they cum, they aren’t too loud even when alone so imagine how much they try to stifle their moans when with you. You may have started deepthroating them, but their cock jerked the moment you ran your tongue down their shaft once, didn’t you notice it? They take it, you didn’t. They are close to cumming, they bite their tongue and can feel the metallic taste of blood their sinking teeth left, shit, they wouldn’t be able to taste you properly later on; they think and cuss instead of thinking the trouble they'll have swallowing down food. 

They quietly push you off, they really want to cum but these men are selfless. They don’t want to put anyone's pleasure above yours so they throw you on the bed. That’s where you were wrong too. You see them, a skeleton in clothes and think ‘’damn, this guy really is a loser’’..well, if he is, then he certainly is a strong one, these dudes have muscles you can’t even see and the rage that fuels them, makes up for it. They want to lick up a strip from your hole trickling down your left thigh, shit, they're so tempted, they might come on the mattress for all they care but their cock throbs when you ask them to fuck you instead.. if that's what you want, who are they to say no?

Their lanky chest presses against you, you can feel the pressure from their protruding bones on your skin, as they sigh, their sticky slit coming in contact with your also wet (soaked) entrance. They might just sigh but their brain is fighting a hard battle right now, to not cum just by the friction and the mess of fluids. Once you beg repeatedly (‘’please—baby, please!’’) and they can’t take it anymore, they awkwardly push the length past your folds, it slams in you violently as their sternum clashes onto you. You moan, it feels heavenly, a remarkable girth that stuffs you to the brim. They don't bottom out yet, you think fuck it, there's more? Oh sure, there is. They will shyly push more in, inch after inch, these men are NOT talkative but will make sure you are ok for good measure, wouldn't want you fainting or in pain due to their stupid cock. Little do they know, you want more and fast, but that's ok, whatever you order, they deliver. You can't tell, if they do it with skill or instinct but the thrusts are calculated and timed and they bring you close to an intense orgasm, they know it — they are observers, noticing the type and volume of moans that exit your mouth each time, that is why a slender pad of their finger is brought against your clit. They know how to hover and tilt their hips inside you simultaneously as they tease you. ‘’B–baby, oh my god.. please’’ you mewl, you shut your eyes and they’re close too. You just squeeze too damn much, whether you know it or not (they never tell you that they'd sell their soul to feel like this every day). Soon enough you're cumming, screaming loudly, only.. it's real with you, your body can’t lie and so can’t your eyes, glossy and ready to spill teardrops. These men will not be vocal (or at least they'll try not to be) but this is their breaking point, it's too much — you're too much and they finally whimper, not loud but just enough for you to hear as they let a big load inside you. They’re a deprived and awkward mess, that doesn't believe you would even bat them an eye, when you met them. Well, maybe it's their time to re-evaluate you.

—

(wrote this with surprise surprise.. Shiggy in mind but it suits others too)

L, Mello my man, black hair Dabi, Aizawa, Fyodor, Aku, literally anyone from Nana cast, who’s not a child and please! let me add Hobie Brown.

[6azia]

Imagine being Aizawa’s husband and he comes back home after a long and tiring day of work and you are laying on the couch welcoming him with some kisses. He would probably flop onto you and just bury his head into the heat of your lower abdomen, groaning as your hand opened his ponytail. ❝How was it today?❞ you would ask, however he was apparently already asleep.

Or so you thought.

After some time you began to scroll on your phone while your other hand was massaging Aizawa’s head in slow small circles. Then you felt a light uninspected kiss on your length. The grip on Aizawa’s hair tightened just a bit and your tight flex slightly.

Maybe it was an accident. Aizawa was clearly asleep, you tried to convince yourself. However the mouthing didn’t stop and you began to get hard. ❝F-fuck..mhma~❞ you groaned lowly while trowing your head back. You rolled your hips slightly and received a moan in return. Aizawa looked up at you through hooded eyes and a sly smirk. ❝Tomorrow❞ he would say and teasingly make his way into your shared room. Letting you hard and anticipating behind.

[the-grimm-writer]

Thinking about having a toxic relationship with your yan. Knowing that you should run away and never look back. But the way he makes you feel is something no other person can replicate, and he knows this.

It's addicting, the way he knows you so well. The small things that he knows will get to you. Remembering your favorite movie and show. Your go to take out order. Your guilty pleasures that he doesn't judge you for.

And he knows your body so well that he knows all the right buttons to push, how hard or slow to go for you to scream and cry with pleasure and make you come undone.

He's so close to being the perfect man for you. If he hadn't gotten so possessive over you before you became more than just friends with benefits. Or if he didn't hate when you showed attention to anyone else, even friends that you've been close to long before you even met him. Not to mention how pushy he gets for you to move in with him after just a few months of being together.

Because of that, fights with him were often. Why did you look at that guy at the store for too long? Who were you just texting? Let him see your phone. Why didn't you respond to him? Why do you have to leave? Just stay with him.

If you do leave or try and break things off, he uses all the excuses for you to come back. That he misses you. He can't live without you. Even just the classic you forgot something at his place.

You go back despite your friends begging you not to. Terrified that one day they'll see you on a missing person's poster and they'll never see you again.

Worst of all, you know they have a reason to worry.

You know the things he says during fights are true. He wants to lock you away and throw away the fucking key. He wants to bash any other person who even looks at you wrongs head in until they're an unrecognizable mess on the side of the road. That you belong to him. That he knows how he feels isn't healthy. He just loves you so much that he just doesn't care.

Then once you're done screaming at him, telling him that you're done, you hate him and never want to see him again. That all your friends and family were right about him, he grabs you and pulls you into an aggressive, passion filled kiss that always leads to your clothes being ripped off of you.

And after a night filled with rough hate sex, covered in marks and bruises, he gently pulls you into his arms. He kisses your cheek, softly apologizing for going too far. He buys you gifts the next day as well. Expensive jewelry and even the cute little plush that you've been wanting from the store.

He swears that he'll never do it again. Confesses that he just loves you so much that sometimes he can't help but snap. And you melt right into his sweet words, thinking that maybe it is okay for someone to love you the way he does when he makes you feel like the most special girl in the world even after hurting you.

When you tell him that you love him too, he knows he has you exactly where he wants you. Right by his side. Even if it winds up destroying you both.

.

BNHA: Keigo, Dabi, Natsuo, Aizawa, Kirishima

JJK: Choso, Geto, Gojo, Nanami

Tokyo Revengers: Mikey, Izana, Kazutora, Nahoya, Ran, Sanzu, Hanma

[luvseraphh]

ᯓ★ parenting

parenting s. aizawa

in which aizawa has to leave eri with mic in order to take care of you

notes sick ! reader , fluff

you pouted up at your tired boyfriend as he played with your hair, the warm washcloth warming up your forehead.

"i'm sorry," you softly apologize.

"for what?" he asks, genuine curiosity on his face.

"you basically had to take a break from parenting to come and parent me," you reply with a soft laugh, although there was no humor in your words. you were being genuine.

"do you know what my job is?" he playfully retorts, trying to lighten the mood between the two of you.

"yeah, but..." you trail off, gnawing at the inside of your cheek as you try to find the right words to apologize.

"listen to me. i'm here because i want to be, not because you made me be here. i want to help you get better. and you don't have to apologize for me loving you," he sincerely affirmed, looking straight into your soul with warm and loving eyes.

"thank you, shota," you smile up at him.

"you're welcome."

[laseracronym]

They Made You Cry (MHA/Fem!Reader)

(Laser: I'm sad today, so I curse you with angst.)

Summary: MHA characters reacting to making their girlfriend cry. (Angst, arguments, and some unhealthy relationship dynamics.)

Characters: Bakugou, Dabi, Aizawa, Shigaraki, Midoriya

MHA-MHA-MHA

Bakugou

Katsuki's heart sinks when he sees the unmistakable wetness that mists over your eyes. What's worse, what really makes him feel like the worst kind of bastard, is the way you shy away from his gaze with a sense of bitter defeat. Like he's getting what he wanted. Like his victory, his intention, was pushing you to tears.

As if he could ever consider this a victory.

"H-Hey..." he reaches out to you, awkward and unsure. He's so bad at dealing with tears, especially yours. It's so much easier to take on whatever piece of shit that's made you cry, but in this case, it's him. He's the piece of shit.

You sniffle, hurriedly brushing past him, equal parts angry and hurt.

"Whatever, Katsuki."

Dabi

The thing about you is that you're so damn unpredictable. Sweet one second, drawing blood the next.

Dabi kind of loves it. It keeps things from becoming boring, getting stale. And you're so hot when your eyes are ablaze with whatever emotion is overcoming you.

Just like right now, in the middle of some pointless, bullshit argument, when something he says makes you snap. You tackle him to the ground, your hands fisting into his jacket as you yell in his face. All he can do is grin up at you dangerously, just as angry, but equally as enticed by just how vibrant you look in this moment.

Then something even sweeter happens.

Big, fat tears begin to drip from your wild eyes, and Dabi sucks in a breath. You sob, frustrated and overwhelmed, and his cold, little heart warms at the sight.

"Oh, pretty girl..."

His arms wrap around you as you cry into his chest, cursing his name all the while. He strokes your hair, twisted affection squirming in his chest like a nest of spiders.

Always so unpredictable and entertaining.

Aizawa

"(Name), I-" Shouta falters, all the anger and frustration from your argument washed away by cold, all-consuming guilt at the sight of the tears slipping down your face.

You hurriedly wipe them away, stepping back, away from him, and the guilt deepens.

He knows you hate crying in front of him, even when it isn't his fault. It makes you feel weak, and he knows you worry he'll think less of you, that he'll find your more emotional way of being "irrational."

You turn, hiding your face as you try to walk away, but he stops you, gently catching you by the arm.

"Wait," he pleads, his voice gentle, "I'm sorry." Because no argument is worth making you cry.

"I don't want you to see me like this," you mutter, your head down. But at least you're not pulling away from him. He takes that as a good sign.

"Don't hide from me," he urges. He takes you by the chin and tilts your head up so he can look at you properly. He brushes your tears away, regretful that they're there in the first place. "Let's talk about this, okay?"

He's always so stubborn, set in his ways. But he'll try to meet you in the middle, to understand your perspective. You're worth it.

Shigaraki

Tomura feels no guilt at the sight of your tears, only vindictive satisfaction. Good. He'd been aiming to hurt you when he said those words to you. He really can't stand the way you make him feel sometimes, so he's happy to return the favor.

"You're seriously crying?" he taunts with a cruel smirk, poking at your cheek with a mocking finger.

You smack his hand away, "fuck you, Tomura, you fucking prick," you hiss, trying not to cry even more in front of him. You turn and storm away from him before things get even worse.

"You're so pathetic!" he calls after you, making sure you can hear him before you slam the door behind you.

He huffs, standing there and scratching at his neck. You're so damn overdramatic, a pain in his ass. You deserve to cry a little for the shit you put him through.

The image of your tear-filled face flashes through his mind. He ignores the way it makes his stomach twist with discomfort.

Midoriya

Izuku feels his own eyes fill with tears, watching you hug yourself and cry in front of him.

"(N-Name)... please don't cry..." he begs, his hands brushing up and own your arms, trying to console you.

"I thought I was never going to see you again," you cry, your words making his heart ache. You scrub a shaking hand over your eyes, "I was so s-scared for you!"

"I'm sorry, (Name)," he pulls you into a hug, his own tears running free. He really scared you this time. It was a close call. "It's okay, I'm okay. I'm here."

He shushes you gently, guilt spreading through his chest at the distress he's caused you. His job is always going to cause you to worry, the only thing he can do is try his best to come home to you at the end of the day.

(Requests)

[sanipoyo]

“USE YOUR QUIRK ON ME, HITOSHI”

note - this is edited! i changed some of it :3, shinso drabble, enjoy cuties!

SHINSO kneeled, trying to catch his breath after sparring with his mentor. “when you’re ready, let’s go again. i want you to use your quirk this time”, mr. aizawa instructed and shinso nodded.

a minute later, shinso leaped towards aizawa in attempt to sneak attack him. the old man dodged to no surprise and continued dodging all of shinso’s attempted punches and kicks.

“i’m surprised your still so agile, guessing your age hasn’t caught up to you yet, huh?” hitoshi taunts, trying to get a verbal reaction out of aizawa. instead, he got tied up with mr. aizawa’s binds.

“you’re pretty stubborn, erasure”, hitoshi huffed, chest heaving while he stood in front of mr. aizawa, immobilized and trying to buy time so he could think of a plan. “these villains aren’t gonna be any better, you know.” eraserhead replied and shinso sighed.

“ya think so?” hitsohi asked, causing aizawa to shoot a glare at him. was shinso doubting his teacher? a pro hero? “i know s-“ mr. aizawa began to say getting cut off by shinso’s brainwashing. the binds loosened, freeing him from being unable to move. shinso couldn’t believe it at first, he commanded mr. aizawa to surrender the binding cloth as a whole and he did it. shinso approached his teacher, pushing his shoulder slightly and he snapped out of the brainwashing.

“i won this time.”

Ⓒ all published work belongs to sanipoyo! do not copy/plagiarize.

[yandere-sins]

hii! i was wondering if you could write yandere aizawa x fem reader where she escapes for 10 days. When he finally gets her back, he gives her a punishment that lasts ten days. on the last day, he takes her out and shes so scared and timid. he washes her up and gives her food but she thinks he's messing with her.

thank you, you dont have to if you dont want to. ive never requested before so i dont know how to do this..

You did everything perfectly fine! Thank you for requesting one of my favs ♥

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

You were a sight to behold.

Always, of course. Nothing and no one could come close to you, both physically and mentally. No one that he'd rather spend time with, listen to as you complained, and share a bed with despite your struggling to get some space away from him. All he ever did was protect you, support you, love you. Those thoughts had kept him awake every second you had been gone, the pain in his heart unbearable as he missed you, searching every nook and cranny to retrieve you from your escape.

The nights were dark, the days too busy. You were clever, so you would desperately try to prevent attention on you, whether it was getting into confrontations or even just showing your face on a street interview. Aizawa was almost proud you escaped, showing how intelligent you truly were if you wanted to. It should not have felt like pure luck when he finally stumbled across you, but it was. Days of being free had made you careless, and Aizawa couldn't even dislike that about you, either, because it made you two closer in the end, even if you hated it.

For ten days, he had punished you. Precisely the same time you had spent frolicking outside, hiding in sleazy hotels, and being too paranoid to enjoy the time away from him. It was a vacation, but judging by how frail and exhausted you looked when he finally spotted you, you didn't use it as much as you should have, given that ten days of pain and torment awaited you once you came home.

One day where he broke your fragile resistance by dragging you back, making you regret ever leaving until you swore you wouldn't do it anymore.

One day where he made you feel worthless and incapable, giving you better examples of what you should have done and how you could have properly escaped him, forcing you to repeat his lesson over and over.

One day spent in pain, making sure you'd remember your wrong-doings, where his scarf became a whip, and you had to count the strikes and tell him why you were wrong to leave.

One day without food and water, chained to a wall, soiling yourself and feeling all the pain from the prior day, all so Aizawa could make you believe you were dying so you'd cling to him on the next day.

One day resting on the couch, forcing you to eat, drink, and feel anything he ordered you too, chipping away on your self-preservation and ensuring you knew he was the one providing everything for you.

One day where he instilled the feeling of being helpless in you, waterboarding you in the tub when you were barely awake yet, so he could really ingrain the fear that he had power over you no matter what,

could care for you and hurt you at any given time.

One day, he took you outside to the scummiest part of the town, showing you that you were an easy target without his protection, letting the worst of the worst leer, grab, and hurt you until you pleaded and begged for him.

One day to let you sleep in the cold, dark basement, gagged and blindfolded, deprived of your senses, so your thoughts could finally focus on what was important—Aizawa.

On the last day, Aizawa took you out to a cafe, ordered your favorite dessert, and fed it to you, always waiting for you to willingly open your mouth. He took you home and undressed you, a sharp breath of his enough warning for you to stay still, and for a few hours, he merely spent his time taking care of you, brushing your hair properly, washing your body, treating your wounds, telling you he loved you and would always be with you.

There were only minor reactions from you. A bit of panic when the water sloshed too high, flinching when Aizawa touched your bruised arms, and a soft sigh as he massaged your scalp. You, clinging to his arm to make sure he'd not leave you in the same situation you had been in before, and you only hesitated for a second before opening your mouth and eating what he held out to you.

It was perfect.

Finally, Aizawa had you where he always wanted you. You wouldn't stray from his side, accepted his protection and closeness. There wasn't a hint of struggling when he took care of you, and you crawled into his arms willingly that night, resting your head on his chest as if it was the most natural thing in the world. It was how it was always meant to be. You were perfect—this relationship was.

So, to make sure you finally understood your place by his side, on day eleven, he started from the very beginning, every punishment more severe than on day one. And what a sight you were, bruised and battered, knowing very well what would happen the next day as you clung to his left leg after just three days of punishment. Looking up at your captor with your dull, tear-filled eyes, whispering, "I love you," like Aizawa had always wanted.

The scarf he used as a whip slid to the floor. Hearing these words, his heart burst with adoration and pride. Yes, you finally understood it! You finally relented your useless struggle and gave way to your true feelings! He was overcome by adoration as he hugged you tightly, your blood staining his clothes, the smell making him both happy and nauseous at the same time. It smelled like you, the very essence of you, and Aizawa loved it. You were a sight to behold, perfect both body and mind. Everything was finally as it should.

"I love you, too," he whispered, squeezing you tighter even though you whimpered from the pain. "I love you so much."

"But you lost your streak, let's start again. Don't cry, my love, I know you can do it."

[xothatnerdykid]

guilty as sin

You're a dedicated nurse who loves their job even when it means taking care of stubborn, battle-worn pro-heroes (or maybe especially then). Aizawa Shouta x gn!reader. Set between S6 & S7. Fluff, slight angst with comfort. SFW, 2k words.

The sterile scent of antiseptic fills the air as you walk down the pristine white hallways of Central Hospital. The raid against the Paranormal Liberation Front had left the medical facility overcrowded, understaffed, and bustling with activity. You yourself had been working tirelessly for the last 24 hours straight to care for the numerous injured heroes and civilians. 

Exhaustion weighed heavily on your shoulders, your feet dragging slightly with each step. Your shift was supposed to have ended hours ago, and you were more than ready to clock out and get some much-needed rest. However, there was just one patient left to see.

You knock at the door. 

"Good morning," you greet the man lying down on the bed. You don't have the strength to muster a smile, but that's okay. He doesn't seem to either. 

Instead, he gives you a familiar nod. "Good morning."

He was a brooding, reserved man of a few words. With dark hair and even darker eyes - well, eye, the other being wrapped in bandages - he looked more tired than you some days. You can't fault him for that though. You knew he had been at the front lines of the battle that day and had paid a heavy price for it. 

He sits up as you come closer, approaching his bedside. The room is quiet, save for the soft beeping of the machines monitoring his vitals.

"How are you feeling today?"

He shrugs. "I've been better. I've been worse."

"I can see that," you nod, noting the way his complexion is less pale and his hair less unruly today compared to the past week. You open the blinds for him, warm light streaming into the dim room. “More sunlight ought to be good for you.”

“Mhm,” is all he says, blinking up at the bright, blue sky out the window. 

You take that as your cue to go about your usual tasks silently, adjusting his IV, checking his bandages, writing down his vitals. 

Then, out of the blue, he says, “You’ve been working long hours lately. You should get some rest.” 

"Believe me, I will. Just as soon as you're taken care of first."

"I'm fine,” he responds in a clipped, dismissive tone of voice.

“Fine or not, it's my job to make sure you’re comfortable and healing properly. You went through a lot, losing an eye and a leg. Frankly, I’m not sure we should go through with discharging you tomorrow.”

He heaves a tired sigh, “Like I said, I’ve been better, but I’ve been worse, too.” 

Frowning, you sit down on the bedside chair and take a moment to look at him. Despite his stoic facade, you can see the toll all those years of being a hero have taken on him, especially the past few weeks. The dark circles under his remaining eye, the weary lines and scars etched into his face. The worried, pained look that lingers even when he's trying to relax. 

"You know, it's okay to admit that you're not feeling great. From what I've been told, it seems like you've been through hell and back."

He shrugs again, leaning back against the pillows with a wince that he tries to hide. "It comes with the job. If anyone deserves your concern, it's my students."

“It must be hard, seeing them fight in a war. They’re just children, after all.”

He nods grimly, his mouth a tight line. "And because of this—" he touches the bandages covering his eye "—my quirk is pretty much useless now, especially on the villains we’re up against.”

He doesn't say it, but you can hear it in the tightness of his voice, his clenched jaw, his hands fisting the bedsheet. You know what he really means: “I'm useless now."

You want to reach out to touch him, maybe place your hand atop his, but you're not sure if he'd welcome such a gesture, especially from someone he's only known for a short time. You settle for a few sympathetic words instead, folding your hands in your lap. 

"Aizawa-san, do you honestly think your quirk is the only thing that makes you a hero? You've done so much for your students, for so many people. You're a mentor and a role model to these kids. I'm sure they trust and look up to you more because of this, not less.”

He looks at you for a long moment, that same unreadable expression on his face.

"I appreciate that, but it doesn’t change the fact that I can’t protect them the way I used to."

"Maybe not, but even without your quirk, you have your experience, your wisdom, and a heart that cares deeply for them. That's more than enough."

Instead of responding, he stares silently up at the ceiling. You don't push him, resigning to let the moment simply stretch out. After all, this is the most you've ever talked to him the whole week.

As he gets lost in his thoughts, you find yourself mentally tracing the contours of his face, where the sunlight bathes his skin in a soft, warm glow. It accentuates the strong lines of his jaw, his nose. Softens the look in his dark eyes. 

You take a quiet breath, surprised by the fluttering sensation in your chest. It's an odd time and place to notice something like this, but you can’t deny there's a certain rugged handsomeness to him.

You shift your weight, feeling a little self-conscious about your own thoughts. It’s unprofessional, you chide yourself, to think of a patient this way. But the inexplicable attraction you feel for the man before you is unmistakeable.

Aizawa turns slightly, catching you off guard as his eyes meet yours. When he finally speaks again, his voice is softer, almost contemplative. 

“It's strange. There was a time in my life when I wouldn't have cared what happened to me in the line of duty, whether I lived or died. But now...I want to live for those kids. My kids.”

You manage a wobbly smile even as your heart aches at his words. "Your students are lucky to have someone who cares about them so much."

“You remind me of them a little bit.” He lets out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling softly in the quiet room. “Determined, stubborn, always insisting on helping.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” You ask, tilting your head to the side.

The corner of his lips quirk up, and the realization that he might actually be teasing you sends your heart aflutter. 

“Mostly good,” he murmurs. “A little bit troublesome for me though.”

“Yeah?” You bite back a smirk. “You’ve been a bit troublesome for me, too, you know.”

He raises an eyebrow, leaning back against the pillows. “Is that so? And how do you propose I make it up to you, then?”

Maybe it’s the huskiness of his voice, the quiet intensity of his gaze, or the faint smile tugging at his lips, but something about him in this moment makes your stomach freefall. And you’re suddenly overcome with the urge to kiss him, passionately and spontaneously, as if afraid to see sense. 

You know you shouldn't indulge this, should put a stop to this train of thought before it gains too much momentum. You’re thankful you manage to keep your voice steady despite the rush of blood pounding in your ears. 

“Well, Aizawa-san, you could start by taking me out to dinner. Dealing with a patient as stubborn as you has its price, you know.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, and you wonder if you’ve made a terrible mistake. But then his gaze flickers down to your lips before meeting your eyes again, and you feel your breath hitch. He tilts his head, his expression thoughtful yet guarded, as if trying to read between the lines of your playfulness.

“I suppose,” he concedes softly. “But you might find that I’m not as interesting as you think, Y/N. I’m just a man who cares about the people in his life and does what he can to protect them.”

"That's exactly what I like about you.” Your voice drops to a whisper, your hand lightly brushing against his.

He groans softly, and you feel a blush rise to your cheeks at the sound. He rubs his hand down his face, seemingly weighing his options. 

It’s not too late, you assure yourself in a rush of anxious thoughts. You haven’t crossed any lines you can’t go back on, haven’t overstepped the delicate boundary between patient and nurse, between flirtation and something more. 

“Will you let me kiss you at the end of the date?”

Oh.

The line is a dot now.

You swallow hard and — heart pounding in your chest, everything else spinning dizzyingly out of focus — you rush forward to close the distance between you, pressing your lips urgently against his. 

The spark you felt before intensifies into an electrifying current now, racing down your spine as he tangles one hand in your hair and another holds you by the nape. He tilts your head back to kiss you deeper, his lips hungrily exploring yours, and you feel drunk on the pleasure of his touch, the intoxicating scent of his skin and his aftershave.

The softness of his lips contrasts with the roughness of his stubble, sending shivers of delight coursing through you. His mouth is warm and inviting, and you lose yourself in the sensation of his kiss, the way he breathes you in, the quiet sighs of pleasure that escape both of you. 

Your mind spins with the realization of how much you’ve wanted this and how many ill-advised daydreams you’ve had of him these past few weeks. When you finally break apart for air, you keep your forehead pressed against his, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. The sound of your blood rushing in your ears drowns out the rhythmic beeping of the machines around you, and for a moment, the world feels narrowed down to just the two of you.

“I-I’m sorry,” Your breath comes in ragged gasps. Your fingers gingerly touch your lips, which are pursed in surprise. “That was reckless of me. I shouldn’t have.”

Aizawa blinks at you, his dark eyes wide and dazed, like he’s trying to process what just happened. He licks his lips, a gesture that sends a fresh wave of warmth through your body.

“Do you…” His voice is husky, tinged with uncertainty. “Do you regret it?”

“No, of course not,” you say quickly, shaking your head. “I only regret not doing it at a better time.”

His eyes widen slightly in surprise before softening, the tension in his shoulders seemingly melting away. 

"Good," he murmurs, reaching for you, his thumb cradling your jaw and tracing small, soothing circles on your skin. “Because I’d like to do it again—”

He presses a soft, lingering kiss to your cheek.

“And again—”

He brushes his lips teasingly against yours, feather-light and promising of more.

“And again.”

The admission sends a thrill through you, a rush of joy and excitement that makes your pulse quicken. "All the more reason to look forward to dinner, I suppose. After you get better, that is."

He chuckles softly. "Shouldn't be a problem, seeing as how I have an excellent nurse taking care of me."

"Mmmhm. Speaking of, is there anything else I can do to make you…more comfortable before I leave?” You can't help but ask, a playful lilt in your voice.

He captures your lips in a delicate kiss, so sweet and tender, like a dream barely skimming the surface of reality. You've finally calmed down enough to hear the sound of his heart rising, betrayed by the loudening beep of the machine. His hand trails down your arm and he laces his fingers with yours, smiling against your lips. 

“I can think of a few things.”

[tootiecakes234]

I am a sucker for guys that can’t verbalize how they feel about you. Guys that would actually serve you the world on a platter if you asked for it, but can’t even meet your eyes when they are trying to pay you a compliment. Same guys who are more comfortable throwing little insults your way, even tho in their head you are the most perfect thing to walk the face of the earth.

These are the same guys that everyone thinks are rude and standoffish, but behind closed doors are actually just needy babies that want your attention only. From the outside people are probably confused why you’re even together because he seems to be uninterested, but little do they know.

They dont pay attention to the way he looks at you, or the way he can almost read your mind through your facial expressions. They can’t see the way he memorizes every detail about you. Outsiders will never know that almost any free time he has is spent by your side.

He loves you more than anything else ever. He doesn’t have to show the world that….. only you. And he definitely does every single day

Katsuki Bakugo, Kei Tsukishima, Megumi Fushiguro, Aki Hayakawa, Loid Forger, Shota Aizawa, Wakatoshi Ushijima…any of your faves💕💕

[6azia]

Just imagine being a villain and always messing with Aizawa when he is on patrol. You know he doesn't hate it but he always tries to ignore your teasing ways. The subtle touches making him forget his duty for a split second. 

❝Y/N~❞ he groaned out tiredly as the hand around his neck tightened just a bit more. Throwing his head back, he came in contact with your hooded face. His capturing weapon snaking itself around your limbs and waist, pulling you more in.❝ Already missing me? ❞ Y/N teased, pressing his now erect self and rolling his hips slightly. Just as he was about to lean down for a kiss, the sound of glass breaking and screaming could be heard. At that exact moment, Aizawa got out of your light hold and went off. ❝Till next time❞ could be heard from you as you stayed on the roof all alone like always.

[nvreads]

'cause age ain't nothin' but a number

aizawa x afab!student!reader; reader is of legal age; suggestive

a/n: getting back into writing, so this is just a small blurb for now. all feedback is appreciated!

-

aizawa knew it was wrong. he wasn't stupid, quite the opposite. but how was he supposed to resist with the way his skin burned when you touched him? or with how painfully hard his cock got whenever he caught a glimpse of your lacy panties under your skirt? all thoughts of the potential consequences flew out the window as he watched you sit on his desk at the front of the empty classroom.

a small pout formed on your glossy lips as you leaned back and spread your legs. it wasn't the first time you were in this position and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

"c'mon, sho," you said, the nickname for the man beautifully rolling off your tongue.

the internal battle he was having with himself was evident on his face, his brows furrowed and his delicious lips curled into a frown. he had a duty as a teacher, a duty to protect and care for each and everyone of his students. he took his job seriously, so why couldn't he resist the temptation that you mercilessly tortured him with?

his inner turmoil happened practically every time you fucked, yet you understood his position. he was going against every moral obligation he had.

after a quiet moment, aizawa took a small step forward and stood in between your spread legs. he placed one hand on your waist, the other slowly inching up your inner thigh. a grin spread across your face, knowing he had given in and that you won once again.