#Aizawa x reader

[alternatimsnowfall]

i'm very curious as to how this will play out.

i remembered my password

[dayabelle]

Whatever this is

Pairings: Mha!Shota Aizawa x Fem!Reader

Oneshot!

-

Shes in her twenties, the night soft with the hum of city life outside her window. She’s dozing on her couch, the flicker of a late-night movie casting shifting shadows across the walls. Then, a faint knock—hesitant but urgent—cuts through the quiet.

She startles awake, blinking into the darkness. It takes her a moment to realize it’s coming from the window. Her pulse quickens as she moves toward it, pulling aside the curtain. There he is, slumped against the frame, his face pale, a gash above his brow leaking crimson. His knuckles are raw, his shirt torn, and the faint glint of pain dances in his eyes.

Her heart leaps into her throat. “Oh my God,” she gasps, fumbling to unlock the window. “What happened? Are you okay?”

He tries to smile, his voice hoarse. “Bad night.” But his knees buckle as he climbs inside, and she catches him, her hands shaking as she helps him to the couch.

She doesn’t ask more questions, not yet. Grabbing her first aid kit, she works with a single-minded focus, dabbing at the blood, her voice soft but firm as she tells him to stay still. He winces but doesn’t complain, watching her with a mix of gratitude and something else—something quieter, more profound.

When the cuts are cleaned and the bandages are secured, she sinks onto the couch beside him, her breath shaky. “You scared me,” she murmurs, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Sorry,” he says, his voice low. “Didn’t know where else to go.”

And that’s when it happens—the flicker of vulnerability in his eyes, the way he lets his guard slip just for a moment. She sees him not as the tough, unflinching guy she thought he was, but as someone who’s been carrying too much, for too long.

The hours pass, and he stays. They talk in whispers, his defenses softening as he tells her bits and pieces of what led him here tonight. She listens, her own walls crumbling as she begins to see him more clearly.

By the time dawn breaks, painting the room in soft hues of gold, she realizes she’s falling for him. It’s not just the way he looks at her, or the quiet strength he carries despite his pain—it’s the way he makes her feel, like she’s someone worth leaning on. Someone worth knowing.

The living room is cloaked in a warm, muted glow, the faint hum of the city outside their only soundtrack. He leans back against the couch, exhaustion etched into his features, the adrenaline fading and leaving him raw. She sits close, the first aid kit still on the table, her fingers resting idly on her lap as she studies him. His face is pale, the bandage on his brow stark against his skin, but his lips curl into a faint, tired smile when he catches her gaze.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” he says, his voice low and hoarse. There’s a vulnerability in the way he says it, a hesitation she’s not used to seeing in him.

“Of course, I did,” she replies, her voice firmer than she expected. “You were bleeding on my fire escape. What kind of person would I be if I didn’t?”

He chuckles softly, but it fades quickly, his eyes dropping to his hands. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come. I didn’t mean to drag you into… whatever this is.”

Her heart twists at the way he says it, at the shame laced in his words. “Stop,” she says, her tone gentler now. “You don’t have to explain. I’m just… I’m glad you came here.” She hesitates, then adds, “I’m glad you trusted me.”

For a moment, silence settles between them, heavy but not uncomfortable. His eyes meet hers again, searching, as if trying to understand why she’s not angry, why she hasn’t pushed him away. The look they share lingers, and something unspoken passes between them—an understanding, a connection that neither of them can quite put into words.

“Sometimes, it feels like I don’t have anyone,” he admits quietly, his voice almost a whisper. “Like I’m just… out there, on my own.”

Her chest tightens at his words. “You’re not alone,” she says softly. “Not tonight, at least.”

He looks at her for a long moment, something vulnerable and raw flickering in his gaze. Then, almost hesitantly, he reaches for her. His arms wrap around her, tentative at first, as if unsure she’ll accept the gesture. But she does, slipping into his embrace like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

She feels his heartbeat against her cheek, steady but slightly erratic, as if he’s as uncertain about this moment as she is. His body relaxes by degrees, the tension melting away as her arms tighten around him.

“Thank you,” he murmurs against her hair, his voice barely audible.

She doesn’t reply, just lets her fingers trace soft circles on his back. The weight of the moment pulls them both under, and before long, the rhythm of their breathing syncs, their exhaustion catching up to them.

They fall asleep like that, tangled together on the couch, her head resting against his chest, his arms securely around her. In the quiet of the early morning, with the world outside just beginning to stir, everything else fades away—the worries, the pain, the distance. For a few precious hours, it’s just them, and for the first time in a long time, it feels like enough.

.

The soft glow of morning sunlight filters through the curtains, painting the living room in shades of gold and amber. The city outside is slowly waking, the distant hum of cars and faint chatter of early risers drifting through the cracked window.

She stirs first, her eyes fluttering open to the sight of him still asleep. His face is relaxed, the tension she saw the night before melted away in the quiet vulnerability of slumber. His arm is still draped loosely around her, and she can feel the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath her cheek.

For a moment, she doesn’t move. She studies him in the golden light, noticing things she hadn’t before—the faint crease between his brows, the way his jawline softens when he’s at peace, the faint stubble catching the light. He looks so different from the man who had stumbled through her window just hours ago, battered and broken. Here, he looks almost... boyish, as if the weight of the world has momentarily lifted from his shoulders.

Her heart swells with something she doesn’t dare name yet. It’s too soon, too fragile. But as she lies there, her fingers idly tracing the edge of the blanket draped over them, she knows she’s crossed a line. She’s fallen deeper than she intended.

He stirs beneath her, his breathing shifting as his eyes flicker open. For a moment, he looks disoriented, his gaze darting around the room before landing on her. His expression softens, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Morning,” he murmurs, his voice gravelly with sleep.

“Morning,” she replies, her own voice quiet. She shifts slightly, propping herself up on one elbow to look at him more clearly. “How are you feeling?”

He chuckles softly, wincing as he sits up. “Like I got hit by a truck. But... better. Thanks to you.”

“You’re lucky you didn’t pass out on that fire escape,” she teases gently, though her eyes betray her lingering worry. “What happened last night, anyway?”

He hesitates, his gaze dropping to his hands. “It’s... a long story,” he says finally. “One I’m not sure you want to hear.”

“I wouldn’t have let you in if I didn’t care,” she says, her tone firmer than she expects. Her hand brushes his, a small but deliberate gesture. “You don’t have to tell me everything. Just... don’t shut me out.”

He looks at her then, his eyes searching hers as if trying to decide whether he can trust her with the pieces of himself he’s been guarding so tightly. After a long moment, he nods. “Okay. Not now, but... soon.”

The tension eases between them, replaced by a quiet understanding. She rises from the couch, stretching and offering him a small smile. “I’ll make coffee. You look like you could use some.”

He watches her as she moves toward the kitchen, the corners of his mouth lifting in the faintest of smiles. For the first time in a long while, he feels something unfamiliar—a sense of belonging, of safety.

As the rich aroma of coffee fills the air and the morning light grows brighter, they settle into the rhythm of the day, both knowing that something between them has shifted. They don’t name it yet, but it lingers in every glance, every word, every shared silence. Something fragile, yet undeniable, has begun to bloom.

The week passes in a blur, but she finds her thoughts constantly drifting back to that night. She catches herself glancing at the window more often than she’d like to admit, hoping for another knock, even though she knows it’s foolish. He has his own life, his own battles to fight. But the way he held her, the quiet sincerity in his voice, lingers like a warmth she can’t shake.

Then, one evening, just as the city begins to settle into its nighttime rhythm, there’s a soft, familiar tap at her window. Her heart skips, a mix of surprise and anticipation surging through her as she pulls back the curtain.

There he is, standing on the fire escape. This time, there’s no blood, no torn clothing, no pained expression. His face is softer in the faint glow of the city lights, the faintest trace of a smile playing at his lips. His black hair falls in loose, unkempt strands around his face, framing his sharp jawline and tired eyes. He wears his usual dark attire—fitted black pants, a black shirt clinging to his lean frame, and that ever-present scarf looped loosely around his neck. Even now, there’s an intensity about him, a quiet strength that draws her in.

She quickly opens the window, her voice a mix of surprise and worry. “Shota? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he says, stepping inside with a fluid grace that feels so distinctly him. His dark eyes meet hers, and the faint smile grows just a little wider. “I just… needed to see you.”

His words take her breath away. She watches as he steps throughthe window, his gaze softening as it roams over her face, taking in every detail like he’s memorizing her. Before she can say anything, he wraps his arms around her, pulling her into a firm, almost desperate embrace.

Her breath hitches as she feels his warmth, the steady thrum of his heart against hers. “I missed you,” he murmurs against her hair, his voice low and rough with emotion. “I missed your laugh, your voice... everything. It’s been a hell of a week, and I’ve been so damn busy, but I couldn’t stay away.”

She melts into his arms, her hands clutching the back of his shirt as if afraid he’ll disappear again. For a moment, neither of them speaks, the silence filled with unspoken emotions that hang heavy in the air.

When he finally pulls back, his hands linger on her shoulders, his dark eyes searching hers. “I know I didn’t leave things the way I should’ve the other night,” he says quietly. “But I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. About... this.”

Her cheeks flush under his gaze, but she doesn’t look away. “I thought about you too,” she admits softly. Her eyes flick over his face, taking in every detail—the faint dark circles under his eyes, the slight curve of his lips, the way his hair falls messily into his face. He’s tired, but there’s a softness to him tonight, a vulnerability she rarely sees.

“You look like you’ve been running yourself into the ground,” she says, her voice tinged with concern.

He chuckles, the sound low and warm. “Comes with the job. But being here... with you... it’s worth it.”

She can’t help but smile, her worry easing as his words settle over her. “Well, since you’re here, I guess you’re staying for coffee this time?”

He smirks, a rare glint of humor lighting up his expression. “Only if you’re making it.”

She rolls her eyes, but her heart swells as she heads to the kitchen, his presence filling the space in a way that feels both comforting and exhilarating. As the night stretches on, they settle into easy conversation, their laughter echoing softly through the apartment.

For the first time in what feels like forever, she feels like they’re finally moving toward something real, something they both desperately want but are too scared to name. And as the hours slip away, she knows one thing for certain—this time, she won’t let him go.

The air between them feels different tonight—charged, alive. There’s an unspoken understanding that neither of them cares to question anymore. Labels, reasons, boundaries… they’ve stopped mattering. What’s forming between them has a rhythm all its own, one they’ve surrendered to without hesitation.

She sits cross-legged on the couch, her face glowing under the warm light of the lamp. Her hair falls loose around her shoulders as she gestures animatedly, recounting the absurdity of something that happened earlier in the day. He listens, his body turned toward her, one arm draped lazily along the back of the couch, but his eyes never leave her. The way her lips curve when she laughs, the way she tucks her hair behind her ear—these little things ignite something deep in his chest, a warmth he didn’t know he could feel so intensely.

“...And then I told him, ‘Sure, because cats definitely know how to use a spreadsheet,’” she finishes with a grin, leaning back with a playful toss of her head.

He chuckles, the sound low and rare, like a secret only she’s allowed to hear. “That’s your response to workplace chaos? Mock the guy?”

“What can I say? I thrive under pressure,” she teases, her eyes sparkling. “Besides, someone’s gotta keep things interesting. Not everyone can be all serious and broody like you.”

He smirks at her, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.” But there’s no edge to his words, only affection.

She notices the way the corner of his mouth quirks when he smiles, how his eyes soften in a way that makes him seem less like the stoic man the world knows and more like the Shota she’s come to love. It’s in the small moments—his hand grazing hers as he reaches for his mug, the way he unconsciously leans closer when she speaks. Every touch, no matter how brief, feels like a spark, warm and grounding.

Her heart burns at the realization: He’s here. He’s hers. A man like Aizawa Shota—reserved, rational, and always tethered to duty—is sitting on her couch, laughing at her jokes, holding her like she’s the one constant in a chaotic world.

As if sensing her thoughts, he reaches out, his hand resting lightly on her knee before trailing up to cup her cheek. “You’re staring,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, but there’s a teasing glint in his eyes.

She laughs softly, her cheeks warming. “I’m just… thinking.”

“About?”

She hesitates for a moment, then leans into his touch, her voice soft but steady. “About how crazy this all feels. How someone like you—” Her words falter, but she pushes through. “—how you’re here. With me.”

He tilts his head slightly, studying her, his thumb brushing gently against her cheek. “And what’s so crazy about that?”

She shakes her head, smiling. “You shouldn’t be. You’ve got a million things to do, responsibilities that are way bigger than me. But you’re still here.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “You’re mine.”

His expression softens, the faintest smile curving his lips as he leans forward. “I’m here because I want to be. Because you make it worth it.”

The words hit her like a bolt, warm and overwhelming. She doesn’t know how to respond, so she just smiles, the kind of smile that makes her cheeks ache, and wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. He holds her tightly, his chin resting on her shoulder, and for a moment, the rest of the world doesn’t exist.

They stay like that for a long time, wrapped in each other, their breaths synchronized, their hearts pounding in time. When they finally pull apart, she feels lighter, like something inside her has shifted. They talk about their days, their words easy and natural, punctuated by her silly jokes and his dry quips.

But it’s in the quiet moments between the words—the way his fingers trace lazy patterns along her arm, the way she leans into his side without thinking—that they both feel it. This is more than fleeting. It’s something that’s settling into the marrow of their lives, warming every corner of their being.

By the time the night deepens and the city outside quiets, they’re still together, his arms wrapped around her as they sit in comfortable silence. Aizawa Shota, the man she never expected to fall for, has become her anchor. And as her head rests against his chest, she knows without a doubt—this is where they both belong.

The past four weeks had felt like an eternity. Each passing day without a knock at her window or a call from him had chipped away at her resolve, leaving her with an ache she couldn’t shake. Her mind spiraled into overthinking—was she just a convenience for him? A distraction from his responsibilities? Did he grow bored and decide to disappear without a word? The doubts gnawed at her, and the quiet nights without him felt colder, emptier.

She tried to convince herself she didn’t care, but every time she caught herself glancing at the window or checking her phone, the truth hit her all over again. She missed him. She missed the way he’d smile just for her, the warmth of his arms, the quiet strength he carried with him. She missed him.

Then, on a night like any other, she heard it—the knock. Soft, almost hesitant. Her heart leapt and froze all at once, her legs moving before her mind could catch up. She opened the window, and there he was. His face was drawn, his eyes shadowed with exhaustion, but the moment he saw her, his entire body seemed to give out. He stumbled forward, falling into her arms like a weight she hadn’t realized she’d been waiting to catch.

Her breath hitched as she wrapped her arms around him, steadying him. “Shota,” she whispered, her voice a mix of relief and confusion. “What happened? Where have you been?”

For a long moment, he didn’t answer. He just held her, his grip almost desperate, as if he were afraid she’d vanish if he let go. Then, finally, he spoke, his voice low and raw. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his words muffled against her shoulder. “I didn’t mean to leave like that. I didn’t want to. I had to go undercover—mission came up, no time to explain.”

She felt the tension in his body, the way his breath hitched as he tried to keep his composure. “You don’t have to explain,” she said softly, her hand rubbing soothing circles on his back. “I was just… worried. I didn’t know if you were okay.”

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at her, his dark eyes filled with something she couldn’t quite name—guilt, relief, maybe even fear. “I’m back,” he said simply. “That’s all that matters. I’m back.”

She nodded, her heart aching at the weariness in his voice. “You’re here now,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “That’s enough.”

They moved to the couch, and the night stretched on as he let everything out. The stress of the mission, the toll it had taken on him, the way he’d thought about her every night he was away but couldn’t risk contacting her. She listened without interruption, her hand resting lightly on his arm, her presence a quiet reassurance.

Eventually, he rested his head on her lap, his eyes fluttering closed as her fingers gently threaded through his dark, messy hair. It had grow longer, just how she liked it. The tension in his body began to ease, his breaths growing steadier. She leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, a small gesture of comfort.

But the moment her lips brushed his skin, his eyes snapped open, and he shot upright, their faces suddenly inches apart. Her breath caught, her heart pounding in her chest. His dark eyes searched hers, intense and unreadable, the air between them charged with something she couldn’t name.

She froze, unsure of what to do. The closeness, the way his gaze seemed to pierce straight through her—it was almost too much. But he didn’t look angry. If anything, he looked... conflicted, like he was weighing something in his mind, making a choice.

Her lips parted, a soft exhale escaping her. “Shota,” she began, but her voice faltered.

He didn’t pull away. Instead, his hand rose slowly, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. The touch was featherlight but burned all the same. His gaze flickered to her lips, then back to her eyes, his jaw tightening slightly as if fighting some internal battle.

Neither of them moved, the moment stretching on endlessly. The silence was heavy, but not uncomfortable—just charged, electric. She could feel the warmth of his breath against her skin, the intensity of his presence making it impossible to look away.

And then, finally, he spoke, his voice low and rough, like he was confessing something he couldn’t hold back anymore. “I don’t think I can keep holding back,” he murmured.

"... then dont" she smiled, and less then a second later. One last lingering gaze.

The tension broke like a dam, and before she could say anything more, he leaned in and kissed her.

It wasn’t rushed or desperate—it was soft, lingering, but filled with an unmistakable intensity. His lips moved against hers with a quiet certainty, as though he’d been waiting for this moment for far too long. She felt the weight of his emotions in the way he held her face so gently, the way he kissed her like he wanted to memorize the feel of her.

When he pulled back, his gaze was on her, and her breath caught. He looked at her with such raw, unguarded tenderness that it nearly broke her. His dark eyes softened in a way she rarely saw, and there was a quiet vulnerability in the way his thumb brushed her cheek.

“You have no idea how much I missed you,” he murmured, his voice low, almost shaky.

She couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything but stare back at him, her heart thundering in her chest. Instead, she reached up, her fingers grazing his jaw, her touch featherlight but filled with meaning.

He pulled her into a hug, burying his face against her neck, his arms wrapping around her as though he couldn’t bear to let her go. She felt his weight against her, the way his breath shuddered as he exhaled. His body was warm, grounding her in the moment, and she closed her eyes, letting herself melt into him.

Her back pressed against the couch as he shifted, settling against her with a quiet sigh. His head rested against her chest now, his arms wrapping around her tightly, almost like a baby sloth clinging to its favorite tree. She couldn’t help but smile at the thought, her fingers instinctively finding his hair again, stroking it in slow, soothing motions.

“You’re not leaving again anytime soon, right?” she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

He shook his head, his voice muffled but firm. “No. Not if I can help it.”

Her heart softened even further as she leaned her head back, staring up at the ceiling while her hands continued their gentle rhythm in his hair. She felt his body relax fully against hers, the tension he’d been carrying for weeks finally melting away.

For a long while, they stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s presence, the world outside forgotten. Every rise and fall of his chest against hers, every small shift of his fingers on her waist, burned itself into her memory.

She smiled to herself, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head. “You’re not as stoic as you pretend to be,” she teased lightly, her voice filled with affection.

He let out a low chuckle, tilting his head slightly to look up at her. “Don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation to maintain.”

She laughed, the sound soft and warm, and for the first time in weeks, the ache in her chest disappeared entirely. He was here, with her, holding her like she was his entire world. And in that moment, nothing else mattered.

... 5 years before.

They met when they were 18. Their last year of U.A. High.

In high school, they couldn’t have been more different—at least on the surface. She was the girl everyone knew, her warmth and laughter a magnet that drew people in. Her smile was infectious, her kindness unwavering, and she had an uncanny ability to make even the shyest people feel seen. People adored her, but she was never the type to let the attention go to her head.

He, on the other hand, was the quiet one who preferred the background. Aizawa Shota was sharp, observant, and fiercely independent, but he carried an air of solitude that made him unapproachable to most. It wasn’t that he was disliked—he just didn’t care for the trivialities of high school life. He moved through the halls with a quiet confidence, his dark eyes unreadable and his messy black hair perpetually in his face.

But for some reason, she noticed him.

It started with a random moment in their last year. She’d seen him sitting alone under a tree during lunch, his nose buried in a book, entirely disconnected from the buzzing chaos of the school courtyard. Something about him intrigued her—his quiet demeanor, the way he seemed so at peace on his own. On a whim, she approached him, her bright smile disarming him immediately.

“Hey,” she said, plopping down beside him without an invitation. “You always sit alone. Don’t you get bored?”

He looked up from his book, startled by her sudden presence. His brow furrowed slightly, but there was no annoyance in his tone when he replied, “Not really. I like the quiet.”

“Well, that’s boring,” she said with a teasing grin, resting her chin in her hand. “I think you need a little chaos in your life.”

From that day on, she seemed to make it her mission to be that chaos.

She started dragging him along everywhere, whether he wanted to or not. Behind the school, where they’d sit on the steps and talk about nothing and everything. To her favorite café after school, where she’d insist on buying him coffee despite his protests. She was the one who developed his taste for coffee, even to his throties ot just stuck with her in mind. To the park, where they’d sit under the trees and watch the clouds.

What struck him most was how, when they were together, everything else seemed to fade away. She didn’t care about his lack of popularity, about what anyone else thought. She saw him—not his reputation, not his stoic exterior, just him. And he liked that.

Then came graduation. The reality of moving on, of leaving behind the little bubble they’d created, hit them both harder than they expected. They promised to keep in touch, but life had other plans.

For 5 years, they drifted. Life pulled them in different directions, their once-frequent conversations growing fewer and farther between. She missed him more than she wanted to admit. And he, though he didn’t show it, thought about her often, wondering if she’d moved on, if she even remembered the quiet boy she used to laugh with behind the school.

Then, at age 23, fate brought them back together.

It was a chance meeting, the kind that felt almost too perfect to be real. She saw him first, across a bustling street, his familiar messy hair catching her attention. She called out to him, her voice cutting through the noise like a lifeline. When he turned and saw her, the surprise in his eyes melted into something softer, something closer to relief.

Then came the nights—the nights when he’d knock on her window, looking like the world had been weighing on him. She’d let him in without hesitation, their conversations stretching into the early hours. Slowly, those visits became a constant, a quiet reassurance that they were no longer just ships passing in the night. The nights they spent in their twenties, every knock on her window.

And as they spent those nights together, something deeper began to grow, something neither of them had the courage to name just yet. But they both knew—what they’d found in each other was far from ordinary. It was rare, it was real, and it was theirs.

But life of course, had other plans. He became a teacher, and became even more busy. And as he grew he started distancing himself. Afraid to hurt her with the reality of their different lives and how it would never work.

.

7 years later. 30 years old.

.

In the years they spent apart, both carried the weight of their unspoken words, their unfinished story. She, in the comfort of new routines and distractions, tried desperately to forget him, to put the memories in a box and lock it away. But every time she laughed, every time she saw something that reminded her of him, his name would sneak into her mind like an uninvited guest. Shota—the word tasted like both a balm and a wound. She had tried, for so long, to push him out of her thoughts, but there he was, always lingering, a shadow in the corners of her mind.

It wasn’t that she wanted to forget him. She couldn’t. How could she? He had been her world, once. But she tried to move on—she had to. Her life demanded it. She started to date, to build new connections, but no one ever felt right. The way he’d kissed her forehead, the weight of his hand on her back when he held her close—it was a ghost she couldn't shake. She loved the idea of moving forward, but in the back of her mind, there was always him, Shota.

For him, it was worse. He never stopped thinking about her, not for a single moment. Her name felt like home—a strange, bittersweet home that he couldn't return to. When the memories came, they came like floods. He’d hear her laughter in his mind, her smile flashing in his memory, and everything inside him would burn with regret. Why did I leave her? It was the question that haunted him every night when he lay awake, staring at the ceiling. He had told himself it was for the best, that he was protecting her by walking away. But that reasoning had never quieted the ache in his chest, the guilt that gnawed at him.

He couldn't even say her name. It felt like betrayal. Each time he thought about her, it hurt like a raw wound, and so he buried it—shoved it deep, hoping it would disappear. But it never did. The thought of her lingered, twisted, and became a silent weight he carried with him everywhere.

His friends, even those who knew him best, never dared mention her. They saw the way his face would tighten whenever her memory surfaced, and they respected that unspoken silence. They knew it was better to avoid it, as if talking about her would make the pain real again.

But with every passing year, that pain grew only sharper, harder to ignore. He would see a woman laugh in the same carefree way she used to, and his chest would tighten with longing. He’d hear a song they used to listen to together, and his stomach would flip with a sense of loss. Every memory, every moment spent with her, was a reminder of how much he had left behind.

As the years wore on, he tried to fill the void. He threw himself into work, into missions that demanded his attention, but none of it could distract him enough. Every victory felt hollow. He never dated date anybody, he rarely made friends, so dating anybody was out of the question. None of it filled the space that she had occupied in his heart. She was the one I let go, he would tell himself. And in those quiet moments, he couldn’t help but feel like he had failed her.

But she had moved on, or at least, she had tried to. She built her own life, filled with things and people who were kind to her, who made her laugh. And yet, every time she found herself at a quiet moment, alone, she would think of him. Her heart would ache in a way she couldn’t explain. She forced herself to keep going, but in the back of her mind, Shota was always there.

And now, seven years later, as he knocked on her window, she realized how little had truly changed. He was still the man she had known, and yet he was so different—scarred, haunted by his own regrets, and carrying a pain she knew all too well. And he still had that same power to stir something deep within her, a feeling she had buried for far too long.

She didn’t know what to say, how to make sense of this moment. But looking at him, seeing the bruises and blood, she knew that despite everything—the time, the distance, the hurt—they were still connected in a way nothing else could touch. His presence, even broken and raw, still felt like home. And for the first time in years, she allowed herself to feel that comfort, that quiet longing.

Seven years had passed since the last time their lives had intersected, seven years since he had walked away without a word, leaving her heartache and confusion in his wake. Time had done its work, and both of them had moved forward, building their separate lives. She had her own world now—new friends, new routines, and a heart that had learned how to heal, even if the scar he left behind would never fully fade.

He, too, had changed. He had grown into the man he had always been on the inside—stronger, more grounded, but still carrying the weight of his own demons. He had tried to bury the memory of her, to keep her in the past where he thought she belonged, but the truth was, she had never fully left him. He thought about her often, his mind haunted by the days they spent together—the quiet, stolen moments behind the school, the laughter, the closeness. But he had left, had to leave, because he couldn’t bear the thought of hurting her.

Now, at 30, he found himself at her window once again, but it wasn’t a planned visit. He hadn’t meant for this to happen. He hadn’t meant to end up bruised and bloody, his body aching from whatever fight or mission had left him shattered. He had no idea how he found her new apartment, but somehow, some instinct led him to her.

The knock on the window was weak, desperate. He didn’t even know why he was there, why his feet had brought him back to her. He hadn’t spoken to her in so long, had convinced himself that he was doing the right thing by staying away. But now, standing outside her window in the dead of night, all of that seemed like a distant memory, a mistake.

She stirred from her sleep, groggily blinking into the dark room. The night was quiet, almost still, and it took her a few moments to register the sound at her window. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw him—his figure shrouded in shadow, but unmistakable.

At first, she thought she was dreaming. The figure was different—more mature, older, with a weariness in his posture that hadn’t been there before. But when he looked up and met her gaze, her breath hitched. Shota.

Her mind was still racing, but her body moved without hesitation. She rushed to the window, pushing it open as quickly as she could. She didn’t even say anything; her hands were already reaching for him, pulling him inside. He collapsed into her arms, unsteady on his feet, and she guided him to the couch without a word.

His appearance struck her immediately. His face was older, more defined with the years. His eyes, though, still held that same familiar vulnerability, the same depth she remembered. He was bruised, battered, and covered in blood, but there was something in the way he looked at her—an apology, a quiet desperation, and something more.

She quickly moved to get her first aid kit, trying to ignore the way her heart was beating faster than usual. This moment felt unreal—like they had both woken up from some long, drawn-out dream, and now here they were, face to face, with the years between them suddenly irrelevant. She knelt beside him, her fingers trembling as she cleaned the blood from his face.

His voice was raspy, hesitant. “I didn’t mean to come here... I just... didn’t know where else to go.”

Her fingers stilled for a moment, her heart catching in her throat. “I’ve heard this before .... Shota,” she whispered, as if saying his name aloud could make sense of everything. She had thought of him so many times over the years, wondering what had happened, if he was okay, but she never imagined that one day, he’d show up like this.

He met her gaze, his eyes full of regret. “I shouldn’t have left. I just... I was too scared. I thought I was protecting you, but I was only hurting both of us.”

Her heart twisted. The familiar ache from all those years ago surged within her, but now, she couldn’t find it in herself to be angry. There was too much between them, too much unspoken, but the years of silence didn’t change the fact that she knew him. She always would.

She finished cleaning his wounds in silence, the moment stretching on, neither of them knowing what to say. The air between them was thick with unspoken words, a history neither of them had fully processed. She was stunned, and maybe he was, too. They both had changed, but in the quiet of the room, it felt like nothing had changed at all.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she broke the silence. “What happened to you?” she asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. It was a simple question, but it carried so much weight—so many years, so many unasked questions.

His eyes flickered with pain, and he ran a hand through his hair. “I... I didn’t mean to drag you back into my mess. But I couldn’t handle it anymore. I couldn’t be alone.”

She let out a breath, her hands gently pressing against his shoulders, grounding him. The words were there, but the timing wasn’t right. So, she didn’t push.

Instead, she reached up and cupped his face with both hands, her thumb brushing the bruise along his cheekbone. “You’re here now,” she said softly. “And that’s all that matters.”

For a long moment, they just stared at each other—two people who had been apart for so long, yet in this moment, were exactly where they needed to be. The room felt smaller, the distance between them nonexistent. The years, the pain, the silence—it all melted away in that one glance.

And for the first time in seven years, the weight that had hung between them seemed to lift.

The room was quiet except for the soft hum of the heating system, the sound of the snow falling softly outside, and the occasional crack of the fire in the corner. It was winter now, colder than they both remembered, but warmer in ways they hadn't expected.

They sat together on the couch, just like they had so many years ago—before life had pulled them apart, before time and distance had stretched their bond thin. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that came with familiarity, with shared history. But now they were different people, adults with lives they had built separately.

She glanced at him, her gaze soft but searching, and couldn’t help but notice the subtle shift in him. He looked more weathered, more worn, as if the years had taken their toll on him in ways she hadn’t anticipated. Yet, despite the bruises on his skin, despite the exhaustion in his eyes, he was still her Shota—the one who had stayed in the back of her mind, the one she never truly let go of.

After a moment, she asked softly, "Do you want to go to my bedroom? This couch is too uncomfortable for you." She had noticed how much he towered over her now, and God she liked it.

He hesitated, unsure of how to answer, feeling like he was intruding in some way. His chest tightened with the overwhelming need to protect her, to not impose on her life any more than he already had. But she didn't give him much room to protest. She looked at him again, with that familiar, determined spark in her eyes, and said, "You don’t have to be so polite. Please, just let me take care of you."

With a sigh, he relented. She helped him to his feet, supporting him gently as they walked to her bedroom, the soft shuffle of their feet on the hardwood floor barely audible in the stillness. To anybody else, this would have seemed dirty and inappropriate, but to them, it didn't matter.

Once inside, she settled him on the bed, pulling the thick, warm blankets over them both, a comfort that made the weight of everything outside the room seem so far away. There, tucked under the covers, it felt like time had folded in on itself. The ache from all those years apart seemed to dissolve, replaced by something different, something softer. He lay there, his arms wrapped tightly around her, his body unwilling to let her go, as though he had spent too many nights alone, too many years trying to survive without her.

She closed her eyes, allowing herself to relax into his embrace, but tears slipped down her cheeks nonetheless. She didn’t try to hide them. She couldn’t. The years of trying to forget him, of convincing herself that she was better off, were crashing over her like a tide she couldn’t fight. The pain of missing him, of the uncertainty, of the questions that had lingered without answers—it all flooded back in an instant.

Without a word, he pulled her closer, his arms tightening around her like he was afraid to let her slip away. She could feel his warmth, the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear. His embrace was like a promise, a silent apology, and it was so familiar it almost made her ache even more.

He held her tight, as though he were afraid that if he let go, she might disappear again, like she had seven years ago. "I’m so sorry," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I never should have left you."

She giggled softly, trying to hold back her tears, but they spilled over anyway. “You’re squeezing me so tight, Shota,” she murmured through a watery laugh, her back nearly cracking from the force of his hold. She didn’t mind. In fact, it made her feel more alive than she had in so long.

His grip loosened slightly, but not by much. He brushed his lips against her hair, the quiet comfort of the moment settling over both of them. It was different now, more fragile but no less significant. They were no longer two young people trying to figure out what it all meant. Now, they were two adults, broken by time and life, but still clinging to something that neither of them had fully understood until now.

The snow outside began to fall harder, and they stayed there together, wrapped up in the warmth of each other’s company. She played with his hair, the same messy strands she had once found so charming. Her fingers traced the scar under his eye, the one that marked him as someone who had been through battles—literal and metaphorical.

“You’ve changed,” she whispered, her fingers stilling for a moment, tracing the curve of his ear. “But I can still feel you. I still recognize you, Shota.”

He smiled at that, the first real smile she’d seen from him in what felt like forever. It was soft and honest, a quiet acknowledgment of the distance they had traveled, the years they had spent apart. But in that moment, they were closer than they had been in a long time.

“I’ve changed,” he admitted, “but maybe that’s a good thing. I’m different now, but with you, I can still be…me. The me I was with you.”

Her heart fluttered at his words, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she didn’t feel the need to protect herself from the emotions that rushed to the surface. She leaned up slightly, kissing his cheek softly before resting her head back against his chest.

They stayed like that for a long time, finding their way back to each other in the quiet. No more words were needed. Everything they hadn’t said over the years hung in the air between them, but it no longer felt heavy. They had time, now. Time to heal, to find new answers, to rebuild what had been broken.

She closed her eyes, listening to the steady rhythm of his breath, and for the first time in a long time, she allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, they had finally found their way back home.

As they lay there together, the world outside seemed so far away, the cold winter air forgotten in the warmth they shared. Her skin, soft and delicate, radiated a warmth that enveloped him in a way he hadn’t known he needed. He could feel the heat of her body pressed against his, the way her heartbeat fluttered gently under his touch, reminding him that she was real, that she was here with him. His hand, which had once been so unsure of where to place itself, now found its way to the small of her back, cradling her as if she might slip away at any moment.

Her warmth, the feel of her skin against his, was a balm to the aching part of him he’d buried for so long. His heart had hurt for years—ever since the moment he walked away—but now, in this quiet space, in the tenderness of her touch, that pain seemed to fade, just for a moment. Her skin was like a living, breathing reassurance, a reminder that some connections never really break. The heat of her skin, soft and comforting, wrapped around him like a quiet promise. It soothed the hurt that had nested in his chest for so long, making him feel whole again in ways he hadn’t thought possible.

He closed his eyes for a moment, just breathing her in—the faint scent of her shampoo, the warmth of her body, the steady rise and fall of her chest. It was so familiar, so deeply entwined with everything he had ever known and wanted. Her warmth was a contradiction to the chill that had haunted him, a promise that maybe, just maybe, the years apart hadn’t broken them entirely.

For her, the feeling of his embrace was no less powerful. She had spent so much time convincing herself she was fine, that she had moved on, that life had continued in the absence of him. But with him here, with his strong arms around her, she couldn’t deny how much she had missed this—the way his presence filled up the spaces inside her that she had let go empty for so long. His warmth made her feel alive in a way she had forgotten. She felt the strong beat of his heart beneath her ear, steady and sure, like the constant rhythm of a song she hadn’t realized was playing in the background of her life all these years.

But it wasn’t just warmth in a physical sense—it was deeper, something that ran through the both of them like an unspoken thread. He could feel her warmth reaching deep into the scars in his soul, the ones he had left untouched for far too long. Her touch was a healing salve, drawing him back into the present, into this moment with her. Her skin against his felt like an unspoken apology from the universe itself—a reminder that the pain of the past could be soothed, that what they had lost might be waiting to be found again.

As they lay there, so close, so warm, the world outside might have been cold and distant, but inside this room, they were exactly where they needed to be. Her warmth against him made his heart hurt in the best way, a sharp ache that told him they had never been fully apart, that they had always carried a piece of each other. He wasn’t sure if this was the beginning of something new or the continuation of something unfinished, but for now, he didn’t care. Her warmth made him feel whole again, and for the first time in so long, he allowed himself to believe that they might just have a chance to heal together.

Her breath, soft and even, was a lullaby against the storm inside him. He closed his eyes, pulling her even closer, as though to make sure she was really there. The ache in his heart, the one that had been a constant companion, started to feel different. It wasn’t pain anymore. It was something new, something raw, but something he could hold onto.

She felt him tighten his grip, his fingers tracing the line of her spine, and she shivered slightly, not from the cold but from the intensity of the emotion that hung between them. She didn’t need to say a word. She could feel the way his heart was in his chest, beating steadily against her. He was scared, just like her. But the warmth between them, the connection they had once shared, was something that no amount of time could erase.

And as they lay there together, he kissed the top of her head softly, whispering the words neither of them had dared to speak for so long: “I’m sorry... I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Those words, warm and steady like the heat of their bodies pressed together, were all she needed. In the moment, they didn’t need to ask for more. They didn’t need answers. They just needed each other. And in that warmth, wrapped up in the quiet stillness of the night, they found a place to heal.

"Shota.."

"Y/n"

She slowly lifted her head from his chest, her breath shallow, her pulse quickening. Her gaze met his, and in that moment, she saw something in his eyes she hadn’t seen in a long time: care. Deep, raw care. It made her heart skip a beat. His eyes softened as he gazed at her, and it felt like he was searching her face, trying to find the right words, or maybe just trying to reassure himself that this was real—that they were really here, together, again.

She hesitated, her lips parted as if unsure whether to move or to stay suspended in the moment. His eyes never wavered from her.

She felt the pull, the old connection drawing her in, and before she could second-guess herself, she leaned in slowly, closing the space between them. Her lips brushed his, a light and tentative kiss, soft and almost fragile, as if testing the waters after all this time apart. The sensation of his lips against hers stirred something deep inside her, a flood of memories and feelings that she had kept locked away for years.

But then, as if he couldn’t help himself anymore, he responded. The kiss deepened, and his arms tightened around her. His hand moved to the small of her back, gripping her firmly, pulling her closer until there was no distance left between them. The kiss was no longer tentative; it was full of longing, of need, as if all the words they couldn’t say were wrapped up in every touch. His lips pressed against hers with an intensity that took her breath away, the urgency of his embrace matching the hunger in his kiss.

She melted into him, her body responding to his, her hands instinctively reaching to find his shoulders, her fingers curling into his shirt as she felt him pull her even closer, as if he couldn’t get enough. His warmth, his strength, his presence—it was all consuming, and she let herself be lost in it. The years apart, the pain, the regret—it all faded as their kiss deepened, leaving only the raw, electric connection between them.

When they finally pulled away, both of them breathless, the silence that followed was thick with everything they hadn’t yet said, but somehow, words weren’t necessary. They just stared at each other for a moment, the world outside the room completely forgotten, their hearts both racing. He didn’t let go, his arms still holding her tightly as if afraid she might disappear if he let her go.

And in that moment, neither of them cared about anything else.

The silence lingered between them, but it wasn’t awkward. It was comfortable, like a quiet promise that everything was going to be okay, even though they hadn’t spoken the words out loud yet. She looked at him, her heart still racing from the kiss, from the sheer intensity of the moment.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said softly, his voice steady but filled with sincerity. There was something about the way he said it—like he meant it, like it was more than just a promise. It was a vow, and for the first time in a long time, she believed it.

She searched his eyes, her expression softening. “Please don’t. I... I need you here.”

His hand gently cupped her cheek, brushing away a stray strand of hair. “I won’t leave. I swear,” he whispered, his thumb gently tracing her jawline, the contact grounding her in the moment.

She smiled at him, her heart feeling lighter than it had in years. “Good,” she said with a playful, teasing tone, her laughter bubbling up unexpectedly, bright and free. She hadn’t realized how much she had missed the simple joy of being around him, of laughing with him in the quiet of the night.

The sound of her laughter filled the room, and it was like music to his ears—familiar, comforting, and full of life. For a moment, he couldn’t help but smile, the weight of everything else lifting as he listened to her laugh. It was like they were back in time, in those carefree days of their youth when nothing else mattered except being together.

As the night wore on, the warmth of his arms and the peaceful quiet of the room made everything feel like it was exactly where it needed to be. She snuggled into him, feeling the pull of sleep wrapping around her like a soft blanket. The last thing she remembered was his steady breathing beside her, his presence anchoring her, making her feel safe in a way she hadn’t felt in years.

She fell asleep in his arms, her body relaxed against his, her head resting on his chest once again, just like it had all those years ago. His heartbeat was a steady rhythm beneath her ear, and she drifted off to sleep with a quiet sigh, her mind finally at peace.

And he, too, lay there, not wanting to move, not wanting to disturb the fragile peace that had settled between them. He watched her, the way her breathing slowed, the way she fit so perfectly against him, and he allowed himself a moment to just… be. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel the weight of regrets or fears. He just felt... complete.

Soon, his eyes grew heavy, and the warmth of her body beside him lulled him into a peaceful sleep. They both slept soundly through the night, wrapped in each other’s presence, the kind of sleep that comes only when you know you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

-

[mx-pastelwriting]

MHA Heroes HC - Celebrating Your Anniversary

MHA Heroes x GN! Reader

Summary: How they would celebrate your anniversary.

Warnings: Established Relationship, Fluff, Anniversary

Characters: Endeavor (Enji Todoroki), Gang Orca (Kugo Sakamata), Eraserhead (Shota Aizawa), Vlad King (Sekijiro Kan), Fat Gum (Taishiro Toyomitsu)

Endeavor (Enji Todoroki)

- Would have the date written down on his work calendar, working meetings, and training around it. Still having to go to the office on those days, leaving early to pick up your favorite things from the store.

- Having to celebrate yearly because of his work as the number one hero, but if you wanted to celebrate monthly, he would compromise. Taking you to a more extravagant dinner or even going to Greece for the day.

- Mostly leaves the plans for the anniversary to you, whether asking you what you want to do or giving you his schedule and credit card to plan. But if you left planning to him, he would panic. Asking around what you wanted, trying to remember what places you wanted to go in the past.

- Would miss your anniversary for work. Not because of overscheduling; it would be from a big villain destroying half the city and all other heroes struggling. Would try to wrap it up quickly, not wanting to miss the plans you had; even when missing them, he makes it up with gifts and dinners depending on how upset you are.

- The celebration would last a day or two, with him being busy and not a big celebratory guy. Some mornings, when it's your monthly anniversary, he brings you breakfast in bed or rents out your favorite place for the day. He just wants to see you smile when it comes to your anniversary.

Waking to the feeling of being showered with warm kisses, opening your eyes to see Enji's red hair as he leans down, attacking you with kisses.

Pulling away, succeeding in waking you. Seeing as Enji had a big closed-lip smile before watching as he turned to your nightstand, picking up the small bed table that presented a beautiful breakfast.

Waiting patiently for you to sit up before placing the table down in your lap, then sitting by your feet, allowing you to look over him fully. Enji was dressed for work, adding a bit of sadness to your morning. Taking notice of where your eyes took focus, he moves, cutting a piece of the breakfast, then holding it up close to your mouth. Smiling as you took a bite, though not being able to stay the day after your anniversary, he still made the day after a little special.

-

Gang Orca (Kugo Sakamata)

- Would definitely remember your anniversary. Teases you about his plans days leading before. Clears out his calendar as much as he can for the week that the date lands in.

- Celebrates your yearly anniversary as more of a bigger event than your monthly. For your monthly anniversaries, he would leave little surprises around your environment, whether it be jewelry, flowers, or your favorite snacks tapped with little notes that told how you took his breath away.

- Plans everything. Taking you on vacation to a private island or spending most of the week in the middle of the ocean on his boat. Anything to do with sharing a private moment with you in his home ocean.

- Very unlikely he would miss your anniversary, but if the city was under threat, then he would let you know before setting off to help the city. Making it up to you as soon as possible, just say where, and he will have the plane or boat ready in minutes.

- Celebrating the entire week the date falls in, even calling the month special for being your anniversary month. Would leave your monthly anniversaries to be a one-and-done thing either, doing something special for the first day and last day of each month. Especially through your first year of being together.

Laying on warm sand, soaking up the hot sun, hearing as waves crashed in the background—that was until a shadow was cast onto you.

Opening your eyes while lowering your glasses and seeing the Orca hero standing above you dripping with water. Scanning over his figure, seeing as Kugo's muscles simmered in the sun's light. Noticing your open, flawed reaction, Kugo laughs before extending a handout, inviting you to swim with him in the salty waters. Meaning really, "Would you like to ride me?" even though knowing your answer would always be a "yes."

-

Eraserhead (Shota Aizawa)

- Yes, he would remember, but only a few days before, making him pull something together in a short amount of time. Never meaning to do this on purpose, but with his sleeping schedules and teaching, the man is running on fumes most of the time.

- Only really able to celebrate yearly, though he still tries to do you something special every month on that date. Whether spending a late night with you instead of working late at the academy or buying your favorite things and placing them beside your nightstand early in the morning when he has to go to work. The man tires.

- For your yearly anniversary, he takes the day off, spending the whole morning with you in bed. Then, as lunch rolls around, he lets you take the reins, doing whatever you wish, but for dinner, he tells you to get ready. Takes you to an expensive restaurant, having saved up for the whole year for it.

- Shota missing your anniversary would be very likely, but it would never be on purpose. Being because of falling asleep or work, he would always make sure to make up for it days later. Dipping into his vacation days and savings to make it to you.

- After your anniversary, he would have to go right back to work, but for days after, he would spend his late nights watching movies or in your arms instead of working overtime. Knowing his co-workers would understand and help him with the workload.

Sat on the couch, Shota's warm arms wrapped around you. Watching the movie that played on the TV, Shota watched you. Scanning your features as if falling for you all over again, only stopping when you caught him.

Watching as his face burned red as he pretended badly to watch the movie. Laughing at his reaction, you cuddled closer, causing him to kiss the top of your head. Feeling his hand rest atop your arms, gently caressing it, acting as more comforting to your late-night cuddling section.

-

Vlad King (Sekijiro Kan)

- Totally forgets, but thankful always remember at the last minute. On his way home, he makes dinner reservations using his connections as a hero and drops by some expensive shops to get you something. When finally getting to you, he acts like he definitely didn't forget your anniversary.

- Yearly anniversary only, as he can barely remember them, but if you bring up it's your monthly anniversary, he will plan something for that night. Sekijiro's plans always come out sweeter than he expects, especially on your yearly anniversary. As much as he denies it, the man is romantic.

- If he actually remembers, with enough time, he plans a day off of work and rents out your favorite places with a dinner to end the day. A dinner made by him, refusing to let you help with anything, just letting you sit and watch him in his 'kiss the cook' apron cooking you a delicious meal.

- When making up for his lateness on your anniversary or even when he forgets entirely, he basically begs for your forgiveness in words and actions. Dinners, your favorite place, and vacations—you name it—happen, but you only want to stay in. He melts in a puddle, still apologizing.

- Celebrates your anniversary for as long as he can with work and all, whether it be ordering in breakfast for you, setting up a little lunch date, or having home-cooked dinners. Sekijiro tries to at least keep this extended celebration going for a week.

Arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you along out of the kitchen with the sounds of food sizzling in the background. Giggling as Sekijiro leads you out of the kitchen, not wanting you to lift a finger on your anniversary.

Letting you go with a kiss on the neck before turning back to the pan that let the aroma of your favorite food in the air. As Sekijiro cooked, he couldn't help but sneak glances at you. Risking injury just to look over your face little by little, with every glance soaking in your smile that adored him.

-

All Might (Toshinori Yagi) - Works for small & big

- In the beginning of your relationship would remember every year and monthly anniversary, but as he got old and with events of him retiring, he forgot the monthly anniversaries, but never misses your yearly.

- Would celebrate both, monthly and yearly, in the first year, but the monthly anniversary would die down after the first year. If you pointed it out, he would try and make sure he remembers, but if work came up, he would have to miss your little dinners instead of buying you a big gift to make up for it.

- For your yearly anniversaries, he tries to focus on the meaningful things instead of vacation or a big dinner, but if you would want all of that, he would still try to work some meaning to it all. Whether it would be a dinner overlooking the spot where you first met or vacationing at a place that reminds him of you.

- When he misses one of them, though, he takes days off, feeling terrible as you mean everything to him. Even if it's not that serious, you're the most important thing in his life, and he wants you to know.

- Your normal yearly anniversaries would last a couple of days before having to go back to work. Even when you had done everything exciting, he would stay with you snuggled up in bed or on the couch, spending the rest of his time off relaxing with you.

Warms arms and plush blankets wrapped around, breathing in the morning air while hearing Toshi snoring away. Turning in bed facing the hero's sleeping face, watching as his mouth was a gap, moving slightly with every snore.

Failing to hold back a laugh, waking Toshi, smiling at the sight of you giggling away trying to guess what was so funny. Finally calming, you snuggled closer, welcoming the close morning cuddles, kissed your cheek that rested atop his shoulder before falling back asleep, mouth a gap once again.

-

Fat Gum (Taishiro Toyomitsu) - Works for small & big

- Always remembers every monthly and yearly anniversary. The date is engraved in his head, having a framed photo of you and him with the date on it to remind him of sitting on his work desk.

- Celebrates both yearly and monthly anniversaries. Doesn't matter how many years you two have been together; he always celebrates them both, always finding something new to do for every single one. Even when you want to stay in for the night, he always finds ways to make something new happen.

- Mostly he would take you to a big dinner, not always an expensive place as they don't always have the best-tasting food. Bringing you to the best food shops in all of Japan, though, doesn't tell you that the food there reminds him of you having eaten at those places after the biggest milestones of your relationship.

- Would happen very rarely, but if he does, his blood runs cold. Racing to you with gifts of your favorite foods, pulling strings for a dinner at a really fancy restaurant where the food actually tastes good.

- The food feast that is your anniversary would last for as long as you wanted it to; he would even celebrate it for a year if that's what you wanted. Days later, he would come over at lunchtime with food and sit with you, allowing you to pick anything off his plate with a smile.

Bitting down on the delicious food, Taishiro held up to feed you, both smiling at the sweet moment. Knowing always what you liked to eat, he took you to a new place in the city, hidden away in the busy markets.

Thankfully, the place wasn't too busy, allowing you to eat without cameras sneaking a picture of you two lovebirds. Watching as he took a bit of his own while chewing, his eyes filled with love as if he were tasting the love he has for you.

Hello, I hope you enjoyed if there is any grammar mistakes or misspellings sorry about that feel free to let me know in the comments, have a great day/afternoon/night!

Fanfiction is protected under copyright law when plagiarism is involved. If you plagiarize my work, either a piece or whole in any language, I will take legal action. Inspiration or the same idea does NOT apply to this, only word-for-word plagiarism in any language.

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@urlocalfanficwriter @vaexox @needa-sum-luvn

[oatmealwrites]

A Night to... Forget? Ch.1

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aizawa x Eidetic memory! Law student! Reader

(For reference I aged up Keigo (Hawks to 25 ish just for the ages of you and Aizawa to make sense)

I will also use the pro hero last names for the first chapter with their pro name next to them in case you don't recognize

Word Count: 5.5k

SYNOPSIS: You never really felt like you had a quirk. Sure you technically did, but tons of people have been born with eidetic memories in the past, even before quirks became mainstream. You gave up the dream of being a pro-hero like your friends and instead found comfort in support through law. After a particularly draining case you assisted on, you find yourself dragged out to a bar with your best friend Keigo (hawks). The whole night was a bad idea, taking Keigo up on his drinking game was worse, especially when Aizawa was there. It’s the man you can’t help yourself pining over, and it’s the one night you can’t remember.

Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With the final tap of the judge’s wooden gavel, you rise to your feet and let out a sigh of any remaining energy you had left. The court marshals walked over to the defendant and swiftly cuffed the villain despite his loud and physical efforts to resist; your eyes following the marshals slowly escorting the man out of the room and noting the way his protests deafened once the doors swung closed.

“Nice work out there Y/N.”

You look over past the mid-height railing that separates the spectators from the court floor and lock eyes with detective Tsukauchi. A small smile on his face as he stands perfectly upright and attent.

“Thanks detective -”

“How many times do I have to say you can just call me Tsukauchi?”

You bite your tongue and shake your head lightly, now shuffling files into your soft leather briefcase and packing up.

“Right Tsukauchi. Thanks for your support, I didn’t realize you were going to be coming to the sentencing today.”

The detective adjusts his collar and scans the crowd of heroes, attorneys, policemen, and spectators slowly shuffling for the exits, obviously searching for someone, “It's always nice to see the next generation of people fighting for justice in action.”

You pause and raise an eyebrow; understanding there’s another reason for his attendance. “Toshinori (All Might) is probably in the lobby by now.” You continue sliding the court files into your bag, one by one, only focused on getting out of the courthouse and into bed.

Tsukauchi looks back at you, a slightly shocked expression on his face before he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck and smiles, “Right, thanks. I’ll see you around the station when you pick up files for your next case.”

You give a slight wave off to him and turn to sling the straps of your briefcase over your head and across your chest, ready to finally go home and sleep. Turning your head, your eyes follow the prosecutor you extern for walking back from his short talk with the judge who was now packing up as well.

“Nice job kid!” He gives you a slight pack on the back and pulls his cellphone from his pocket, scrolling through his contacts briefly,  “I’m gonna have the secretary forward the followup paperwork over to you to file. Think you can get it done by Monday? We have a few more cases already pending and this one needs to close ASAP.”

You grip the straps of your briefcase and do your best not let your exhaustion show. This prosecutor is a big deal in your externship and unfortunately that also means most of your free time gets sacrificed. Instead of letting out the sigh that was sitting in your lungs, you swallow thickly and nod once, “Of course. I’ll start on it right away. Do you want me to begin memorizing the next case’s notes as well?”

The prosecutor snaps his fingers while looking up from his phone and slings his own briefcase over his shoulder, “Are you sure your quirk is eidetic and not mindreading?”

He laughs at his own joke before walking out of the court floor, past the spectator stands, and into the lobby, not bothering to even say goodbye.

You stand there for a moment, reviewing the plans you made this weekend that would now need to be rearranged. Meeting classmates in the library for group study (which was really group reading 200+ pages of law textbooks) should be uninterrupted at the usual meeting time of 9am.

Your report to UA might need a slight tweak, but nothing more than a few hours. Before every case you worked on, you always met with the pro-hero who had captured the villain who you would be assisting in prosecuting. Every detail memorized and ready for paperwork and eventually the courtroom floor.

The main issue would be Keigo. With a slight sigh you push your hair out of your face and pull up his contact, ready to flake on him and his movie night for the third week in a row. Stepping out of the court room floor you make your way out to the lobby and shift in between the groups of people to a small open area near the front windows.

You click the ‘dial’ button and raise the phone to your ear, looking out the window and the setting sun bringing a warm glow to the city. You hear a soft ring once, and then twice before you notice a cellphone from across the lobby ringing at the same interval. Before your eyes can even fully adjust to the sunset’s glare, you spot your best friend from across the room holding up his phone with a coy smile and heading to you.

You end the call and shuffle forward while sliding your cellphone into your blazer pocket, “What are you doing here?”

Keigo’s usual hero uniform was replaced with a gray t-shirt and black denim jeans; either on the way home or just coming from it. He casually glides a hand through his hair, pushing it back and letting a few stray strands fall back over his forehead again.

“Came to pick you up obviously.”

You raise an eyebrow and adjust the straps on your shoulder, “Huh? For what?”

Keigo side steps to allow other people to pass by and smoothly guides you out of the way with a slight pressure on your upper arm, “There’s a group going out to a bar to celebrate. A handful of pro heroes from UA and such are going, plus I’m sure some of your law school buddies will be around.”

You tilt your head, “Celebrate what?”

The lobby now getting busier and busier with spectators, police officers, and more leaving, Keigo gently grabs your elbow and pulls you near the vending machines by the exit doors.

“Celebrate the fact it’s Friday…?” He scratches the back of his head and laughs, “Ok well it’s more like everyone has been super busy catching villains and uhh..-”

“Prosecuting”

“Prosecuting,” he snaps his fingers, “so it was like a group decision to take some time off and relax.”

You squint at him, “Uh huh? I have a lot of work to do and so do you as well anyways,” You turn to the exit and Keigo quickly pivots to block your path.

“I knew you were gonna say that,” he pokes your shoulder lightly, “and I knew you were probably gonna flake on movie night again this week.”

You bite the inside of your cheek and purse your lips slightly at being read so easily. It’s not like you were trying to avoid him, you just had way too much on your plate at the moment. Your silence is answer enough for him and he smiles in victory

“Ok then it’s settled. Come have a few drinks and the weekend is all yours to do your boring school stuff.”

You shove his shoulder lightly, knowing you could never convince him otherwise, “Ok fine. And I want it known that I don’t enjoy doing homework or externship duties over hanging out.”

You both push off the wall and maneuver the crowd to the large wooden double doors of the exit and descend the stone stairs to the small courtyard. The sun quickly setting causes nearby business signs to flicker on a warm glow of colors up and down the street.

You continue walking down the courtyard and head towards the nearby parking lot and main road; a metro station sign illuminating a portion of the sidewalk.

“Who’d you even get to agree to this anyways?”

Keigo hums and looks down at you from the corner of his eyes.

“You said there was a group,” you run a hand through your hair, now wondering if your appearance is even nice enough to warrant going out. The slight breeze brings small goosebumps to your legs; the pencil skirt and opaque black tights not providing much warmth.

“Oh.. you know them all so don’t worry,” he stops at the escalator entrance to the metro station, “Seriously just relax ok? You look great and you’ll have a great time.”

His touch is gentle on the small of your back as he lets you step onto the moving stair in front of him. You rock back and forth in your kitten heels, balancing on the ridges of the escalator and looking up at Keigo.

“Am I gonna be the only one dressed like this?”

He pulls a pack of gum from his pocket and offers you a piece, throwing up an eyebrow in the process, “Hm? You’re dressed fine. You know, you worry too much.”

You throw the minty gum into your mouth and step off the escalator to scan your transit card at the metro entrance gate, “Couldn’t you just like, fly me home so I could at least drop my briefcase off?”

Keigo follows you past the scanners and towards the platform, he puts his hand out to hold your bag without even saying a word. You scoff and roll your eyes, but sling the straps off anyways and place the weight in his hand. He flings it over his shoulder and stands at the edge of the platform, watching the tv sign estimate of the next train’s arrival, “That would take too long. Everyone is probably already there.”

You suck the inside of your cheek between your molars and sway on your heels again absentmindedly, only stopping when Keigo’s hand places a weight on your shoulder. Before you can even speak a yellow glow lights up the end of the platform walls and a strong gust blows back your hair and blazer fabric.

His hand only leaves your shoulder once the automatic doors slide open and the glow of the train car’s fluorescent lights pour onto the platform. Keigo steps on the train and maneuvers through a few people to secure a seat for himself and one for you across from him.

*******

The sun has completely set at this point with only the street lights, car headlights, and neon business signs glowing warmly onto the street. The bar in question is nice and secluded, but not in a questionable part of town, just a bit more residential. It’s only a few metro stops away from your friend’s apartment, and you’ve been here with Keigo more times than you can count.

Your heels click softly on the ground as you walk next to him, only stopping at the door to pry your bag open to look for your ID while Keigo holds it open. The bouncer recognizes him right away, giving a soft ‘Hawks’ upon seeing him despite the fact that nearly every time he visits you’re with him as well.

He opens the door for you and the warm air of the bar comfortably surrounds you; the music and chatter a distinct change from the quiet streets outside. It’s crowded, but not uncomfortably. Groups of people surround the billiards table, nearly every bar stool is taken, and the booths by the dance floor seemed mostly filled. It made sense given it’s Friday night.

As you work through a few bodies to approach the bar you give a slight elbow to Keigo, “It’s so dumb, why does he insist on checking my ID every time? It’s not like he hasn’t seen us both here before a million times.”

He laughs and guides you through a few bodies before pulling out two empty bar stools for you both to sit at, “It would be hard for anyone to forget this face.”

You roll your eyes and spin in the chair to face the bartender, your left hand now cradling your head while Keigo sits closely on your right side, “shut up…”

He laughs and shakes your shoulder, “Oh come on. Here, let me get us some shots,” he pauses and examines you for a moment, “wait, have you eaten yet?”

You shrug and look at bottles behind the bartender, trying to determine what shot you wanted, “Umm a few hours ago. Why don’t we just get food after? It always tastes better anyways.”

He snaps his fingers and hums, “Ohh ok ok. Sounds good, just don’t go getting shitfaced beforehand.”

You scoff and wave your hand at him, “Yea, yea… tequila?”

He smiles and leans on the counter, getting the bartender's attention while you survey the bar. Most are local residents and college kids but you spot a few groups of police officers and heroes in the back booths. Shifting in your seat to get a better view, you can make out the faces of Kayama (midnight), Tsukauchi, and Toshinori. With one more tilt of your head you then spot Yamada (present mic)  and Aizawa..

You spin in your barseat abruptly and nearly bump the lime in Keigo’s hands onto the counter. He pulls his hands back and furrows his eyebrows, “Hey watch out I almost-”

His gaze follows yours and you frantically look anywhere else and claw at him to not be so obvious.

“Ohhh I see,” The biggest shit-eaitng grin spreading across his face.

You sink your face into your palms, not bothering to worry if it smudges your makeup, “Shut up.”

Keigo keeps looking at Aizawa for an extra moment before spinning back towards you and kicking you gently under the bar counter.

 “To be fair, I didn’t even think he was gonna show,” he slides a shot glass over to you with his left hand, the limes sitting in his right.

“Why didn’t you tell me he was gonna be here?”

You take the shot glass and stare down at the liquid before Keigo slides a lime in your right hand.

“Ok so bad news, no salt.”

You glare at him, obviously there was worse news than that right now.

“He hates me.”

Keigo rolls his eyes, getting impatient and wanting to drink already, “He does not. He’s like that with everyone,” he lifts his shot glass up right below his lips, gently guiding your hand holding yours to mirror the position. “Now let’s drink already.”

You give him one last glance before downing the liquid with an intense grimace, the fire burning down your throat. You place the shot glass back on the counter and sink your teeth into the lime, letting the sour juice mask the intensity of the alcohol.

Keigo exhales roughly and sticks out his tongue slightly with a contorted face, “oh my g-,” he coughs before he can get words entirely out. The disruption causes a few heads to turn, but people return back to their conversations a moment later.

You peel the lime from your lips and shake your head lightly, “Ok, maybe a different brand next time.”

You wince and pop the lime into the empty shot glass then slide it back towards the bartender and before you can turn to Keigo, his hand is wiping a napkin on your chin.

“Jeez you made a mess-”

You scowl and take the paper from his hands to wipe your face but raise an eyebrow at his sudden shiver. His shoulders roll forward uncomfortably and he arches his spine like cold water got dumped on his back. Before you can ask if he’s alright, he sits back up and shakes his head, “Ugh, sorry. I just had, like a weird feeling or something.”

Laughter pours out from somewhere behind you, the patrons and heroes in the booths now blocked by the other customers in the bar. He shrugs and shakes his head, “Ok, another?”

“Honestly, yea.. I’m gonna need it if he’s here.”

Keigo rolls his eyes and holds up two fingers to the bartender, though he motions towards a different bottle on the rack this time, “Come on Y/N. He’s just got a stick up his ass, though maybe you could remov-”

“Augh, no. I don’t even have his phone number let alone a chance of anything besides being barely colleagues. He’s even left the room the moment I entered, and I was only at UA to help him prosecute one of the villains he caught. He even mumbled about being ‘unable to work with me’.”

“That didn’t happen.”

“I literally couldn’t forget it even if I tried.”

Keigo sniffs the new shot glass and makes a face in between ‘not good, but not bad’ and slides one over to you, “Your quirk is remember what you saw not what he said.”

You hunch over the shot and take a fresh lime from his hand, “It’s the same vibe though.”

Keigo throws the shot back with less of a dramatic reaction than before and digs his canines into the lime, “And yet you still have a thing for him? Kinda weird if you ask me.”

You follow suit in taking the shot and draining the juice from lime onto your tongue before frustratingly shaking your head, “I don’t!”

He raises an eyebrow with a deadpan.

“Ok, I don’t know why. I just do.”

Keigo stands up from the barstool and takes your briefcase, ready to join the rest of the group, “You just need to go on a date and stop hanging out with so many pencil pushers; it’s messing you up.”

With a hop off the stool, you straighten your skirt and follow him into the crowd of people, only weaving through a few groups before you approach the booth with everyone sitting and now looking up at you and Keigo expectedly.

“Hey! You guys made it!” Yamada booms from his position in the booth against the wall.

Keigo smiles and examines the seating arrangement. On the left booth, in the order from the wall to the dancefloor is Kayama, Toshinori, and Tsukauchi. On the right, from the wall out is Yamada and Aizawa.

You look at Keigo in a ‘don't’ you dare’ while he smirks back at you and slides next to Toshinori, leaving you sitting across from him and next to Aizawa. The wooden back of the booth creates an awkward angle and you arch forward to keep an upright position.

Kayama takes a sip from her drink and leans on the table, “We were just talking about the upcoming recess. Us teachers will have a week off with no school, not that it would apply to you guys though.”

There’s a pitcher on the table of a generic looking pale beer; Keigo makes a face asking permission and Tsukauchi gives a nod of approval. He pours you each a pint and you raise an eyebrow.

“Woa, letting loose tonight?”

Keigo smiles at Yamada and clinks his glass to yours, “Just celebrating the company.”

Aizawa shifts slightly beside you and takes a sip from his own drink, avoiding any comment in the conversation. His eyes linger in a scowl on Keigo for a moment before turning his attention to Yamada.

You stare at Keigo and silently curse him with your eyes for the seating arrangement while he leans back into the seat with the rim of his glass resting on his lower lips, enjoying the show in front of him.

“Why don’t we play a game everyone?”

The group turns to your friend waiting for him to elaborate.

“Just a simple drinking game, maybe… King’s Cup?

Tsukauchi rolls his eyes slightly. “That’s a bit childish no?”

Kayama smiles wide, “Oh it’ll be fun! Does anyone have any cards?”

Yamada smirks and slides a pack onto the table without missing a beat and the table erupts into excitement.

You find yourself a bit nervous at the proposal and tug at the collar of your button up shirt in slight heat. His stupid drinking games never end well.

While Yamada begins to shuffle the cards, you shimmy off your blazer, not wanting to spill anything on the overpriced fabric you expect to last you the end of law school.

“I can put it with mine, if you want.”

The voice is deep and curt and enough to make you finally look at the man sitting next to you. Aizawa’s hair tucked back into a half-bun with a few strands framing his face along with his signature 5 o’clock shadow indicating he’s been too tired to shave. He sits casually in a black long sleeve and matching black jeans, extending his hand to take your blazer.

“Oh, sure.. Thanks”

Without speaking, he takes the jacket and nudges Yamada’s arm to place it on the little ledge between the booth and the wall. Aizawa turns back to you once again before sipping on his drink and watching the ministrations ahead of him.

“Alright everyone, basic rules but we can remind each other as we go. Do the task associated with the card and have fun,” Keigo pauses and looks at the group, “Though what should we order to be the ‘king’s cup’.”

Toshinori raises an eyebrow at him meekly and holds his soda with both hands, “King’s cup?”

You sip your beer and lean into the booth, silently wishing a bank would be robbed and the entire table would be called into action.

“Whoever draws the fourth and final king from the deck has to drink it. The beverage can be whatever we want,” Keigo smirks at you, “ though preferably strong.”

You scoff and tilt your head further into the glass. Aizawa shifts in his seat and crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back into the booth with you; his eyes on Keigo.

Toshinori scratches the back of his head, “Oh I see, I don’t drink though so maybe-”

“You can still drink your soda and play! If you choose the last king, you can decide who drinks it!” Yamada’s voice is as loud as the speaker's blaring music.

The group nods in agreement and you take bigger gulps of your drink, ignoring the way the two previous shots of tequila begin warming your skin further. Within 5 minutes the cards are arranged in a circle around a highball glass of long island iced tea.

“Alright everyone,” Kayama claps her hands, “Let’s start!”

******

It was a bad idea. Such a bad idea.

You’ve maybe been playing for 30 minutes and the entire table is to a point of tipsy that everything someone does is hilarious and no one can finish a sentence without a few slip ups. Toshinori is the only voice of reason, though his deflated self isn’t very convincing when he reminds people to hydrate.

The first round went fine with Yamada losing and downing the king’s cup as if it were water, and the table wasted no effort in upping the ante.  The pitchers of beer long empty; now shot glasses and cocktails littered the table with the King’s Cup being a strange concoction of several flavors of vodka, soda water, and orange juice.

“Allllright..” Yamada places his hand on the circle of cards and pulls one out before holding it close to his chest.

Tsuakauchi, who’s a dull red in the cheeks from the alcohol, has relaxed a bit and leans on the table, “Sooo..?”

“4 ….. FLOOR”

Immediately everyone shimmies in their seat to try and touch the floor without being the last one. You pivot from side to side trying to bend over in the booth without lifting your pencil skirt too high. By the time you find a way to lean over, everyone’s hand is already on the floor.

“Ha! Drink up Y/N.”

You scowl at Kayama while squirming into an upright position, both of your faces humming with warmth and flushing from the alcohol. Aizawa waits to grab a card, watching you sip your drink as punishment; coughing slightly, he peels his attention to the table and draws.

“3.. Me.”

His eyebrow twitches as the table howls with laughter at his bad luck. He rolls his eyes and takes a long sip from the jack and coke in his hands, though he watches you in his peripherals.

The table turns its attention to you. You watch Aizawa swallow his beverage and you gulp subconsciously at the sight, too tipsy to realize just how obvious your gaze is. Keigo nudges your shin from under the table and you break your gaze to focus back on the table; the red on your cheeks now from slight embarrassment.

Taking a card, you flip it over and toss it face up, “6 - chicks.”

Kayama smiles and lifts her drink to clink with yours “Yay! I was getting thirsty here ya know.”

Your body hums from the rush and you can feel any decision making skills you have left begin to evaporate out of you. Keigo smiles and leans forward on the table, mirroring your position of resting both elbows on the table, waiting for the next turn.

He flips a card over to reveal the first king, “Ha! Alright I get to make a new rule,” he taps his chin and smirks deviously at you.

“Whenever someone has to drink, the group gets to decide from which cup,” he pauses and looks at Toshinori, “ah but yours will always be nonalcoholic.”

Toshinori gives a thumbs up and the game continuess in a few more circles until your drink is nearly empty and you’ve had a sip from everyone else’s glass at this point. Yamada’s order was a fruity cocktail, Aizawa’s a strong jack and coke, Keigo and Tsukauchi sip on the highest % beer the bar has, and Kayama sips on a long island.

You reach forward to take a card and hold it to your chest to avoid anyone else seeing it first; deciding if it’s a 4 you would have a head start to the ground.

“Heyy you cheater!”

Keigo points at you from the table and swat his hand away while leaning back to avoid him.

“4!”

Instantly you rush to the ground and laugh when you’re the first one to touch, watching Aizawa’s hand reach the bottom last. You discard the card on the table and notice the way he sips his drink, facing the inner corner of the booth and away from you.

Keigo grumbles, though he didn’t even lose, before reaching out and flipping a card over, “Eight - mate.”

Your eyes widen and do their best to look anywhere but your friend, even taking the initiative to lean over and ask Toshinori about how Midoriya’s training was going.

“Y/N~ let’s drink together yea?”

You deflate in your seat and swirl your nearly empty drink in your hands, watching the way Keigo raises his glass to his lips and points at you to do the same. Aizawa doesn’t say anything, and he’s the only one quiet as the rest of the group ‘ooohhhhs’.

Without missing a beat Toshinori reaches forward and flips over a card, revealing the final King. The group’s excitement falters for a moment, everyone hunching over the table looking at the card and then him and then back at him again.

“You can’t drink it so-”

“You’ll decide who does.”

Yamada finishes Tsukauchi’s sentence and the group looks at Toshinori expectedly; the condensation of the strong cocktail punishment dripping down the glass and onto the table.

Toshinori looks around awkwardly and smiles gently at you, “Well since your drink is nearly empty… maybe you’d like this one?”

It feels like ice down your back and the current buzz of the alcohol already in your system makes you sway side to side in your seat lightly. You blink a few times while the group claps their hands in laughter, all grateful not to be the one to down the beverage.

Your hand grabs the glass and you raise the rim to your lips, taking a small sip before peeling back with a grimace. Everyone but Aizawa continues laughing while you kick Keigo from under the table, “You dick, this is barely anything besides vodka on ice with a splash of orange juice!”

“Drink up!”

Before you can raise the glass again a hand gently grabs your wrist and keeps it still; Aizawa looks focused at you.

“This is a bad idea,,” the table boos slightly but he doesn’t release his grasp, “how many have you had?”

You blink at him, your face flustered from the heat of the bar, the alcohol coursing through your system, and the feeling of him just inches away from your face.

“During the game..?”

“I saw you when you came in initially, you two went up to the bar first.”

When you can’t count the number, Aizawa turns to Keigo and furrows his brows at the man, “How many has she had?”

Keigo sits up before slumping back down on accident and drunkenly blinks at the drink in your hand, “she’s got one drink.”

Aizawa groans and watches you and Keigo become absorbed in conversation.

“No, I've definitely had more than one.”

“Well there’s only one in your hand so..”

“No Keigo,” Aizawa shifts at the sound of his name leaving your lips so casually, “Like before-before.”

“Ohhhh,” he sits upright and remains steady this time, “we each had… two.”

Aizawa releases your hand finally and rubs his temples, doing the math, “So those including the drinks during this game would be… six already,” he points to the glass, “that itself would be another three shots of vodka.”

Keigo huffs and waves Aizawa off, “it’s finee”

Yamada sits forward, “Well don’t you have to drink it with her? You did make yourselves drinking mates.”

The table erupts with laughter and you feel your abs hurting from the acknowledgement; Aizawa remains steady next to you silently, as if he was stone sober despite the tinge of red on his face.

Keigo leans forward and finishes his beer before grabbing the King’s Cup and pouring half of it into his empty glass and handing you the initial cup.

“Well then,” he lifts his glass and leans on the table; you mirror his action, “Cheers.”

********

You wish you could kill the sun.

The blinds of your apartment window open just enough to let sunlight pouring into your room and blinding your eyes despite them being shut. With a long groan you thrash in your bed, pulling a pillow to your face, then the comforter before giving up and rolling onto your stomach.

There’s a pounding in your head and a constant feeling of bile in your throat that stirs nausea in your stomach. It’s when you finally find a comfortable position again that your phone alarm rings loudly and vibrates on the nightstand next to you.

Can’t the world just fuck off.

It’s impossible to ignore and on the third repeat of the alarm pattern you finally sit up and cancel the notification. You would lay back down if the wave of nausea didn’t immediately bring a familiar acid taste to your mouth and you sprint out of bed into the ensuite bathroom.

You cough and hover over the toilet, letting any residual undigested alcohol out, slightly feeling better when you stand up to flush. After rinsing your mouth with water you sigh at the slight relief of pain in your gut but wince at the ongoing hum inside your skull.

Stepping out of the bathroom’s second door and into the living room you weakly stumble across the cold wooden floors, only now noticing your pajamas of a t-shirt on backwards and university branded sweatpants.

A low hum reverberates and you nearly jump out of your skin before leaving over the back of the couch and staring at a very tired and very hungover Keigo.

“Ugh.. morning”

His voice is so hoarse and dry that he winces as he speaks and resolves to turning over and trying to go back to bed.

You blink wearily and pad over to the open kitchen to prepare two glasses of water and a bottle of painkillers. Before you hand Keigo his glass you chuck half of your own and lean against the armrest.

He graciously takes the water and you slip your phone out of your pocket while he drinks.

“Oh fuck I have to be in the campus library soon.”

Keigo hums, letting water drip down his chin without caring and taking large gulps of air when he finally finishes. He takes his head in his hands and rubs his eyes so roughly you’re sure he’s seeing stars, “What.. what even happened last night?”

You raise your glass to your lips and pause, “I can’t remember,”

Keigo nods once before his eyes shoot up and meet yours in worry.

“Oh shit… I can’t remember”

The sentence is spoken like a question as your heart rate spikes and you begin to panic. The only other times your quirk hasn't worked is when you’re extremely shitfaced or when Aizawa happened to look at you while using his erasure.

“Oh fuck. What did we do last night?”

Keigo looks up at you and shrugs, unable to form any words, just as surprised as you are. You set your glass on the coffee table and open your phone, “Maybe I took a video or photos? Something to jog my memor-”

You pause and swipe away a text notification before double taking at the sender.

From: Aizawa Shouta

        How are you feeling?

Keigo leans up with a grimace and looks at your phone screen, not understanding until he looks between the device and your face three times back and forth.

“Hey I thought you said you didn’t have his number…?”

You can’t even lift your eyes from the message, “I…didn’t…”

What the FUCK happened last night

[uracutieraka]

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : who even are you

↺ ᴿᴱᴾᴱᴬᵀ ‖ ᴾᴬᵁˢᴱ ≫ ᴺᴱˣᵀ ˢᴼᴺᴳ

masterlist

volυмe : ▁▂▃▄▅▆▇▉

It was a normal Tuesday, you had just woken up to the sounds of your alarm going off.

It was quiet in your home. It always was so you weren't too concerned. Your parents had gotten this small apartment mostly for you since they traveled for work and you were tired of being dragged along with them on their eccentric and over-the-top 'adventures'.

Your parents were anthropologist who traveled the world trying to discover a long lost civilization or something. They were never clear on what they did you were just assuming at this point in time.

You went through your normal routine, shower, eat, makeup, hair, get dressed, ect.,

7:30 A.M. Time to go.

You were from the U.S.

Born in a small midwest town 15 years ago. Not A lot of people where you were from had quirks. Actually nobody did. It was the appeal of your small town. The whole point someone would move there. So when you were born, you immediately were an outcast.

You spent your whole life nearly being made fun of by kids from school, snickered at by adults in the grocery store, and targeted by pretty much any authority figure. You weren't a bad kid by any means but when you turned 12, after being treated like one your whole life, you started lashing out. As any kid would. You cut your hair and dyed it, started acting out in class, and failing school. Which where you're from was next to blasphemous.

As you approached the (absurdly sized) campus you started to get a pit in your gut.

what if they don't like me? what if they think I'm weird? or worse...what if they don't talk to me because I'm joining so late in the year

They were dumb thoughts but still valid nonetheless.

0:57 ————|——— -2:10

You felt stupid. sososossoosososoo stupid. HOW do you forget your whole binder on the first day? You were panicking. People in the halls were staring and whispering.

"who's that?"

"its the middle of the semester I didn't even know UA took transfers that late?"

You felt like all eyes were on you. Because they were.

You looked extremely different than the other students here.

For starters your hair was long and dyed, neatly curled, with giant pins that looked like bones in it.

Big round eyes and black eyeliner with matching black nail polish on your short up-kept nails.

You had ripped black stockings under your uniform as well.

Not going to lie you looked pretty emo compared to the rest of the students. Very out of place in this foreign country all together.

You ignored the comments and mad your way to the classroom.

god I'm an idiot for joining this late in the year.

as you stepped through the door you approached the long haired man standing behind the desk at the front of the room.

"Hi, uhm, are you, uh," you looked down at the folded paper you had pulled from your pocket prior to finding the classroom "Aizawa?"

the man looked down towards you, "I am. And you are?"

he gave you a quizzical look.

"Oh sorry. Im y/n. Im, erm, new, hah"

oh my god what is wrong with me? why am I being so awkward?

"Ah, I should've guessed. Take a seat at my desk until the other students arrive. We can figure out your seating arrangement after you're introduced."

As students piled in the gave you questioning looks.

After all there was a random girl sitting in their teachers seat.

As soon as the bell rang you felt the pit in your gut get 10X's deeper. You wanted to sink into the chair behind you. They were all staring.

A loud grunt from Aizawa pulled all of the classes as well as your own attention to him.

"Class, this is a new transfer student from, uh where are you from? Actually just get up here and introduce yourself."

oh no. nononono.

you stood up taking a giant breath while simultaneously wiping your hands over the front of your uniform jacket. As you approached the podium you had run over the words in your head.

"Hi."

"..."

Silence. Why weren't words coming out your mouth?

You watched the faces of your new classmates turn from blank stares to a range of emotions.

"uhm, sorry let me start over," lets try this again "Hi. Im y/n. Im from the USA, a really small town, haha, and uhm my quirk is that I can, Uhm, well basically, I can, Its kind of hard to explain really but-"

"Basically she can manipulate sound waves to the point she's able to talk to animals." The teacher had stepped in.

"Well, kind of, I can basically reform any sound wave into what I want to. Wether I want it to be quiet or loud or even restructure It completely, which I can do for animals and make them speak like, you know, regular, like us humans do."

"Woah neat so is it a manipulation based quirk?!"

you looked up from your twiddling thumbs to see a green haired boy looking at you, with a huge smile and stars in his eyes at the new quirk he had never heard of.

"Yeah I guess." You shrugged.

"Awesome!" he said

And with that you sat down at an open desk in the far back corner.

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

Lunch had rolled around after a boring morning of doing basic school work and you were sat alone in a booth at the far end of the cafeteria.

suddenly a large hand smacks down on your table.

"Hey," a gruff voice spoke up, and finely you look up to be met with harsh crimson eyes and spikes blond hair. "So like what's your deal?"

wow hes blunt

"My deal?"

"mhm" he mumbled like the answer would be obvious.

"Uhhh, I want to be a hero? what's your deal?" you said dragging the letters out and shooting an eyebrow up.

"Hey! I ask the questions around here!"

You stood up quick leaning closer to the boys face leaning across the table.

"You really want to yell at the girl who can control sound waves?"

He leaned up, obviously not used to someone standing up at him like that.

"You're acting like a bratty toddler. I thought this was a prestigious school not an overpriced daycare." you said while walking away and dumping your tray of food.

"H-hey! get back here you idiot! Do you know who I am?!" he was raging behind you stomping to follow you, desperate to catch up and make you apologize.

You just kept walking. After all, you're not one to be messed with. There's a lot about your quirk that he doesn't understand and you're not trying to teach him everything about it now teaching him a lesson.

You're walking the halls now looking at all the different places you had yet to see.

Suddenly you hear someone approaching you. Harsh foot steps smacking the ground.

You turn around to met with the boy who you had just walked away from in the lunchroom.

"Wait up!"

You stop in your tracks, crossing your arms while you wait for him to catch up.

"look," his hands are in his pockets and his eyes are looking towards the wall to the right of you. "Im just confused as to why UA let you in this late into our first year."

"Well-" you begin but are cut off by the boys yelling.

"AND IM SCOPING OUT THE COMPETITION!" he was now crouched and pointing at you with a seriously insane look in his eyes.

"Bro. Chill. Im just here to train."

He was frozen in shock.

"huh?"

"I SAID I'm just here to train."

and with that you walked away.

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

The end of the day came quick after that.

Soon you found yourself walking home with your earbuds in.

though the sounds of footsteps were trailing behind you. As you looked back you saw the green haired boy from class earlier, you had come to learn his name was Midoriya.

He was followed by the blond boy who was annoying you earlier.

"Hey! Y/n right?!" Midoriya called out.

"Hey! Yeah! You're Midoriya?"

"That's me!," A wide smile crossed his face.

damn hes happy

"So I wanted to ask you more about your quirk? I've never heard of something like it. Its like a manipulation quirk AND a music based quirk."

As he rambled to you, you snuck a glance at the boy behind you.

Cutting off the boy in front of you, you asked a question.

"Who's that?" pointing to the boy who was now approaching you and Midoriya.

"Huh- oh that's Kaachan. Or Bakugo Katsuki." you didn't listen as he kept rambling on about your quirk again.

Bakugo had now come and joined you two, standing with his hands, yet again, in his pockets.

"What are you extras talking about?" He scoffed.

"You." you rolled your eyes at his ignorance.

"WHA- whatever."

'saved it." he thought

He in fact did not save it.

"Yeah. Whatever. Anywho, bye Midoriya."

And with that you went home. Not excited for the next few days to come.

[doumadono]

Emergency request

If there’s still a slot open could you possibly write something with Aizawa or Denki or kirishima comforting a reader who’s having a lot of trouble disassociating and trying hard not to blip from D.I.D I understand it’s an odd situation and I completely understand if you aren’t able to. I’m having such a hard time keeping myself in myself due to a lot of stuff being told to me as a kid coming back up. Thank you if you can and still thank you if you can’t or don’t want to.

You're not alone - Aizawa, Kaminari & Kirishima with Reader

EMERGENCY REQS - PART 2

Aizawa

You’re struggling to stay present during a quiet evening at home, and Aizawa notices your disconnection.

Aizawa notices the smallest details - your glassy eyes, delayed responses, and tense body language. He quietly puts down the book he was reading. “You’re not here, are you? It’s okay. Let’s bring you back.”

He doesn’t overwhelm you with words but opts for grounding techniques. He sits nearby, quietly describing the room. “The walls are that off-white you complained about last month. Your favorite blanket’s here. The cat is purring by your feet.” His calm, steady voice anchors you as your cat indeed is purring, rubbing its side against your legs.

Aizawa respects your boundaries. If you pull away, he won’t push, but he’ll stay close, letting you feel his presence without pressure.

If you respond to touch, he’ll gently take your hand, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. “Just focus on this,” he murmurs. “I’m here. You’re safe.”

He’ll bring you tea or water without asking, understanding that grounding often starts with basic needs.

When you finally explain what’s been going on, he listens intently without interrupting. “What you’re feeling makes sense,” he says softly. “Don’t fight it all at once. Let’s take this slow.”

He doesn’t lecture or over-explain but offers succinct, affirming phrases. “This doesn’t define you. You’re more than what happened to you.”

Over time, he makes subtle adjustments to your routine to help - keeping a grounding object nearby, setting up soft lights to avoid overstimulation, or establishing quiet time for you both.

His presence is a solid reminder that you’re not alone.

Denki

During a hangout, you start disassociating mid-conversation, and Denki notices your sudden withdrawal.

Denki’s sharp in his own way. He notices your distant look and stops talking mid-sentence. “Hey, hey. You okay? You’re zoning out on me a little.”

To pull you back, he leans closer, waving a hand gently. “Earth to Y/N! What’s going on in that awesome brain of yours?” His teasing tone is light and non-threatening.

Denki’s all about action. He offers you something tangible to hold - a random trinket in his pocket. “Here, squeeze this. It’s got this weird texture. Kinda gross, right?”

If you’re able to speak, he’s all ears. “Lay it on me. No judgment, no filter. I’m your personal vent buddy today.” He might even sit cross-legged on the floor, fully focused on you.

Denki might pull out his phone and play a funny video or a sound you like, knowing sensory engagement can help. “This one always cracks me up. Watch it with me?”

Denki brainstorms creative ways to help you stay present. “Okay, next time this happens, let’s try snapping to a song beat. Or, ooh, I can record something dumb for you to play back later.”

He uses his goofiness as a way to lighten the heaviness. “If all else fails, I’ll just do something embarrassing. That’ll definitely help to bring ya back.”

Denki doesn’t let the moment pass without follow-up. “How’re you feeling now? Better? Worse? Tell me everything, no sugar-coating.”

He’s your biggest cheerleader. “You’ve got this, okay? Even when it feels like you don’t, you’ve totally got this. And if you don’t, I’ve got you.”

Kirishima

During training, you start to disassociate, and Kirishima notices your distant demeanor.

Eijiro’s right by your side the moment he sees you struggling. “Whoa, hey. You good? You look kinda out of it. Let’s take a breather.”

He places a hand on your shoulder, grounding you with his steady voice. “Hey, you’re safe. You’re here with me. Let’s take this one step at a time, yeah?”

Kirishima gently gets you to focus on the environment. “What can you hear right now? My voice? Let’s start there, okay?”

He’s in no rush and makes sure you know it. “Take your time. We’re not going anywhere until you’re ready.”

To him, confronting this struggle is the epitome of being manly. “This? What you’re dealing with? It’s the most hardcore thing ever, and you’re handling it like a champ.”

Despite his naturally loud personality, he softens his tone, speaking with an unusual gentleness. “It’s all right to feel like this. Nobody’s judging you, least of all me.”

If you’re okay with touch, Kirishima might guide your hands to something solid - his arm, a training mat, or a nearby wall. “Feel this? It’s real. Just like you’re here, real, with me.”

Once you’re able to talk, he listens without interrupting, nodding along. “That’s heavy stuff, but you’re not carrying it alone. I’ve got you, dear."

Even after the moment passes, Kirishima remains vigilant. “If this happens again, I want you to call me, no matter what nor when. Promise me that, okay?”

[uwtloml]

Ok so what if we accidentally send the mha boys nudes

- 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘩𝘢 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘴 𝘯𝘶𝘥𝘦𝘴!

𝘧𝘵. 𝘬𝘢𝘵𝘴𝘶𝘬𝘪 𝘣𝘢𝘬𝘶𝘨𝘰𝘶, 𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘬𝘪 𝘬𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘪, 𝘦𝘫𝘪𝘳𝘰 𝘬𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘢, 𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘰𝘴𝘩𝘪 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘰, 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘺𝘢 𝘵𝘰𝘥𝘰𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘪, 𝘵𝘰𝘮𝘶𝘳𝘢 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘬𝘪, 𝘬𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘢𝘮𝘪, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘢 𝘢𝘪𝘻𝘢𝘸𝘢

a/n i hope i added all the characters u wanted 🤍

[deathc-re]

oh, how he just wants to make a pretty little house wife of you. leave you with absolute freedom and autonomy over your time.

you want to go shopping? here's his card.

you want to join a yoga/ pilates/ kickboxing class? let's register you together!

you want to renovate the kitchen? my buddy knows a guy.

he wants to come home and smell the amazing cooking you have for him. or on lazy days, plop on the couch with you and eat take out.

he wants to smile at his phone while at work because you sent him a selfie of you eating breakfast at noon, or taking the dog for a walk, or with shopping backs in the trunk or with the people you're volunteering with or whatever it is your heart desires.

he wants to see you on the porch, barefoot and pregnant, rubbing your belly and waving to him as he pulls up in the driveway.

he wants to hear you ramble on about the new book you read and hated/loved. or help you brainstorm ideas for your passion project.

he wants to brag about you to all his work buddies and bring you to all the corporate dinners and stroke his own ego while you bashfully tell his coworkers that you "don't have a job, my husband takes care of everything."

NANAMIN, BAKUGO, KIRISHIMA, FATGUM, IZUKU, aizawa, yuuta, armin, iida, iwazumi, sugawara + whoever else you want!

[rumisgf]

“ YOUR BEST EATER ! ” (MHA EDITION)

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

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

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

KEIGO TAKAMI - ♾️/10

⊗ he’s a REAL eater.

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

⊗ he thinks you taste so good

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

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

⊗ he loves having you sit on his face

⊗ “imma eat it. AHHHHH”

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

⊗ he’s such a slut.

“please- ‘s too much~!”

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

TOUYA TODOROKI - 3/10

⊗ you thought he was an eater…?

⊗ you’re funny.

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

⊗ his ego is bigger than his dick

⊗ however,

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

“o-oh~..!”

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

ENJI TODORKI - 0/10

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

⊗ he’s not particularly a…. giver

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

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

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

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

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

⊗ you immediately regret your decision

⊗ help him.

“wait- it’s ok it’s o-ok. nevermind…”

“what’s wrong?”

SHOTA AIZAWA - 7/10

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

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

⊗ he becomes a different man

⊗ and he’s mean with it, too

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

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

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

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

MIRIO TOGATA - 10/10

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

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

⊗ he gets it from fatgum.

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

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

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

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

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

⊗ he’s a huge giver

⊗ please marry him

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

BAKUGOU KATSUKI - 9/10

⊗ oh give him five minutes

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

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

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

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

⊗ you see a completely different side of him

⊗ and he makes everything so messy

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

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

“kats~…”

“taste so good…so fucking good..”

DENKI KAMINARI - 11/10

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

⊗ he refers to himself as an eater

⊗ he has no shame

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

⊗ he definitely can get off just from giving you head

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

⊗ you will be orgasming more than once

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

“my messy baby…you sound so pretty~

©𝑹𝑼𝑴𝑰𝑺𝑮𝑭

[connorsui]

"How beautiful was she?"

"Was? ...please ..she is beautiful, but not like those girls in magazines. She is beautiful, for the way she thinks, She is beautiful for the sparkle in her eyes when she speaks about anything she loves. She is beautiful for her ability to make other people smile, even if she was sad. No, she wasn't beautiful for something as temporary as her looks. She is beautiful, deep down to her soul ....

She is the love of my life"

The man: Nanami Kento, Geto Suguru, John Price, Jason Todd, Sam Winchester, Higuruma Hiromi, Halsin, Astarion Zayne, Sylus, Xavier, Levi Ackerman, Simon Riley, Johnny Mactavish, Leon Kennedy, Aizawa, Dabi, Hawks, Rafayel, Cooper Howard, Logan Howlett, Aemond, Nikto,

[crushmeeren]

Sex chocolate with Hawks, Dabi, Aizawa and maybe Toshinori???

⋆ ft. izuku ⋆

⋆ this is written as if the guys didn’t know they’d eaten the chocolate and how they’d react to the treat. sorry I didn’t put Toshinori in this, I’m not quite sure how to write his personality yet. (ó﹏ò｡)

𝛏 master list link 𝛏

// @emmab3mma hope you enjoy! ₊˚ʚ₍ᐢ. ̫.ᐢ₎₊˚✧ ﾟ.

Izuku’s lips would tug into a sheepish smile, no doubt thankful for the sweet treat pick me up. His eyes would brighten, a satisfied hum dancing in the air.

Izuku would be unbearably jittery out on patrol that evening, hopping from the sidewalk on one side the street to the other, green light crackling in his wake. He’d do it mindlessly, thoughts wandering to you and what you currently could be doing.

Suddenly, he’d be flailing mid air when he vividly imagines you on your knees, plush lips stretched so wide on his cock he knows it must hurt your mouth. Izuku would stumble when he hit the concrete, catching himself on the bench nearby.

Izuku’s expression would twist from calm to horrified, thoughts running a mile a minute when he steadies himself and realizes his cock is…hard. Throbbing. Straining against his hero suit. He’d make haste running to the nearest building with a public restroom.

Izuku would shut the door to the restroom and lock it before anyone could even notice he entered. He’d be frantic, shoving his pants down mid thigh as he leaned against the wall and hissed through his teeth when the cool air hit his freely bobbing cock.

He’d have a million concerns in the back of his head but not be able to focus on a single one. Izuku would have a one track mind, wrapping a hand around himself and jerking until he came in less than 20 seconds to the image of you on your knees.

Izuku would be so embarrassed afterwards, cheeks bright pink as he adjusts his clothes and washes his hands.

Being as smart as he is, he’d have a suspicion this is related to the chocolate you gave him and he intends to find out once he’s home. Once he returned, he’d tease you until you’re on the edge of tears and blurting out the truth, fucking you until your mind whites out and you scream his name.

Lucky you.

Keigo would give you a flirty grin, winking playfully as he snatched the chocolate from you and swallowed it within two bites. You’d give him an unimpressed look but he’d just laugh like it’s the funniest thing in the world.

Keigo isn’t surprised when he got a boner while soaring through the skies on the way to his agency. He’d been thinking about you anyways and his dick getting hard wasn’t uncommon when he thought of you. It’d be fair to say that happened often, if he’s honest.

Keigo would take note of the violent flush crawling down his neck and snaking under the fuzzy collar of his flight jacket. He’d suck his bottom lip in between his teeth and adjust his cock in his pants so it’s sticking straight up instead of outward.

He’d be able to somewhat focus on the business meeting he didn’t want to attend in the first place, only being reprimanded a few times more than normal for zoning out.

Keigo’s pulse would thunder. He’d wear a neutral expression, letting his chin rest in his propped up hand as he sent a feather to find and turn on the air because why the fuck is it so hot in here?

He’d text you something filthy as discreetly as he could under the table, biting his knuckles when you sent back a picture of yourself with your tits on display. Keigo would come to the conclusion that maybe he was a bit more pathetically horny than normal and he needed to ditch this meeting yesterday.

Keigo would go straight home, ignoring anyone who had tried to speak with him on his way out. He’d find you on the couch with nothing on but an oversized shirt and waving what’s left of the chocolate bar at him with a smirk when he entered through the balcony.

He wouldn’t even be upset when you told him what you’d done. He’d just crowd close, looming over you with a wolfish grin that shot a thrill down your spine.

Keigo would succumb to the aphrodisiac completely. He’d bend you over the backrest of the couch at hip level and wrench your arms taut behind you, fingers circling your wrists to secure you in place.

Keigo would have no mercy, sliding his cock in your tight pussy before you’re turned on enough to take him smoothly. He’d send a feather down to play with your clit until you strain to escape, not stopping despite your pleas because “this is what you wanted, isn’t it baby? yeah, so stop yapping and take it.”

In the end all you can do is nod, because if you truly wanted him to stop you’d only have to say the safe word.

Shouta would raise an eyebrow with a bored expression on his features. He’d roll his eyes and eat the chocolate after you pushed your lower lip out and fluttered your lashes at him.

Shouta’s a sucker for you.

He’d be grading papers that afternoon, knuckles rubbing at his sleepy eyes in the office of your shared home. He’d take a break, pressing his palms to his eyes and resting his elbows on the desk.

A scenario would pop into his head, one where you sat on the edge of the desk while he’d relax in his chair and lazily eat you out. He can imagine the way your clit would feel against his tongue, how warm and soft your pussy would be on his lips.

Shouta would lean back in the chair, a hand absently dropping to his lap to palm his cock and he’d be startled at just how much he’d filled out already. His dick hot and sticking to his inner thigh. Shocked at the unavoidable thick warmth swirling in his belly when it’d usually take a bit more than a brief daydream to get this worked up.

He’d be certain that you had something to do with this and irritation would lance through him. He’d sit in the kitchen once he’s finished, arms crossed and cock stubbornly refusing to flag until you returned home.

Shouta would ask you about it as if he were asking a child if they had stolen a cookie from the cookie jar. Easily, you admit to it. No hesitation, no shame, just a smug air about you.

Then, Shouta would make his fantasy a reality. He’d eat your pussy until you were right on the edge of cumming and then he’d stop. He’d speak condescendingly, saying “poor baby, your pussy just wants to cum doesn’t she?” as he sits you roughly down on his cock.

He’d spank you a few times, teasing you a bit more but he’d make you cum so intensely your toes would cramp — and then he’d keep going until his own brain got fuzzy.

Touya would say fuck no at first. He doesn’t like chocolate. Until you mention there’s something special about the sweet and he assumes it’s an edible. You don’t bother to correct him because, technically, it is an edible, just not the kind filled with weed.

Touya would be leaning his back against the railing on your balcony, angled so he can peer into the open doors of your living room. He’d have a cigarette dangling from his lips, scrubbing at his cheek with one hand because yeah, his cheeks are typically roasting but they’re never this hot.

He’d shrug it off and nonchalantly light up the cigarette with his pointer finger. He’d startle as the tiny flame bursts into a fireball that he really didn’t mean to create when you stride past the doorway in soft shorts that show the crease of where your thigh joins your ass.

You’d freeze mid step and turn to stare at him incredulously, lips parted slightly when the aftershock of heated air damn near singes your skin.

Touya would be flustered. Cheeks painted rosy pink with embarrassment at the lack of control over his quirk. He’d scowl harshly, pinching his brows together as he dropped and stomped on his cigarette to put it out. He’d stalk towards you and snarl “why the hell are you wearing those fucking shorts?” as if his sudden overbearing lust is your fault specifically.

You’d roll your eyes and begin walking in the direction you’d intended in the first place but Touya would snatch your wrist tight enough the bones grind together and drag you to your bedroom. He’d ignore your obviously fake bewildered expression and shove you onto the mattress. He can’t focus on the fact that you seem to be going along with this a bit too easily.

His cock would be jumping and pushing painfully against the zipper of his jeans before he so much as kissed you. He wouldn’t get either of you truly naked, he’d just slide your soft shorts to the side and unzip his jeans. He’d shove your shirt to your collarbone so he could watch the way your tits are about to bounce.

Touya would yank your ankles up and over his shoulders until the backs of your thighs press into his chest and then fold you in half like you’re a fucking blanket. He’d tilt his hips until his tip catches on your pussy and then he’s shoving his cock all the way inside to steal the breath from your lungs.

Touya wouldn’t have the self control to stop for a long time that evening and you’d almost regret giving him the chocolate. Almost.

[tsubaki3192]

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

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

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

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

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

.

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

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

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

JJK: Gojo, Megumi,

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

HSR: Blade, AVENTURINE, DANHENG,

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

BNHA: Aizawa, TODOROKI, DABI,

Haikyuu: OIKAWA, Atsumu,

[siriuslywounded]

well-

[sqtorux]

you cunningly rock your hips while sitting on his lap and he's STRUGGLING.

and you're so sly knowing exactly what you're doing to him. you can see him visibly struggling, his jaw clenched hard but you have no intention of stopping.

"isn't it so hot guys?" you adjust your seating, grinding against his erection subtly. your circle of friends agree but he's not listening or contributing to the discussion about some temperature.

you push further bravely upon seeing how desperate he was and move up a notch, gently brushing your hands on his rock hard dick.

he exhales a breath of hot hair, tickling the back of your neck and your confidence splurges. you boldly rock your hips again, just one more and you're done — you promise yourself.

but just as you were about to execute your amazing idea, big firm hands stop your motions short. they hold against your hips, immobilising you in place.

he leans closer into the crook of your neck, grunting softly "you're gonna regret that."

"regret what?" you look at him innocently.

he huffs out an annoyed scoff as his hot breath tingles the side of your neck "lets see how slick you can be when i have my way with you later."

gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento, toji fushiguro, nakahara chuuya, tetcho suehiro, michizo tatchihara, shota aizawa, dabi, akaashi keiji, tsukishima kei, wakatoshi ushijima, levi ackerman + your contributions?

[angel-sweets666]

Sleepy

shota aizawa x afab/fem reader

aizawas always sleepy, what else is he always feeling? Horny

warnings: p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kids), slight breeding kink, slight praise kink. Sleepy sex, oral f and m receiving,grinding, hand job, fingering Mdni PLEASE. IM TRYNA PROTECT UR INNOCENCE.

a/n I FUCKING SCORED WITH THAT AIZAWA PIC. Tysm Pinterest 😍😍

Aizawa grumbled as he rolled over, the light from the sun spilling into the room past the curtains. He draped an arm across your waist, using his thumb to rub your tummy. Aizawa buried his head into the back of your shoulder, leaving gentle and warm kisses. “Wake up…” he whispered softly as he tried to wake you up “please darlin’” he pat your belly to wake you up. You whines and rolled over to face him “wha?” You tried to rub the sleep from your eye, aizawa grabbed the back of your head softly and pressed your face into his broad chest while his free hand rubbed your back “mornin darlin’” he leaned down to kiss your forehead, his stubble rubbing against your skin “morning…” you mumbled back, a slight giggle came out of you.

aizawa rolled over and brought you with him, making you lay on his belly and chest. He looked down at you sleepily and smiled “your so pretty like this..” he said as he cupped your cheek, you leaned into the warmth of his palm “so pretty..” he admired you. Aizawa found you to be the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. A familiar warmth began to form in his belly, you could feel the hardness under you; your face turning pink.

“noticed did ya?” He mumbled against your skin, tickling you with his breath “yeah…” you replied, your face becoming pinker and pinker. “Do me a favour would you darlin’?” He grabbed you by your underarms with his large hands and sat you up. He looked up at you, raising an eyebrow to ask for consent. You nodded and smiled, giving him the green light to continue.

Aizawa firmly grabbed your hips, pressing his hips against yours. You whimpered at the contact of his hardness so close to your warmth. His hands began to move your hips against his, a grunt escaping his throat. You moaned softly, feeling his dick pressing up against you. “G-good girl.. good girl.” He let out, his grip on your hips becoming tighter and tighter. You squeaked as he rutted against you “mmph.. hold on..” he pulled you away from his hips, taking the time to pull his boxers off. “Be a good girl and suck me off will you?” He asks, freeing his dick from the cloth. You nodded and climbed to a more comfortable spot right between his legs. Aizawa sat up so he could watch you. You licked the base to the tip, a groan coming from aizawa. You kept licking the side of it, before taking the whole tip of it into your mouth. He groans loudly and grabs a fistful of your hair, pushing your head down on his dick. “Mmph..” he let go once you found a pace that wouldn’t make you choke on it.

you slowly pulled his length out of your mouth, using your spit as lubricant you slowly began to stroke his dick. Aizawa groaned and leaned onto your shoulder “so good… such a good girl..” he lightly pulled on the ends of your hair, leaning in to kiss your cheek. As you pumped his dick his breath became hitched, deep grunts turned more into desperate whines. Eventually cum spilled from the pink tip of his dick, he panted slightly and reached to scruff your hair “your turn now hm?”

you found yourself gripping the bedsheets under you as his tongue went deeper and deeper inside your core, his large hands gripping your thighs to keep them apart. Aizawa pulled his tongue out of you to lick your clit, drawing a whine from your throat. “You always taste so good..” he mumbled, sticking two fingers into his mouth before sliding them inside of you. You moaned and arched your back “please please-“ you whined,Squeezing your eyes shut. “Shhh it’s okay, your doing so good for me darlin’” he pumped his fingers inside of you, curling them in certain places. Aizawa leaned back down to lick your clit, gazing up at you to watch your reaction. You clamped your thighs down on his head “I’m close.. I’m close..” your breaths became ragged as aizawa pulled his fingers out of you, replacing it with his now much harder dick.

both of you let out a pleasured moan before he impatiently began to thrust inside you “g-gonna.. put… a baby in my good girl…” he leaned down to kiss your neck, you moaned and gripped his back, leaving scratch marks on his already scarred back from fighting as a hero. His pace became quicker and harder “cmon cum with me…” he mumbled, his dick stretching you out. His thrusts became sloppy after a minute, signing that he was close. He bottomed out balls deep into you and then filled you up with cum.

both of you panted, you looked up at him “round two?” You smiled “I have work darlin’ sorry” he pulled out and kissed your cheek, helping you put some clothes back on after cleaning the two of you up.

[lowkeyremi]

MHA BF/GF TEXTS !

ft. bakugo, izuku, shinso, aizawa, sero, dabi, hawks, mirko, and fuyumi x fem!reader (separate)

another spontaneous smau 😝 enjoy!!!

BAKUGO:

MIDORIYA:

SHINSO:

AIZAWA:

HAWKS:

DABI:

SERO:

MIRKO:

FUYUMI:

©𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐊𝐄𝐘𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈 All works are written by me! Please do not copy, translate, or upload onto other sites thanks!