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oathofmaestro · 3 years

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Catching Feelings - Pt 5

Aizawa x Reader (NSFW)

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Summary: As you and Aizawa part ways, hoping that Mic doesn't catch on to what the two of you were doing, you're lost in a jumble of confused thoughts. You and Aizawa need to talk, so that's what you were going to do. Warnings: NSFW/18+ Content; fingering, oral (female receiving), sex, praise kink, dirty talk; generic fluff & angst A/N: Hiii, can't stop me from writing this series. Burnout or no burnout, can't stop meeee Word Count: 4.9k

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Your palm tingled from where it had met Aizawa’s cheek. Had Mic actually bought the charade? He wasn’t nearly as dense as he was perceived as, and he knew Aizawa better than anyone. So, if anyone was going to catch onto the fact that you’d just had your mouth wrapped around Aizawa’s cock and the two of you were very much not fighting, it’d be him. You hoped, with a rapidly beating heart, that Aizawa filled in any cracks in the facade. Because you couldn’t handle Mic finding out that you and Aizawa were...what?

Finally friends? More than friends? Friends with benefits? In a relationship?

You jerked your classroom door open and stepped inside, waving a hand at your students as you approached the podium.

It didn’t matter, did it? Not when it came down to it. You two were finally beyond your expected relationship--or lack thereof. You weren’t the two heroes, the two coworkers, the two teachers that hated each other. Well, not to the two of you, at least. If you could just get over your miscommunication, the two of you could actually, probably, maybe enjoy each other’s company. You’d already found yourself doing so, and that was when you were swimming with uncertainty. Now, with certainty? The thought made you beam.

But you needed to talk. You needed to figure out where you went from here. Label or no label, lines needed to be drawn in the sand, rules needed to be set, feelings needed to be explained. Your own, for example. Hell, what were your feelings? How did you genuinely feel about the Erasure Hero? You’d hated him for nearly a year, and now? A year’s worth of feelings were being altered; were shifting into a confused, jumbled mess.

You liked him. Surprisingly. Well, at the very least, you didn’t hate him. Not in the way you’d thought you had. And when you looked at him, like really looked at him, he wasn’t the frumpy grump who you argued with. He was the lean hero whose stubble scraped against your jaw when you kissed, whose jawline could cut the tension between you, whose eyes could pin you in place. His hands were soft and gentle...tender, even. His arms held you tight, and his hair tickled your skin. And his mind? As much as you hated to admit it, especially back when the two of you felt like enemies, he was cunning, intuitive, rational. His wit never faltered when the two of you bickered. He could respond with a sarcastic quip faster than you could snap your fingers. It was infuriating then. Now?

No, it was still infuriating.

Infuriating, frustrating, but as you thought about Aizawa’s dark eyes glaring at you? Your heart skipped a beat. It was different now, even though your standing was as clear as murky water. Murky water that you needed to wade through, clean, filter, and figured out what remained when that water ran clear. But mud clung to your feet as you stepped off the shore, and flora wrapped around your legs.

Where were you supposed to start?

Aizawa. If you started by talking with him, surely the two of you could come to some sort of agreement, right?

If you could actually sit down and have a conversation together. An impossible feat when getting him alone was harder than Tetsutetsu’s steel. You had to work around all of your coworkers, the students, very specifically, Present Mic. How were you supposed to talk to someone who you were expected to never talk to? And especially after what’d happened today. The last thing the two of you would do is have a chat. So how the hell were you supposed to make that happen?

You stared down at your phone as the final bell rang, and you waved goodbye to your students. There was one way you could talk without drawing too much attention.

“Hello?” Aizawa’s voice rang through your phone’s speaker.

“I thought I’d finally call you back.”

You flicked the light off in your classroom before stepping out into the hallway. You could hear--easily, as always--Present Mic in the background.

“Mm?” His low voice reverberated at a frequency that made your entire body tingle. “Took you long enough.”

“I thought that maybe we should, I don’t know, meet up and finish what we started earlier.” You stopped and pinched the bridge of your nose. “I mean, not that, you know, I mean. Well, I’m okay with finishing that. But I meant what we were talking about. What we were kinda talking about before we started- before things turned-”

“I understand.”

“Right.” You bit the tip of your thumb and leaned against the wall. “Right.”

Midnight’s laugh echoed through the speaker and Aizawa groaned before you heard a door open, close, and then the background sounds quieted.

“Tonight,” Aizawa whispered. “I can come over tonight. If you’d like.”

“Yes,” you breathed out. “Okay. Yeah. Do you need my add-”

“I remember.”

“Good. Okay. Yeah. Cool. I’ll be home all night so just come over whenever you’re able to. If that works for you.”

You swear you heard the faintest chuckle leave Aizawa.

“It does.”

“Okay.” You nodded. “Awesome. I-I guess I’ll see you then.”

“You will.” There was a banging on the other end of the line, and Aizawa yelled, “I’m coming.”

He sighed, and you stared out the window. You could still feel how his body tensed beneath you, thighs and abs flexing as you touched him, as you kissed him, as you-

“Thank you, by the way.”

“For what?” You took a few tiny steps forward.

“For finally calling me back.” Aizawa hummed when a burst of laughter left you. “I’ll see you tonight, (Y/N).”

“Yeah, I’ll see you tonight.”

You bit your lip as the line cut. That was one of the first times you’d had a conversation with Aizawa where you didn’t feel...confused? Or angry? It felt weird. Weirdly weird. It made your stomach uneasy, and your chest feel too small for your heart. Which was beating in your ears, each rapid beat making your head throb.

Wait. You had to wait. If you left now, you risked running into Aizawa and the others on your way out. And if you did that? Ha. That’d be chaos. Having to pretend to hate Aizawa? That your entire body wasn’t on fire when Aizawa looked at you? That you didn’t want to shove Aizawa into an empty room and memorize every inch of his body?

Cool. You could wait. You could do that. You already had to do that for the rest of the evening as you waited for Aizawa to come over. And who knew how long that was going to last. It could be one hour; it could be five. Was he going to hang out with Mic? Grade papers and then come over? Were you supposed to provide dinner? You should probably have dinner ready. What were you going to make for dinner? Was this a date?

Was this a date?

Your phone slipped from your grasp, and you stumbled forward to catch it.

Was this a fucking date?

“Oh, god.” You clutched onto the electronic. “Was this a fucking date?”

You waited a painstaking fifteen minutes before you finally left the school. Most of the teachers were long gone--Aizawa included--and you were able to leave freely. And despite knowing Aizawa wouldn’t be over until later, you sped home. Cleaning, you had so much cleaning to do. And cooking. And set up. It didn’t matter that Aizawa had already been over to see your apartment in its typical moderately messy state; tonight was different. Tonight you felt like you had to impress.

Bathroom, living room, kitchen, balcony...bedroom?

You stood in your bedroom doorway and stared in at the room. Your bed was partially made; you had some clothes thrown over a desk chair. Shoes were knocked askew in your open closet door, and the occasional shirt and dress hung partway off the hanger. Were you supposed to clean your room? Would it seem too presumptuous? Was it too presumptuous when he’d already been in it, naked, plowing you into your mattress? Not that you were expecting anything to happen, he was coming over so the two of you could chat. That was it. But if you cleaned, would he think you were expecting more than that?

Too many options. Too many variables.

You let out a long breath. A little bit, you’d clean a little bit.

It was half-past six when Aizawa texted. All he’d said was “omw,” and you sent back a thumbs-up emoji to try and match Aizawa’s relaxed, cool demeanor. But as you searched your cupboard looking for something to make for dinner because, oh my god you’d forgotten that you should probably make dinner, you were shaking because you had nothing. Absolutely nothing. And then fifteen minutes later, fifteen minutes you’d spent sweating and shaking and mind-fried about what you were supposed to do, Aizawa knocked on your front door.

“Uhm. Are you alright?” Aizawa asked when you opened the door and stood pin-straight.

“I...” You sighed as you let Aizawa step past you. “I’m bad at buying groceries.”

Aizawa looked at you like you had clown makeup plastered on your face.

“I was going to make dinner, but I don’t really have anything, so I’ve been kinda freaking out because I can’t not have something to make when you come over at dinner time.”

“(Y/N),” Aizawa turned to face you once you closed your front door. “Take a breath. You don’t have to cook anything.”

“Okay.”

Aizawa stared at you for a moment before he stepped aside and plopped onto your couch. He ran his hands through his hair, and you watched the way the long black strands fell back into place. He nodded at a nearby chair, and you dragged your feet as you walked towards it. You weren’t exactly uncomfortable; you couldn’t be when the nerves you’d been ignoring earlier when you’d had the bright idea to invite him over were in overdrive.

You crossed and uncrossed your legs after you sat down. Aizawa watched impatiently, and you felt like you were messing everything up. He’d just shown up, and you were already failing. Hell, the two of you had just started...whatever you’d started...and you were dumping it down the drain.

What were you supposed to say? What were you supposed to do? Why hadn’t you thought through all those confusing emotions before Aizawa showed up?

“What are we?” You blurted out when you couldn’t stand the weight of Aizawa’s gaze anymore. “I-I mean. Where do we go from here?”

“For one,” Aizawa said as he folded his arms across his chest as he sat back. “We’re not doing that again at school. Not only was that inappropriate, it was way too risky.”

You nodded. He wanted to do it again, not at school, but he wanted to do it again! You nodded again.

“Whatever decision we come to,” Aizawa’s eyes settled on a fake plant you had on your coffee table. They followed the length of the waxy leaves before they shot back to yours. “Nobody can find out.”

You felt bit your lip and dug your nails into the armrests of your chair.

“The school because of the policy, the others because…” Aizawa rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know how well that’d go over.”

Silence, again. Silence beyond your slow, uneven breaths. You wanted to laugh at how even the possibility of this being a date had passed your mind. No. No, there was no dating Aizawa when the two of you couldn’t be in the same room together without being expected to tear each other to shreds. So what were you supposed to do?

It felt like a railroad spike was being hammered into your chest.

Maybe you were back to nothing.

Aizawa’s voice was quiet as he spoke.

“So, I’d understand if you just want to go back and pretend nothing had happened.”

That’d be the easy answer. Call it before something else did. Then, at least, you had control over it.

“No,” you found yourself muttering, and Aizawa cocked a brow at you.

Had he expected to come over and for this to end?

“No, I don’t want to pretend nothing happened.” You pulled your legs underneath you. “I don’t want to go back to hating you.”

“Well, we can’t exactly stop that when we’re around others. At least, not immediately. I don’t think Mic would be able to process us all of a sudden being friendly towards one another.”

“I’d never hear the end of it from Midnight.” You chuckled, and your heart nearly melted when Aizawa smiled. “I’m fine with keeping us- it a secret.”

Us. Nice one. There wasn’t an “us” between the two of you as far as you were concerned. You’d corrected yourself, but you’d still said it. And it was clear that neither of you were going to say what you wanted. You could see it in Aizawa’s stiff posture, his slightly uneasy expression, and the way he kept adjusting his hair. Neither of you were exactly cowardly; you would both bolt out to fight a villain without a second thought. But here? This was entirely uncharted territory. What if you said something the other didn’t want?

No.

“I don’t hate you.”

“I could’ve done that months ago.”

Aizawa had made it pretty clear a few hours ago when the two of you were very much not trying to kill each other in the gym that he wanted something more. Well, he, at the very least, wanted something. Something he’d been wanting for an extended time now.

“More.” you said after the ticking of your wallclock had started to drive you up the wall, “I mean, I want- I don’t know. It’s...I don’t...I don’t hate you.”

When had being around Aizawa made it hard for you to speak?

“You’ve said.” Aizawa’s eyes softened. “I don’t hate you, either.”

“You’ve said,” you parroted. “So it seems we’ve reestablished that we don’t hate each other.”

“We have.”

Above you, freezing air was pumped out of your AC. It fell across your room like a blanket of relief. The tension that clouded the room made your body burn. As you sat there, heart and mind racing, you couldn’t help but want to strip out of your warm-weather-ready dress. And it wasn’t just because you were thinking about what the two of you had been doing earlier. Well, not just because of that.

But you weren’t getting anywhere. Not when two cowards were on either end of the conversation. The conversation would go in endless circles until, eventually, one of you passed out from exhaustion. No. One of you needed to take the reigns and, fuck it, it might as well be you. But you were still going to keep it easy.

“Alright. What we’ve been doing?” You sat up and huffed. “Take out the miscommunication and the avoiding each other, and I like it. I like what we were doing when we were on the same page. If you want to label it, we can label it. If you don’t want to, we don’t have to. But I like spending time with you, PG-13 or NC-17.”

Aizawa was quiet for a bit, and you swore, as the ticking of your clock snuck back into your consciousness, you were either going to break the damn thing or start shaking Aizawa by his shoulders.

“No labels,” Aizawa finally said. “I don’t like to lie, and if anyone inquires about...us...I won’t be lying when I say we aren’t together. Not like that.”

Us.

Alright, you could work with that. You could work with that easily. And it didn’t mean much changed at work. It wouldn’t be hard to keep up the charade of disliking each other now that you knew it wasn’t genuine. There wasn’t that uncertainty to hold you back, and you could practically argue with the Erasure Hero in your sleep. What wouldn’t be easy would be spending time together. You couldn’t exactly hang out together at school, although even if you weren’t pretending the two of you weren’t together, it wasn’t like Aizawa was outwardly affectionate. But, you’d have to figure out how to hang out together without your coworkers figuring out.

“I can work with that.”

You and Aizawa relaxed at the same time. The last few days had taken more of a toll on you than you’d realized. And now, all you wanted to do was just relish in what you had: Shota Aizawa. Shota Aizawa on your couch, lips curled up into the faintest smile, cheeks tinged pink, eyes soft as they met yours.

You were on your feet before you realized it. Your hands tangled themselves in Aizawa’s hair as your lips met his. It was desperation, you knew, but you were desperate for the hero. There was no uncertainty now. The way his hands traveled your body? How his mouth fit perfectly against yours? The soft groan he let slip when you pressed yourself against him? They were real.

They were real, and you were going to be able to do this more. You were going to be able to do this all the time.

Well, not all the time. But the point still stands.

There was no more hating Shota “Eraser Head” Aizawa, and it felt fucking amazing.

It felt amazing until, as your lips trailed down Aizawa’s neck, your stomach growled, and Aizawa chuckled.

“Maybe,” he whispered, “we should order some takeout.”

You nodded your head. “Yeah, please.”

Aizawa suggested a nearby sushi place that Mic had recommended, and you couldn’t say no. He offered to go pick it up, but as you sat on his lap, peering at the menu online, the erection you probably weren’t supposed to notice hard beneath you, you opted for the extra delivery fee. That way, you could make up for the months of contact you’d been missing out on. Particularly, the contact that was made up of having Aizawa on his back as you kissed each other slowly, carefully. Like this was the first time you’d ever been alone together, like you hadn’t already gone way beyond first base.

Each movement was as leisurely as the last. Your hands skimmed his chest and felt every muscle underneath his clothing. His mouth left yours, and he experimented in finding which spots on your neck made your hands grip his shirt the tightest. Your hands raked down his thighs as his tangled in your hair, and your bodies pressed together until they fit like puzzle pieces. His breath hitched in your ear, and you knew he was straining in his pants. So much so that when your doorbell rang, you had to pry yourself from him--which you couldn’t solely blame on him; he did feel amazing underneath you--to answer the door.

You both ate through the sushi faster than you’d been meant to.

“Question,” you said as you picked up the plastic to-go containers. “After we slept together the first time, you’d said you hadn’t meant to spend the night.”

“That’s not a question.” Aizawa blatantly ignored your glare as he gathered up the unused napkins and chopsticks.

“If it hadn’t been a one-and-done, hate-sex thing, why’d you say it?”

“Two reasons.” Aizawa held up two fingers. “First, I hadn’t actually meant to spend the night. I didn’t want to intrude, nor did I want to make it weird for work the next day. Second, I wasn’t sure where you stood on what was happening, and I didn’t want you to think I expected something from this when you expected nothing else.”

Aizawa cocked his head to the side and furrowed his brows as you rinsed, wiped out, and recycled the containers.

“Question of my own.”

“Shoot,” you said as you washed your hands.

“Why’d you wait so long to ask Mic why I hated you?”

You let your hands stay under the cold water long after the soap ran off. Fifteen minutes ago, you’d been all over each other, ready to fuck. Now? Well, you very much wanted to go back to that.

“Uhm.” You dried your hands on a small hand towel on your dishwasher. “I...I didn’t really want to know.”

Aizawa raised a brow and leaned against the kitchen counter, dark irises locking with yours.

“I don’t know; I,, just didn’t want to know why you hated me. I…” You shrugged. “Didn’t want to face it, I guess.”

Aizawa nodded.

“How come you never asked about me? You know, about why I hated you?”

Aizawa stuffed his hands in his pockets and pushed off the counter. He walked out of the kitchen, eyes falling on the framed pictures you had up on your beige walls. They were littered with a mixture of art pieces and personal pictures. Of pastel flowers and photos of family. A spiral of blooming red daisies and a picture of when Mic had dragged you out to karaoke one night when Aizawa hadn’t gone. He stopped at that one and sighed.

“Why ask when I already knew.” He peered back at you over your shoulder. “It was because of me.”

He wasn’t wrong. He was mean to you, so you were mean right back.

“Guess you could say I didn’t want to face it either.”

“I wonder how different things would be if we hadn’t-”

“Very.” Aizawa glanced down at his watch and fell quiet for a long, long moment. “I should get going. I don’t want to accidentally spend the night again. I’m carpooling with Mic tomorrow.”

You practically ran from the kitchen to step in front of the hero. He couldn’t leave, not yet. Not when this--whatever this was--was just getting started. If he left now, what else would you be missing out on? You had so many months to make up for, even if you still didn’t have a label for what you were. More than friends, that’s what you were going to go with for now.

“Wait,” you panted. “Stay a little longer.”

Aizawa pinched your chin and tilted your head up.

“If I stay longer,” he whispered as he closed the gap between the two of you. “I’ll end up staying the night.”

A shiver ran through you and you expect Aizawa to pull away, to put more than a foot of space between you. Maybe grab his things and head right for the door, muttering a thank you and that he’d see you tomorrow. Hell, you thought he’d remind you to be an asshole at work tomorrow because you definitely couldn’t give him the needy eyes you were giving him now.

But he didn’t. He stayed.

He dropped his mouth to yours and the lazy kiss from earlier returned. But only for a moment. Then? Hunger. Desperation. And your back was quickly pressed against the wall, your framed pictures rattling above you from the impact.

“It only seems fair,” Aizawa muttered as he lowered himself down to his knees. “Considering.”

You grabbed a fistful of Aizawa’s hair as he lifted one of your legs over his shoulder and pushed the hem of your skirt up. You held your breath as Aizawa pressed a chaste kiss to your clothed cunt. The dream from the other day crept forward in your mind, and a curse slipped out of you.

“Yeah?” Aizawa peered up at you.

“I,” you started, words cut off as Aizawa pulled your underwear to the side and blew on your clit. “Remember last time you were here, and I told you about that dream I’d had?”

Something churned in your stomach, and you had to force yourself to keep whatever bravery was letting you talk now.

“Did I do this in that dream, too?” Aizawa asked before he drew his tongue between your folds.

Fuck.

“N-Not that dream. Different one.”

You yanked on his hair to keep him close. He’d barely touched you, and you were already addicted to how his tongue felt between your legs. You didn’t want him to stop; he couldn’t stop; it felt too damn good.

He angled your leg up even more as he kitten-licked your clit and your head fell back against the wall with a thud. It was like he knew exactly what you liked. Like he’d eaten you out to perfection once before and knew precisely how to do it now. Which wasn’t how it was supposed to go. That wasn’t how it goes with first-time sex, oral or not. It was supposed to be goofy, uncomfy even. But your thighs trembled and your head spun as Aizawa devoured you.

“Do you have those types of dreams about me a lot?” Aizawa dipped two fingers into you.

You shook your head and arched your back as he curled his fingers.

“No. They didn’t start until after we sparred.”

“Good to know,” Aizawa muttered as he wrapped his lips around your sensitive bundle of nerves, “that I’m the cause.”

You nodded vigorously and jerked on Aizawa’s hair. His fingers worked you so fucking well, and his tongue was sending you into an oblivion. It was insanity, the way your body tensed as Aizawa sucked on your clit. That familiar coil twisted in your abdomen, and Aizawa hummed as your walls squeezed his fingers.

“Sho.” Your hips rolled against him, and you swore his fingers moved just a hint faster.

When you peered down, his dark eyes met yours, and as his scruff rubbed your thighs, his fingers worked your cunt, and his mouth teased your clit, you fell. Your toes pointed as your back arched, your orgasm slamming into you and rocking your entire body.

It felt a dozen times better than your dream.

As your fingers slowly loosened on Aizawa’s hair, he pulled back and gently lowered your leg to the ground. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and put your underwear back in place. You whined as the cool, damp crotch pressed against you and your wetness dripped down your thighs. Shoulders slumping forward, you reached out and drew Aizawa into a kiss as he rose, and you sighed as you tasted yourself on his mouth.

“Tell me about the dream,” Aizawa muttered. “Every little detail.”

And you did. You told him about how he wedged his shoulders between your legs as he devoured you. How he praised you for cumming over his fingers, his mouth, your body trembling under his touch. How he didn’t stop after you came, his fingers working and working and working you until you squeezed them again. Then how he pushed his cock deep inside of you, taking every inch like the “good girl” you were for him. How, and your breath hitched from more than Aizawa pinning you on your stomach and sliding his cock into you, as you told him how he’s whispered, “I hate you,” in your ear after he came.

“I don’t,” Aizawa breathed as his forehead fell against the back of your head. “I don’t hate you.”

“I know.” You clutched onto your pillow with two tight fists.

“And,” Aizawa said as his hands came down, fingers lacing through yours, “I’ll remind you of that as much as you need.”

Your chest felt full for a moment, Aizawa’s words making something fluttered deep in your stomach and your chest as his own pressed against your back. Unapologetically. That’s how his hips moved. Unapologetically, ruthlessly, desperately. Hand in hand, Aizawa grunted in your ear, cock twitching and throbbing with each thrust.

“‘Every last drop,’” Aizawa whispered, “is what I said, right?”

You nodded into your pillow.

“Well,” his low voice reverberated in your ear, “give it to me, give me every last drop.”

He angled his hips up, and the loud moan that was ripped from you was muffled in your fluffy pillow. His hold tightened on your hands, and you matched it as your walls fluttered, tightened, and then squeezed Aizawa’s cock as you came again. You bit down on your pillow and cried out, “Sho,” as your eyes clamped shut and tears threatened to spill. His cock repeatedly slammed into your sweet spot as you came undone in his arms.

“That’s it, good girl,” he praised through grunts.

You were like goo beneath him as he came, thrusting one final deep thrust before he filled the condom and dropped his forehead to the back of your head once more. You both panted as Aizawa pulled out, and you felt empty. He squeezed your hands once before crawling off of you, leaving a faint kiss to your lower back in his wake.

You peered over at your clock with blurry vision and reached out to turn it more towards you. It was half-past eight, and your heavy eyelids screamed for you to sleep. Oh, how you wanted to sleep. But Aizawa. You needed to see Aizawa out-

There was a gentle kiss on your head, and you turned to see him peering down at you with soft eyes.

“Go to sleep,” he murmured.

“Stay,” you countered as you reached out, knowing he couldn’t, but you had to try.

Aizawa chuckled as he brushed hair out of your face. You were barely able to stay away as he ran a hand up and down your back.

“Goodnight, (Y/N),” he muttered. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

And for the first time in the last couple of days, you were seriously looking forward to going to work.

Taglist: @barrysimpparker

#bitch #I got fed so goddamn well reading this

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