shota aizawa
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it was a quiet, comfortable evening.
aizawa sat in his study, shoulders slumped as he sighed over yet another stack of failed class tests. he muttered under his breath, pen tapping the desk. honestly, these kids needed serious tutoring.
you were still asleep. after pulling an all-
nighter to finish a college thesis, youβd passed out the moment you hit the bed.
he didnβt mind. he knew how hard you worked, especially for your age, and he was always the first to tell you to rest. selfishly, it worked out for him β you were clingy when you were tired. and though heβd never say it out loud, he loved that. plus, your relationship wasnβt exactly
ordinary. youβd been nineteen when you met him, fresh out of high school, sharp-tongued and fearless. heβd been twenty-seven, already exhausted, already worn down β and completely unprepared to fall for you. four healthy years later, you were in your final year of college, and he was still a teacher at u.a. and an underground pro hero. despite everything, he was deeply, undeniably in love with you. a soft groan pulled him from his thoughts. he looked up just in time to see you standing in the doorway, hair messy, lashes heavy with sleep. his shirt hung loose off one shoulder, sleeves swallowing your hands.
his arm stayed firm around your waist anyway.
nighter to finish a college thesis, youβd passed out the moment you hit the bed.
he didnβt mind. he knew how hard you worked, especially for your age, and he was always the first to tell you to rest. selfishly, it worked out for him β you were clingy when you were tired. and though heβd never say it out loud, he loved that. plus, your relationship wasnβt exactly
ordinary. youβd been nineteen when you met him, fresh out of high school, sharp-tongued and fearless. heβd been twenty-seven, already exhausted, already worn down β and completely unprepared to fall for you. four healthy years later, you were in your final year of college, and he was still a teacher at u.a. and an underground pro hero. despite everything, he was deeply, undeniably in love with you. a soft groan pulled him from his thoughts. he looked up just in time to see you standing in the doorway, hair messy, lashes heavy with sleep. his shirt hung loose off one shoulder, sleeves swallowing your hands.
you left the bed,you mumbled, lips pouting as you shuffled over and climbed straight into his lap. he sighed, arms coming around you automatically, pulling you close. there was no irritation in his voice β only quiet amusement.
youβre old enough to sleep alone, doll,he said dryly.
and i have papers to fail.
his arm stayed firm around your waist anyway.
did you rest well?he asked, pressing a feather-light kiss to the top of your head, fingers already absentmindedly combing through your hair.