#Aizawa

[yuunyaa66]

Pspspspspsps

[rueclfer]

homemade // shouta aizawa

when your neighbor's best friend needs a hand planning a surprise birthday party

a/n: lil warm up for a fic im planning in this same au <3 also to feed aizawa nation i know yall r starving

mha tag: @lotuslovers @babylambdietcoke @0skullyard0 @kaldurahms-lover @commonmisery @moonstonejpg @twoplayergaymers @simp-plague @xvilluis @haruhi269 @starliightfiend @k0z3me

[decarbry]

focus

[smashley351]

@call-me-copycat @tastelessleather

Some B&W doodles for aizawa's birthday cause I HAD to do something but I'm too tired to do a full piece </3

[sldlovescartoons]

I like to think that at some point after Aizawa looses his eye people start making a habit of gifting him ocular prosthetics (“glass eye”) that he just doesn’t wear. Like, when they had to take the thing out they popped in an implant to keep shape and stuff, but he just never goes to get fitted for a prosthesis. so it starts with Present Mic giving him a stock, black irised prosthetic for his birthday. And somehow, words gets out, and spreads, and for some spirits forsaken reason is just becomes the thing to give him. The first escalation happens then Midoriya, that problem child, in his second year of teaching, gifts him a custom made eye that Kacchan and Neito chipped in for that was Bright Erasure Yellow. And monster was created and Deku had unwittingly started the race for Who Can Get Eraser The Weirdest Eye. He has them in all colors. Several patterns. They take up a whole drawer. They won’t stop. He still doesn’t wear them.

[syrecjh]

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹

Katsuki Bakugo had always been fire in human form—brash, explosive, impossible to ignore. But you, somehow, were the one who never flinched. While other kids cried or scurried off after one of his outbursts, you stood your ground. Sometimes, you even laughed.

“You done yelling, Kats?” you’d tease, a lollipop tucked between your teeth.

“Shut it,” he’d grumble, ears just a little pink.

It baffled others, how he let you call him that—Kats. He’d blow a fuse if anyone else dared. You and Izuku were the only ones he kept close (but it's just you honestly), like two calm orbits around a sun too hot to touch. Childhood was a triangle of scraped knees, comic books, and chasing dreams in alleys too narrow for the futures you dreamed of.

He was sharp-edged, proud, and always charging forward like he had something to prove. But with you? He slowed down. He listened. Not always with words, but in the way he'd wait for you after class, or how he'd carry your bag without asking when your arms were full. In the way he'd scowl when you called him Kacchan just to get under his skin—but he never really minded.

“You sound like that nerd, dumbass.”

“But I say it better. Kaaacchaaaan,” you’d sing, dodging his half-hearted swat.

You were inseparable (in your own point of view) —Bakugo, Midoriya, and You. A mismatched trio with your own rhythm. When Bakugo would get too rough, you'd pull him back. When Izuku would hesitate, you'd nudge him forward. And when you were unsure, Katsuki would glare at the world like it had offended you personally.

As you grew, things changed. Powers awakened. Dreams became goals. But something between the three of you stayed the same. That unspoken bond. That sacred space where Katsuki wasn’t a grenade ready to go off—he was just your Katsuki.

One rainy afternoon, as you sat on the rooftop of the dorms—legs dangling off the edge, silence sitting comfortably between you—he spoke.

“…You’re the only one who calls me that and gets away with it.”

“Kats?”

“Yeah.”

You smiled. “That’s because you chose me. Remember?”

He grunted. “Didn’t have much of a choice. You were always just there. Like a stubborn weed.”

“Aw, romantic.”

“Shut up.”

But his voice was softer than usual. Almost fond. And when the rain started falling, he didn’t get up. He just sat there with you—loud in every way, but quiet where it mattered.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹

[simp-plague]

[heartsforkatsuki]

this is peak

actually i think a very good dynamic for aizawa is that you absolutely want to fuck his guts out and he's the only person in the world who doesn't see that

[daydreamingoveracupofcoffee]

Dating headcanons for Shota Aizawa:

- Aizawa isn’t one for grand gestures or public displays of affection. He shows love through subtle, meaningful actions—like making sure you’re warm enough, quietly checking in on you after a long day, or leaving you a cup of coffee exactly how you like it.

- As a hero, Aizawa has a natural instinct to protect those he cares about. However, he respects your independence and won’t smother you. He’ll step in if you’re in danger but trusts you to handle yourself otherwise.

- His sarcasm and deadpan humor come out in full force. He’ll tease you lightly, often with a straight face, making it hard to tell if he’s joking until you see the faint smirk tugging at his lips.

- Once Aizawa commits, he’s all in. He’s not the type to play games or waver in his feelings. His loyalty is unwavering, and he expects the same in return.

Early relationship:

- Aizawa is guarded, especially after losing people he cared about (like Shirakumo). He’s slow to share personal details, but as he trusts you more, he’ll reveal bits of his past and vulnerabilities.

- Don’t expect flowers or candlelit dinners. Aizawa’s version of romance is practical—he’ll fix something in your apartment, make sure you eat properly, or give you his scarf when it’s cold. These acts are his way of saying, “I care about you.”

- Aizawa is a night owl, so many of your early bonding moments happen late at night. Whether it’s grading papers together or just sitting on a rooftop under the stars, these quiet moments are when he’s most open.

- His love for cats is a big part of his life. If you’re allergic or not a cat person, he’ll be low-key disappointed but won’t push it. If you love cats, though? Instant bonding. He’ll casually suggest naming a stray you find together.

Established relationship:

- Aizawa thrives on routine, so your relationship settles into a comfortable rhythm. You have “your things”—like morning coffee together, late-night patrols, or binge-watching a show he pretends he’s only watching for you.

- Aizawa is chronically sleep-deprived, so he’s a big fan of naps. He’ll pull you into his sleeping bag for a quick cuddle session, muttering something about “maximizing efficiency” while nuzzling into your shoulder.

- Physical intimacy with Aizawa is understated but meaningful. He’s not overly touchy, but when he does touch you—a hand on your back, fingers brushing your hair—it’s deliberate and grounding. He values emotional intimacy just as much, cherishing moments where you can just be together.

- Aizawa is your biggest cheerleader, though he’s subtle about it. If you’re struggling, he’ll listen quietly, offer practical advice, and stay by your side. He’s not great with flowery words, but his actions scream support.

Dates:

- Aizawa prefers simple dates—think takeout and a movie at home, a walk through a quiet park, or a visit to a cat café. He values spending time with you over flashy outings.

- One of his favorite date spots is a rooftop with a view of the city. He’ll bring a blanket, some snacks, and maybe a thermos of tea, and you’ll spend hours talking or just enjoying the silence.

- If you’re a hero, some of your “dates” might involve patrolling together. Aizawa finds it oddly romantic to work side-by-side, trusting each other in the field.

- On special occasions (like your anniversary), he’ll surprise you by dressing up (think about a cleaner version of his usual attire) and taking you to a cozy, understated restaurant. He’ll grumble about the effort but enjoy seeing you happy.

Challenges in the relationship:

- Aizawa’s dedication to his students and hero work can leave him stretched thin. You’ll need to gently remind him to prioritize himself sometimes.

- His guarded nature means he might struggle to express his feelings, especially during tough times. Patience and understanding are key to helping him open up.

- Aizawa pushes himself hard, and his exhaustion can affect the relationship. You might need to step in to make sure he rests, which he’ll resist but secretly appreciate.

- As a pro hero, Aizawa faces constant danger. This can create tension, especially if you worry about his safety. He’ll reassure you in his blunt way, but the fear never fully goes away.

Quirks and habits:

- Aizawa’s capture weapon scarf is iconic, and he’ll pretend to be annoyed if you borrow it, but he secretly loves seeing you wear it. It’s like a subtle claim that you’re his.

- He’ll send you pictures of stray cats he’s found on patrol with captions like, “This one’s trouble.”

- He’ll mutter things like, “You’re such a pain,” while pulling you into a hug or fixing your hair. It’s his way of saying he adores you.

- Aizawa’s dry eyes are a running gag, and he’ll sheepishly ask you to carry eye drops for him. It becomes a cute inside joke when you hand them over without him asking.

How he says “I Love You”:

- Aizawa rarely says the words outright, but his actions scream it—whether it’s staying up to make sure you get home safely, remembering small details about your preferences, or putting himself between you and danger.

- When he does say “I love you,” it’s in a quiet, unguarded moment, like when you’re half-asleep in his arms or after a particularly rough day. His voice is soft, almost hesitant, but full of conviction.

- Occasionally, you’ll find a sticky note or a text with a short, sincere message like, “Don’t overdo it today. I need you around.” It’s his way of expressing love without making a big deal of it.

Long-term relationship:

- Aizawa sees you as his equal, someone he can rely on as much as you rely on him. He values a partnership where you both grow together while maintaining your individuality.

- He’s not one for traditional milestones, but he’ll casually mention things like, “We should get a place with a better view,” or “The cats need a bigger space.” It’s his way of planning a future with you.

- Aizawa isn’t big on marriage, but if it’s important to you, he’ll agree to a small, no-fuss ceremony. As for kids, he’s hesitant due to his dangerous job and fear of not being a good father, but he’d be an amazing (if slightly overprotective) dad if it happens.

- Aizawa dreams of a quiet life with you after retiring from hero work. He’ll joke about you taking care of him when he’s “old and grumpy,” but he’s serious about wanting you by his side.

Dating Shota Aizawa is a slow, steady building trust, sharing quiet moments, and finding warmth in his understated love. He’s not the flashiest partner, but his devotion, loyalty, and subtle affection make him someone worth cherishing.

[wh1spic]

I think the next big psychological study should be the correlation between batfam and mha fandom. almost every. single. person. I know. who loves mha, has had an obsession with the batfam.

is it because there is an angsty emo looking dad who's chronically tired and has too many kids?

[krystalmelodie]

Instructions unclear, they’re boyfriends now 🤷🏻‍♀️

[jaiikan]

Prince-sensei in the house (Snape - Aizawa Crossover bc both are depressed and tired teachers in every universe.)

[salientseraph]

Aizawa sketches EEEEEKKK he's so husband

I've had so much fun learning to draw him so far 🩷

[iinarizaki]

pro freak

things just don't go so well on a call for poor Aizawa...and he needs you 🫵 tags: 18+, 4.0k, aizawa x f!reader (sorta, I don't think I used any pronouns or gendered petnames with this one), guys it's sex pollen there's like unprotected marathon sex, cunnilingus, cum, sweat, masturbation (m!), dry humping, things are happening.

“Ha! Even the great Eraserhead can’t beat me. So sad how the heroes are falling since All Might’s retirement!” The lanky twenty-something currently attempting to do circles around him taunts him with that annoying, grating voice of his. 

Attempting is the key word here. While still being surprisingly fast, Aizawa has still managed to stun him twice but there was some stupid counter to his quirk that is proving full capture a little challenging. And the– admittedly foolish as he knows much better– added distraction of being almost late to a dinner date with you is tugging his full attention from the urban jungle that he chases this young idiot through, swinging from buildings and lamp posts like that one fictional American superhero All Might compared him to one day not too long ago… Spider-boy or something. 

It’s just the thought of disappointing you, of missing the expensive reservation that he somewhat reluctantly booked six months in advance at some hyper popular restaurant you wistfully mentioned wanting to go to after seeing an instagram reel…

Just to see you happy. 

Knowing it’s work related and you would forgive him easily is a weak comfort but he would rather not have to ask for forgiveness in the first place. Having you in his life is something he never realized he needed until one day you just seemed to show up and he quickly realized that it would kill part of him if you weren’t around. 

He just needs to hurry and wrap this guy up, then alert the police or Best Jeanist or whoever else is close enough to pick him up. It’s not like he really cares if he gets all the glory…

Especially on a minor incident like this. The guy was stealing from an improperly unsecured bank truck and knocked out the guards. It’s basically kid shit. 

As he tries to quickly consider his options and form a plan, an opening appears when his opponent turns his head to taunt him further, only to clip the side of a building, falling to the ground with a heavy thud, his plastic helmet cracking on the sidewalk. He dives forward with his scarf, activating his quirk and using his scarf to carry him closer to further incapacitate him when he passes the opening of a street and out of his peripheral he sees something coming towards him at speed.

Before he can react, a cloud of something pink is thrown at him. He flinches when it slips through the slats in his visor, the powder burning his already sensitive eyes harshly. Thinking quickly despite the burning sensation that now spreads down his neck, rolling over his shoulders and making him shudder. 

Taking a literal blind chance, he flicks one end of his scarf out to suspend himself from a street light. Unable to stop his momentum, he swings wildly, bumping his leg painfully as he wraps his other scarf around the second perpetrator.

His shoulder protests holding his weight, Aizawa forcing himself to bite back a grunt and the growing hot feeling beginning to thrum through his veins. He carefully drops himself to the ground before launching the now freed second end of his scarf to wrap the first of the hooligans that still lays unconscious. 

“What is this?” He asks sharply to the grumbling form on the ground, trying to open his eyes but every time he tries it just burns so badly that his eyelids can only flutter. 

“My quirk. You got hit with a full dose of my love dust!” 

Aizawa grimaces, and not just at the corniness of the bullshit these young villains have been spouting recently. 

“And what does it do?” He asks sharply as he uses his chin to bump the comms button on his watch. “Eraserhead here. Need assistance.”

“Already have your location. Best Jeanist is in the area and on his way. Hang tight.” Dispatch crackles back via his earpiece. 

“It’s in the name, wise-ass.” His aggressor snaps back with a clear grin that Aizawa can hear in his voice while the dispatcher spoke. Honestly he couldn’t be more happy that he can’t see the full expression on their face, though the burn is starting to subside, leaving more of that weird pleasurable tingle in its wake that seems to be intensifying. 

“We’ll just have to ask you two more questions at the station.” He sighs, forcing himself to breathe normally when that pleasurable tingle spreads past his shoulders in earnest, snaking down towards his groin. 

“If you make it that long.” The dust villain mutters before they start to laugh, earning a renewed glare of disgust from Aizawa. 

Before he can inquire further into whatever the hell that means, the sound of confident steps approaches from behind as Best Jeanist interrupts them. 

“Good evening, Eraserhead. Seems like you’ve gotten into a bit of a situation.” Best Jeanist’s proper tone clips along, never overly friendly, but that’s something he’s always appreciated about him. All professionalism and getting the job done so they can just go home. 

“Yeah, uh, hey, Jeanist. There’s just this one and the kid on the corner.” 

“Understood. I have backup on the way.” Best Jeanist just nods, strings whipping out to secure the two of them so Aizawa can undo his scarf.

“Ugh but c’mon, you need to let me go, I have class tomorrow! We didn’t even do anything!” The whining would-be villain at his feet huffs. 

“Should have thought about that before throwing weird dirt at me.”

“It’s not dirt.” 

Well that can be said for sure. The the initial burn was closer to lightning, sparking through him harshly, but now burn is slowly licking its way down his spine, over his abdominals, almost too uncomfortable at first before it subsides into a pleasant buzz, his thoughts drifting to you now– in compromising positions, whimpers and breathy moans replaying in total replay. 

Everything in him begs to go see you, very nearly overwhelming him as he attempts to stay professional and alert…except he brings his hands up to his eyes and makes the mistake of rubbing at them to see if he can open them yet. 

The heat that explodes immediately catches him off guard by how potent it is. He staggers forward, the sensation almost bringing him to his knees. 

“Are you alright, Eraserhead?” Best Jeanist asks curiously. “Do I need to call for a medic?” 

“No, it’s fine. I will go see Recovery Girl myself.” He says quickly, not really wanting anyone else to know about whatever this ‘love dust’ is. 

Getting attacked in battle was easier than now having to sit in Recovery Girl’s station, his scarf unraveled from his neck and strategically placed in his lap while she finishes running her tests. 

It’s not like he can just knock out their well-meaning nurse, nor does he want to but the embarrassment is terrible and invasive, and being rock hard while she shakes her head at him and chastises him is even fucking worse. His skin feels like it’s on fire, desire to be with you heavy in his gut and balls even heavier. 

Fortunately between texts to you to let you know that ‘yes, I’m safe’ but ‘sorry I won’t be home in time to go to dinner. Go ahead and take a friend. We’ll go another time.’ and keeping his hands and mind busy with an end of his scarf keeps his thoughts from wandering too badly. Folding an edge, then smoothing it out, folding it back down, rinse and repeat.

“You need to be more careful.” Recovery Girl scolds him. “But you’ll be fine. It’s just a case of um, well, increased libido for at least the next several hours. Nothing I can do about it unfortunately.” 

A fresh fat bead of sweat rolls down his neck uncomfortably and Aizawa fixes her with a tired, blank stare, only to be taken aback completely by her next question: 

“Have you ever heard of sex pollen?” 

“Excuse me?” He half asks, half says way too quickly. He was young and curious once and some of the stupid things he’s confiscated from the students over the years from drawings to handwritten fanfiction have been wildly inappropriate in nature…But he’s not going to talk to Recovery Girl about sex pollen. 

He must maintain some shred of distance and self respect today. 

A beat goes by as Recovery Girl debates explaining it to him before she just waves him off. “Eh, forget about it. It’ll probably go away by tomorrow. Maybe if you found a partner it would go away quicker?”

Clearly a reference to you, but he does feel a little…weird about seeking you out when he finally gets home just to work out the lingering effects of a villain’s quirk. Even if the craving he has for you right now physically hurts him. 

“I’ll just head home and wait it out. Thanks.” With that, he quickly stands, still trying to keep the mess of his scarf in front of him to conceal the biggest issue with him wanting to stay lowkey about all of this. 

“Good luck.” Recovery Girl offers as she finishes her report, what he’s fairly certain is a grandmotherly giggle managing to sneak through the crack of the door as it shuts behind him. 

By the time Aizawa gets to the apartment he shares with you and starts to unlock the door, he’s feverish. His thoughts are cloudy, he’s hot and sweaty all over, and worst of all, his cock has throbbed painfully nonstop at not being paid any attention to in the last couple hours since his initial exposure. 

Separate warring feelings of relief and disappointment flood through him when he steps through the door and it’s dark, only the hum of the appliances in the air to suggest that the power is on, and the place you usually occupy on the couch by this time of the evening is empty and cold. Maybe, hopefully, you did take his suggestion and took a friend to your reservations. 

But God, his heart and cock aches for you. 

At any rate, he quickly undresses and throws his still contaminated clothes in the washer before he finds himself attempting to remedy the issue himself in the shower, the leading thought of removing any remnants of dust that hasn’t soaked into his skin yet quickly forgotten when he accidentally grabs your body wash instead of his own. 

Cool water running over his defined back and surrounded by the scent that has become so you, he finally begins to palm at his cock, red and swollen and begging for attention. His head falls forward to rest on the shower wall, long dark hair curtaining his face as a pant escapes his lips. 

It feels good, a slight relief to take some of that gnawing edge off, but his hand is not your hand, and pulling from his expansive memories of experiences with you is not helping the same way it usually does. He strokes himself, squeezes, tries all the tricks he’s come to enjoy over the years with growing desperation to cum, but every time he’s so very close it fizzles out. 

The water runs freezing by the time Aizawa gets out and dries off, pulling his wet hair back in a loose bun, yet the heat that burns under his skin still rages, and he’s more frustrated than he has ever been in his entire life. 

He curses under his breath as he strides to the bedroom. Heading straight for his wardrobe, he grabs a pair of boxers to wear, the thought of putting on any more clothes than that right now makes him feel as if he very well could die. And the only person who can help him is…

Well, Aizawa needs to check his phone to see if you’ve texted him back since he was in the shower. It’s been nearly an hour judging by the time on the clock by your side of the bed. He pads back out to the living room, a small groan rumbling in his throat as sweat starts to roll down his back and chest again. 

As he picks up his phone from the kitchen counter, the front door opens and it takes all he can possibly muster not to immediately sweep you off your feet. 

“I’m home!” You call. “Shota?” 

“In the kitchen.” He calls back, attempting to clear his throat when his voice comes out a little husky. 

“How are you feeling? I stopped to get some things for you and I sweet talked them into letting me bring you home some takeout from that restaurant.” You flounce in with a sparkle in your eye, setting plastic bags down before moving in to hug him. Something he immediately dissuades by holding a hand up that stops you in your tracks, a confused frown pinching your brow as you wait for him to explain. 

“Don’t come too close right now. Sorry.” It’s a dagger to his heart to have to refuse you right now. Aizawa bites his lip, looking away from you, one of his hands coming up to rest on the back of his neck, “Thank you for dinner.”

“What's wrong?” He looks back towards you, watching as your concerned gaze roams him, searching for any obvious signs that he is hurt but coming up with none aside from a bruise forming on his calf from his slight collision with the light pole during the chase. 

“I was attacked by a villain with a, uh, quirk that makes you very horny for a while.” 

“Oh.” The frown turns into a look of surprise, before you start giggling, the sound even sweeter than usual and so fucking dangerous but the final nail in his terrible coffin is when you pair it with a gesture to the treacherous bulge in his boxers. “I was wondering why you were so happy to see me.” 

His face feels even hotter, and he pitches forward to rest his elbows on the counter, planting his head in his hands with a long groan. 

“Don’t bully me.” He grumbles, muffled behind his hands. “It is so hard not to drag you off to bed right now.” 

What answers him is another giggle that is both his salvation and his destruction. 

“Awww, poor thing, how can I help you?” Your voice gets closer, all but purring in his ear, and he wants so badly to bury his face between your legs, sink into your pretty cunt over and over again, hear you cry out in pleasure until you’re hoarse, leave you covered in love bites and cum and— 

He starts to deny you but the second your lips plant a soft blissful kiss against his shoulder, one of your hands starting to rub over his tense back, letting your nails drag down lightly, his brain short circuits. He moans into his hands, dropping them down to turn and seek you and your pretty lips instead. 

You meet him halfway, soft lips brushing against his and another needy noise rumbles in his throat as one of your hands rubs over his chest through his dark, neatly trimmed chest hair. A scrape of your nail over his nipple and he pushes you up against the counter, hips rolling against your half perched thigh. 

Stars sparkle behind his eyelids with the friction against his cock, the relief almost palpable. He breaks from the kiss to mouth at your neck, hot breath fanning out over your skin as you hum so sweetly.

“Thank you.” He breathes, fucking himself against your thigh desperately, “Fuck, thank you.”  

“Come, Shota. You’re doing so good.” You purr, stroking fingers along his scruffy jaw and down to drag your nails over his shoulder lightly again.

Quickly and with the force of a train, finally his first orgasm drowns him, vision whiting out as he clutches on to you tightly, tensing as he fills his boxers with ropes of warm cum. 

Aizawa shudders while the last sparks of pleasure roll through him, rough pants and soft hums tucked into the crook of your neck. But he only gets to enjoy how satisfied he feels for a moment before that awful hot thirst grabs him by the throat again. 

“How do you feel now?” You ask, continuing to rub your hand up and down one side of his back soothingly.

“Hah, we’re not done yet.” He rasps against your neck, easily hooking his arms around you and picking you up to sweep you away. You laugh in his arms as he quickly strides down the hallway and into your bedroom, his heartbeat thumping in his ears.

You’re so satisfying in his arms, substantial and gorgeous and everything he could ever hope to get lost in as he drops you down onto the soft covers of the bed. Immediately you start shedding your clothing, everything thrown off in a rush to the four corners of the room. 

A few sticky rogue webs of cum take their sweet time to break as Aizawa steps out of his boxers. His cock lurches upwards, tapping against his stomach before he’s kneeling on the bed and draping himself over you with a blistering hunger and need you have only rarely seen before. 

He kisses you again, all teeth and tongue and whimpering desire, his breath catching when you return his kisses with the same desperation. As much as he needs to fuck you with abandon, he forces himself to slow down, beginning to kiss down your body until he’s half off the bed, supporting most of his weight on one outstretched foot before he spreads your thighs a little wider to reach your soft glistening cunt. 

“You’re so pretty.” He compliments before he spreads your folds with his nose, bumping your clit as he licks broadly with his tongue. He moans against you, not usually minding your taste, but today you just taste incredible. Like the finest fresh strawberry in the world. 

“Oh, god.” You whine under the overwhelming onslaught of his mouth. He smiles when you cant your hips into his mouth, feeling a fresh gush of wetness on his tongue. He introduces two fingers, so gently stroking over your folds before they delve into you with abandon. 

Ever aware, Aizawa knows all your spots. All the little tricks to have you coming completely undone before he’s even been inside of you yet, anything he can do to hear you crying out his name and leave you struggling to walk on boneless legs, he’ll do. 

And he takes advantage of that now, latching onto your clit and crooking his fingers to brush against that rough spot that always makes you see stars, fucking into you with punishing speed and accuracy as your hips jerk and you desperately try to muffle yourself even just a little bit, but he doesn’t care about the neighbors hearing tonight. 

His thoughts are filled with only you and fucking this quirk bullshit out of his system. His hips grind against the edge of the bed with every sweet moan of his name, his cock twitching when you tumble over the edge, cunt clenching tightly around his fingers. Your hands tangle into his hair tightly, loose pieces falling over his drenched face. 

Pulling his fingers from you, he sucks them clean, wiping the spit and remainders of your juices off on the covers before he pushes back up onto the bed, tendrils of still damp black hair brushing against your collarbone. 

“So, how was dinner?” He asks between heavy breaths as he reaches down and grabs his cock, angling it down to slip into you easily and to the hilt with one stroke. 

You keen at the fullness, still sensitive from your orgasm just a few moments ago, the most gorgeous sight to him when your head tilts back into the blankets and exposes your neck for him to mark up, let everybody know that you are his. 

It’s so juvenile, Aizawa is more than aware, but he saw Hawks flirting with you the other day and it ignited a little something in him, even though he knows you would never betray him like that. 

“Ah, it was sooo good. There was—Ah, Shota,” You start off strong, voice dying off into a whine. “Wish you had been there.” 

Obscene noises fill any silence as he rocks his hips into you, barely pulling out before he’s hitting himself again roughly, his heavy balls slapping against your ass. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t. I tried to make it.” 

“I know, baby, I know.” You coo, “I’ll tell you more about it after you’re done railing me as long as you tell me how you got hit by— harder, please, oh fuck —this sex quirk.” 

Aizawa snorts though heavy breaths, “Deal.” 

The sight of you underneath him, sweat slicking your skin from the heat radiating off him, smelling so sweet and musky and sexy, he dips his head down and licks over your chest, up to just under your jaw as he snaps his hips into you, salty and sweet and driving him wild. 

Every stroke inside of you feels like the first one, the pleasure leaving his head swimming as he continues the quick pace of snapping his hips into you once more, another orgasm blinding him harshly as he falls forward onto you, barely braced by an arm he throws out to catch himself. He continues to grind into you, curses and whimpers of your name are panted against your collarbone as warm ropes of cum paint your walls.

“Sorry.” He groans, relieved as it seems to be wearing off now, that sense of urgency gripping his body and mind easing off. “I think it’s over.”

“I don’t know, I think this is pretty hot.” You laugh. “Seeing you so wrecked is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, Shota.” 

“Glad someone is enjoying this.”

“And you aren’t?” 

“Oh, I am. You taste so fucking good.” He kisses you, slipping a little tongue before he pulls away and licks at a bead of sweat on your chest. “So good.” 

“You’re ridiculous.” You laugh, pushing a stray damp strand of his hair back behind his ear.

“Uh huh.” He rolls his eyes, a sense of dread filling him when that now familiar heat fogs over his mind again, racing down his back towards his groin. “Fuck.” 

“Again?” 

“Uh huh.” He shudders when you purposefully clench around him. He begins to rock into you again, his hip popping and starting to ache. 

“I heard that.” You comment. “Let me get on top. Have a rest.” 

He rolls the two of you so he’s underneath you, carefully enough that his cock barely moves from where it’s buried in your warm cunt. You sit up and Aizawa can’t help but moan when you shift and the erotic sight of the mixture of your fluids slips from your pussy down his shaft, pooling on the dark hair around the base of his cock. 

You start to move your hips and his eyes are fixed on how gorgeous you look like this, his cock disappearing between your thighs, the slick sound of wet skin on skin, the way your chest jiggles, he remains transfixed as you push yourself to keep the rough pace he set a few moments ago. 

“Shota,” You moan, “Touch me. Please.”

His heart hammers in his chest as he meets the rhythm of your hips, pistoning up into you desperately as he brings his fingers up to caress your chest and rub at your clit in short fast circles that leave you keening. 

When you fall apart on him and Aizawa cums again with a hoarse cry, disgusted yet beyond turned on by the slick mess he’s making out of you, he’s so grateful that it’s you by his side. 

The effects of the quirk subside by the morning after a night filled with exhausted love-making, leaving the two of you sore and soaked in cum and hickies and exhausted— and throwing this set of sheets out as soon as possible.

[nanamisgirly]

look at you.

face smashed against the cold tile, drool slicking up the surface, mascara running down your flushed cheeks. dress bunched at your waist, panties shoves to the side, legs spread wide to take everything he's giving you. he has you stretched wide around his cock, stuffed to the brim—thick veins dragging against your swollen walls, molding you to take him, to be nothing but a tight, dripping hole for him.

your boyfriend got one hand twisted in your hair, yanking you back so your spine curves perfectly for him, while the other grips your waist. you can barely think, barely breathe, each punishing thrust shoving you up on your tiptoes. “that's the last time you pull some dumb shit like that,” he grits out, dark eyes staying locked on the way your slutty cunt flutters around his cock, creamy and dripping, making a filthy mess of him every time he sinks balls-deep—slick squelching with every thrust, pussy milking him like it's desperate to be bred. his heavy balls slap against your clit, sinful and wet, sending jolts of overstimulation up your spine.

you thought he wouldn't do shit, thought you could tease him, rub up against some random loser and he would just sit there, looking all cool and composed. you didn't thought he would fuck you like a total beast in some dingy club bathroom, cock abusing that sweet little spot inside you, making you see a whole new galaxy.

“t-thought you d-didn't get jealous,” you slur through the hot tears wetting your lips.

a sharp slap stings your ass, heat blooming under his palm, making you jolt. “i don't,” he growls, hips ramming into you so hard your cheek smushes against the cold tile. 

“w-wait—”

“nah,” he grunts, dragging you back onto his cock, “slut don't get to talk.” his pace speeds up, his heavy length spearing into you making your hands slip against the wall as you scramble for anything to hold onto. your walls squeeze him so tight, pulsing around his montrous cock—mind gone, too fucked-out to do anything but take it.

his breath stutters as you tighten around him, sending a fresh pulse of pre-cum spilling deep inside you. his thrusts turn messy, erratic, grinding you into the wall like he's trying to fuck you straight through it. 

another slap lands on your ass, sharp, electric. “gonna fuck you until you're too dumb to pull this bratty attitude again.”