#aizawa shouta drabble
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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.
#🥀 rambles#platonic aizawa x reader#hng made myself ugly sob with this one gang#it’s 2:15 am#dadzawa#bnha x reader#dadzawa fluff#aizawa Drabble#shouta aizawa#aizawa fluff#dadzawa x reader
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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💕💕
#bakugo katsuki#tsukishima kei#fushiguro megumi#aki hayakawa#loid forger#aizawa shouta#ushijima wakatoshi#headconon#jjk drabble#bnha fanfiction#spy x family#haikyuu drabbles#bakugou x reader#imagine#bakugou drabble#drabble#mha fanfiction#fluff#aizawa x reader#mha aizawa#kei tsukishima#loid x reader#megumi fushiguro x reader#fushiguro megumi x reader#megumi headcanons
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PLAY DATE (CHERRY)— aizawa shouta x male reader
wc: ~6.5k
cw: dilf!aizawa, babysitter!reader, sexual tension, slow burn, spanking/impact play, finger-sucking, d/s undertones, daddy kink, praise, manhandling, age gap (21 yr old reader, 41 yr old aizawa), porn with plot, size difference/kink, spit/drool, degradation, rimming, hand holding, full nelson, creampie, breeding kink, light feminization
a/n: yes i was listenin to lana while writin this! howd u know?!
The click of a mouse. The sound of a scroll wheel grinding against plastic— rubbery and restricted. A family of five, four, three..family oriented individuals with more kids on their hands than time. It was late, even for you. Who scoured the internet until the sky’s inky black atmosphere was painted a pacific blue. From there, you’d tend to sleep into the late hours of the evening, beneath the comfort of a heavy weighted blanket, until your phone went off or a nightmare pulled you from your slumber.
Your dry, tired eyes trace the blurry words of your computer screen, the bright white light beaming through the depths of your continuously darkening bedroom. The room is almost radio silent— save for the occasional crunching of chips between your teeth and the fan of your laptop working overtime. The text is almost hard to read, shying away behind a hazy glare.
‘One kid—6 year old girl. One pet— black bombay cat.’
Sounds promising. The letters are arranged in a blunt manner, straight to the point and even somewhat intimidating, but the clear boundaries and requirements listed are fair enough.. Maybe even tilted in your favor. Your cursor wanders, ready to further inspect the profile presumed to belong to the parent who created the listing.
Shouta Aizawa, a middle-aged man with a salt and pepper beard, long hair to match, and a distinctive scar below his eye— which looks milky and clear. The other, however, is a deep pool of brown, warm like melted chocolate. His irises melt into his long lashes, which remain straight and strict, much like the demeanor he emits in the headshot photo. It must be reminiscent of his ID, as his career is listed just below his picture.
Owner of Eraserhead Industries.
Huh.
Chewing the fleshy insides of your cheeks, your eyes dart across the screen, hesitantly inching the cursor over the bright, bolded ‘message’ button. Sparks ignite in your stomach, blooming in the expanse of your tummy as you type out,
‘When can I start?’
You hear yourself squeal, pushing away your mouse with your fingertips and hiding behind the warmth of your palms before your computer chimes in response. The message stares back at you, perforating into you as you read it over and over, trying to imagine how this—practicably— rich man would sound. You settle for a deep voice, giggling to yourself as you read out the message.
‘The sooner the better.’
The man is much scarier in person, and your imitation of his voice was nowhere near accurate.
His voice is much deeper than you thought, gravelly and not nearly as riddled with giggles like you’d tacked on. In fact, it only seems to deepen as he nurses a mug of black coffee, just one large hand completely shielding the cup in its entirety. He’d ordered it, busying himself with the sheets of paper he had placed upon the polished table as you explained just how much whipped cream you’d wanted in your milkshake to the waitress.
He takes up most of the space on his side of the booth in the homely café, his layers discarded and shed along the plush seating. The man with dark eyes, Shouta Aizawa, is a natural born leader. The physical embodiment of sticks and stones, seemingly stronger than Zeus himself, he seems to have no faults.
But that’s not what you should be focusing on, not now, when you’re preoccupied with narrowed, umber eyes. They look at you with nothing but impenetrable suspicion, remarkably intimidating despite belonging to someone who looks incredibly angelic. Tufts of frosty hair, unruly and disheveled and divine. The sun dawns down on Musutafu, framing his locks in a makeshift halo. He looks like a fallen angel, of sorts.
“I don’t trust my kids with other kids,” He says, watching the dark amalgamation of caffeine swirl in his porcelain cup. Does he consider his cat to be his kid, too? “How old are you?”
You perk up, straightening your back as you push your straw in and out of your sickeningly sweet milkshake. Whipped cream clings to the plastic, sticky and bubbly with foam, “Twenty-one, sir.”
Aizawa makes a face at that, steely eyes drooping further with the pinch of his dark eyebrows. They slot perfectly, intricate wrinkles firming between them. Did you… fuck it up? You’d consider yourself an adult— comparable to law, anyway. And you can be mature, especially when it counts, so there shouldn’t really be a problem!
It’s evident he loves his kids, despite the hard exterior that he’s showing off there’s a fatherly glint to his eye. A protective overlay to his words. It’s admirable, if anything. You’d even call it charming, the way his eyes bore into you from the outside-in and pick you apart, if it wasn’t so damn scary being on the receiving end.
“Do you drink?”
“…No?”
“Do you plan to?”
More of an interrogation than anything, you take an awfully long time to reply as you use his suspension as an opportunity to savor your milkshake.
“No.”
You make sure to sound more confident this time.
His questions have been asked before, over text and in a manner not as… blunt as you hear it now. But it’s all down to perception, and you’d managed to wrongfully pin Shouta Aizawa as a care-free, laid back guy. Though, from the looks of it, he seems to live up to the ladder. And, upon closer inspection, it does nothing to tarnish his looks.
“Mm,” Is all he says, humming in acknowledgment as a check is placed his way. “You’re young.”
“Young enough to be your son?” You ask, mouth faster than your brain, and suddenly you can’t stop. Your lips curl upward, a smile gracing your lips as you giggle, “People probably think you’re my sugar daddy or somethin’.”
He doesn’t seem to completely respond to that, letting the comment fly into the air as he shifts. Heat somersaults into your face, heating your body up until you find yourself unable to hold eye contact. Nice going.
You wrap your lips around the plump cherry slowly sinking into your drink, twirling the stem between your teeth. It explodes in your mouth, sharp and sweet along the expanse of your tongue, a nice distraction.
Something alien flickers behind his eyes, “Tech savvy?”
“I— Yeah! I play video games,” You almost forget this is an interview, not a date. The thought makes your brain a little fuzzy, cotton forming in your mouth as you stumble over your answer. “Not— Y'know, never on the clock.”
Shouta looks much more vulnerable with his head turned, his veiny hand reaching into the pocket of his inky pants, pulling out an equally dark credit card. No way. His handwriting is illegible, but the swooning waitress deems it acceptable, thanking him for the tip with a high blush on her cheeks. There isn’t a single ring on his calloused fingers, so it’s almost shocking he doesn’t jump at the opportunity
“Good. Eri likes games.” It’s the most praise you’ve heard all night, and hearing it from the deep rumble of his throat makes it even better. Your gaze must linger, because his dark eyes are staring back into yours, almost looking right through you.
“Eri? Your daughter?”
“I don’t like sharing personal information online.”
You laugh nervously, filling your mouth with the melting drink before he can comment.
“I—Woah, sir… your home is… beautiful.” It’s not just flattery, you genuinely, sincerely mean it. You’ve seen it before, sure, through text and under much more professional scrutiny, but the camera doesn’t do it justice. His house aches with love, wrapped up in kisses and enveloped in a sweet, cinnamon-scented embrace.
There’s a heavy amount of childish memorabilia, like crayon drawings hung up on his stainless steel fridge, miscellaneous toys littering the floor, and a pair of tiny shoes resting next to your own. They look comically small, glittery and pink and utterly, indubitably, reminiscent of a six year old girl. Especially in comparison to the sleek, black sneakers Shouta slips off next to them. Utterly, indubitably, reminiscent of a forty-one year old man.
Aizawa makes his way through the living room while you marvel in astonishment, taking in the sights of his house. Surprisingly, despite his not-so-settle display of wealth, his home is the opposite. It’s the real thing, with lived-in floors and comfy furniture..lively and bright. Sure, his sofa is a muted gray, but the portraits and polaroids and children’s drawings make up for it.
You follow along, nearly tripping over some misplaced barbies and action figures as you quickly remove your shoes and stumble forward. Like a newborn fawn, unfamiliar to its own legs, you walk forward with a bashful smile.
It was almost easy for you to forget that he’s human, and not some strong-willed work-machine designed to finish tasks and take care of children.
But the way his joints pop when he shifts a certain way, the way sweat trickles down his forehead after a long day of working in a stuffy office, proves otherwise. It was then, you realize, that he is all flesh and bones. Not pen ink or an indestructible force.
“Eri’s… picky. Try exposing her to different foods every now and then, there’s a list of recipes she likes on the fridge.”
Shouta’s leaning against the marble of his open-island kitchen, socked feet melting into the cold tile. You half-expected his socks to be just as dark as his clothes, so it’s a pleasant surprise to see cartoonish cat faces littering the fabric.
Right—anyway. You nod, though it’s mainly reserved for yourself, as your eyes rake up the words stuck to his fridge. Freshly printed out, not an inch out of place, you wonder how many times he’s done this. The gears turn in your head, clicking and grinding until your lips part, a breathless expression keyed into your facial features. Wait.
“Does that mean—”
“I’ll text you the extra details. Eri’s bedroom is upstairs, but you should wait for her to show it to you when she’s ready.”
Your apartment is a flimsy excuse of a home, nowhere near as intricate and thoroughly loved as Shouta’s. Walking inside, you realize just that, there isn’t even a hint of glitter or gleam as you walk through the front door. Even though you have yet to meet her, Eri’s already brightened up your life. Your walls scream with loneliness, the sound bouncing off each corner until you’re tucking yourself into bed and curling up beneath the sheets.
And though you barely know him, you can’t help but want to follow the childish urge to open up the website you found Aizawa’s listing on to study his headshot.
Eri, you’ve come to learn, is a very smart kid. Perhaps too smart for her own good, too observant, and way too excited to express said observations. You sit taut on the gray sofa, leaning over a sheet of paper as you carefully color between the lines of the thick, inky, coloringbook outline. But Eri’s got her own leaflet, vigorously coloring something she has yet to allow you to look at.
You haven’t known her long enough for the leaves to brown, to fall off and make room for winter. You haven’t known her long enough to see the leaves return, the chilly air slowly descending into something softer, quieter. Warmer with summer’s welcome. But she grew to accept you rather quickly.
It started soon after your first meeting with Aizawa, and to your dismay, you hadn’t really seen much of him after that. Only small traces and fragments, like the religious filling of Present Meow’s food bowl or notes tacked onto the fridge.
Admittedly, you kinda miss him.
You’ve become quite engrossed in Eri’s choice in television, watching the cartoon with just as much excitement as the six your old. It even makes you laugh, hearty and dinkum.
“How do you feel about niku-dofu for dinner tonight, Er-bear?” She barely moves, her tongue held between the corner of her lips as she furrows her brows in concentration. Whatever she’s coloring is much more important than dinner, apparently.
With outstretched limbs, you stand, reaching for the sky as a yawn is pulled from your chest and your eyes grow heavy. Being dragged along by a six year old all day is exhausting. The hairstyling, the nail-painting, the hero-pretending…the dolls.
(Eri quite enjoyed acting out soap-opera levels of dramatic scenes with dolls. And, of course, you could only be the man in these scenarios.)
But you wouldn’t have it any other way. You’ve grown attached in the span of a few weeks.
“I’ll take that as a yes then!” You chirp, setting down your finished page with a sense of pride. Might even have to add a signature to it!
With Eri’s toys scattered along the floor, despite your constant advisory to clean them up, walking through the house has become quite the challenge. An obstacle course of sorts that Aizawa must’ve been a master at getting through.
Aizawa… With dark circles that cast shadows down his mature face. With stubble that’s cleanly shaved, not a single hair out of place.
Aizawa…With his long, dark hair that frames his face with thick bundles.
Aizawa… Who almost constantly looks disgruntled, faintly pink lips pulled into a tight line.
Him and his signature crisp, black button up that barely fights against his large chest and his matching pants that cling to his stupidly strong thighs.
It makes your brain a little fuzzy, the thought of his equally large biceps bulging in his shirt as he crosses his arms and stares down at you through the bridge of his nose. And his eyes— piercing and domineering staring straight into yours, lips curled as he berates you like some sort of misbehaving child.
(Which you’d spent a lot of time arguing with him about through sticky-notes…The fridge is powered evidence, covered in neon paper as you remind him you’re ‘not a kid!’ beneath his ‘not bad, kid’ post-it note.)
“Hey? Are you okay?” Eri’s small voice snaps you out of your haze, wide and virtuous red eyes blinking up at you. Clutching her drawing to her chest, she shifts her weight between each leg. Her small smile is gone, so you do your best to conjure up a frolicsome grin.
“Never felt better! Finally ready to show me what you’re working on?”
“Mhm,” She hums, reminiscent of her father.
Eri’s picture is nothing short of sweet. Advanced for her age, she’s drawn three figures that resemble the three of you— herself, Aizawa, you— sitting happily at the generously furnished dining table. On her lap sits Present Meow, a black ball of crayon-esque fur, who has small, wobbly hearts above his head. You all do, actually, some bigger than others (e.i: you quite literally have heart eyes that take up more than half your crayon face), but big nonetheless.
Is your crush on her father really that obvious?
“Oh, Eri, that’s—”
The front door trembles, the doorknob clicking and jingling as it welcomes silver keys. Before your eyes, Shouta’s welcoming himself in, strong right arm pushing the door open. His shoulders are draped in exhaustion, his gray scarf tangled around his neck as he shuts the door behind him.
Embarrassment wells up in your stomach, overflowing until you’re hiding Eri’s drawing behind your back. He doesn’t typically come home this early. Usually within the late hours of the night, into early morning, he can be seen rummaging through the fridge for a drink until he heads upstairs, straight to bed.
Instead, he’s stalking forward.
Did his steps always shake the house like this, or are you just imagining it? You must be, it must be your heart in your ears, because your face is flooding with warmth as he towers over you and peeks over your shoulder.
“What’s behind your back?” He lifts an inquisitive eyebrow, faintly smelling of cigarette smoke.
“What? Noth—”
“Look!” Eri snatches the drawing from your clammy hands and pushes it into Shouta’s abdomen. He hunches over, just slightly, before taking in the image.
“Jesus, kid,” He clicks his tongue with a tenderhearted sigh, looping his thumb around the waistband of his black slacks. “You’re somethin’ else...”
You’d have thought it was meant for Eri if his gaze didn’t flicker up to meet yours.
Dinner rolled around fast, and you’d found yourself nicking your finger on one of Shouta’s large, sharpened knives. Cutting up a small portion of potatoes shouldn’t have been so trivial, a pained gasp escaped your lips as you pinched the tiny wound. You wince, instinctively sucking on the skin of your mangled finger.
“I told you to be careful,” He took your hand in his, swallowing it whole with his palms, and went as far as to berate you, grumbling, “Watch yourself. Are you okay?”
Breathless as you watched him open a nearby drawer, he pulled out a kiddie bandaid, decorated with polka dots and even more cats. You held still, letting him wrap the bandage around your finger nice and tight. And then, only then, did he place a small kiss on top.
“There you go, all better.” It’s a passing comment, only pried from his lips because he was so used to saying it to Eri, and he didn’t seem to realize just how flustered it made you. So you coughed into your hand, secretly hoping the warmth permeating off his body would return to your skin.
Now, with dinner finished, Eri has no problem shoveling the food into her mouth. Must've been all the running around, gave her an appetite fit for a grown woman. It’s not like you have room to talk, you’ve almost choked on your side of miso soup a whopping three times. Shouta seems to be the only composed person at the table.
“You got a little,” Shouta points to the corner of his mouth, waving his willowy finger in a quick, circular motion. “Right…there.”
“Hm?” He watches your face contort, timid and self conscious. He can’t help but smile, just a small upward quirk to the corner of his lips, that slowly disappears as he leans in to wipe off a few grains of rice from the side of your mouth.
There he goes again, acting all domestic, as he raises the same finger to his own mouth. Your pupils blow wide, heat forming in your stomach as he sucks off the rice with disregard for how this might look to anyone besides a father.
Your eyes flicker to Eri, who’s too busy fighting off sleep with the handle of her silver spoon, her tiny head jerking and bobbing every so often, to notice the display.
“I guess—- guess it’s time for bed!” Your voice cracks embarrassingly loud as you stand, quick to stop in your tracks when Aizawa follows suit.
“I got it.”
Aizawa, you’ve learned, says that quite a lot. Despite his generous hourly pay and your obligation to take care of his child, he insists it’s best if he cleans after her. Too intimidated to argue, you simply nod, falling back onto his couch as he ventures back for forth— upstairs and back.
Each time he returns, he notices the droop in your eyes, the way they slowly fall with each step he takes. It’s late, he should be escorting you home, but he doesn’t want to disturb your well-earned sleep session.
As he sits to finally take a break, letting his joins snap and pop, you fall face-first into his shoulder, smashing your cheek against the firm skin.
Your lips pucker, pouty and almost fish-like. Your boyish face, soft and not yet worn down by the tiresome nature of time in itself, looks undeniably cute. Perfect for kissing and irrevocably inviting. Your eyes are shut, lashes resting against your cheeks. Time stops, minutes passing within hours, as Shouta takes in your essence and stares down at your innocent face. Stealing a kiss would just be… so…easy…
“Fix your face,” He says instead, clearing his throat and directing his gaze to the dimly lit, yellow-tinted lamp resting on the end table placed by his half of the sofa. “Or it’ll get stuck like that.”
“M’sorry.” You whisper, bashful as ever despite the slippery hands of sleep reaching back for you. Do you even know what you’re apologizing for?
It makes Aizawa want to retract his statement, press his thumb into the unobtrusive crease forming between your pretty eyebrows. But it leaves before it has time to arrive— to settle, as your body relaxes once more. He observes for a moment, the dip of the couch as you finally sink your weight into it, the debt collectors contracted with sleep finally having caught up with you.
Preserving himself through all these years, none being particularly good to him, he wonders if you’ve faced any similar endeavors. He’d hate to leave you alone, cold and barren as another side of his bed remains despicably untouched, only the ghost of what could have been keeping him company during this sleep-centric night. Your breaths are slow and steady, lips briefly parting to mumble something he can’t quite grasp. Shouta tries anyway, tucking his stubbly chin against his collarbone as he leans forward.
His face is dangerously close, a mere inch separating the gap between his lips and soft, supple skin. With your head nuzzled against his shoulder—broad and wide—your words dispel into the thin fabric of his t-shirt. Alongside a fine layer of drool, something he's all too used to, that slowly spreads the deeper you fall into undisturbed sleep. A heavy sleeper then, he presumes.
Shouta keeps you close, pressing your body against his as he loops his other arm behind your legs and hoists you up. He’s careful to avoid any furniture, holding you with an iron grip as he steps up the creaky stairs. His hair bounces with each step, curly and dark, flowing down his back and streaked with gray.
“..Zawa…” Nearly dropping you, his mismatched gaze locks onto your face. Blissed out and camouflaged with slumber, you stir in his arms. “Kiss me ‘lready.”
Aizawa clears his throat, neck constricting as it tightens around the air. It’s fine, just a baseless comment, he decides, as he slowly opens his bedroom door, careful of the noise. You don’t seem to move after that, dozing in his arms until he’s setting you down into his bed. He really hopes you don’t mind it— he doesn’t have a guest bedroom, after all.
It’s dark in his room, blackout curtains covering any sliver of radiance from outside streetlights. So he flicks on the lamp on his bedside table, watching the slow rise and fall of your chest as he lifts his arms overhead to remove his shirt. Something cold prods at his back, and before he can shed the clothing, Shouta redirects himself to look back at you.
Half asleep, your foot creeps under the comfortable fabric of his shirt. You must’ve discarded your socks in your sleep, because you’re rubbing your eyes with balled up fists as if you’d just woken up. Doesn’t stop you from speaking, vocal cords strained, “S’this the part where we cuddle?”
Aizawa watches you shimmy out of your pants, obviously groggy and irrational from having just opened your eyes, your warm skin slowly being exposed inch by inch. You must overheat in your sleep.
“No, it’s not,” He groans out, sucking in a sharp intake of air as he takes in the mural being painted in front of him. “Go back to sleep, kid.”
“Don’ wanna,” You mumble, much more awake as your eyes hone in on the skin of his back that he’s partially exposing. “And I’m not a kid.”
“Sound like one.” You hear him grovel under his breath, almost as if you were meant to hear it. Aizawa has quite the ability to be silent when he wants to, he can creep up on you without you ever noticing. So you suck your teeth, sitting up in his bed.
He expects you to respond with something witty, something he has to pretend he doesn’t find funny. But you don’t, instead staying uncharacteristically silent. Had it not been the dip in his mattress, he would have assumed you dissolved into thin air.
God, how you hope he won’t find you childish for this.
“Sir, I,” Shouta stiffens, his hair falling from behind his ear as he turns to fully face you. “Can I kiss you?”
“Can you..” He trails off, watching your bottom lip jut out. Plump and shiny, Aizawa resists the urge to sink his teeth into it. How soft would they feel? Would you cry into his mouth if he bit too hard? Anything in his hands becomes fragile, and he wants to know how far you can bend before you break. “Can you kiss me?”
He doesn’t give you time to respond, grabbing your ankle with his rough hands to drag you down into him. Your pretty eyes widen, large and unsuspecting as he crashes his lips against yours, feverish and desperate.
His tongue swipes over your lower lip and eagerly awaits yours, tasting faintly of cigarette smoke and cinnamon. Undeniably Shouta, you can’t help but whimper into his mouth, tangling your fingers into his disheveled hair. His mouth is warm and wet— almost searing hot, and you can’t help but choke on your own breaths. You sink into the kiss, floaty and dumbstruck by his urgency.
Like a starved man, he pushes you down on your back and tangles his big hands in the waistline of your boxers, tugging the elastic apart until it rips with a ‘snap!’. You’re exposed, legs instinctively closing to shield your half naked body.
“Aht-aht. Sit still,” Aizawa hand quickly latches around the base of your dick, sending shocks of electricity up your smaller (in comparison to his) body. You tug on his wrist, eyes burning with unshed tears as he stares down at you, predatory and famished. “When’s the last time you played with this pretty cock? Did you think of me?”
He doesn’t give you time to speak, instead spitting down onto your cock with a thick, shiny glob of spit. You can’t help but moan, watching it slide down and heat up through his fingers. His hand envelops you entirely, big and warm and squelching as he accentuates his words with particularly sharp pumps.
“Oh, sweetheart,” His voice sounds condescending and feignedly sweet, you swear you could cum just from hearing it. “S’been a while, huh? Yeah? S’why you’re leaking all over my hand?”
You feel yourself nod, quick and enthusiastic as you melt into his palm. Your legs turn into jello, numb against his warm sheets, as your toes curl and your back slowly inches off the mattress. Shouta’s eyes are lidded and heavy, drinking you in and burning you from the inside out. You keen, pulsating in his hand until the warmth is suddenly gone, and you’re blinking away frustrated tears.
“No—!”
“Greedy brat,” Shouta’s quick to shut you up, large hands sinking into the plush skin of your thighs as he spreads your legs open impossibly wide. “Fuck, got a greedy hole on you too.”
Your hole clenches in response, eager to have his attention. You can feel a trail of precum and spit soaking the area, warm and wet, not yet reminiscent of his cum. Soon enough, you hope, he’ll be filling you to the brim and then some. Your hands, somehow forgotten, scramble to unbutton his dress shirt.
Eyebrows furrowed in concentration, you gasp in retaliation to his big hand clutching your jaw with indescribable force and pressure. Trying to leave finger-shaped bruises. Your lips part, tongue pushed free from your squished cheeks as you blink up at him, eyes dancing between one milky-white iris and another, only chocolate brown.
“Go on, say it. Tell Daddy you’re a greedy boy with a greedy little hole,” He’s spitting into your mouth, a thin trail of saliva indirectly connecting his tongue to yours. “You can do it, sugar.”
Oh. Oxygen disconnects from your lungs, dumbly blinking up at him with a garbled moan. You can’t speak if you wanted to, not with his hand around your jaw like this, so you settle for swallowing down his spit with a feeble smile. All you can push out is a mangled ‘Daddy!’ but Aizawa seems to take that for an answer, groaning as he hikes your knees up to your chest, sighing when you squeal in response.
His big, warm body is pressed up against yours, much bigger and stronger, and it’s apparent in every movement he makes. He’s able to push you around, flip you over and push you down with barely a finger, and you’re sure his hand can cover the entirety of your face. You moan, wanton and sweet in his ears as he maneuvers your arms to keep your legs up.
“Gonna take real good care of you,” Shouta— Daddy sighs, hunched over and breathing dangerously close to your entrance. Almost like he’s talking to your hole instead of you, and you’d protest if it weren’t for the hot, wet stripe he’d just licked down from your perineum to your hole. Your body feels warm and tingly, legs twitching as his tongue prods and pokes deeper and deeper, slowly slipping inside. “Gonna let Daddy take care of you?”
He’s sure to make it messy, adding generous amounts of drool and spit along your sensitive hole, eating you out like he gets paid to do it. He makes you lay there and take it, holding your legs open like some cheap whore, settling between your thighs with feverish and hungry kisses. Making out with your hole, you watch with heavy eyes and a gaped mouth.
“Yeah, yeah..” You moan subconsciously, a constant stream leaving your pretty, parted lips. He takes the opportunity to fill your mouth with his fingers, long and scarred as his fingertips run along your pink tongue. His fingers taste vaguely of salt, and you can’t help but suck on them, eyes fluttering in content.
You barely catch it, a small kiss being placed on the curve of your jaw until he’s freeing his fingers from your mouth. He resists the urge to shove them down your throat, watch your eyes get glassy and wet as you gag on his fingers like you would his cock.
“Gotta get this cunt nice n’ ready. Watch me eat you out, boy,” His voice has dropped several octaves—if that’s even possible—thick and heavy and reverberating straight into your hole. It’s like he knows you by heart, even if this is your first time together, because he’s slotting his thick, scarred fingers in along with his tongue. “Such a pretty hole. Matches your face.”
Through the haze you’re still able to mumble out a quiet, “Thank you,” timid, small, and broken up between moans.
“Good boy, still remembering your manners,” He sounds just as breathless as you, pressing his fingertips against the special spot inside of you. Your body jolts, a shriek ripping from your throat as he puts pressure on it, bullies it with his fingers, and follows suit with his tongue. Too much. “Shh, I know. Try to stay quiet for me.”
For me. The implication has you whining, high in your throat and pitiful as you nod to no one in particular, wiggling in your boss’s hold. For me. The implication has you whining, high in your throat and pitiful as you nod to no one in particular, wiggling in your boss’s hold.
You want to be good, be the best boy you can be, but you just can’t help it. The complete opposite of what he’s told you to do, high off his fingers as your body clenches and your moans grow louder and louder, fingernails digging into the soft surface of the back of your knees. He just presses and presses and—
Stops. Abrupt and fleeting until his hand is back, but instead in the form of a harsh slap right across the back of your thighs. Your sit spots.
“Wh- mm-mm…! Waitwait..Daddy—!” You’re stunned, stuttering and stumbling over your words as you fail to recollect what just happened. You press your face into your knees, bunched up tight as tears spring in your eyes. “That hu—urts.”
The pout in your voice is evident, and Shouta can’t help but coo. Especially when your cock, lodged right between the thickness of your thighs, jumps and leaks more precum. His own throbs in his pants, leaking into his underwear and leaving him sticky. God, he can’t wait to feel your hole twitch around his dick.
“You’re a big boy. I know you can take it, you said it yourself, didn’t you?” And there it is again, the fog that casts over your brain as you can only think of being good. Good for Shouta. Good for your Daddy.
There’s a sharp smack right on top of your little hole, the entrance winking back in retaliation as you sob into your knees. The pain doesn’t last long, simmers down and is easily replaced by heat when his fingers rub soothing circles around your rim.
“Daddy,” Your voice comes out much sweeter and wet, letting out a small sniffle as you peek out to watch him place open-mouthed kisses against your hole. “Want you.”
“You have me, boy,” His heart melts, and a soft smile creeps up on his handsome face. His tie dangles as he shifts his weight, opening his bedside drawer to pull out a condom and cherry flavored lube. Ironic. “Now let me in, wanna make your pretty fuckhole cream around my cock.”
“Wait,” You rasp, watching him tear open the packaging with his teeth. You’re still breathless and shaky, but you’re trying your best. “Wanna feel you. Wanna feel you inside me.”
Aizawa’s deep groans are music to your ears, and your eyes threaten to roll back into your skull when he frees himself of his shirt and sheds his pants. His dickprint is big and thick, throbbing in the fabric and sticky with fresh precum. You want to taste it. His cock springs free as his briefs drop to the floor, slapping against his abdomen and weeping.
You watch him fuck his fist, pouring the slick lube down his cock and warming it up with his palm.
“Yeah? You want it? Gonna listen to Daddy so he can put his thick cock in that sloppy little hole? C’mere before I shoot into my fist.”
You nod so hard it hurts, squeezing your shaft to stop yourself from cumming to his words alone. Your cock twitches in your hand, hard and wet as Shouta walks forward to meet you at the edge of the bed and scoops you up into his arms like you’re weightless. It must be easy for him, seeing as he’s so much bigger than you in every way.
“Won’t fit—”
“Shh,” Like he knows what you’re going to say before you can utter it, Shouta lifts you into the air with ease, and you can feel his cock pressing against your puckered hole. “We’ll make it fit.”
Your back presses against his chest, upright as he loops his arms around the backs of your knees. You’re spread wide, and with Shouta’s strong grip, all you can do is sit there and take it. You can feel him twitch and throb from the inside-out, his cock gushing pre as you sink down onto his cock. Your eyes roll back, wanton moans and a chant of ‘DaddyDaddyDaddy’ filling the air as snaps his hips, barely letting you adjust.
His dick is stretching you open, thick and long, and pulsing and veiny as you feel it bulge in your tummy, pushing past your rim and filling you up.
“Thought about this for weeks,” Your breath catches in your throat, and suddenly you’re too far gone to answer. “I—yeah, should’ve fucked you in that café.”
From the… Start?
Heat pools on your stomach, his cock punching your insides and kissing each sensitive ridge with every movement he makes. Your moans are unintelligible, barely even coherent, as he fucks into you, lifting you off his cock again, and again, and again. Cock-drunk while his dick rearranges your guts, drool slips from your mouth and down your chest.
You look pathetic and ruined.
“So cute like this, pretty baby. You make the dumbest little faces when you’re fucked stupid on Daddy’s cock, but still so damn cute.”
His cock drags in and out of your plushy walls, precum and lube making a creamy concoction along his shaft with each thrust. Your face is stained with tears and drool, mouth open wide as you pant and whine.
The knot in your stomach tightens, your hole beating around his cock as Aizawa moans, and you feel your body go numb as you shudder and convulse. You’re cumming, and your smaller hands squeeze his big ones as he uses you like a fucktoy, bouncing off his lap with tiny, “Mm, mm, mm’s.” Your hole grips him like a vice, swallowing his cock deeper and deeper until you feel warmth flooding your stomach, your balls tightening by the second.
“Da—addy please, m’cummin’, m’cummin’!”
“There you go, smart little boy,” Shouta groans loud in your ear, twitching in your tummy when you clamp down on his dick. He wants to fuck his cum into you, you deserve it. You deserve his cock, you deserve his load, you deserve to be stuffed full until you’ve milked his dick for all he’s got— all it’s worth. “Just keep bouncin’, so fuckin good at it, gush on my cock. What d’you say, baby? What d’you say to Daddy?”
You wish you could see him, the grit of his teeth as his thrusts turn sloppy and messy. But you know he can see you, staring down at the cum painting your chest as it squirts out your cock in thick, rapid ropes. Mixing with your tears and drool, you know you look like sex on legs, eyes void of everything but the need for cock.
“Thankyouthankyouthank—fu-huck,” His cock is jackhammering so deep you can barely breathe. “Thank you, Daddy!”
“Gonna make you just like Daddy, gonna make you one too,” It must send him over the edge, the sounds of your hole squelching as he scrambles your insides, because he’s quick to shoot a creamy, hot load of cum straight inside you. “Wanna be a big boy so bad? Then—fuuuck— take it like one.”
He gives a few last slow, deep thrusts inside so his cum really takes, carefully freeing your legs as you collapse onto him with a breathy moan.
“‘Zawa…”
“C’mere, brat,” You’re quick to whine, weakly pressing your face into the expanse of his large chest, all tears and snot and cum as he cradles your head between his large hand and his even larger chest. You feel protected in his arms, shrinking even smaller into his lap as your eyes slip closed and his cum leaks down your thighs. “You’re a good boy. My good boy.”
Shouta’s hand is ablaze when he brushes it along your forehead, soon after replacing it with a gentle kiss. He means it.
“Let Daddy take care of you.”
#₊˚⊹♡ 𝒻𝒶𝓃𝓉𝒶𝓈𝓎 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊'𝓈 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝒶 𝑔𝑜𝓁𝒹 𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑒#anime x male reader#x male reader#mha x male reader#bnha x male reader#bnha smut#shouta aizawa x reader#aizawa imagine#shota aizawa x reader#aizawa smut#shouta aizawa imagine#aizawa shota x reader#aizawa shota smut#aizawa x reader#shouta x reader#shouta x you#aizawa shota x y/n#aizawa shota x you#aizawa drabbles#aizawa headcanons#aizawa shouta imagine#x bottom male reader#x male reader smut#bnha x m!reader smut#bnha x reader#bnha oneshots#mha smut#mha x trans reader#mha x male reader smut#mha x reader
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Aziawa spoiling his house husband by worshipping him while having sex? preferably that readers botto! Also have a nice day! <3
Spoiled
Ok so I made this into a Drabble sort of thing since I’m having a lot of collage work to do right now but anyway I hope you enjoy ;}
Female aligned dni this is a x non female reader blog and minors also. Dni because this is a 18+ only blog
Spoiled that was something you undoubtedly were and Aizawa has a big part to play in that since he always insists to buy you whatever you want without even thinking of the price, even if you tell him otherwise, so it came as no shock when he bought you some accessories that you were eyeballing, however what did come as a shock is he wanted a “reward” that is how you got into the position you were in now. You were on your knees with Aizawa’s dick stuffed in your mouth “your doing so good baby~” Aizawa cooed as he watched you attempt to fit more of his member but to no avail “hng~” you groan looking up at Aizawa, trying to plea with your eyes “how can I resist those eyes” Aizawa groaned pulling his length out of your sore mouth. As soon as a sigh escaped your lips Aizawa spoke “you don’t think we are done do you?, we are only getting started get on all fours now” the man demanded, all you could think was “tonight is going to be a long night”
#x male reader#sub male reader#x male reader smut#bottom male reader#mha x male reader smut#aizawa x male reader#aizawa shouta#aizawa shōta#mha x male reader#mha smut#mlm ns/fw#drabble
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Watching them leave from the door felt strange. Wrong. Like it shouldn't be happening like this. As soon as the handle latched, he moved to the third story, climbing the stairs fast enough to catch the tail end of the little troupe disappearing around the street corner. He could hear Toga's laughter even from this distance.
Yabureme didn't budge from that spot, even as the evening drew to night. Spinner had said they'd be back before midnight, and though Yabureme had nothing to check it against, his internal clock said that it would be a few hours yet until that hour passed and he should start to worry.
He'd started to worry the second he lost sight of Tomura beyond that door.
He was meant to use this time to sleep. With no one to guard, it would be the perfect time to catch up, maybe eliminate some of the waver in his limbs. But the worry was a plague. He hadn't even tried to sleep, only listened and watched that little square of sidewalk they'd vanished from.
Kurogiri entered the room, but Yabureme ignored him for the moment, instincts dividing his attention in case an order was given. Even then he could feel a pinprick of pressure in the back of his head as the man stared him down.
Without seeing it, Yabureme sensed that it was the same look Kurogiri gave when he caught him nearly falling off of his feet in his vigils. Narrow-eyed and pointed, communicating his sins without actually saying anything. Kurogiri was the only one who really noticed on any consistent basis, but his concern was sharper and less warm than Spinner's could be.
He and Kurogiri both shared an innate purpose, after all: to protect. And they both knew that if he kept on like this, when the moment came, his body may just fail in its duty.
Perhaps that was why he'd been given the role of babysitter for the night.
#boku no hero academia fanart#Yabureme Aizawa AU#kurogiri#shouta aizawa#nomu aizawa#I'm not happy with the Drabble but I'm writing it as a whim add-on at 2am#kinda wanted to experiment with options for the main story writing/art combo#I don't think most chapters will be this heavy in comic form#they'll be mostly text with images included#but still#these image/fic combos will be common from here on out#hope u like it anyway
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'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.
#aizawa smut#aizawa x you#bnha aizawa#mha#mha smut#suggestive#shota aizawa#eraserhead#aizawa shouta#shouta aizawa x reader#bnha shouta aizawa#bnha#bnha x reader#blurb#drabble#aizawa
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getting saved by an underground hero but he’s pretty
imagine you’re walking home one night and there’s a villain attack nearby. somehow you wind up in a villain’s arms, their hand clamped over your mouth with your back to their chest. they’re using you as collateral to get what they want, and you’re terrified that this person might actually hurt you.
then out of the darkness, a man jumps down silently from the top of a building in all black, eyes glowing red through his goggles and long, dark hair floating as he makes his way toward you. you’ve never seen or heard of him, but the villain behind you curses.
it happens so fast you almost don’t see it; a long, thin scarf comes flying your direction and you panic, screwing your eyes shut as it misses you entirely. a fight breaks out. you wind up getting shoved to the ground in the process with a bloody scratch on your cheek. soon, the villain is tied up and on the ground with the hero’s boot on his chest. the glow in his eyes fades as he pulls off his goggles. messy hair falls down around his shoulders. he’s contacting authorities and heroes for backup to take care of the offender under his foot. you move to stand, but he catches you in his peripheral.
“stay where you are. there may be others nearby,” he says.
so you stay. in a few minutes time, he’s kneeling down next to you as you pull away.
“it’s alright. my name’s eraser head. i’m an underground hero. are you injured anywhere else?” he looks exhausted and stern with red lining the whites of his baggy eyes, but there’s a softness to his deep voice as though he’s trying not to scare you.
“n-no. i fell pretty hard, but i’m okay,” you reply.
eraser head reaches out with a hand to examine your cheek, pulling out a few small items from somewhere on his hero costume to clean up your face.
“you’re lucky i was nearby. the hero on patrol was several blocks away. you shouldn’t be out alone in this part of the city this late at night,” he says. his fingers are gentle as he takes you by the chin and cleans the blood off your face.
your neck flushes. “s-sorry, mr. eraser head. i was on my way home.”
the corner of his mouth curls up at the formalization of his hero name. “it’s just eraser head, sweetheart. relax, you’re safe now. we’ll make sure you get home.”
“thank you, sir.” you’re trying not to stare at him as he works, but it’s almost hard to look away.
he can’t be much older than you if at all, maybe a few years at most. there’s a scar under his right eye and scruff on his chin and cheeks. his face is near expressionless as the small smile fades from his lips. he looks into your eyes, making it known that you’re staring. a flush blooms across your features and you quickly avert your gaze. you don’t see it, but another smile pulls on his lips.
“all done.” he offers you a hand to stand. “wait here.”
eraser head walks over to an officer for a brief moment and exchanges a few words out of earshot. with his scarf now back on his neck, he turns around and walks to you with his hands in his pockets and the slightest hint of a grin.
“i’ll walk you home. let’s go.”
if you’d like to be added to my tag list, let me know. ♡
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#would aizawa casually call a civilian sweetheart? heck no but it’s my fic and i want it so 😠#not me dreaming abt a damsel in distress trope with my fav fictional hero#ugh soft hero aizawa just does smth to me#another early morning drabble with no edits#bnha#mha#x reader#f!reader#aizawa shouta#aizawa shota#aizawa x reader#aizawa fluff#eraserhead#eraser head#bakubunny#mdni
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How Pro-Heroes would react to y/n getting attacked by a villain and ending up in the hospital
✦Includes: Midnight, Eraserhead, All Might, Ms. Joke✦
A/N: sfw!! requests are open if your fav isn't here! I'll write for anyone~★
Midnight
Midnight is incredibly good at hiding her emotions, I believe. Shes used to wearing a mask 24/7 in her hero role, so when she finds out you'd been hospitalized by a villain, she puts on a mask of levelheadedness. She would feel guilty if you had to comfort her after you'd just been traumatized.
Course, you aren't used to this side of her, so you assume she doesn't care. You end up breaking down and asking if she even cares.
"Of course I care, love, did I make it seem like I didn't?" "I'm so sorry baby, I just didn't want to stress you more."
After that, things smooth out. If you don't mind the eventual scar, she'll make it into a joke and flirt about it. "Y'know, I always thought scars were attractive~" and similar things.
If you don't like the idea of a scar, she offers comfort, and a way to hide it until you're more comfortable. "If you want, I can help you hide it and minimize it."
Shes very affectionate the entire time, she doesn't leave the hospital until you basically force her to go check on your cat and get some actual sleep.
Secretly blames herself for not being able to protect you.
After you get out of the hospital she doesn't treat you like glass, persay, but she does NOT let you do anything against your doctor's orders.
She also helps you sign up for therapy and reminds you that whatever happened wasn't your fault. (Hypocrite much?)
Kisses you and reassures you 24/7
It takes a bit for her to stop blaming herself, but you work together:)
Eraserhead
Most emotional man I know of. "logical" my ass.
Aizawa is immediately at your side. Like he will run across rooftops to get to you. He has NO chill. Part of me believes he gets to the hospital at the same time as you.
Clingiest motherfucker alive. Every ten minutes in the waiting room it's "Can I go in yet?" To the nurses. He doesn't sit down once.
Once he gets to you literally nothing is capable of getting him away from you.
He comforts you whenever you need it, deep down he knows there was nothing he really could've done to get there sooner. He's completely and totally focused on you.
When your other friends get the clear to see you, Joke takes pictures of you and him sleeping in the most awkward position
Brings your favorite blankets and foods
Makes you a playlist of classical music to help you sleep
Anything you need, bro is on it immediately
Once you're released he refuses to let you do anything strenuous. He opens the car door for you, helps you get buckled, etc etc.
He does take the hint when you ask to shower alone, and backs off a bit after that.
He offers to ask Recovery Girl to heal you, and brings you painkillers when you need them.
He understands your paranoia after the incident and helps you learn basic ways to keep yourself safe.
All Might
Would get to the hospital as soon as he could, but knows that you'd want him to stay and finish any responsibilities.
If he's in the middle of something, he finishes it as fast as he can and then gets to the hospital.
He gets there just as you're being taken to a room
Instantly asking if you're okay, if you need anything. The second you say you need something he's on it.
Also a clingy motherfucker
But he knows how to distract you from whatever hurts with dumb jokes and pictures of his student's progress.
Knows how to fill dead air basically. Doesn't really ask about the villain unless you bring it up, just to make sure he doesn't potentially trigger anything.
Listens empathetically when you tell him about what happened.
Offers to get you food, but you're both indecisive so it's just a back and forth of:
"what do you want to eat?"
"idk, I'm good with whatever, what do you want"
"you're the one in the hospital bed, what do you want?"
"you have to go get it, so-"
"fine, (food you hate) it is."
"..."
Won't treat you like glass, he knows what it's like and fuckin hated it.
Still offers to help you though, he just doesn't want to suffocate you
Takes you on drives across the coast to get a break from the city
Ms. Joke
Tries to act like she wasn't worried and knew you'd be fine the whole time
She didnt
She had to call Midnight to calm her down
Makes jokes about you "being apart of the club now" (having been attacked by villains) and then apologizes for what happened
Brings you treats and things to make you smile (comfort items, silly things she saw at the store, etc)
Has Nemuri smuggle your guy's tiny dog in and out like twice
Sits in silence and watches you sleep
Brings you headphones to drown out the annoying beeping
A little over protective afterwards
Clingy, but not Shouta clingy.
"you should go home"
"why, is something wrong?"
"you haven't left the hospital in a week, you clown."
"oh yeah. Oops!"
"..."
"ok ok I'm going!"
Showers, but also washes the exact same clothes and rewears them just to fuck with you "you didn't say I had to change"
"tell me you washed those, em, or you're on the couch and the dog gets your pillows."
"Of course I did!"
#shadow shreds#from the box#hurtfic#hospital#bnha fanfic#drabbles#hcs#my hero academia#aizawa shouta#bnha headcanons#mha headcanons#yagi toshinori#toshinori yagi x reader#all might x reader#nemuri kayama#Kayama Nemuri x reader#midnight x reader#eraserhead#aizawa x reader#midnight#ms. joke#emi fukukado#ms. joke x reader
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Baby it's cold outside 🌧️
Aizawa x reader
Summary: It's a rainy/ cold day and he's trying to convince you to stay in.
Note: I live in a country where it doesn't snow so I'm not even gonna try and write about it😭. We do have a cold front rn so i can write based on that. This is short.
Normally the sun would have been peeking out a little by now. But as your eyes flutter open it still appears to be dark. The clock on your wall, however, tells a different story. Attempting to sit up you find yourself held back by something...or rather someone. You lift up to blanket to reveal Aizawa's arms wrapped around your waist, his face buried in your stomach, not really planning to let go anytime soon.
His hair was somewhat disheveled. He looks so peaceful when he sleeps, the only time his brain isn't overworking. You didn't really want to wake him, but you had things to do. In a soft, gentle manner you trace the scare on his cheek, he responds with a soft hum, leaning into your touch. "Love? Zawa wake up" you whisper. He grunts.
Sighing you start to untangle yourself from your husband's grasp. He opens one of his eyes, tightening his grip. "where are you going anyways? Didn't you watch the forecast..." He murmurs, falling back into a slumber.
"no... C'mon i still have to go to work". You sit up fully in the bed. He looks up at you. "can't we just stay in this morning, please?" He was hard to resist no doubt. Planting a kiss on his forehead you distract him long enough to slip out of the bed. You hear him groan "seriously?" He calls out. You were already heading down the hallway.
The cold floor causes you scurry quickly to the bathroom. The freezing air making you shiver. It was cold.
A cold shower was definitely a no no. As you wait for the water to warm up you sit on the edge of the tub, springing up immediately. The sink, the towels, the railings, the fricking door knob, was everything just freezing cold. You were beginning to reconsider your lovers pleas.
Actually getting ready wasn't any easier. Not when he was looking at you like that, studying every inch or your body, silently begging you to come back to him. "you're not making it through that door" he mumbles, turning his back to you and making a cave with the pillows. "i love you too" you tease, blowing him a kiss.
Standing in the door way you shiver, looking out you could hardly see anything because of the thick fog. You close the door, standing there and wondering if you should call a cab or risk it and walk in those conditions.
Large, scarred hands wrap around your waist, pulling you close as hot breath hits your neck, warming you up instantly. "You're a stubborn brat y'know that?" He murmurs into the back of your neck.
His fingers slither into your skirt, fiddling with the waist band of your underwear, causing you to chuckle out of nervousness "and you're a bad influence" you retort. He hums softly, intertwining his hands with one of yours "just for today, i promise".
And with that he's luring you back into the bed room, planting kisses all over and leaving markings on your neck. You decide to send a text to your boss later, they'll understand.
#basically a drabble#also I'm literally freezing#is this what canada feels like?#maybe#i wouldn't know#Aizawa#Aizawa shouta#shouta aizawa#aizawa shota#shota aizawa#aizawa x reader#aizawa shouta x reader#shota aizawa x reader#aizawa shota x reader#aizawa x you#aizawa shouta x you#shouta aizawa x you#shota aizawa x you#aizawa fanfiction#shouta aizawa fanfiction#aizawa mha#aizawa shouta mha#my hero academia#mha x reader#mha fanfiction#my hero academia fanfiction#boku no hero academia#boku no hero academia fanfiction#anime#bhna
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Hello! How about kitty Aizawa humping your pillow >_<
𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: nsfw | 𝐰/𝐜: 1.08k | 𝐜𝐰: pillow humping, hybrids, prev established relationship.
closing the door behind yourself, you toss your keys into the table in the foyer and stretch with a groan. god, you hated in-building workdays — and you’d had them every day this week and more than half of last week too. you could only grumpily be grateful that you’d been able to get off earlier today.
“shouta, i’m home!” you call quietly, receiving no response.
unbothered, you toe off your shoes and gently nudge them into a half-neat position along the wall before you step further into your home and shed your suit jacket as well, tossing it on the back of a chair at the kitchen table as you scrunch your toes up at the feeling of the cold tile beneath your feet. glancing at the counter, you sigh in relief upon realizing that shouta had forgotten to set out the frozen chicken like you’d asked before you’d left; normally you’d be a little upset, but you really didn’t feel like cooking tonight, so this was a blessing in disguise that meant you could just order in and throw your feet up.
pulling out your phone, you type in a quick order to shouta’s favorite fast food place and then throw it onto the couch with a sigh, turning on the tv after and lazily flicking through the channels before stopping on the nature channel with a sigh.
maybe netflix would have something more interesting?
a sharp cry from your bedroom has you muting the tv and freezing to listen, your heart racing nervously; was shouta hurt? was that why he’d not answered you? god, what if someone had broken in and hurt him?! there weren’t any signs of a break in, and shouta was very much able to defend himself, but god you’d been gone so long-!
a cry of your name has you rushing to the bedroom, reaching it in record time. you open the door with wide eyes and a worried heart, but your question to shouta dies on your lips as you see what your cat hybrid is actually up to.
“m-more, more, more~!” he gasps, what looks like tears sparkling in the corners of his good eye as he thrusts sharply against the soft cotton pillowcase with his mouth agape and a line of drool threatening to run down his chin; the fangs in his mouth glinted sharply in the soft light coming through the cloth of the curtains as the fluffy pillow you used every night was clenched tightly between his muscular thighs. “fuck — fu-uck, please!”
your jaw drops a little in surprise as you stand in the doorway and watch, unable to do anything else as a coil of heat begins building in your lower belly at the sight of shouta this way, his bare cock dragging across the cloth aggressively and leaving dark wet spots behind as he whines and moans from the feeling that, according to what he was groaning, wasn’t enough. “please, please — yes, more!” he moans lowly, the last word long and drawn out as his thrusts get more and more messy and his tail whipping and writhing behind him. shifting slightly on your feet and clenching your own thighs together, you keep watching without hesitation as your heart begins to beat faster for an entirely different reason. .
so this is why the sheets have been washed every afternoon before i get home, you think, watching the way the tip of his thick length runs along the seam of your pillow, clearly feeling good enough for him to throw his head back over before hastily folding the pillow without looking and shoving his cock into the place he’d made for himself in it and resuming the manic thrusts that only get messier and messier. a longer, low cry coupled with a swift stuttering of his hips is warning enough that he’s about to cum, and you watch with lust-darkened eyes as he keens loudly and curls around the pillow, humping it aggressively while letting out shaky moans and cries. “yes, yes, yes — fuck, please, so good-!” he whimpers, his body shaking, and as he slowly relaxes into the bed with his tail swishing pleasantly from side to side you finally decide to let your presence be known.
“what a show,” you say softly, and he jumps to look at where you were standing, his one dark eye wide and shocked. obviously he’d not heard you come in, too wrapped up in his previous activity, and considering you lived here he couldn’t exactly go by your scent entering the house — especially not in your own bedroom.
“i — how — when did-?!” he stutters, his cheeks pinkening as he stares at you from the bed, and you laugh softly as you slowly approach.
“a lot of it, shou’,” you murmur, voice fond and hot, and his ears flick back in embarrassment as he turns away from you. you just laugh again and sit next to him on the bed before cupping his head in your hands and drawing him close so his head rests on your chest; his skin is warm and his hair is messy, and you find yourself combing out the knots with your fingers as you tease him. “have i left you alone too long, baby? were you so bored and needy here without me?” you ask, playfully mocking him, and he groans and turns to bury his face in your chest. “aww, you just wanted my attention on you and not work, huh-?”
“stop making fun of me,” he mumbles into you, “you’re so fuckin’ mean t’me,” and you laugh softly and cradle him close.
“shhh, it’s all in good fun, baby,” you promise lowly before flipping the two of you so you’re straddling his bare body, his eyes wide beneath you as he looks up at where you were grinning playfully. your eyes twinkle as you say, “i ordered dinner. a few minutes ago and i’m off work until the twenty-seventh — how about you fuck me better than you’ve been fucking my pillow so you can actually be satisfied?”
he grins up at you and throws his arms around you, flipping you both again as he begins to tug at your clothes while growling into your mouth then against your skin as he begins nipping his way down your neck.
“i’m guessing that’s a yes,” you gasp softly, crying out as he bites at your now bared nipple.
“yes,” he growls, then starts nipping again. “now quiet; gotta fuck you better, don’t i?”
#shouta aizawa x reader#aizawa shouta x reader#shouta aizawa drabble#catboy!shouta aizawa#shouta.♡#shou_nya.♡#— my hero academia.♡#hic sniff anon u get me. i was hoping for a pillow humping ask and this being one if the first omes that came in had me so fuckin excited#cas has mail !!#caspian.anon
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Soft fingertips travel across Aizawa Shota’s rough jawline. The small hairs on his face scratching your skin as you hold him. His eyes closed as his silently enjoys the attention. His scratchy scruff now against your palms as you fully hold his face. Your thumb softly grazing over the small scar underneath his eye. It felt coarse compared to the undamaged skin surrounding it. Your thumb slowly tracing up and down it as his arms tightened around your waist, pulling you closer into his lap. Shota always looked so at peace when he was finally in your arms. Home alone with you, all his responsibilities gone for the moment as he basked in your gentle, attentive treatment. It was almost cat like, as ironic as it was. How you would hold his face in your hands and he would just close his tired eyes, pushing himself more into your touch and seeking the warmth your hands would provide. Turning his head to press a small kiss to the center of your palm with chapped lips. His larger hand reaching up to hold yours. The calloused pads at the base of his fingers presssd against your knuckles. Shota’s hand easily enveloping yours. His eyes slowly opening to stare into yours, a serene look that nobody else but you ever saw. His eyes seemingly full of light despite how dark colored they really are. Slowly leaning in to place a delicate kiss on his forehead, whispering to him in a volume that no one else but Shota could hear. Causing the ends of his lips to barely rise into a soft smile. “You’re too kind to me, you know that?” He’ll whisper back before leaning in once more to place a kiss on your lips.
#shouta aizawa x reader#aizawa shota x reader#aizawa shota drabble#mha drabbles#aizawa fluff#aizawa x reader#aizawa drabbles#aizawa imagine
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aizawa coming home from a long stressful day nn all he wants is to relax between his pretty girls thighs, face covered in ur sweet juices. ur moans and whimpers are music to this man's ears. his shoulders relax nn all the tension jus seems ta flow right outta him. he's in heaven. "fuckk, babygirl this is jus what i needed.."
#first post#aizawa#aizawa shouta#aizawa shota x reader#drabble#mha#bnha#mha smut#mha aizawa#bnha aizawa
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Men that hold the power to just give you a look and you know you gotta calm your ass down.
He took you to a work party with him and you’d dressed all up. You were going for a trophy wife thing and you looked delectable. He’d somehow reigned himself in enough for the two of you to actually make it out of the house, and that was an accomplishment on his part.
You guys pull up to the venue and before you can get out of the car his lips are on yours and they’re all heat and passion. The damn thing leaves you breathless, but when he pulls away he looks all composed. Bastard
You guys get out of the car and finally make it inside the venue and there’s quite a few people. He does a round and introduces you to some of the people, during which he has his hands at you waist at all times. A silent way to let everyone know who you belonged to.
You guys are talking to 2 guys from his department and one of them is cracking jokes and making you laugh. You’d had a drink or two by now so you were feeling a little buzz. You’re in the middle of laughing at yet another joke that wasnt all that funny when you feel it. His gaze on you. His eyes narrowed in on your eyes and you knew…. You sobered up real quick. Yea you were pushing it.
You didn’t have any more drinks that night. Don’t think hes gonna forget about it tho. He is 100% making you regret that after you guys get home.
*is also a petty bitch and will bring it up the next day or two every time you laugh at one of his jokes🫠
Suguru Geto, Katsuki Bakugo, Levi Ackerman, Roronoa Zoro, Wakatoshi Ushijima, Kento Namami, Shota Aizawa, Satori Tendo, Eren Yeager…. Any of your faves
#imagine#bakugou drabble#katsuki bakugo mha#mha fanfiction#bakugo headcanons#fluff#bakugou katsuki#shota aizawa#mha aizawa#aizawa x reader#aizawa shouta#jjk writing#jjk drabble#jjk fluff#jjk x you#jjk imagines#jjk x reader#getou suguru x you#suguru geto#geto x you#getou suguru x reader#aot#aot x reader#levi aot#levi ackerman#eren yeager#eren jaeger#tendou satori#ushijima wakatoshi#roronoa zoro
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Yeah, Right
The first time Aizawa does it, he doesn’t think about the ‘why’. After all, it seems logical enough.
It’s All Might’s fifty-first birthday and Aizawa expects the fresh batch of new students to want to surprise the older man with something special for the day of. Only, when he gets to class that morning, he hears them all talking about how they’re too shy to so boldly approach their teacher and give him a birthday gift. While Aizawa imagines that All Might will get plenty of gifts and letters in his P.O. box, none of them will actually be from anyone he knows- random fans, even some stalkers- all people that he has no connection with.
Aizawa knows All Might well enough to know that the only people he wants anything from are going to be his students and fellow heroes- people he knows, people who care. Aizawa remembers that All Might doesn’t have a family to celebrate with and frowns as he sits at his desk listening to the children rattle on about the former number one hero.
When All Might walks in to take over the class for his heroics lesson, he looks Aizawa in the eye and offers a small smile. For whatever reason, said smile makes Aizawa’s heart skip a beat, so he doesn’t smile back. Instead, he leaves, rushing to the local grocery store even though he knows he’s supposed to be doing lesson planning. When he returns, he smuggles the little bouquet of roses and the box of chocolates into the lounge through his duffle bag.
All Might’s locker is always stupidly left unlocked (because ‘none of my fellow hereos would meddle with my belongings’, according to the older man), so Aizawa puts the presents there with a note but no name.
‘Happy birthday, number one. Hope you have a good year.’
It’s simple and plain enough to not give away who it’s from. Perfect.
Aizawa doesn’t feel too nervous as he shuts the locker and retreats to sit at the round table. It’s lunch time now, so the sound of loud teenagers bustling down the hallway rings in Aizawa’s ears. He buries his head in his hands and groans, only to have a more pressing problem when the door is slammed open just seconds later.
He glances up to see All Might, standing in the doorway, the front of his pink button-up shirt soaked with blood.
“All Might,” Aizawa stands up and grabs a washcloth to wet, then brings it over to All Might. He wipes the blood off of the older man and glances up at him with a scowl. “What the hell happened to you?”
“Oh, Aizawa,” All Might offers a weak smile and takes the washcloth from Aizawa’s hands so he can clean himself up. Aizawa stands there awkwardly, arms crossed over his chest, waiting for an answer. “I’m fine! Just a normal day for me, coughing up blood, though I’m starting to run out of shirts that aren’t blood-stained… Maybe I should start wearing more red.”
“You’re coughing blood up that often? And in this quantity… That isn’t normal,” Aizawa scoffs, as annoyed as ever by All Might’s alarming normalization of his declining health. “When’s the last time you’ve been to a doctor?”
“Back after we fought Shigaraki and the Paranormal Liberation Front.”
“No, I mean for a normal check up. When’s the last time you’ve been to a doctor for something other than a grievous, hero-work-related injury?”
“Oh, I haven’t been since…” All Might trails off, tossing the washcloth in the dirty laundry and thinking to himself. Meanwhile, Aizawa moves to dig through his own locker for an extra shirt that All Might can have- God knows the former number one hero is never prepared enough to keep a change of clothes handy. Aizawa finds the largest one he has, an oversized black sweater that he likes to sleep in sometimes. It’s just long enough that it’ll fit All Might’s weirdly oversized frame perfectly, so Aizawa takes the shirt out and tosses it at the older man. “Hm… I actually don’t know.”
“You need to go see one soon, then,” Aizawa nags and sits back down in a lounge chair as All Might hides behind the lockers to change shirts.
“Why do you care so much all of a sudden?”
“Ugh, never mind,” Aizawa grumbles and gets up to head towards the door. Just when he thought he was getting soft for the man, All Might had to go and get on his nerves again. “God forbid I try to make you take care of your health for the sake of your students.”
“Aizawa, wait-”
“No, it’s fine. I get the point. You’re never going to prioritize yourself and nothing anyone can say will ever make you. Keep the shirt,” Aizawa puts his hand on the door knob and turns it. Then, he opens the door and leaves, calling back to a flustered looking All Might with- “I’ll see you later.”
~
The second time Aizawa does it, he wonders why the hell he finds himself doing this shit again. The first time it was because it was All Might’s birthday and he wasn’t sure if All Might would get anything from anyone else. Now, it’s the middle of autumn, and he’s unsure about his motives. He tells himself that All Might has seemed down lately- yes, that’s all it is- and that he wants to cheer him up for the students’ sake and definitely not for his own. It’s odd because the last time he did this, he had an awkward and tense interaction with the man right after that turned him off for a while, but… It couldn’t hurt to try again.
So, he spends time hand-crocheting and knitting some sweaters and scarfs for the upcoming season and packing them into a little gift basket. All Might still has a nasty habit of leaving his locker unlocked, meaning that Aizawa can get into it easily. He sneaks into the lounge early, unusually early, knowing that he’s the least likely to get caught at this time since school doesn’t start until seven thirty. Right now, it’s six.
The only person that ever gets to U.A. before seven in the morning aside from Nezu is-
“Mic,” Aizawa blankly states, unsure of what to do. He’s standing in front of All Might’s open locker with the gift basket in one hand and his other hand on the edge of the locker door to hold it open. Mic has just walked into the staff lounge and caught him red-handed. “Uh… What’s up?”
In an awkward series of little motions, Aizawa slams the locker shut and tries to hide the ridiculously large basket behind his back.
“Um… What’cha got there?”
“Nothing that’s any of your business,” Aizawa answers, then reopens the locker, shoves the basket in there, and slams it back shut.
“C’mon, now, don’t pretend that I didn’t just catch you leaving a gift basket in All Might’s locker! No wonder you’ve been acting so funky lately… And to think I thought I was imagining things when I saw him in your favorite shirt,” Mic says, much to Aizawa’s embarrassment and horror. He hadn’t even considered the possibility of him doing this coming off like that to anyone else- and maybe loaning All Might one of his favorite shirts that he used to wear all the time wasn’t the best idea, either, especially considering that All Might now wears the damn thing at least once a week with the claim of ‘since it’s black, it doesn’t stain easy!’. “Wait, are you two a thing!?”
“Absolutely not. He borrowed the shirt once and I let him keep it. As for the gifts… Well, I am guilty of that, but he doesn’t reciprocate said gifts nor does he know it’s me giving them,” Aizawa explains and guiltily walks away from All Might’s locker in favor of sitting down on the edge of the staff table. He sighs and shakes his head both at himself and at Mic. “So don’t tell anyone.”
“Hah! No one would believe me, even if I did want to go and betray you by blabbing about it,” Mic laughs and sits right next to Aizawa on the table top. Then, he looks over at the erasure hero with his big green eyes and a knowing smirk. “But are you seriously going to keep on with this until he retires from teaching?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I mean, you clearly like him, and this is your weird fucked up way of expressing it-”
“Hey!” Aizawa interrupts with a blush and a glare- or, as much of a glare as he can produce these days with only one eye. The other eye socket remains empty and covered by a black eye patch, thanks to a certain Shigaraki. “Don’t talk about me like that.”
“What? It’s true! I’ve seen the way you look at him,” Mic points out. It’s horribly, embarrassingly true. Aizawa used to hate All Might and everything he stood for, and he still tries to tell himself that he does, but… Things just aren’t the way they were back then. He watches All Might a little too closely and checks in on him all the time, even if it’s not in the most overtly caring and compassionate way. He does care about All Might, and they’ve grown to respect each other. He just never thought that it’d develop into those sorts of feelings; for the former number one hero, who’s far more popular than him, far more attractive than him, and over a decade his senior. “You’ve been doing this for how long now?”
“I don’t know,” Aizawa shrugs and crosses his leg over his prosthetic. Then, he crosses his arms as well and taps his fingers against his bicep. He can’t even meet Mic’s gaze. “A few months, maybe?”
“Exactly,” Mic yells a little too loudly and throws his hands up in the air. “You’ve been doing this for months instead of just telling the guy you have a crush on him!”
“I don’t have a crush on him,” Aizawa mumbles, hating the sound of such a juvenile term being thrown at him like this.
Crush.
Yeah, right.
“Really?” Mic presses. “Really? Look at yourself right now, Eraser!”
“We can continue this conversation never,” Aizawa gets up from the table, heads to the door, and looks back at Mic, who is sitting there with a ridiculously large grin. “And remember; don’t tell anyone about what you saw today.”
“Aye aye captain!” Mic responds with a mock-salute that somehow pisses Aizawa off even more.
As the ravenette leaves, embarrassed and confused, he can’t help but think about what Mic said.
A crush.
On All Might.
Yeah, right.
~
The third time Aizawa does it, he hears All Might start to talk.
Aizawa has had to come to terms with the fact that these stupid feelings he’s developed for All Might are, in fact, a crush- as Mic had so eloquently put it just a few months ago. Said crush has been festering for God knows how long and seems to only get worse with every season that passes.
So, by the time winter rolls around, he’s more on edge about the whole thing than he thought he’d be when he left the first gift basket for All Might back in June. Despite never caring about his appearance before, he finds himself tying his hair up (All Might said it looked good like that once), wearing cologne (one that All Might said was his favorite in an interview a while back), and putting a little more effort into his appearance than he would have just a few years ago.
It’s the day before winter break. All of the kids are doing cute holiday celebrations, gift exchanges, dorm parties, and more. They’ve already taken their finals, so there’s not much for the teachers to do aside from sit on their asses and enjoy the festivities. Aizawa doesn’t mind it. He even finds himself in a particularly cheery mood as he leaves another gift basket in All Might’s locker, this one full of holiday candies, a new blanket, and some fancy tea and coffee blends.
After leaving the gifts and making sure that no one is around to catch him in the act this time, Aizawa quietly closes the locker and moves to sit at the staff table before anyone can walk in.
He catches a glance of himself in the mirror and sighs. His hair is tied back all pretty, he actually bothered shaving, and though he looks as tired as ever… He looks better than he used to. The things people say about ‘glowing’ when they fall in love may actually be true. With a shake of his head, he ignores that train of thought in favor of pulling out his phone and reading the news.
Slowly, more of the faculty file in; Nezu, Mic, Vlad King, Nejire- who started working for U.A. shortly after graduating- and finally, All Might. The four sit near Aizawa at the table with Mic sitting right next to him and the others sitting across from him. They chat and talk about their plans for winter break as if Aizawa isn’t even there until Aizawa hears Nejire pipe up with-
“Hey, All Might, is that a new scarf? It’s cute. Where’d you get it?”
“It’s a funny story, but someone has been leaving these gifts in my work locker for months…” All Might explains, much to Aizawa’s embarrassment. Aizawa can’t help but notice that the older man is wearing his sweater. Again. The chunky crocheted scarf around his neck is made of black and red yarn, one of the many things that Aizawa has anonymously gifted to him since the summertime. “Everything from chocolates and flowers for my birthday to this scarf and custom-made sweaters. No idea who it is.”
“Oh, well that’s a simple problem with a simple solution!” Nezu suggests. Aizawa’s heart drops as the principal suddenly crawls into his scarf and sits on his shoulder- something he frequently does for warmth and height. His beady eyes remain trained on All Might. Meanwhile, Mic won’t stop nudging Aizawa with his foot underneath the table. “Would you like me to check the security cameras for you?”
“No, that’s not necessary, Nezu,” All Might answers with a dismissive wave. It takes everything in Aizawa not to let out an obvious sigh of relief. “After all, if they’re going about it like this, they probably don’t want me to know their identity.”
“You don’t think that it’s some sort of villain, do you?” Vlad King questions.
“Not at all. UA’s security is too strict to allow any outsiders in and all of the gifts I’ve received so far have been totally harmless. I had the same train of thought at first and even had Tsukauchi run everything I received through his forensics team to test for poisons and find any trackers or cameras that might’ve been hidden, but no one found anything. It seems like they’re totally innocuous, well-meaning gifts.”
“Do you think it’s a student?” Nezu presses, clearly somewhat concerned.
Aizawa suddenly realizes just how bad of an idea this was to start off with. Maybe he should stop and get a hold of things before he gets caught and makes a fool out of himself.
“No, they wouldn’t have access to the lounge unless they had some sort of quirk that allowed them to phase through things. I know we have a couple of those quirk users here, but I doubt that any of them would risk getting in trouble for something so dumb when they could just leave the stuff on the desk of the classroom I teach in. So, it must be another faculty member; another teacher, a janitor, cafeteria staff…” All Might continues rambling on about the many deductions he’s made. Aizawa almost calls him out for sounding so much like Midoriya, but he decides against it. “There’s so many people who work here that I haven’t bothered trying to narrow it down.”
“And that doesn’t bother you at all!? I’d be going insane!” Mic yells out, then sends a quick and knowing glance in Aizawa’s direction. Aizawa glares back at him. “What if you have a stalker or something?”
“I doubt it’s anything that severe. Either this is some sort of cruel joke or someone has a crush on me,” All Might shrugs. “I’d be surprised at the latter considering the form I’m currently in, but the gifts clearly have a lot of thought behind them and some people have weird tastes…”
At that, Mic burst out laughing, to which Aizawa quickly turns and scolds him.
“Mic!”
Mic only laughs harder. Aizawa doesn’t think his face has ever been this red, and All Might is looking between the two of them like he’s trying to put the pieces of a puzzle together.
“What’s so funny, Yamada?” All Might asks and narrows his sky blue eyes.
“Nothing, nothing,” Mic answers, but again, only laughs even hader. He puts his head on the table and buries his face in his arms. “Sorry!”
“So you’re just going to let this continue to happen?” Vlad King interjects.
“Basically. Either I’ll retire from teaching, they’ll come and tell me who they are and why they’re doing this, or they’ll get bored and stop. Whichever happens first. I don’t really mind either way.”
“What if it’s, like, a secret admirer?” Nejire continues. Meanwhile, Aizawa doesn’t know if he’s relieved or offended at the fact that All Might doesn’t seem to care very much about whoever it is that’s been leaving him presents in his locker. “Don’t you want to know who they are?”
“Not really. I know I don’t discuss it very often, but I do have my heart set on someone else… I just haven’t had the courage to tell them, especially since my retirement from hero work. So, it’s better that this person doesn’t reveal themselves to me; I’d hate to reject them after they’ve given me so many nice things. I want them to know I appreciate all these things they’ve gifted me, so I wear and use them as much as I can, but I also wonder if I’m giving them the wrong idea… Ah, I’ve got lesson plans to work on. I should get back to the classroom.”
With that, All Might stands up and retreats, leaving the rest of the staff to eat their lunches and chat amongst themselves- mostly about the upcoming holiday party that the hero commission is going to throw in about a week to celebrate the last year’s worth of hero work. They do it every year, but Aizawa never attends, finding that no one really cares whether or not he’s there aside from Mic. It always seems like a big publicity stunt for heroes to come and throw their money at the charities that are promoted there, for heroes to come and get interviewed by famous reporters, and for heroes to come and find more work with new teams or agencies.
Like a lot of hero society, the whole thing is about business more than it is a genuine celebration, but… if All Might is going to be there this year like he always is, Aizawa may go.
Eventually, the rest of the staff clear out, leaving Aizawa and Mic by themselves. Mic is the first to say anything.
“Eraser, aren’t you going to tell him about your feelings?”
“Has your quirk made you deaf or something? He said he’s in love with someone else! He’d just reject me, I… Should’ve never done this in the first place,” Aizawa sighs. His heart actually feels like it’s breaking from everything All Might said. “It was a stupid idea. Out of all the people I could’ve gone and caught feelings for…”
“But what if that person he talked about is you?”
“Really? Out of everyone All Might has ever met and known, you think he’s in love with me? Yeah, right,” Aizawa scoffs, looking at Mic in disbelief. “Be realistic.”
“I dunno, maybe? I mean, I could’ve sworn he was giving you ‘fuck me eyes’ while he was in here so perhaps-”
“There’s no way,” Aizawa interrupts, flustered. The idea of All Might looking at him like that… No. It’s impossible. For someone like All Might to want someone like him… “I look like a homeless person according to my students and everyone knows I haven’t been the same since everything that happened with the League of Villains and the Paranormal Liberation Front. And, just in case you forgot, I’m also more than a decade younger than him. I wouldn’t blame him for being completely repulsed by me.”
“Eraser… I’m sure if you told him, and he didn’t return the feelings, he’d be nice about it,” Mic tries to be comforting by putting a hand on Aizawa’s shoulder.
“Oh, yeah, pity kindness. That’s definitely what I want from him. As if this isn’t embarrassing enough,” Aizawa sarcastically huffs with a roll of his eyes. Mic just offers a guilty smile in return. “Honestly, Mic, you… Look, I appreciate you trying to help me here, but it’s better if I just don’t say anything, okay? He doesn’t want me back, and he never will.”
“If that’s how you really feel, I guess I can’t change your mind, but let me know if you ever want to ask him out, okay?”
“Yeah. Sure thing.”
“Okay, catch ya later!”
With that, Mic stands up and exits the room, leaving Aizawa alone yet again. The ravenette sighs and holds his head in his hands.
Asking All Might out?
Yeah, right. Because that’ll go swimmingly.
~
Aizawa doesn’t get the chance to do it a fourth time. Instead, U.A. is closed for winter break so the students can go home and spend time with their families for the holidays. While a few of them stay behind, they celebrate in their own way, leaving the teachers to attend the hero commission’s holiday party. It’s thrown at some fancy venue with a ballroom, that of which Aizawa can’t be fucked to remember the name of. Mic drives him, anyway, so it’s not like he has to know what it’s called or where it’s at.
Once he gets there, Mic splits from him to go be the social butterfly and casually functioning alcoholic that he’s always been. He downs drink after drink, but thankfully, Nezu is nearby keeping an eye on him so Aizawa doesn’t have to (for once). Aizawa takes the opportunity to lean back against one of the less crowded walls and scan the room.
Since the end of the conflict with the PLF, any interest in Aizawa and his involvement with the U.A. scandals has died down considerably, so he’s almost returned to the familiar comfort of no one knowing who he is again- so much so that none of the paparazzi or reporters bother trying to snap pictures or get an interview with him. Though many heroes would feel stiffed by this, Aizawa is relieved as he watches All Might, who is currently experiencing the exact opposite.
At first, All Might was happily chatting with the other heroes and dancing with a lot of them (which made Aizawa somewhat jealous, but that’s another story). Now, All Might looks uncomfortable, though he does a great job at putting on a front and answering all of the reporters’ questions as if he isn’t becoming a nervous wreck with every second that passes. Eventually, All Might directs them to Mount Lady, who is currently dancing with Kamui woods. Those vultures take the opportunity to go take as many implicating photos as they can, which gives All Might the time to make an escape and slip outside of the venue. Aizawa grabs a coffee from the bar and follows the former number one hero, who he finds sitting outside on a bench a few yards away from the front door.
“Parties aren’t much your scene these days, are they?” Aizawa asks, standing behind the bench and slumping his shoulders.
“Heh,” All Might laughs, then shakes his head. “Not at all.”
“It seems like I can always find you out here when you feel out of place… Outside in the freezing cold, all by your lonesome, sitting on some bench.”
“Would you like to sit?” All Might offers.
“Sure,” Aizawa sits down next to All Might and sees that the blond is shivering due to the cold, even in a nice sweater and a scarf. So, Aizawa holds out his hot coffee and asks- “Want a sip?”
All Might looks at the coffee, then at Aizawa.
“You don’t mind?”
“Kids are petri dishes, and I’m around them all the time just fine,” Aizawa shrugs. “I doubt you’ll get me sick.”
All Might takes the cup.
“There’s no alcohol in this, right?”
“Right. I know you can’t really drink anymore. Plus, I’m not really stupid enough to drink at this sort of thing unlike all of our coworkers… I’d hate to slip up and let something embarrassing out to the press. I know those damn vultures would take full advantage of some poor inebriated idiot here- hell, they do it to Mic every year.”
“That’s true,” All Might laughs and leans back against the bench. It’s taken him a couple minutes, but he seems comfortable with Aizawa’s presence now. The smile on his face is beautiful underneath the pale moonlight, practically glimmering. Aizawa feels his cheeks burn red and prays that All Might doesn’t notice. Pausing, All Might drinks some of the coffee before continuing. “I remember last year when they got him to admit to that fling he had with Vlad King, those two were in hot water for a while… Thanks for the drink, by the way.”
“Sure.”
A few moments pass with the two men passing the coffee between each other, drinking, and chatting away. Aizawa can’t help but notice that All Might is acting a little differently- a little more at ease than he normally would. Aizawa isn’t sure how to place it until All Might sets the drink down on the middle of the bench and holds out one of his large hands.
“Hey, how about a dance?”
“Hm?”
“I think you’re the only one of our coworkers I haven’t danced with tonight,” All Might says offhandedly, which makes Aizawa’s face fall. Is it really just a platonic offer? Almost as if sensing his disappointment, All Might rushes to retract the invitation, panicking. “Then again, I understand if you aren’t interested! I know being in the spotlight isn’t really your thing and-”
“We can dance out here, if you want,” Aizawa interjects. The soft lull of the waltz music from inside can be heard echoing through the open windows. “I can still hear the music.”
“That actually sounds pretty nice,” All Might stands. “Mind if I lead?”
“Not at all.”
So, hand in hand, the two dance together outside of the venue, unbothered by the press or their fellow heroes who would ask questions. All Might’s hands are calloused and warm, and he smells like the cologne Aizawa bought him not that long ago.
“You know, it’s rare that you dress up like this,” All Might remarks, and it’s true. Aizawa wore a suit for the occasion at Mic’s pestering. He even shaved and tied his hair up to make himself look somewhat nice. Though, he didn’t expect All Might to notice. “I don’t think I’ve seen it since that last press conference.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” All Might smiles. “I like it.”
“Well, I like you,” Aizawa spits out before he can think better of it. He freezes, tripping over All Might’s feet. All Might wraps an arm around his back and pulls him into his chest to catch him. Embarrassment washes over Aizawa like a shower that’s way too hot. He rushes to explain the words away. “Wait, that’s not what I-”
“I like you, too,” All Might blurts out, much to his relief. On one hand, Aizawa is happy, but on the other, he doesn’t want to admit that Mic was right. “And um… Thanks for the stuff.”
At that, Aizawa blinks and pulls away, flustered.
“You knew it was me?”
“Well, no,” All Might answers, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. “But Mic’s pretty hammered in there and-”
“He told you, didn’t he?” Aizawa huffs and facepalms with a shake of his head.
“Maybe?”
“He’s awfully lucky this just so happened to work out,” Aizawa sighs and reaches forward to grab one of All Might’s hands. Much to his delight, All Might laces their fingers together and stands by his side. “But I guess since the cat’s out of the bag, we can take this inside, right?”
“Yeah… I’d like that.”
#bnha#mha#boku no hero academia#my hero academia#erasermight#erasermight fic#eraserhead#all might#yagi toshinori#shouta aizawa#shota aizawa#fluff#oneshot#oneshots#drabble#drabbles#post-canon#post-war
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can I ask for aizawa with female reader and I don’t really care what you’re writing aber I want some married stuff or maybe even pregnant stuff. I didn’t see any rules, so I hope that’s okay
Of coirse this is okay! I think its an absolitely wonderful prompt and cant wait to write it i love pregnancy fluff anpwjejdijdhfr
Masterlist<3
Aizawa x Pregnant!Reader
Aizawa was and remains to be an amazing partner. Despite his less expressive personality, he always looks after you, and he's about as attentive as they come and won't ever let you worry about something for longer than you have to.
He's a kind, patient man, with a gentle side that noone else gets to see. He wakes you up with coffee and a kiss and he makes you dinner, and pampers you like no other.
But one of his best qualities by far is that he's a good listener, and he remembers everything about you. It's easy for him to know somehow just by looking at you how much you've slept or if you've eaten yet, and how he does it is beyond you. But you need it.
Before you'd met him you were a mess, physically and emotionally. And when you had started to warm up to eachother, you'd started helping eachother out as well. He would remind you to sleep the night before a job, or buy lunch with you to remind you to eat, and in return you would get him coffee in the morning and help him with his paperwork and grading papers. From there, your relationship flourished, to the astonishment of literally every one of his friends.
Which brings you to where you are now, trembling on the bathroom floor with tears in your eyes as you hold a positive pregnancy test in your hands.
It's not uncommon for you to miss a period or to have it very delayed, as they've always been very irregular, but you've never missed to in a row before. Now you know why.
Your shoulders shake with the effort of stifling your anxious cries and the loose blouse you had slipped on earlier that morning is slowly sliding off your shoulder. Your hair is a tangled mess and your mascara runs down your cheeks, the whites of your eyes red and your eyelids puffy.
It's not exactly like this is the worst news in the world, but you break into a cold sweat nonetheless, terrified of how he might react. His jobs as both pro-hero and teacher take up such a substantial amount of his time and you know firsthand how stressful it is, and a baby on top of that? You're not so sure he could handle it...
You're not so sure you could handle it.
Thankfully, you have some privacy at the moment since you had the day off and Shouta didn't, so he's most likely with his class at the moment. Perfect. You don't need him seeing you like this right now.
Soft sniffles and gasps of breath echo through your bathroom as you let the panic and anxiety consume you, the test held loosely between your fingers as you sit on the floor with your head in your knees.
It takes a while for you to finally calm down, and when you do you still look very obviously like you've been crying, causing a soft sigh to escape past your lips when you finally look in the mirror to clean yourself up. You're tired, you look tired, and you're about to walk out of the bathroom feeling like a slab of cement in the same blouse which is now barely at your elbows, your cream bra and the matching underwear.
That is, until you hear the front door open. Cold panic surges through your blood and you stumble backwards in shock and confusion. Is it really that late? No- Shouta is early from work.
He calls your name only to be met with silence, furrowing his eyebrows and realising that you must be in the bathroom. But why didn't you reply to him when he called out to you?
You gulp and fix your shirt frantically, covering the bump that's barely there and thanking every god you can think of that you can pass it off as bloating, slowly walking out of the bathroom and smiling at him quietly.
Meanwhile, the positive test lays on the bathroom counter, left forgotten in your panic.
You greet your boyfriend in the bedroom and give him a soft kiss, learning that there was half-day at UA today, and he got to come back early. You really wanted to be happy about it too. But you were just too overwhelmed and there was too much weighing on your mind for you to act like there was nothing happening, and he picked up on it fast.
He noticed your swollen eyes and bloated figure as you walked out of the bathroom and none of it gives him any reason to think of you as less beautiful, but you look tired and drained, and he's immediately worried about you. As much as he knows not to pry, he can't help but be curious as to whether it was him that caused this. It was.
He guides you to the bed to rest and strokes your hair out of your face, kissing you again before going to the bathroom.
Wide eyes stare at the test on the counter a few minutes later, and you still haven't realised that you had forgotten to hide the test yet, pondering over what you're going to do about this and when you're going to tell him.
You don't really need to worry about that anymore though, when a visibly shocked and apprehensive Shouta comes out of the bathroom holding the test in his hand. His eyes are wide and his lips are parted in shock at the realisation, and you feel dread pool in your stomach as you see what's in his hand. You're almost expecting him to be disappointed or worried until suddenly you're wrapped up in his arms.
His embrace is so warm and comfortable an accepting, and it's everything you didn't realise you needed until you had it, crying almost immediately into his chest and clutching onto his signature black shirt as he rubs your back and chuckles quietly.
"You-... you're pregnant?... Why didn't you tell me? You were planning on-... on hiding it from me?"
Although he understands how afraid you probably were he still can't stop himself from feeling a little upset that you didn't want to tell him straight away, mostly at himself for making you think this way. Before his self doubt can eat away at him any more you speak up, nuzzling your cheek into his shirt with your eyes closed, your expression relaxed and at ease now.
"Shouta, I was scared that-... I don't know, it's stupid- I thought you were too busy for a baby... It was just so fast and... It's been two months since my last period, Shouta."
The two of you talk it out for a while, Aizawa's grin a rare, pure sight as he really comprehends the fact that you're going to have his baby, and his hand is already rubbing your barely swollen belly.
It's not out of character for him to cuddle with you the way he is now, laying down and spooning you as he massages your stomach and kisses up your neck and shoulder while reassuring you that he'll make time for a baby, and he's going to play an active role in helping you with the housework and raising the baby with you.
You know he's not lying to you as you feel him shed tears behind you silently, and a soft smile returns to your lips before you turn around to pepper his face in kisses.
"You better. You're gonna be a dad..."
#mha x reader#bnha x reader#bnha fanfiction#bnha fluff#mha#aizawa x reader#bnha#aizawa drabble#mha aizawa#aizawa headcanons#aizawa x you#aizawa shota x you#aizawa shouta#aizawa fluff#pregnant reader
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The phantom
synopsis: reader has ability/quirk to travel to a state of limbo where the deceased reside. Mention of death, sad angst, like actually
Song: Let the light in - Lana Del Rey
I was crying like a baby writing this which has never happened to me before, still loved it sm
His once calloused hand brushes past the crown of your head pushing back loose strays, focusing on the perfect structure of your features. He wanted a better look at just how beautiful you’ve gotten.
You grasp his large palm in yours, dragging to hold his wrist softly, “I missed you a lot recently..”
You felt the heat of his gaze scatter around your face, exhaling deeply from his nose; you knew he was deep in thought, it made your throat swell in sorrow. “You know what I said last time.” His voice was edging close to stern.
Your gaze narrows down at the polished floor, “Well I don’t know, I guess I couldn’t help myself this time.” Whispered from your lips.
Everything in the home was just as it was the last time you were here. The books along the shelf were untouched, the curtains the same color with the same creases, the counter dust-free- everything still remained dust-free.
“I haven’t been thinking straight lately. Himori’s been trying to force me out the house to do stuff like go for walks, cafe’s, see a movie..”
“Well it sounds like fun, y’know she’s just trying her hardest. The best you can do is try to enjoy it, sweetheart.” He assured softly.
Why did it feel like life was taunting you.
It was quiet.
Outside were birds singing its famous song, banding with the cicadas and wisps of the wind blowing past the limp branches of the weeped willow trees. It was picture perfect, the shade of blue sky with no rain in sight- just floating, pillowed clouds slow dancing around the air above you with no end in sight.
His aura near you felt warm and present.
Hot tears brimmed your lower lashes, your chest felt tight with a suffering ache trying to crawl its way out your stomach, stuck in your throat.
“I can’t enjoy it.” Your voice failed, words trembling out as your eyes meet his. “And you fucking know that.” You forced out in a choked sob.
His soul just didn’t know what to do.
He watches as what looked like months of built up resentment towards him sets free in this state of limbo he continues to wander in. You shouldn’t be back, yet he couldn’t blame you, either.
Your head fell low in your lap, shaking with grief and all he wanted to do was fall to his knees and say everything between you two was going to be alright.
He knew all you wanted to hear him say was he was not going anywhere.
But it wasn’t true.
He wanted you out of this phantom tale you weren’t supposed to be in and live your own life the way it was meant to be.
Both your attention turns to the rumbling in the far distance. The weather outside becomes grayer, the fluffy clouds swell in darkness, the trees swaying trying to brace itself for the incoming storm.
He faces you, his warm embrace wrapping around you like a childhood blanket.
It felt like time paused in a place there was no time. Your tears were swiped away by his thumb, palms grasping your cheeks in a desire no one could take away.
“I lived my life just to see you happy, you know that right?” He asks with attentiveness. You quickly nod holding back more tears. Your faces were a mere inch apart. Your eyes fluttered shut and felt yourself give and lean closer to him.
But he holds you still.
He grasps your palm holding it on your beating heart.
You both knew your presence was a disruption here. But fate is not something to be discriminatory, it was also cruel. And the emptiness you both felt knew that first hand.
“Don’t live your life for me anymore.” Your heart burns, letting your head fall on his shoulder to soak his shirt. “You can’t let this hold back from the life you should have. Nothing can take away what I remember, sweetheart. And you’re not someone I can forget.” He whispers.
The distraught in his voice was telling. He was holding it together by a thread, yet still he knew if he gave into what he wanted most, you’d continue to suffer in a rewritten timeline.
“I can’t forget you either.”
The sky grew darker.
Selfishly, he leaned to kiss your tear away, lips lingering on the side of your cheek like a phantom.
“Please. Don’t come back.” He murmured.
Your hand was left empty. The heat of his hold still lingering as you watch him walk out the door.
Your feet followed without telling them to, racing out the door behind him. The surroundings phased as you found yourself outside on the balcony of your shared apartment.
The wind chill blows past your hair as you walk back inside. Your framed photo together still lays on the desk, a thin layer of dust resting patiently. It’s only a memory.
You wipe it away and set it down, dust-free.
Wiping the last stray tear yourself, you walk out to find Himori.
BNHA: Keigo, Bakugou, Aizawa
JJK: Geto, Gojo,
Part 2 prequel possible with a poll on which character i should base it on for a stronger plotline, stay tuned :/
Please follow, like and reblog ʕ⁎̯͡⁎ʔ༄
#jjk drabbles#mha imagines#bnha oneshots#boku no hero academia#jujutsu kaisen fic#jujutsu kaisen#keigo takami x reader#aizawa shouta x you#katsuki bakugou x y/n#gojo satoru x reader#geto suguru x reader#bnha angst#pitou.writes#pitou.drabbles
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