#aizawa shouta x reader

[corporalswhore]

— react (shota aizawa)

pairing: shota aizawa x student!reader

summary: snippets of yours and aizawa’s relationship over time. quiet yearning, love, and a little bit of toxicity.

warnings: major age gap (aizawa is like 35 & reader is around 20). teacher/student relationship. nsfw (v small smut at the end).

a/n: this has been in my drafts for almost 3 years now. paragraph here & there within those years so if the writing is off it’s bc i’m rusty as hell i’m sorry y’all this is just word vomit.

if anybody were to ask shota aizawa if he’s ever been loved — he would say no, mainly because the concept of love has always been foreign to him — he had never thought of himself as someone you’d choose to fall in love with. 

his class? they’d have a different answer.  

because there’s you — you who has been silently screaming your love to him for years.  

it’s in the way you’d bring a cup of coffee for him on your early morning training sessions — you had engraved the sight of him brewing a cup the last time he visited your dorm and subconsciously memorized his order.  

your classmates would call you insane when they spot you in the kitchen — with sugar, coffee beans, and measuring utensils splayed all out on the counter. you hovering over the measurements as if an unneeded speck of sugar falling into his cup would lead to your demise.  

to you, it would.  

aizawa, oblivious to it all, accepts your coffee graciously every time. a small smile gracing his lips  as his palm clasps around the mug. a soft thank you is muttered — voice still laced heavily with sleep but sincere. 

and it’s his sincerity, his appreciation for you going out of your way to make him this every morning — that gets you through your training every time.  

mornings to you, with him — always feels like possibility and hope, the day still untinged — so many things can happen.  

and as you take your first sip of coffee, your heart goes warm — but there’s a bitterness on your tongue — a reminder, as you lose yourself in this pitiful fantasy every morning, that this small gesture — is one he doesn’t understand and probably will never. 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✦

it’s in the way you go above and beyond — doing things you’ve never done before just for him. you heard through the grapevine that aizawa shota likes cookies.  

you have never baked in your life. 

sato, is as kind as ever to indulge you when you bring up the subject of baking cookies just for fun — he ends up giving you his most prized recipe and wishes you luck.  

and you have to wonder to yourself, how hard can it be?  

it takes you two hours to bake an edible batch. 

it’s 11pm and you’re in the dorm’s kitchen — counter littered with parchment paper, sugar, butter, eggs — and god, there’s flour everywhere.  

everything’s a mess.  

you’ve made almost six batches so far — some either too burnt or not baked enough. shoto, who has been sitting in the living room the entire time, has smelt the distasteful scent of burnt chocolate too many times tonight. 

“are you sure you’re following the recipe correctly?” he chirps from afar one time, and the frustrated glare you give him shuts him up for the night.  

the seventh batch in the oven right now holds all your hopes and dreams — if it ends up being inedible, you’re quite sure you’d break down.  

surprisingly (to you and shoto), it is a success. 

it’s thick and chewy — a golden brown color adorning the edges whilst the center remains soft.  and shoto, in all his childlike stupor, gobbles down a few immediately. 

“good job. i didn’t think you could do it.” he says earnestly whilst chewing.  

you roll your eyes at him as you clean the kitchen, packing away the ingredients used and ridding the counters of flour stains — you’re exhausted but absolutely thrilled at your mediocre baking skills. 

now, all that’s left to do is deliver it to him.  

after making sure the mess you made is thoroughly cleaned up, you grab a small brown paper bag and gently place the cookies inside — praying to god that none breaks or gets smushed.  

you opt to write a small note for him — nothing borderline creepy but something sincere — but the only thing that’s in your mind right now is how you’d wish to be the one sweetening his thoughts rather than these cookies. how you wish you were the one to make him feel so light and warm with each taste, rather than these cookies. 

you wish you never made them — they’re just a harsh reminder that shota aizawa is an unattainable person for you.  

and gosh, you’re breaking down over fucking cookies now — you thank god shoto returned to his room when you were cleaning.  

thanks for being a great teacher! xo  

short, simple & sweet. 

(it’s not even close to what you really wanted to say). 

you know he’s awake right now, most likely correcting papers but, you’d rather remain anonymous — not wanting to get caught trespassing in the teachers’ dorm building at this ungodly hour.  

plus, you don’t think you can handle explaining yourself to him right now.  

cookies? out of the blue? to your teacher?  

weird.  

you know it’s fruitless doing all of this but — shota aizawa is your idealized daydream, and you are empty without this.  

so alas, you leave them by his door — knocking gently then full-on sprinting out of the building.  

unbeknownst to the fact that as soon as aizawa opens his door, he’s met with a handwriting he knows all too well. 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✦

it’s in the way you stay back after class on days when aizawa looks like he might pass out if he lifts his pen the wrong way. 

the way a quiet adoration seeps through you as you help him tidy up his desk — placing pens and pencils back into his stationery holder, stacking his papers neatly in a corner, and throwing away crumpled-up paper into a dustbin nearby.  

and aizawa indulges you — doesn’t have the energy to shoo you off as he’s too engrossed in the file he has been rereading for over ten minutes.  

“wanna hear a joke about paper?”  

his head rises — eyes locked on you as his eyebrows raise quizzically.  

he motions for you to continue. 

“nevermind, it’s tearable.”  

and aizawa huffs, his distaste for the joke showing evidently — until he sees a small grin forming on your lips, and suddenly he’s mirroring your expression — a soft smile gifted to you.  

he feels lighter now — after that lame joke cut through whatever tiredness he was feeling.  

and you can tell by the way he straightens his posture just a bit — then flips the paper to the other  side, eyes skimming through it quickly and snatching another paper from the stack you cleared up.  

you’re relieved — already reaching for your bag and on your way out of the room, not wanting to  disturb him anymore.  

but before your two feet are out the door, a soft mutter is heard from behind. 

“thank you.”  

and it melts your heart.  

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✦

and if anybody ever asked shota if he had ever loved someone before, he would say no — he’s never allowed himself to indulge in something like that. 

hitoshi? he’d have a different answer.  

because there’s you.  

you, who he has been quietly loving without even realizing it. 

it’s in the way aizawa subconsciously shifts his schedule. he remembers the one time you mentioned, in passing, that you train alone at USJ after lunch on tuesdays. and suddenly, he’s found himself pacing his steps alongside yours every tuesday.  

even though it’s out of his way and he knows he’s cutting it close to his next class. 

he tells himself it’s nothing, just a change of scenery, a breath of fresh air until he’s locked between four walls. but there’s something in the way he lingers a bit longer than he should, his steps slowing as you near the training grounds.  

you mutter a small thank you to him as usual, offering your kindest smile.

and aizawa revels in it each time, bidding you farewell with a nod before he locks eyes with hizashi atop the staircase.  

and the blonde is thoroughly confused.  

shota aizawa? walking?  

with a student? 

it has his gears turning, but it doesn’t take long for him to catch on.  

it’s reoccurring, consistent. the look in his bestfriend’s eyes each time you smile at him, and it’s no mistake — since you’ve started to reside in his eyes, they seem to be brighter, more vibrant.  

but he knows it’s something shota will never admit to himself.  

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✦

it’s in the way aizawa pays attention to you — has learned your little quirks and habits unknowingly throughout the years, and knows how to satiate them. 

the second he sees you walk through his door with your hair undone — tangled in minute knots —  he knows you’re stressed — absolutely running yourself to the ground about something.  

but he never pries, only offers a soft, “you’re doing great, kid,” before you exit his class — and the way your eyes light up at his small praise leaves his stomach in knots. 

it’s the way he knows you always forget to bring your gloves when training on a monday — the way he watches you ruffle through your bag, brows furrowed as you search for them — and before you can even admit your blunder, he’s already tossing you one from his desk.  

and it’s always brand new — as if he has a pack of gloves stashed in his drawer for this exact moment. 

(he does). 

“thank you,” you mutter sheepishly — eyes full of warmth and a hint of heat in your cheeks. aizawa brushes it off as usual, with no admonishment on his lips, just a small sense of pride. 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✦

it’s in the way shota’s a bit more protective of you, without realizing it. 

he’s already on his feet the second the lights turn red — emergency drill? invader? — he’s not sure exactly what’s happening but the alarm blaring over the intercom has his teeth on edge.  

his first instinct, unfortunately, is to look for you across the field.  

and there you are, sitting on a bench, bottled water between your legs as you glance around confusedly.  

shota shouts for everyone to stay calm and await instructions.  

but he’s already bolting in your direction without realizing it, his focus narrowed in a way it shouldn’t be. something in his mind telling him that having you within his line of sight is better for you. that he’s just trying to keep his students safe. 

the intercom crackles, something about a small fire in the main building and students should gather at the muster point — and aizawa’s shoulders loosen slightly, tension easing at the  announcement.  

no immediate threat.  

but he can’t shake the feeling, the way his chest constricted — seeing you in a red hue. panic coursing through his veins, rivaling only the strongest rivers at the thought of you alone, vulnerable, left to your own devices. 

and he shouldn’t feel this way. no — you’re a hero in training. you’re very much capable of  handling yourself — he quite literally trained you so he knows you pack a punch.  

so why does aizawa feel as if the thought of leaving you alone is synonymous with him giving away his breath? 

something’s not right here — but that thought is buried deep, completely hidden. 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✦

three months after you graduated, shota receives an email that catches him off guard — the message is polite — simple, even. you’re just asking how things are and if he’d be able to grab a cup of coffee sometime to catch up.  

it’s innocent, no harm in coffee — right? 

wrong. 

because the minute he enters the cafe, he knows you and him have begun to blur — that the world has shifted beneath his feet. 

it’s hesitation oozing out of him as he makes his way towards your table, but not the kind that comes from doubt, the kind that comes from knowing. 

from knowing that the minute he sits across from you, something will begin to unravel — something he isn’t sure he’ll be able to put back together.  

his heart. 

shota knows better than this — to wrap himself up in such forbidden affairs. regardless if you’re no longer his student — the age gap is huge.  

but the second he locks eyes with you, nothing else matters. you’re different now, standing on your own, no longer his student. and yet, you’re still you. 

you, who has been silently screaming your love for him for years.  

“hi!” you chirp out, warmth radiating from the ceramic mug in your hands. you almost move to hug him, but he’s already settling into the seat across from you — eyes unreadable. 

you take a sip of your drink before speaking again. “it’s been a while.”  

aizawa nods, “around 3 months.” 

you raise an eyebrow. “counting, are we?” 

and a smirk tugs at his lips. 

the conversation flows easily from there — updates about work, about your old classmates, about anything that isn’t this.

but there’s an undercurrent beneath it all, something unspoken lingering between each exchange, thickening the air. 

and finally, you decide to address it. 

you set your cup down, tracing the rim absentmindedly as you meet his gaze. “i wasn’t sure if you’d actually come.” 

and aizawa stills, flexing his fingers around his cup — he feels like an angsty teenager. “i wouldn’t have come if I didn’t want to.” his voice is low, steady, but there's a hint of uncertainty laced within it.

your breath catches slightly.

“then, can i ask you something?” you lean forward just slightly, watching the way his eyes snap back to you. 

he nods.  

“can we date?” 

and oh my god, aizawa has never thought he’d be in a situation like this — being asked out so directly by his former student.  

he is stunned – but he’s not a fool, everything then had prepared him for the now.

his fingers tap against his cup, his jaw tightening. “you’re young.” 

you tilt your head, challenging. “i’m not a kid.” 

shota studies you carefully, as if weighing his next words. “no, you’re not.” 

and that’s the problem, isn’t it? you’re not a child. you’re not his student. you’re standing in front of him as your own person, asking for something real. 

asking for him. 

aizawa leans back in his chair, rubbing a tired hand over his face. “you should want someone who-” 

“don’t do that,” you cut him off, voice firm but not unkind. “don’t tell me what I should want.” 

for years, you’ve known exactly what you wanted — never faltering once. it’s one thing to reject you but, deciding for you? that’s just cruel. 

he exhales, long and slow. “this isn’t to be taken lightly,” 

“i know.” because god, this is all you’ve ever wanted, something serious with him. not a daydream.  

“if we do this,” he murmurs, voice lower now, rougher. “i’m not going to pretend there aren’t challenges.” 

you nod your head. that’s obvious, but you’re willing to put in the effort.  

“you might change your mind.” 

“i won’t.”

aizawa watches you, searching, waiting for something — a flicker of hesitation, a sign that you don’t fully understand what you’re asking. but all he sees is certainty. 

and maybe that’s what undoes him. 

he looks defeated.  

as if he’s wrestling against something in his mind, something that sprouts from his heart — but its vines constrict his throat. it’s almost as if he feels like he needs to disagree.  

to say no.  

that this isn’t right. 

but how long will he fight with himself?  

when will he allow himself some solace? 

now.  

and when he glances up to meet your eyes, he realizes that, yes — he has won over the whole world, but he’s lost himself to you.  

the effect you have on him is so strong, something he has never felt before — it’s as if he takes your name with each breath he breathes.  

what have you done to him? 

his fingers tighten once more around his cup, a slow exhale leaving his lips.  “sure.”  

you blink at him, lips parting slightly, “sure?” 

the corner of his mouth lifts, barely there. “you heard me.” 

and just like that, the world shifts again. 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✦

and it was as if shota aizawa was made specifically for you. 

from the way his calloused fingers grasp yours — the way you can trace constellations on them for days — to the way his clothes drown you with a warmth you’ve never felt before. 

to the way he’s never stopped trying to woo you since you’ve both made it official. 

“you’ve become my destiny and destination.”  

stupid sappy words whispered between the two of you – as if it's your first time in love, and for the both of you, it is.

the minute he locked eyes with you, he’s everything you ever wanted — older, wiser, the kind of man who doesn’t let insecurity cloud his judgment, who doesn’t feel the need to mark his territory or stake his claim. he trusts you, respects you — and unwaveringly loves you. 

something you’d never get with a man your age. he’s in check with his emotions. a mentally stable man. a walking green flag.

and god he’s perfect for you in every way, but sometimes you’d wish he’d just — show some type of reaction to things. 

you’re young, generations apart, you get that but — sometimes you’d wish he’d be possessive, get a bit jealous — throw you up against a wall and ask you are you sure wanna wear that?  

it’s your naivety that craves a bit of toxicity. a thrill. nothing huge, just a small bit of possessiveness is hot, it’s able to rile you up.  

and so you try to do just that.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✦

trial one.  

you know he’s watching you.  

observing as you gulp down not one, but three shots back to back — but he’s not watching for the right reasons. no, you know he’s only monitoring your alcohol intake, making sure you’re not overdoing it.  

you know his gears aren’t turning, not wondering for a second why katsuki has his arm slung lazily around your shoulder, fingers interlocked with yours like it’s the most natural thing in the world. 

no, your boyfriend sits quietly in the booth, fingers tracing the rim of his glass as hizashi yaps about something he isn’t the slightest interested in — but his eyes never leave you.  

yet, they don’t narrow, his jaw doesn’t twitch, grip on his glass doesn’t get tighter when he sees his past student dropping his head just enough to murmur something low against your ear which makes you giggle.  

and maybe that makes him swallow a bit hard but, it’s not enough for him to get up off his seat to break you both up.  

and you let that thought fuck with your head as you down another shot — because why does he refuse to throw you a bone? 

any normal boyfriend would not let another man casually lock fingers with their girlfriend — why is he always so composed? it’s boring.  

you start to wonder if he’s just too secure. if he’s convinced you’ll never cheat, never stray — and while he’s right, couldn’t he at least pretend to worry? 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✦ 

trial two.  

that is not your jacket. 

shota knows that, you know that.  

and yet, he doesn’t budge when he sees todoroki shrug it off and drape it over your shoulders. doesn’t even blink when you slip it on like you’ve done a million times, and maybe you have — the  way it fits you like a glove.  

the moment is soft, nostalgic, oozes with familiarity. almost too gentle to interrupt. 

it’s only natural, shota thinks — obviously you both have a bond, you literally grew up together. been through war together. but it’s all platonic, all brotherly-sisterly. 

shoto tucks a few strands of hair behind your ear — no hesitation, no second thoughts, almost as if it was pure muscle memory. you don’t check for shota’s reaction. you already know it. neutral — stoic, not a hint of possessiveness in sight. 

and it kills you. 

because shouldn’t this rattle him? shouldn’t the idea of you wrapped in someone else’s jacket — his own former student’s jacket — be enough to spark something? 

man, how hard is it to get a bit of toxicity here? just one glare, one shake of his head, some signal to tell you to take that shit off right now.  

but it never comes — because the man you love isn’t like that.  

he’s quiet. he’s patient. he has complete, unshakable trust in you — in your choices. you chose to be with him, and not the boy you stayed up numerous nights with to study for math.  

no, you made your bed, and he knows you will sleep in it.  

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✦

trial three. 

midoriya is sentimental. 

so, when he places a pair of earrings on your lap — muttering something along the lines of, oh this reminded me of you, you can’t help but burst into tears. 

it’s too cute — everything about it, the thought, the earring, the boy you grew up with.

and next to you, shota remains quiet.  

not because he’s seething, not because he’s pretending to keep it together, but because he truly isn’t threatened. in fact, his eyes are soft, as if he’s watching a memory play out that he’s not a part of — but respects nonetheless.  

and maybe a part of you thinks you should count your blessings, that he’s just that type. any man your age would’ve flipped the entire table, start a fight, or even insult your friend.  

thank god you got a good guy.  

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✦

trial four.  

and keigo is a breath of fresh air. 

the minute he spots you at his gala, he makes a beeline your way — a warm smile, sharp eyes, and a voice like silk. 

“so glad you made it,” a grin tugs at his lips as he pulls you into a hug, his cologne brushing your senses just before his voice dips closer to your ear. “you look stunning.” 

and your breath hitches, cheeks colored in sacred hues of surrender — like a little girl absolutely smitten by your high-school crush. but reality dawns the second you feel his presence behind you — the air thickening with the weight of his aura. it’s silent, heavy. 

a large hand presses to the small of your back, grounding, and anchoring you in place. 

“oh, keigo — have you met mr. eraserhead?” you question, ignoring the way your voice jumps an octave higher. 

shota thinks, what happened to boyfriend? when did you two become so well-acquainted? 

and keigo’s smile doesn’t falter when he sees shota’s arm wrap around your waist — almost protectively, possessively. thumb rubbing circles absentmindedly into your side, like a warning. 

“nice to meet you!” he says, extending his hand. 

and shota shakes it. 

but he doesn’t miss the way keigo’s eyes linger on you, nor the way you tuck your hair behind  your ear — almost shy.  

and then it starts clicking for him — you have a little crush, and it makes you look stupid.

“mr. eraserhead, huh?” shota murmurs, after keigo walks off to greet someone else. 

shota is not dense. he knows when to be concerned and when not to be. his past students he will never be envious of — but keigo, who is just a few years older than you — young and talented and someone of your generation has shota straightening his back a bit, chest puffed. 

almost like he has something to prove. 

“hm? that’s your name,” you say matter-of-factly — eyes still loosely trained on keigo. effortless charm oozing out of him as he works the room. you’re starstruck. 

“you might as well have called me aizawa-sensei.” he monotones, pulling you in closer to his side. you frown a little, “what do you mean?” 

“you forgot a small title,” he mentions, giving you a pointed look. that’s when you glance up at him, and shota can see the cogs turning now — he knows you’re smart, sees you playing with the idea of acting coy or not. 

“oh.” 

“oh?” he repeats — he has to laugh. 

shota thinks that little crush of yours has you forgetting who you belong to — has you thinking you’re still on the market, ready to be swooped away.  

and maybe that’s when you see a sprinkle of jealousy on his features. the way his hand on your waist tightens, stance solid and eyes narrowed on the winged hero in a way that’s not friendly. 

how fun — finally a reaction. 

and when you murmur, “he’s so pretty, though.” your boyfriend doesn’t flinch, doesn’t blink — but the look in his eye screams don’t test me. 

his grip tightens almost imperceptibly, and his lips brush your ear, “keep playing with me, baby. see what happens.” 

and that’s all you ever do.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✦

and shota tries to be gentle, he always does. but the second the door clicks shut at home, his patience runs thin.  

before you can even turn around, he’s on you — slamming you up against the wall — mouth claiming yours in a kiss that’s all give and take. muttering something along the lines of i fucking own you and it makes your pussy drip as he slides down — hands already discarding your underwear.  

shota hikes your legs over his broad shoulders and wraps his arms around your upper thighs firmly. his tongue makes slow orbits around your pussy, teasing your clit and slipping sinuously into your cunt, repeatedly — and you can’t keep quiet.  

“you think fucking keigo can get you wet like this? have you moaning like this?” it’s all rhetorical. you both know the answer to these questions.  

shota knows you’ve been fucking with him all this time. knows you were just itching for a reaction from him, wanted him to stake his claim on you.  

make you his.  

he pulls back just enough to glare up at you — lips wet with your arousal, eyes dark and glittering. “look at you,” he rasps, breath hot against your folds. “dripping for me. only me.” 

you whimper, one hand fisting the fabric of his shirt. and that’s all it takes — within seconds he’s up on his feet, throwing you over the sofa — legs spread wide, he has a couple of ideas on how he can mark you.  

and the moment his dick slips into your cunt, he knows exactly how to remind you who you belong to — how to brand you forever.  

“mine,” he hisses through gritted teeth, driving into you with bruising force. “say it.” and all you can manage is a soft whine, a plead, “y-yes yours!” 

he smiles — something sinister in his grin as he slams into you harder, setting a brutal pace that leaves you sobbing into the cushions. 

shota knows now that all you wanted was to be put in your place. 

and now you know to stop fucking with him – you got what you wanted.

[spitdrunken]

notes: petplay, praise

head in hands. i cannot stop thinking about petplay with aizawa... even within not inherently sexual contexts but. it is a sex thing yknow.

you're embarrassed about how much you like it, how much it allows you to turn your brain off and just be. you get to put two fuzzy cat ears on the top of your head and aizawa, with warm hands, will attach the collar around your throat. it's in your favourite colour and with a big nametag dangling from the front. while it always takes you a bit to settle into the right mindset, it's so nice to only have a few things you have to think about, that you're not allowed to make human noises or gestures and that you should listen to what he tells you.

while you would never call him uncaring, it's these moments where all of him is wrapped in an extra layer of softness. he doesn't talk to you in a 'baby' voice, but soft and slow, scritching the top of your head or underneath your chin as you lean on him while seated on the couch. occasionally, he'll pluck a treat from a bag he reserves for these special occassions and places it in your eagerly awaiting mouth. (you're happy to receive any kind of reward at all.)

"that tastes good, doesn't it?..." he'll ask with another gentle stroke to your cheek. "mhm, i know it does."

sometimes, the nice words shoot straight down, coiling heat inside your tummy, and all you can do is shift your hips around or spread your legs and mewl. he'll sigh with a kind of fond exasperation (with much more of the former than the latter) before his hand delves in between your legs with the promise to take care of you.

other times, it's the opposite way around. you're staring at the television screen, hardly focused but being pet, when the sound of a zipper being undone catches your attention. he doesn't have to ask for your lips to wrap themselves around his hard, thick cock. aizawa has you drooling mindlessly with him leaking precum down your throat.

if your headspace drags on, you get to sleep in a safe little cage instead of your shared bed. it's in the bedroom, sturdy and secure, heaps of blankets and pieces of his clothing blanketing the bottom. (in cases of emergency, you can unlock it from the inside.) a thick blanket is draped over the outside, cloaking you in darkness as you doze off, nuzzled into his scent, with aizawa's soft breathing as your background noise.

[isenkus]

hi!! this is my first time requesting, and i just recently came across ur blog (ur themes so pretty!) and i was wondering if you could do a blurb or headcanons for ending aizawa spicy pics while hes on the job?

warnings for nsfw! mentions of masturbation, nudes, and a lil horny aizawa.

shota aizawa doesn't fall easily. he's a grown adult, and he's more desensitized to pornography or nudes for that matter.

when you do send him a spicy pic, he tries to ignore it at first, sending a quick "did you mean to send that?" or "i'm in class. talk later." he's quick to dismiss whatever you send, but that doesn't mean he's not turned on in the slightest.

the picture isn't really what gets him hard. it's the ideas that he has on his mind that have him putting on his sleep suit when it's 40 degrees outside and everyone is melting from the heat. even if it's a picture of you in lingerie, his mind is already thinking of ways he could be pulling it off—hands, teeth—you name it, he's thinking it.

shota is very careful with who gets to be around him when he opens your messages. there was one time where mic was around when you sent an ass pic, and when those golden eyes flickered to shota's screen for a slight second... let's just say shota had to hear jokes of him feeling 'peachy' for a week straight. also, mic couldn't look you in the eye for a bit because he saw your bare ass. he covered it by smiling with his eyes closed.

whenever you send a pic, shota is motivated to finish his classes as soon as he can, and people can tell he's 'happy', because he borderline sprints back to his car to go home.

when he's feeling cheeky, he'll send one back. and his pics are simple. sometimes, he'll send one where you can see the huge stain of pre in his boxers, and god bless the lighting in the ua bathrooms because you can see his print perfectly. other times, shota will send a picture of his hand gently holding his thick cock. send tweet.

if you catch him in a severely good mood, he'll send a video of him rubbing one out on the faculty bathrooms, or one of him cumming, with the follow-up being "see what you do? you'll get it when i get home." with perfect punctuation. you're in for a treat!

© cowlings, 2024. do not repost, translate or copy.

[rissouu]

doing the “she’s busy” prank on them!

pairings: gojo satoru, toji fushiguro, geto suguru, katsuki bakugo, dabi, and aizawa!

warnings: suggestive, sexual content mentioned, mentions of killing, toji is kinda crazy, use of foul language, and etc.

author note: part 1. y’all are lucky to get a part two smh. came from this request!! here you go bby :) it’s thanks to them y’all get fed again, also i chose random ass characters so..

©rissouu 2024

masterlist

[koolaidmansbitch]

Big strong men who become clingy and pathetic when they're sick who need you to take care of them

interact if you agree

[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.

[tired-teacher-blog]

Aizawa teaches you how he likes it..

I don't even know what this is, but here, take it.

_ "Are you sure about this love?" he blinked a few times as a stunned expression took over the amused one he had on moments ago.

Your request was one that he has never heard you utter before now, and he had to make sure you meant every word coming out of your mouth.

_ "Yes! Yes I'm sure!" you grabbed onto his shirt as you finally settled on his lap, straddling and trapping him between your thighs, "I want to give you a blowjob." and your confidence and shamelessness were seriously baffling..

He needed to take a second and let it all sink in, you have never done this with him before, and he knows for a fact, that you have never done it with anyone else either, so what if it was too much for you to handle? He couldn't allow himself to hurt or overwhelm you in anyway.

However, the look on your face was one of determination and excitement for the experience, and he couldn't find it in himself to just say "no" to you, truth be told, he was instantly turned on the moment he heard the words leaving your mouth.

_ "Okay, fine, but there are a few things that you'll have to learn first, are you willing to do that?" he asked in a gentle tone as he placed his hands on your thighs.

_ "I'll do anything." and the smile brightening your features lured a loving one to appear upon his face.

_ "Alright sweetheart, first I need you to open your mouth slightly, can you do that for me?" he requested in a soothing voice while running his thumb along your soft lips.

You couldn't understand the meaning of his demand but didn't want to question him either, you trust him too much to doubt anything he does, and so, you nodded in agreement and did as he asked.

_ "That's it, that's my good girl," his sweet words filled you with pride, "now I'm going to put my finger in, and all I need you to do is close your mouth around it, is that okay for you?"

Heat was rising in your body, and the anticipation of what was coming sent a shiver up your spine.

You nodded fervently and watched as he slipped his index finger inside, before wrapping your lips around it.

_ "You're doing very well princess," you could clearly tell he was fighting the urge to let out a groan as he watched you following his orders obediently, "now, I need you to place your tongue on the tip of my finger and keep it there until I tell you otherwise, are you comfortable with that?"

Hearing him gently asking if you were okay with every step he took, warmed up your heart and made you want to learn quickly so you could make him feel as good as he always makes you feel.

You hummed around his digit and knitted your eyebrows in concentration as you twisted your tongue to press it against the tip of his finger.

_ "That's perfect, now stay like that for a moment."

Your eyes were shining in eagerness as they saw the amused smirk curving up his lips, and your heart was pounding in excitement as you waited for him to speak again.

_ "You're driving me out of my mind princess," he let out a frustrated sigh and licked his lips before carrying on, "listen carefully love, what I want you to do now is lick around my finger, is that okay?"

Your breath hitched in your throat while hearing his words, not because it was too much for you to follow, but because you weren't certain of your ability to handle anymore of this teasing.

You started moving your tongue carefully around his finger, covering every inch of the long digit inside your mouth while keeping your eyes on him the whole time.

He looked enticing as he coached you, with his luscious hair resting on his broad shoulders, his piercing eyes boring into you hungrily, and those lips– you wished nothing more than to have them on you, singing your praises and adding to your arousal.

_ "How lucky am I, fuck.. you really know how to rile me up don't you?" he chuckled amusedly and moved his other hand to squeeze your side before pulling you even closer to himself, letting you feel the forming bulge in his pants, and the discovery drove you wild as you unconsciously let out a muffled whine and pushed your hips against his, because you wanted even more of him.

_ "That's dangerous sweetheart, you know I'm already at my limit right?" he groaned the warning but did nothing to stop you, too bewitched by your advances to actually oppose you, "and now for the last step, I want you to start sucking on my finger like a lollipop, but be careful love, don't use your teeth okay?"

You followed his last command, eagerly sucking on it while moving your hips at the same time, you were going insane a little bit more each second that passed.

_ "Fuck sweetheart, do you have any idea how seductive you look right now?" he growled through gritted teeth before adding in a lower voice, "you do realize that the real thing is way bigger than just my finger right?"

You moand again as you sucked harder and faster, moving your fingers along his arm before clutching onto his hand to push it against your lips a little closer as you carried on.

He was in a daze watching you like that, and soon, his last ounce of self control slipped away as he suddenly pulled his finger out of your mouth, before holding your chin and staring at your reddened and swallowed lips with an eager expression that aroused you even more, "I think you're ready for me love, so just remember what I taught you alright?"

It was going to be fun for both of you, you were certain of it..

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

[literarydumpinggrounds]

Minors DNI 🔞 Sometimes my brain just… creates nefarious thoughts. Pick your poison.

You’d worn that fucking outfit again. The one that hugged your body in all the right places, flashing glimpses of your plush legs.. of that anklet adorning your skin as it twinkled under the lights. The little charm swaying with your movements— his initial —what he’d claimed was an unmistakable statement to everyone there that you belonged to him. His precious girl.

You knew exactly what you were doing to him.

Fluttering around this party with your friends, laughing on the dance floor like nobody was watching. Like you couldn’t feel his gaze burning into you.. only always you.

To the untrained eye you looked so innocent.

He can’t help the amused twitch at the edges of his lips at the thought. They’d never guess that you were so eager to be a good little slut for him. Never guess that he’d pressed his lips to that little charm while folding you in half before you’d left the house that evening; knees pressing into your chest, ankles framing his face as he pounded those lewd sounds out of you. That you’d had his cum leaking down your thighs the minute you’d stepped foot in the building.

He loved sharing a little secret with you, knowing that you saved that side of yourself just for him.

His good little girl.

[matchamiko]

₊˚⊹ ᰔ Lucky Undies

₊˚⊹ ᰔ Warnings: oral sex ( f -> receiving) m.masturbation, mentions height difference (reader implied shorter than Aizawa), reader implied big belly, thighs + ass (ie. not skinny), prev. established relationship, sooooo self-indulgent don’t look at me

₊˚⊹ ᰔ Note: disgusted with myself honestly.

“What are those?”

You stop in your tracks, toothbrush lodged in your cheek and foam threatening to drip down your chin.

Aizawa stands behind you in the bathroom doorway, eyes trained dark on the tug of your sleep shirt over your ass. Spitting into the skin, bending lower and offering more of a view, you finish washing your mouth with heat all over your face,

“I didn’t have anything else clean, s’all I got,” you explain yourself, eyes connecting with his in the mirror,

“And they’re your last resort because?” Arms folded over his broad chest sprayed with dark hair, Aizawa cocks his hip against the doorway, eyes never leaving the peak of your asscheek from beneath the t-shirt. It’s his and it’s soft and he offered it to you on your first sleepover years ago, a little tighter round the middle now but still long enough to pass as a nightie.

“They don’t fit!” You resort with embarrassment, “they pinch my hips and they go up my butt ‘nd roll down my belly if I bend down or even move,” you feel as though there’s steam hissing from your ears, suddenly regretting even putting on the offending underwear. You’d miscounted your laundry days and found yourself wearing either silky lingerie or old high legged cheeky style undies that were a very adorable baby pink and sported a little red rose at the front. Usually you wore comfortable high rise with a trusty band and often times sensible colours so to not show through your chosen trousers or skirts of the day. Maybe you’d wear a thong if you felt adventurous but comfort was key in your relationship with underwear, and being with Aizawa for so long helped you not only explore that a little bit but also enabled you to stay comfortable without judgement or ridicule.

And Aizawa liked your plain underwear, didn’t care much for it really because all he often wanted was them off or not even on in the first place. Complaining about his partners choice in underwear was beneath him; he’s a man, he’s mature and he’d much rather eat your pussy than muse over what’s covering it.

But these? He’s not seen these before.

“Cute,” he says with a gravelly voice, stalking forwards slowly, “you look cute,”

Biting your lip, you shake your head,

“I’ll just put some gym shorts on and do a quick wash, s’stupid to even try to do anything in these,” you grumble dejectedly, turning and even in your limited movements, the seam tugs over your cheek and makes you cringe.

But Aizawa is as sturdy as he is stubborn, a wall preventing you from leaving and a large hand sits heavy and inviting on your hip.

“I said you look cute,” he says pointedly, “not just the underwear, but you in general, seeing your skin makes me - desperate,”

That hand smoothes under your sleep shirt, fingering the thin, stretchy band of the panties with a heavy breath in his chest. The harder he pulls the band, the higher up your hip they go and the further up your -

“They’re just panties Shouta,” you blink up at him, leaning closer to ease his fondling, “stupid uncomfable panties that is,”

“Shh,” Aizawa kisses you quiet, a peck to keep you satisfied while his other hand drifts over to your ass, fisting the fat and spreading you meanly, “just - lemme look for a sec,”

His eyes catch the flash of your asshole in the mirror, panties caught taught and high over your ass and he groans low and deep from his belly. You clear your throat and whimper when he buries his face into your neck, teeth scraping the delicate skin there. Then - his hand rounds to your stomach, fiddling with the little silky rose before tickling the exposed skin of your belly from where the panties had dislodged and folded down.

He doesn’t often explore you this selfishly, having listened to your qualms and insecurities over your body, doing it to prove that no weight could distance him from desiring your body. But he touches you with a filthy selfish agenda and filthier moans.

Thick fingers tease you over the fabric, slippery with your arousal, sliding between your folds and circling your clit with loud little click. It’s shameful how turned on you are at his exploration of your underwear, but he’s no better; hard and heavy and leaking against your hip. ‘Nd when you look down, mewling at the thick forearm jammed between your cushiony thighs, you can see the flushed tip of his cock peaking from the sagging waistband of his underwear, black and tight and baring a hole just above the seam on his thigh.

And suddenly you understand exactly how Aizawa feels with you in underwear he’s never seen before. Because those are boxers you bought him three christmases ago and are also a result of not doing laundry often enough. And when you look up at him with your hand squeezing him through the thin fabric; your shameful desperation is reflected in his eyes.

All too suddenly, Aizawa is on his knees and your lower back is cradled uncomfortably against the bathroom counter, and he’s all up between your thighs with devastating groans and grunts.

“Taste’s fuckin’ divine,” his tongue is hot and so wet against the gusset of your underwear, pulled tight over your cunt and practically frothing with how aroused you are. One hand cups your ass and spreads you, the other is crude and sharply tugging on his cock. At the taste of you. At the smell of you. Nipping your clit through the fabric and sucking hard enough to send you shuddering and shaking right down to your toes.

“Shouta ! S’too much !” You grip the top of his head, hair tangled from sleep but the tugging of the knots seem to encourage him, groaning into your cunt and huffing deep agonising breaths against your pubis. You’re on your tiptoes, one leg lifting a little even to give him space and Aizawa shuffles closer on his knees, haphazardly throwing your leg over his broad, sinewy shoulder.

It’s almost like the sensations are muted, dulled through the thin fabric of your panties. But they’re still there and you fumble with your shirt for a moment before lifting it and tucking the hem beneath your chin so you can look down, down at your boyfriend so eagerly and so messily slurping at your pussy.

He’s feral like this, eyes fluttering and nose pressed hard into your clit, tongue trying to rip through into you but failing miserably. Or not, as it seems that wasn’t his goal, simply content with tasting you through the panties that had entrapped him so suddenly. You couldn’t even feel confused and weird at his random bout of arousal over your too-small panties, too thrummed with pleasure and the shivers of an orgasm to really deep dive it.

It rears its head slowly, but with a strength you’d yet to experience before. All suction and desperate licks, moans and grunts vibrating you just enough to send you jerking into his mouth. Hips moving on their own, tits falling from the grasp of your shirt and shuddering with your movements. Your underwear slips and tugs harshly as you grind through your orgasm, pulled taught only by Aizawa’s insistent tongue and fingers. He seemed to have given up on his own pleasure, or got enough from watching and tasting you, both hands clutching your thighs around his head.

“Let up, oh my god, give me a sec Shouta,” you’re still panting hard, limbs boneless and belly throbbing with every aftershock, cunt fluttering against the sodden and stained panties, “you’re such a - now I really don’t have anything to wear today,”

Your words die from a telling off to a small sigh at the sight of him, drunk on the sight and taste of you. His eyes are heavy, mouth open and shining with your spend, cheeks flushed and chest heaving,

“Good news for me then,” he stands with a grunt, coming in close enough for you to smell the remnants of your orgasm on his lower face - but he doesn’t kiss you. Instead massaging your hips and the tangled band of your underwear, “I’m having you on my face next, ‘nd keep these on,”

He’s a pervert really, snapping the band and making you tut in disapproval. But as you follow him into the bedroom with a sheepish grin and nervous lust building in your chest; you realise you are too, for letting him indulge in this and letting him.

all rights reserved © matchamiko. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[chososrightnipple]

❝𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲.❞

: ̗̀➛ overview: telling various anime characters you want a baby.

: ̗̀➛ tw; afab!reader w/no gendered language. mentions of pregnancy and getting pregnant, first scenario is nsfw (w/ lowk breeding kink) but the rest are sfw. intentional lowercase!

── დ ──

he pauses, glancing over to you. there's a certain change in his expression that you can't decipher. something in the way his feet shuffle and his shoulders tense, in the way his eyes just barely squint and his tongue darts out to lick at his lips.

"you want a.. baby?" he repeats. the last word comes out strained, as if he was choking on the idea. the idea of you staring down at a positive pregnancy test, the idea of you waddling around the house, the idea of you carrying his child.

you nod, eyeing his form in the kitchen. when your eyes meet his, he looks away and back down to the dishes in front of him. "i want your baby," you correct, almost shyly.

he audibly gulps, setting down the dish he was washing with a dull thump of glass against sink. his hands grip at the granite counter and he tilts his head backward. a long exhale escapes him. there's a pause in the air, only for a few seconds. you, sat on the couch, face flushed and wondering if your confession was a mistake, and him standing silent in the kitchen.

"my baby." he repeats. tasting the way the words sit on his tongue. toying with the implications, the ideas floating around in his head. for a brief moment, a vision of you fucked out and actually dripping with his cum flashes before his eyes.

the man shudders visibly and forces himself to take a deep breath. in, then out, and in again.

he turns around and leans against the granite counter, crossing his tense arms over his chest. this time, when you go to meet his eyes, you find his gaze is already boring into yours. there's an air of certainty around him, something that leaves you feeling strangely breathless. hooded eyes never leaving yours, jaw ticking and lips turning upwards, almost smugly.

he brings a shaky hand up to run through his hair. pushing back stray strands and ruffling. you can't tell if the action is out of nerves or if he's just struggling that hard with holding himself back.

"hm. guess i'll have to make you one then."

↳ (jjk) toji fushiguro, geto suguru, gojo satoru, (mha) keigo takami, dabi, aizawa shouta, shigaraki tomura, (kny) sanemi shinazugawa, tengen uzui

── დ ──

you can feel his entire body tense behind you after you blurt the words out. the arms around your waist tightening their hold, the legs entangled with yours going rigid. even the small breaths that fan your neck momentarily pause, and you suddenly feel cold.

"sweetheart?" you whisper out, wondering if you had made some kind of mistake admitting your desire for a baby. that maybe you guys aren't ready for that conversation, yet.

from behind you, he exhales sharply, a small noise escaping his throat. then, the hands on your waist are suddenly gripping into your skin, and he's haphazardly maneuvering you until your face to face with him. no longer spooning, but rather brushing noses and sharing breaths.

"what did you just say?" the words are muttered, whispered like a secret only you two share.

he's staring at you with such a look that every nerve under your skin begins to burn. it's more than affection, more than desire, more than love. like he never wants to look away, like he can stand witness to the expansion of the universe just from looking into your eyes.

you swallow harshly, a hand coming up to play with the back of his hair. something to ground you back to reality. he preens at the touch, and you can feel a shiver rack through him.

"i said i want to have a baby." you hum, soft and sweet.

his eyes fall shut and he leans his forehead against yours. the grip he has on your waist tightens, his other hand beginning to run up and down your back. as if he's struggling to keep his head out of the clouds just as much as you are.

"really? you wanna start a family with me?" he chokes the words out, as if the utter idea of it seems impossible. as if you'd never want him, want the life he's also been daydreaming about.

you cusp at his cheek, thumbing at the soft skin. something warm fills you, every inch of your body, tingling at your fingertips. you think about it all over again- him, a father, running around a fenced in yard, chasing a giggling toddler, the smell of lunch cooking in the background. and you, watching it all from a swing on the porch. how could you not want that?

you smile, "honey, i want to start a life with you."

↳ (jjk) yuta okkotsu, megumi fushiguro, nanami kento, choso kamo, (mha) natsuo todoroki, toshinori yagi, (kny) obanai iguro, tomioka giyuu, rengoku kyujuro

── დ ──

the car tires squeal as he briefly loses control of the wheel, jerking it to the left and just barely missing the concrete lane divider. your grip onto your seatbelt, and the only reason you don't go flying forward is the arm of your lover jutting out in front of you. with a small curse, he straightens out the car and hits the brakes.

the car behind you beeps angrily, though he only waves them off through the window before focusing back on the road. it's silent for a few seconds, the two of you catching you breaths and trying to quiet the loud heartbeat of adrenaline. you begin to think that blurting out your want for a baby while on the road wasn't the brightest idea.

the man sitting beside you finally speaks up a few moments later. his words come out breathless and high pitched. "a baby?! like... a real one?"

you snap your head towards him and, in irritation, begin to slap at his shoulder and arm. "are you kidding!? you almost kill us and that's the first thing you say to me?! i'm being serious! i want a baby!"

he whines, weakly fending off your attacks with his other hand. "oka- okay! stop hitting me, jesus!" he groans, attention diverted between the green light in front of him and your pouting face.

you finally relent after one final slap and huff in annoyance. crossing you arms and slouching against the passenger seat like a toddler who hasn't been given their way.

he eyes you from the drivers seat with a wobbly lip. trying desperately to hold back the laugh brewing inside of him, knowing it'll only serve to annoy you further. he seems to have a special talent at that.

"stop pouting, c'mon now. look at me, love." he coos, taking one of his hands off the wheel and instead using it to caress your cheek. tapping at your nose, twirling at your hair, then gripping your chin and tilting it toward him.

he spares a brief glance toward you, not wanting to take his eyes off of the road for too long. "you really want a baby? i'll give you one, yeah? i'll trash the condoms myself as soon as we get home. how's that sound?"

you roll your eyes, but he can see the amusement cracking through your expression bit by bit. then, finally, you smile. small at first, before it splits wide across your lips. he awes audibly, pinching at your cheeks before you slap his hand away.

yeah, he doesn't think he'd mind a baby with you. not if they got your pretty little smile (and, hopefully, something of his, too).

↳ (jjk) yuji itadori, gojo satoru, ino takuma, (mha) keigo takami, hizashi yamada, mirio togata, (kny) tengen uzui

[herofics]

Hii if u write requests still can I request dad!aizawa x daughter reader headcanons about how she loves sanrio (hello kitty, kuromi, etc). And forced her dad to match some cute hello kitty pj's with her? The daughter is in class 1a and 15/16 if that's ok!!

A/N: This is the most recent request I have currently, and this was sent in January lol. I've still got some from last August too, at least I'm pretty sure, but this one seemed like a bit of an easier one to write now. If anyone has any requests, especially JJK ones, I would gladly take them, no pressure though

Honestly, you've been into Sanrio for years now, and he kinda figured it was more of a childhood thing

But when your love for it never went away, he didn't really think much of it, you're allowed to like the things you like, no matter your age

Over the years, you've kinda gotten him into it too, his favorites are Chococat and Kuromi

You've got multiple Sanrio plushies, most of them Hello Kitty and you've got a lot of other merchandise too

Aizawa has bought a lot of them for you actually

You had been secretive for the last couple of days, and he was wondering why

You also got a package on the mail that he didn't have any knowledge of

Then later that same night you came down in a new set of Hello Kitty pajamas and handed him a set of his own

He just looked at you and then down at the pajamas you were handing him

"Are these for me?" he asked

"Yep, now put them on" you smiled

Aizawa did as you asked and went to put on his new pajamas

When he came out of his bedroom, you were giggling and clapping and snapped a picture of him

Then you also took a few pictures together, and it was fun

Aizawa of course treasures everything you give him and he now wears those pajamas almost every night

It's just a fun family thing you do, matching pajamas and watching a movie or something

[sugarwarachan]

if you have anymore touchstarved!aizawa in the vault, dont be afraid to share 👀

nonnie i'm being so serious right now i have an insane amount of touchstarved! headcanons for this man, i think about his exhausted ass all day long 😩 part one here

touchstarved!aizawa who has a visceral hunger for you, mouth drying up and fists clenching whenever he sees you

touchstarved!aizawa who denies the attraction even while he’s panting into his sheets late at night, thinking about your pretty mouth wrapped around his cock

touchstarved!aizawa who’s so afraid of being hurt, but who practically collapses into you when you kiss him for the first time

touchstarved!aizawa who inhales you, big hands moving over your hips, your lower back, your shoulders, your neck—he can’t get you close enough

touchstarved!aizawa who works himself so slowly into you, hissing between his teeth when he bottoms out, hands like a vice around the meat of your hips, “that’s it sweetheart, ride me nice and slow—need to feel how badly you fuckin’ need me”

touchstarved!aizawa who loves nothing more than waking up with his thigh wedged between your cunt, your name already on his lips, one hand coming down to grind you against him, “good morning to you too princess” (biting my fingers off)

touchstarved!aizawa who's gotten one taste of you and vows never to go without you again

a/n: being a source of comfort for this man?? screaming into a pillow likes, comments, and reblogs always appreciated, more to come 😘

[tiredofthehumanlife]

telling the mha men you want a baby

included: kirishima, katsuki, shinso, iida, shigaraki, keigo, izuku, aizawa, Shoto, Touya, tokoyami, Denki

warnings: sex talk, some a little open ended, not technically said how the baby will come to be could be abo idk have fun IDC, yeah that's it I think

[starlitrays]

SAFEHOUSE

starring. shouta aizawa x gn!reader

summary. what happens when pro hero eraserhead, also an old flame, shows up on your doorstep, beaten and bruised and a little bloody, telling you he needs your help?

content. use of 'y/n' and 'l/n' for last name, blood descriptions, patch up descriptions bc i have first aid, emt & basic life support training, reader's quirk is 'total immunity' meaning the only way they can die is of old age although idk how relevant it is, reader and aizawa used to be kinda together, 'who did this to you?' but reader says it

a/n. can you tell yet that i'm an oxford comma lover?? | also part 2?? maybe?

navigation – masterpost

You should've gone to sleep hours ago. But you kept telling yourself, one more episode, which had become the rest of the second season of a show you were starting to hyper fixate on. You had the next day off, and whenever you did, you had a tendency to be more lenient with your bedtime, even when you regretted it in the morning with more cups of caffeine than even you deemed healthy.

Blinking hurt a little bit, your eyes dry from having been glued to you laptop screen. Your fingers mindlessly floated over to the trackpad, and you tapped it, pausing the episode. With a heavy sigh, you tilted your neck to either side, effectively popping the bones.

When you felt a dry tickle in the back of your throat, you looked off into the dimly lit space of your bedroom. The only light was from your laptop and a bedside lamp on your nightstand. Without the sound effects and voices of the characters in your new show leaving your laptop speakers, your home felt extremely quiet.

That tickle again came back to irk you again, and you realised you needed water. Setting your laptop aside, you pushed the bunch of blankets that lay over your lap to the side, swinging your legs over and off your bed. You yawned, reaching for your phone on your nightstand.

You blinked a couple times as your eyes tried to adjust to staring into the brightest light source in the room. 2:38 AM. Shaking your head at yourself, you pushed yourself out of your bed.

Using your lockscreen as a flashlight, you opened your bedroom door, shining the light down the hall. It seemed dimmer when you used it like this. Still, you stepped out of your bedroom, venturing into the darkness. It was still your space, and you trusted that you wouldn't be jump scared by anything.

You walked down your hallway, glancing into your bathroom out of habit as you reached the main area. To your right was the entryway and living room, and to your left, the kitchen and dining area. In quick strides you made your way into your kitchen, opening the cupboard just to the left of your sink. You reach for a glass and pull it down, setting it on the counter with your hand still around it while your other hand reaches forward to the faucet handle, turning it to set the water as cold as possible.

As you fill your glass, you start to feel that something is off. The air is so still, almost to the point you think you can see the dust floating around in the dark. You look around, but end up shaking your head, chalking it up to being up too late. You look down and see the glass just over half full and call it good, bringing it up to your mouth. First, small sips of the cold liquid, and then a gulp of it down your throat.

”Better.” You mumble into the air, staring at the closed sheer curtains that hang over the window over your kitchen sink.

Then there's a knock at your front door. Well, it's not so much a knock and more so a bang-like sound. Several bangs, actually. It made you flinch– jump a little bit where you stood. You set your glass on the counter and just stared at the door, unsure of how to proceed.

You heard words through the door, although you couldn't make out what they were with the distance you had from the entry point. But something persuaded you to go over to your door. You reached for the handle, and then paused when you heard a sound. A groan.

”Who is it?” You asked through the door, your hand hovering just over the lock mechanism.

”It's shit-” The voice is strained, but you recognise it immediately. ”Shouta.” It's your ex. Sort of. There was history, but you didn't end on bad terms. you both just outgrew your relationship at the time. You still cared for him deeply though, and the next bit was a no brainer.

You unlock the door and pull it open, your eyes taking in the entirety of the man before you, who's leaning against the frame of the door with his free hand clutching at his side. You knew he was a hero, Eraserhead, and how he was dressed reflected that he had just been doing something related to hero work. His dark hair fell just past his shoulders, and he looked tired, the scars on his face emphasising the exhaustion. Although bigger than anything, you could see he was bleeding. The hand holding his side had blood all over it.

”Sorry (L/n), I didn't have anywhere else-” He groaned, and your eyes shot up from his injury to his eyes. Shouta took a step forward, and you instinctively reached for him, helping him stay upright. ”to go.” He managed out, and you nodded. You guided the man inside and against the nearest wall, shutting the door behind him.

”Stay here. I promise I'll be right back.” You tell him, letting go of him. Despite the late hour and the shock of it all, you still had a moment of thinking about his blood staining your furniture. Just before you turn down the hall, you pause. ”And Shouta? It's (Y/n), you know that.” He smiles at your words as you disappear down the hallway.

You're quick to walk to the hallway's linen closet, pulling out two bath towels you save for guests and a sheet set that you can easily replace. Gently kicking the closet's door shut with your foot, you make your way back to the main area of your home and start to lay the sheet set over one of your sofas, the towels going down shortly after.

Then you stand upright and guide Shouta, one arm around his upper back, over to the sofa to lay down. ”I got you.” You repeat to him a few times when he resists letting go of you as you try to lay him down. When you feel his body tense and relax and tense and relax as he lets go of you, you sigh.

”Thank you (L/n)- (Y/n).” Shouta corrects himself, short grunts leaving his lips as he tries to readjust to get comfortable.

”Don't thank me yet, you're still bleeding out.” You dry laugh, before looking around the open space. The time you spent with the underground hero years prior had taught you some things. For example, to be aware of your surroundings. You stood up straight and double checked all of the windows were locked, as well as the front door, and you only turned on one lamp in your living room.

You were about to head back down the hall for the bathroom when Shouta spoke again, making you stop in your tracks to listen to him. When you realised he was speaking quietly, probably to himself, you moved on, taking quick strides in your bathroom. Your hands moved quickly to light switch, flicking it on, and then to the cabinet under the sink, reaching for your intensive first aid kit or, you supposed it would be better classified as a basic life support kit. Another thing you'd learned, or adapted from, your time with Shouta in the past. As you got upright again, you looked at yourself in the mirror. All sleep had disappeared from your eyes, your breathing was laboured, and your hands were, surprising stable. You weren't sure when you picked up the ability to make your hands stop shaking but if you had to take a guess? He was in your living room right now.

When you kneeled on the rug beside the sofa Shouta was on, you tried to steady your breathing, although it was a little difficult with how worrying the entire situation was.

”What happened?” You asked as you began to open the medical kit, your eyes moving to his for just second.

Shouta chuckled, and as strained as it was, it was comforting. After all, at least he wasn't dead.

”Was the hero get-up not enough of an indicator?” He asks as you begin to remove his hands from his injury, instead opting to press some of the dressing from your medical kit to his wound. From the times you'd patched both Shouta and some of his associates up before, you'd worked as a well oiled machine together. This time was no different. Right as you lifted one hand from the dressing, he took over, using his own hand to press the dressing.

”You're gonna give me a better explanation in the morning.” You tell him sternly. A man, an old flame nonetheless, shows up your doorstep bloody and about to croak and you're supposed to not want to know what happened?

Shouta's eyes fell to you. You looked worried. Worried about him. ”Of course.” He mutters, moving slowly as he tries to help you by raising his body to help him get his shirt and scarf off him. He still keeps his mouth mostly closed, his teeth grit together as he breathes out between them.

You begin to pack the dressing with more once you see that he's starting to bleed through the first set, and you start to notice that you aren't crying. You aren't tearing up like you used to on the occasion Shouta got injured. Of course, you could feel the warmth of tears behind your eyes, threatening to attempt a fall, but you were focused. The only indication of possible tears was how you sniffled every couple of minutes.

Reaching into the medical supplies, you pick up and move around various items until you find it. The needle and sterilised sutures. With those ready to go, you got up again, running to your kitchen for any kind of alcohol you had on hand. The first bottle you found was of an older scotch. A good one. Regardless, you didn't think twice before bringing it back to the rug you sat on.

Shouta's eyes followed you around as you moved. He tried to mentally prepare himself for the pain the scotch would cause him.

”This is gonna hurt.” Shouta can only nod along with your words, shutting his eyes momentarily. He purses his lips together as he releases the dressing and you begin to pour the alcohol around and over his wound.

As you tilt the bottle upright, you go to set it back down but hesitate.

”You want a sip?” You ask, and Shouta's eyes open. ”This next part is gonna hurt too.” You gesture over to the stitching equipment you have.

He smiles. ”Sure.”

You smile back at him for just a moment, and then you bring the bottle up to his face and tilt it over, only pulling it back and setting it aside when he used his hand to push at your hand.

Your hands go for the needle and sutures, and you shake your head. A mental way of making sure you weren't sleepy anymore.

When you cut the end of the stitch, you and Shouta both sighed simultaneously, and then you took a sip of the scotch yourself.

Next was the bandages. You had several types, but ended up with two kinds in hand. The first was easy to press on, it was just a large sheet of gauze with something tape-like around it. The other kind started with a sticky end so it could be applied directly on the skin.

”Alright.” You mumble, partially to yourself, partially to nobody, and partially to Shouta as you stick one end of the second bandage to his bare torso and you start to pull it around him. Shouta again lifts his body to help you, and you wrap it around him twice, cutting it with some freedom to tuck and tie the ends until you were sure it would stay in place.

You sit back on the floor with your legs tucked to the side, leaning against your coffee table at the same time Shouta lets himself relax back into the sheet and towel covered cushions of your sofa.

Through your heavy breathing, with your eyes on Shotua, you find it in you somewhere to laugh a little bit.

”Did you want a shirt now?” You ask, already about to stand up.

Shouta looks at you a little bit confused. ”Not be rude (Y/n), but I don't think your shirts are gonna fit me.”

”No, Shouta of course not. But you never came back for your stuff.”

”You still have it?” He's a little... confused? Baffled maybe? It's been years, why would you still have his clothes? Whatever the emotion is, it shows on his face.

”Have you ever known me to get rid of anything comfortable?”

Of course. He chuckles, sucking in air through his teeth at the end, his hand instinctively coming to rest just over his injury.

”In that case, would you also grab me a pair of my sweats?” He asked, smiling up at you. You only nod before you disappear from his peripheral vision. Why did you guys stop seeing each other again?

”Are you alright?” You asked when you returned to him, shirt and pants folded neatly over each other in a pile. To most, that question in this context seemed odd. But in the moment, it made sense. Shouta blinks a few times in the dimly lit room.

”I will be. Do you have eyedr-” He stops speaking when his eyes flick to you and you're already holding the familiar bottle of eyedrops out to him. It's the brand he'd told you forever ago that he preferred, and it'd sat in your mini surgery kit ever since then.

”Come to my room after you change?” You mean it more as a direction, and Shouta nods a yes to you. ”If you need help, call.” You tell him before scurrying back off to your bedroom.

Your eyes scanned the room up and down, from left to right, picking up the little messes scattered about the space. First a couple of socks that were strewn about, moved to a hamper. Then your laptop, you shut it down and put it on its charger. Third, you went to your linen closet and grabbed a couple of extra pillows for the other side of your bed.

”(Y/n)?” Shouta called out, and you turned to the hallway, getting back to him quickly.

Without exchanging many words, you helped Shouta sit and stand up, looping your arm around his middle and his arm around your shoulder. The walk back to your room felt slower, but you were still considerate as you could be.

When you get into your room Shouta stopped walking for a moment, so you do too. He looks around the bedroom, and you look at him. He's not judging it, just observing it. After all, it's your private space, your territory. Just as soon as the man picked up his feet again, you moved with him, walking him over to the side of the bed you don't sleep on.

He starts to let go of you, sitting down on the mattress. Carefully, you let him lie down on his own, still standing just beside him, just in case.

”You should consider being a nurse.” Shouta tells you with a smile.

You half-smile at him, a small laugh escaping you. ”I've got my hands full enough with you, Eraserhead.” You emphasise his hero name, which makes the both of you chuckle. ”Especially if these visits are going to become a thing.”

Shouta almost rolled his eyes, instead opting to wave away your words with his hand. ”I'll try not to make them a habit.”

”Good.” You respond, with a smile on your face as you help him get comfortable with the blankets and comforter on your bed. ”You good?” He nods and you retire to your usual side of your bed.

”Shouta?” He's always liked the way his name sounds coming from you.

”Hm?”

”I was serious about that explanation in the morning.” You remind him, and he smiles, although you can't see it with how you're turned towards your nightstand at the moment.

”I'll make sure to leave a note.”

You turn your head to face him with a frown. ”A note? Absolutely not. Even if I didn't want the explanation I have to replace your bandages.” You scoff.

At first he doesn't say anything, he just smiles. ”I'm glad you were awake. I missed you.” He says, and you just look at him for a moment, a little stunned.

You wanted to say more, but instead only hummed in acknowledgment. There was so much to say, to talk about, but the adrenaline was wearing off, and you were getting increasingly more tired as the late night turned early morning wore on.

You watched Shouta turn over. ”Thank you again, (Y/n).” His voice is quieter, and you smile before turning off your bedside lamp and trying to get some sleep yourself.

@ STARLITRAYS : please do not translate or repost my works without my expressed consent and permission. please do not copy any of my works.

[rueclfer]

eat it! // smau

ngl this aizawa is doing something to meeee lmao from this ask <3 lil late oops but!!! still silly to make

izuku midoriya, keigo takami, shouta aizawa

[luxthestrange]

BNHA Incorrect quotes #2 EGG-celent

UA Secretary+Assistant Quirkless Y/n...

Secretary!Y/n*Currently looking for a therapist for 1-A in their spare time in your desk*...better make sure to look for one who specializes in anger management for the little chihuahua-

Aizawa*Coming in*Y/n i need the-

Secretary!Y/n*Handing him the freshly printed test sheets*

Aizawa*Blinks and hums taking it*oh also didn't have chance to-

Secretary!Y/n*Already handing him a thermo with fresh coffee with a still warm breakfast egg sandwich in the shape of a cat face, not even looking away from the screen*

Aizawa*Grabbing the breakfast and looking at you*...Marry me?

Secretary!Y/n: I took care of that too, We've been married for the last 7 years~

Aizawa*Sipping his coffee with a hum and slight smirk*Excelent...