Chapter 1: 1
Chapter Text
The alarm blared from the oak bedside table, even the most precise of slaps to the top snooze button wouldn’t get it to stop the loud chirps, and it was only when you yanked the plug from the wall that the incessant noise ceased. You rolled onto the other side of the bed, fully intent on letting the warmth of the sheets drag you back into the arms of the sandman. Today was your least favourite day of the week. A full day of ta-ing classes is brutal when all of your friends are still students, especially considering the amount of time you have to spend grading papers, printing resources and being used as a glorified barista to your professor’s crippling coffee addiction. So when you’re taking work home, your friends are out drinking, dancing and making out with strangers on the edge of clubs.
Without you.
It’s a cruel, cruel time to be in a cost-of-living crisis.
As you felt the sweet embrace of slumber begin to coax you back into its welcoming arms, the second alarm clock went off. Only this was one that you couldn’t slap to turn off, as it came in the form of your roommate pounding on your door.
“Are you ready yet Y/N? We’re going to be late! It’s 8:30 already!”
At this announcement, your eyes shot open. You scrambled across your bed, getting tangled in your bedsheets as you rushed to check your phone to ensure that your friend was telling the truth about the time. The battery on the cracked screen displayed 7% - forgot to put it on charge again – but that wasn’t the number that you were focused on this time. It was 8:01. Your eyes widened and then squinted at the bright light that hit your face. The mess of blankets tangled around your legs caught up to you very quickly, and you tumbled off the bed with a short shriek.
A sigh could be heard from outside of her door.
“You get five minutes bef-”
You yanked open the door, effectively cutting off the statement coming from your roommate in a flurry of movement, somehow changing your shirt and brushing your hair at the same time. You and your roommate would ordinarily walk to class together, but you had no doubt that he would leave without you if you were late. You slammed the bathroom door behind you wincing at the feeling of the hairbrush pulling at a particularly stubborn knot all while trying to squeeze a pea of toothpaste onto the toothbrush, in an attempt to at least appear put together this morning for the 9am lecture you were supposed to be supporting. At the very least, you knew the professor was always late to the morning sessions.
You threw the bathroom door open again to face your roommate, who was now impatiently tapping his foot against the floor, while anxiously checking his watch. Eye contact was made from across the corridor.
“You get two more minutes!”
Sprinting back to your room, you yanked off your stripy pyjamas in favour of a pair of acid-wash jeans, a t-shirt and a pair of slip-on vans that you were able to fight onto your feet while simultaneously falling back out of your bedroom door at the right moment to see the back of your roommate as he began to leave for university without you. You grabbed your bag and ran after him.
“Max! Wait! I’m ready I swear!” you shouted as you slammed the front door to your apartment behind you, somehow catching the sleeve of your hoodie in the door as it closed, leading to you stumbling backwards and hitting your back on it. You let out a groan and placed a hand at your lower back to rub the pain away. Down the hall, Max was cackling at the predicament you found yourself in.
“Dude… what is up with you? You’re never this clumsy or behind in a morning.” He said between chuckles.
Still rubbing your back as you get into the lift, you respond.
“I have no idea. The universe must be out to get me today.” You complain. “I didn’t hear my alarm go off, I forgot to charge my phone, and I could barely drag a brush through my hair this morning.” You complained, gesturing to the mess of hair on top of your head.
The lift doors opened with a *ding* and you and Max exited. Or you tried, but the doors began to close before you could take one step out. In a panic, you squeeze yourself through the gap in the doors. Max begins another round of uproarious cackles as he points at your bewildered face.
“You see what I mean?!” You exclaim with wild gestures towards the offending lift.
Wiping a tear from his eye, Max says “Just you watch, I bet the professor is there on time today.”
You scoff lightly.
“Yeah right. Despite everything that’s happened so far today, I still think that that’s the most unlikely thing to happen.” You playfully shove Max out of the door of your apartment block and make your way to the university campus.
You and Max have known each other since secondary school, after you took a punch for him when a much bigger kid was standing over him threatening another kick. Despite being quirkless, you found out that you could hit way harder than you thought. After this incident, Max found you sitting outside of the headteacher’s office with a sulky look on your face, unable to understand why you were being punished for helping someone. He came over with the tiny pack of cookies he had in is lunchbox that day and shared them with you while talking your ear off to cheer you up. The pair of you have been inseparable ever since.
Cut to the present day, Max asked you to move in with him while he completed his masers degree, and while you weren’t ready to commit to the mammoth task of a further degree yet, you were able to use your bachelors in order to get a job as a teaching assistant to one of the professors so that you could move in with him, and the rest is history.
“I’ll see you at home later. I’ve only got the one class today.” Max said with sympathy in his eyes, knowing that you wouldn’t be leaving the campus until at least 7pm due to your packed schedule and the amount of work that your “boss” would be shouldering on you merely so he didn’t have to do it himself.
You let out a long-suffering sigh before picking up the coffee for both you and your professor before turning to leave the coffee shop.
“If he lets me out alive. I swear, one more complaint about cold coffee and I am done. I can’t handle the constant criticisms and demeaning comments anymore. It’s so degrading.” You finish your rant with a shudder, almost as if you could hear his low, wheezing voice in your head, and smell the stale coffee on his breath before you even saw him.
Max grabbed your hand and gave it a squeeze in solidarity before letting go and waving as he disappeared to the science and medicine building for his one lecture of the day. Max’s quirk was “diagnosis,” he was able to spot symptoms of illnesses and diagnose them faster than any machine or test could. It came in really handy when the hypochondriac in you was worried that the flu you contracted over the winter break would be fatal. Bless him and his patience for your nonsense.
Shoving your way through the heavy glass doors of the English block, you attempt the difficult task of balancing the drinks holder you were carrying, with attempting to pull out your phone to check which room you had been moved to today. Due to renovations on the creative arts building, your classes changed location pretty much every day at the moment.
Glancing at your email, you realised with horror that the room you were in was on the other side of the building. Making eye contact with a clock on the wall, another bolt of horror struck you as you realised that you only had three minutes to make it to the other side of the building before you would be considered late.
Shit!
Pocketing your phone, you took off at as fast of a run as you could whilst trying to ensure that no coffee comes slopping out of the small drinking hole at the top.
You thought you were going to make it, but an obstacle in the form of three flights of stairs sadly stood in your way, and by the time you unceremoniously slammed through the doors of the lecture hall, you were red-faced and sweaty, and eager to make your way to the safety of the desk at the front to catch your breath.
You hurriedly made your way down the steps in the centre of the room, hyper-aware of the forty-something eyes on you that were definitely not helping with the burning in your cheeks, when an unfamiliar voice stopped you in your tracks.
“Ms Y/N, I presume?”
For the first time since entering the room, you looked up at the desk you had hoped would be your sanctuary from further embarrassment. Leant against it was a man who was definitely not the professor you were expecting. He wore polished black shoes, black slacks held up by a thick leather belt, and a blue button-down shirt with the top two left undone, and he had a copy of “Rebecca”. His dark hair was pulled back into a half-up hairstyle, with a few strands hanging out at the front. Finally making eye contact, you realise that his tired-looking eyes are looking at you expectantly for an answer to his enquiry.
That’s enough to snap you back into reality.
“Oh! Uh, yes. But I was expecting Professor Oberon, is he- “
You were cut off.
“Oberon decided to leave is post unexpectedly over the weekend. Surely you were made aware of this?” He questioned, arching one eyebrow inquisitively.
“Oh, um. Maybe?” You scramble for your phone to check your email. “I don’t remember seeing- “
“Ms Y/N, in future I would expect my assistant to be on time for lectures.” He folds his arms and begins to take deliberate steps towards you.
“Oh I usually am, it’s just that- “
“I would also prefer that my assistant doesn’t stand in the middle of the room and hold up my lecture to explain her poor work ethic.” He stops in front of you, and stares for a moment as you struggle to formulate a coherent sentence. After relishing in your discomfort for a moment, he plucks one of the coffees from the tray and begins his descent back to his previous position at the desk. As you follow, he takes a sip from the cup, grimaces, and drops it in the bin next to him. As you pass, he mutters:
“I also prefer if coffee is hot. Just for future reference.”
Setting your coffee on the desk, you take a moment to breathe.
Who the fuck does this guy think he is?!
You sit, and he begins addressing the class again, and you pull out your email to check for any notice you might have received about this change. Sure enough, there is an email informing you of the change. You click on it.
Ms Y/N,
Due to unforeseen circumstances, Professor Oberon will be leaving the university with immediate effect.
Your position will not be terminated, and your support will be handed over to his replacement, Mr Shota Aizawa.
Kind regards,
UA University Administration.
Shota Aizawa.
In any other circumstances, you would have been excited about the change, but you have a horrible sinking feeling that things may only get worse from here. Subtly, you pull out your phone and send a quick message to Max.
To: Max
You bastard! You jinxed me! He was on time!
Chapter 2: 2
Notes:
Hi again :)
I don't think there are any warnings for this chapter, except for foul language.
Enjoy!
Chapter Text
Your head hit the kitchen countertop with a heavy slam, and you let out a loud groan as you lament the disastrous outcome of the day. Max watches you with sympathy in his eyes. You had ended up making your way back home at 9pm tonight, a full two hours later than usual due to the brand new, equally heavy workload from your new boss, who you’re absolutely positive has it out for you.
Professor fucking Aizawa.
“That bad of a day huh?” Max is still watching you, eyes assessing your hunched over figure drowning in despair.
“You have no idea.”
And so began your tirade of your long day. Spouting off about how Aizawa gave you no respite all day. How after that first, disastrous lecture of the day, you had to trail after him all day. Collecting homework and reports, making at least five coffee runs in a day, none of which were up to his incredibly high standards.
“He even complained about what I was wearing! Plus, he said he expected all of the papers for all of his classes to be marked within 48 hours and let me tell you when there are forty papers per class, that is an impossibility!” The rant exploded out of you at Max, who simply sat and listened with a surprised look on his face, in disbelief of how you were being treated.
“You know what the worst part is?” You were out of your seat now, pacing back and forth as you continued your rant.
“He’s brilliant! He actually knows what he’s talking about.”
This much was true. Despite being dragged from pillar to post all day, it was completely mesmerizing to watch him teach. He had a way of telling and explaining literature that made it seem magical. Poetry recitations where he spun the words into lyrical gold, ensuring that each student hung on his every word. Books were brought to life as he described words, characters and settings in a way that made them feel as if they were in the same room. Orwell was told with terrifying realism, Austen with dreamlike qualities. The best part? You can tell he loves it too. He gets this look in his dark eyes, as if he is equally captivated by the stories he is mesmerising his students with. His passion for the subject mirrored your own, reminding you of your bachelor’s degree and how you found solace and comfort and inspiration in the very texts he brings to life.
It's infuriating.
Because you hate him. The way he spoke to you today, the way that he nit-picked every decision, every move, every single little thing that you did. It simply wasn’t good enough and it drove you insane, to the point where you began hunting around your apartment for a pen and paper. Max watched from the counter.
“What are you looking for?” One drawer opened and closed again.
“Pen and paper.” You opened a cabinet and began rifling through it.
“For what purpose?” Max poured you a glass of wine and brought it over, while you pulled your intended target out of the cabinet and flopped onto the couch.
“I’m writing my notice.” Max’s eyebrows raised so high you could’ve sworn they were about to disappear into his hairline, the shock at your proclamation evident on his face.
“Are you sure about this? I mean the guy sounds like an asshole, but what will you do?”
You began writing.
“I have no idea. But anything is better than this. I’ll make coffee, I’ll serve food, I’ll clean literally anything, because ANYTHING is better than this.”
Max flopped next to you and watched you begin to dictate your notice.
“Okay. I’ll support you with whatever you decide to do.” His eyebrows furrowed. “But maybe lose the section where you accuse him of having his head up his ass.”
You let out a huff and rip the page out of the notepad.
The next morning, when your alarm actually went off on time, you were able to actually make yourself look somewhat put together and presentable for work today. Kind of ironic considering it was going to be your last day. You donned a white t-shirt with a lilac sweater vest on top and paired it with a pair of wide-leg black slacks and loafers, and your hair actually decided to behave today, so you were able to put it into a ponytail to keep it out of the way.
Waltzing into the kitchen, you found Max stuffing his face with cereal and staring down his laptop, having clearly just rolled out of bed due to the pyjama bottoms, the lack of a shirt and the mess of black curls on his head. He gave you a sleepy wave from his spot.
“I’m so jealous you get days off; Max. Tell me what you’re doing today so I can live vicariously through you.” You wandered over and stole a bite of his cereal before turning to get a water bottle out of the fridge.
“Well, first I’m going to get back into bed. Then I’m going to sleep some more. Then maybe order takeout. Ooh, and I’m overdue a Brooklyn 99 rewatch too.” Max counted off these things on his fingers as you let out a loud groan of jealousy at the heavenly day he had lined up.
“Oh by the way, after you went to bed last night I looked into your new boss.” Max turned his laptop to face you. “Turns out he used to be an underground hero by the name of Eraserhead. Apparently he retired a few years back after a mission went wrong.”
You looked closely at the article which detailed his accomplished career as a hero, his quirk and the details of his retirement. As much as you hated to admit it, he was impressive. But that only made you even angrier with his attitude.
Max spun his laptop back to face himself.
“Are you coming tonight? We’ve got plans to go to carnival.” Carnival was the main club in the city which was extremely popular with the students at UA university.
“You know what? I’ll probably need it after quitting today. Drinks are on you though!” You said as you grabbed your bag that you had abandoned on the couch the night before, in your desperation to write your notice.
“You always say that!”
You grabbed your keys from the kitchen counter and left your apartment with a giggle to yourself. Thanks to the timely chirps from your alarm this morning, you actually managed to make it onto campus with plenty of time to spare, although the walk in was much harder due to the weight of graded papers in your backpack. At least you had enough time to get a decent coffee today. This time, to prevent any complaints you made sure to order Aizawa’s as extra hot to prevent any complaints. If you were going to quit today, you at least wanted to make sure that he was in a good mood. Him being miserable wouldn’t make the meeting any easier.
After checking which room you would be in for the day, you walked across the creative arts building to find today’s lecture hall, waving at some of Max’s friends as you saw them. Rounding a corner, you saw the throng of students entering the hall for the start of the lecture, when they saw you some of them waved and smiled in greeting. You were well liked among the student body, known for your dry humour and brutal honesty when it came to feedback on papers.
A shame since I won’t be here much longer.
Entering the classroom, you spotted Aizawa leaning forward over the desk, focused on setting up his laptop to display the class materials for the lecture. Today he was wearing a knitted green jumper with brown corduroy trousers. As you approached, he looked up at you and gave you a once over with his eyes. They flashed with something – surely not approval? – When you reached the desk he stood up straight.
“You actually look like you’re here to do your job today.” He said in the most monotonous tone imaginable – ironic considering how captivating he is when he talks about literature. You muster what must be the fakest smile ever conjured onto your face.
“Well considering the amount of marking I did last night it appears that I’m doing your job too, so I may as well dress for it. Here’s your coffee.” You hand it to him, your fake smile becoming genuine, proud of your sly comment.
Aizawa looks at you with a raised eyebrow, and you could have sworn you saw a ghost of a smirk flash across his face, gone as quickly as it appeared. You walk away to take your seat at the front when he calls your name. You turn to see him gesturing to the coffee.
“It’s too hot. You do realise I actually want to drink it right?”
You bite your lip so hard you taste blood, as you watch him walk over and throw the cup into the bin.
That petty asshole.
You approach him at the end of the final lecture of the day, filled with a bubbling rage and a desire for this to be over as soon as possible. He barely looks up from his screen as you approach.
“Do you have a problem, Miss Y/N?” He asks in his deep, commanding tone.
You lean over the desk and place the paper with your notice on it directly on the keyboard of his laptop. He finally makes eye contact with you.
“This is my weeks’ notice. I’m sick of being a glorified barista for the professors here.” You open your backpack and dump the mountain of graded papers on his desk. “And I’m sick of doing your jobs for you.”
For a moment, he says nothing, and just looks at you with an intensity in his eyes that made you want to go and cower behind the desks set up in the hall. Then, he looks back to your notice and chuckles once.
“Figures.” He said and looked back at his laptop. You furrowed your brows.
“Excuse me?”
Without looking up, he continues:
“I’m not surprised. I should have known from looking at you yesterday that you wouldn’t last. I have incredibly high standards, and it was clear you wouldn’t be able to meet them. Off you go.” He dismissed you as easily as pulling lint off his sweater.
Dumbfounded, you shuffle out of the door. Just outside you replay each moment of that interaction again and again, over and over in your head. He treated you like you were nothing. Considering you were quitting; it shouldn’t have bothered you. But his words played on a mocking carousel in your head. You felt that low, simmering rage build up and up within you.
Oh hell no.
You turned around and slammed the doors to the lecture hall open again. Aizawa had the decency to at least appear startled at your sudden reappearance, and you stormed up to him.
“How dare you make a judgement of me based on one day?! I do good work here and, quite frankly, you would drown without me. You’ve already proven that based on the amount of your workload I took on last night. If you really have ‘high standards’ why don’t you hold yourself to them? So you know what?” You stomp over to his desk and pick up your notice. “You don’t get to get rid of me that easily. You have high standards? So do I, and you better hope you start living up to them.”
You rip the notice in half in front of his face and walk back out of the main doors of the lecture hall, throwing the paper away on the way out.
The doors slammed behind you, and Aizawa was left in the hall alone, his intense gaze staring at the space where you left. A slow, sly, sinister smile slid across his lips, and a deep, low, borderline threatening chuckle reverberated around the room.
Chapter 3: 3
Notes:
Damn this is so much later than I had hoped to publish so I apologise!
The AO3 writers curse is real the SECOND I started writing this shit hit the fan.
This feels a little rushed so I apologise, any feedback is welcomed! (But word it nicely or I'll cry :))
Also this gets a bit smutty which I've never written before so I hope it reads well!Thank you for your patience! All of the comments so far have been so so lovely and supportive and I really appreciate that it has given me so much motivation! :)
Chapter Text
Several pairs of eyes turned to look at you as you left the lecture hall, and a presumably incredulous Aizawa behind. Clearly your altercation had had quite the impact both inside and outside of the classroom, fortunately you only had the one class to support today, so the rest of your day was free to do whatever you wanted before hitting the club with Max and his friends later that evening.
Speak of the devil…
Max had come to meet you after your lecture and was currently staring at you with a giddy smile on his face. He walked over and looped his arm through yours and dragged you through the remainder of the creative arts building to a bench just outside.
“Tell me EVERYTHING.”
So, you retold the story to Max. How the first thing that Aizawa did was comment on your appearance again. The sly comments that you made to him, the way he threw the coffee out, him implying that you’re ‘unworthy’ of working for him, and finally how you blew up in his face in anger, sick of being treated with disrespect. Max listened the whole time, jaw on the floor in complete disbelief of both his audacity and the guts you had to speak to him that way.
“I can’t even comprehend the level of disrespect and audacity of this man. Who does he think he is?” He said, aghast.
“I know right? Hopefully it’ll get better now though. I refuse to let him walk all over me- “
At that moment, the doors swung open to reveal the topic of conversation himself. He was speaking in low tones to someone on the phone when he made eye contact with you, his eyes flicked over at the gobsmacked expression on Max’s face, and a half-smirk appeared on his lips as he put two and two together. He looked back to you and held your gaze for a moment longer before retreating towards the car park and continuing his hushed conversation. Your eyes follow him across the campus for a moment longer before Max snapped his fingers in front of you, successfully snapping you out of your daze.
“Earth to Y/N?”
You blink at him.
“Sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”
Max turns to look at Aizawa’s retreating figure and then turns back to you, a teasing grin on his face.
“You just love to watch him walk away huh?” He said, with a raise of his eyebrows. You give him the most disgusted look you could muster before immediately jumping to your own defence.
“What?! Ew no!”
“Look I know you hate the guy, but you have to admit that he’s easy on the eyes. I would.”
“No. Ew. This is awful. I’m changing the subject. Why are you here? You never come and meet me on your days off.”
Max’s eyes lit up as if remembering something.
“Oh yeah! I thought I’d take you shopping. I know you have nothing in your wardrobe for the club later, so I’m treating you.” He looks at you with a smug ‘you’re welcome’ expression on his face and holds out his hand to pull you up.
“You don’t have to do that.” You said, taking his hand.
He drags you up with an exaggerated huff and keeps hold of your hand to drag you to the nearest bus stop.
“Yes I do. I’ve seen your wardrobe.”
You give him a swift elbow to the ribs at that comment.
Max dragged you from store to store to try on different dresses, shirts, skirts, trousers and accessories that he deemed suitable for your night out. Ordinarily, you find changing rooms to be the most sweaty, overwhelming experience in the world, and while you were sweaty and overwhelmed, Max’s constant hype and positive comments did wonders for your self-esteem.
You didn’t notice me then, watching you step in and out of the changing room.
You had eventually narrowed it down to two dresses, a red and a purple. After trying on each of them at least three times at Max’s demand, you settled on the purple for your night out. You changed back into your own clothes and drew back the changing room curtain to give Max an exasperated look.
“You’re buying coffee now too! I need it after all the stress you’ve put me through here.” You said, dragging him with you to the counter to pay with a sigh. Max laughed at your antics, used to how dramatic you get over a night out.
I thought the red looked better. More… sophisticated.
“Fine, I’ll buy coffee. You’re getting the first round in later though.” He said, tapping his card and handing you the bag with your new clothes in, before leading the way out of the store to the coffee shop opposite.
You didn’t notice me then, following you out a minute later.
“So, what are you going to do about your job?” Max asked as you both sat down. “You can’t quit anymore since you made that whole speech, but don’t you think Aizawa is going to be pissed?”
You take a contemplative sip of your iced latte before answering.
“I genuinely hadn’t thought of that.” You said, stress beginning to settle into your bones. “What if he’s just waiting to fire me in front of the class? Oh god, what if he reports me to the Dean for insubordination?” You throw your head into your arms and groan. “I’m going to have to apologise, aren’t I?” You ask Max.
I can’t wait to see you come crawling back.
“I say don’t mention it and see what happens. Just keep doing your job and keep calling out the bullshit as it comes.” Max says in a comforting tone.
“That’s actually not a terrible idea.” You respond, lifting your head out of your arms slightly.
Max taps the side of his head with a laugh.
“Not just a hat rack!”
The two of you stand from your seats to head home and get ready for your night out, taking your coffees with you for the bus ride home, and discussing the plan for tonight.
Hidden under a baseball cap roughly three tables down from where the two of you were sitting, Aizawa sat writing in a notebook. There were pages and pages of writing about you. Sketches of the way you looked in each of the outfits you had tried on that day with immaculate detail, down to a slip of skin at the hem of your shirt after changing which he found downright sinful. He had written his every thought next to your every move. He sat back in his seat and watched as your figure moved further away.
When you were out of view, he let out a groan and dragged his hand down his face in an attempt to ground himself.
You had no idea he had been there, and he couldn’t wait to see you again.
After having a light dinner with Max to line your stomachs, the pair of you got ready for your night out, you would’ve loved to have gotten ready together, but there’s only so much of Max screaming the lyrics to ‘Hamilton’ that you could take. Even now, in your own room, you could hear him through the walls. It’s a good thing the unit next to where you lived was empty otherwise the complaints from your neighbours would be constant.
You took a moment to add the finishing touches to your outfit and admire yourself in the mirror. It wasn’t often that you got to go out like this, especially with your job keeping you as busy as it did, so there was something refreshing about the amount of time you were able to put into making yourself look and feel good.
“I’ve decided what my mission is for tonight.” Max announced as you went to join him in the living room for a couple of pre-drinks before his friends came to meet you. You downed the shot of pineapple tequila he had prepared for you.
“I’m finding you a hookup for tonight.”
You nearly choked on the second shot.
“Seriously?” You asked between coughs.
“You need it after everything you’ve been putting up with over the past few months. ESPECIALLY after the past week.” He explained, patting you on the back between splutters.
“I don’t know about this…” You said, uncertain in both the plan as a whole and Max’s taste in men.
“At least let me try? You need this. Hell, I need this for you.” He begged; a pleading look in his eyes. You sigh and relent.
“Fine, I’ll give you a chance.” You saw Max’s eyes light up in triumph, but his celebration was cut short by a knock at the door. He grabbed you by the hand and pulled you towards the front door to meet his friends.
“You will not regret this.”
Now, imagine the worst club you’ve ever been to. Picture how sticky the floors are, as if you could feel them pulling on your shoes. Breathe deep enough and you could probably still recall the stench of sweat and booze, right? Think about how crowded it was, and how you could barely dance for the amount of people crammed into one room, the strobe lights sending you dizzy with every flash.
Now, multiply those feelings by ten, and you might be able to get some idea of what the Carnival Club is like on a Friday night.
Somehow, it remained the most popular haunt for UA students. Even on a Monday night, you would see a queue out the door to get in. Its popularity must have been due to the deals they ran on shots and cocktails, because you couldn’t think of a single reason as to why anybody would want to come here. However, after five shots of tequila with Max you hardly cared about the location, you were simply ready to let loose and enjoy yourself. And maybe enjoy someone else too, if Max was successful in his endeavours.
You had to thank Max and his friends for their consistent nights out at this point, because despite the long queue out the front door he and his friends were able to march to the front doors and greet the bouncer by name, completely bypassing the line.
Your new bouncer acquaintance, Johnny, looked at you in surprise.
“This is a new face! Who did you drag out this time, Max?” Johnny held out a hand for you to shake.
Max looped an arm through yours.
“This is Y/N! She’s had a rough couple days at work!”
Johnny laughed.
“Well, it only gets worse from here!” He pulled the door open to let you all into the club, much to the chagrin of the people at the front of the line. “Have a good night!”
The throbbing bass of the music made your head pound pleasantly and signalled the beginning of a well-overdue night out. You let the music take over and allowed Max’s friend Abby to drag you onto the dance floor.
A couple of hours passed, with shot after shot, and one cocktail after another getting pushed into your hand. You were breathless on the dance floor, finally letting loose for once after having worked hard for months on end.
You deserve this.
A hand grabbed yours through the crowd, and Max pulled you through a throng of people into his chest. He leant down to shout into your ear.
“Are you having fun?” He yelled.
You nod and allow your tipsy grin to take over your face once more. Max gestured to a tall blonde man stood behind him.
“This is Dante!” The blonde gave you a dazzling smile. “He’s doing his masters in biochemistry” Max pushed you towards him, and you stumbled slightly. “Go dance with him!” He shouted over the music, sending you the least subtle wink he could muster before disappearing into the crowd. You turn to your new companion and laugh, albeit a little nervously.
“Sorry! He can be… like that sometimes.” You laugh again.
“Don’t worry about it. He introduced me to you, so it was worth it.” He gave you a dazzling grin and offered his hand out to pull you back into the dance floor.
You blush slightly before taking it, you span into his arms and allowed the music to reignite your buzz.
Dante was fun, a good dancer and an even better flirt. You hate to admit it, but Max had done a good job this time, and it seems as if Dante thought so too as you felt his hands slip from your waist to your hips, to dangerously low on your back. You could feel the heat from his hands burn into your skin through your dress, and your breath quickened at the contact as he pulled you closer to him. You were now pressed against each other in the middle of the crowd, in a slightly drunken haze you threw your arms around his neck, unconsciously drawing him closer to yourself.
You felt his breath on your neck as he leant to speak directly into your ear in a low.
“I’ve been watching you since you arrived. The way you move in that dress is…” Another hot breath against your neck, you shudder in response.
He doesn’t say anything else, as his mouth makes contact with the skin of your neck and he begins to bite, not hard enough to break the skin, but enough to leave evidence of your activities. You let out a whimper and close your eyes at the contact, and Dante reacts to this by sliding his hands further down to grab at your ass. A shaky breath escapes you as he pulls away from your throat to meet your lips.
The kiss intensifies, and for a moment you allow yourself to melt into it, before remembering where you are and pulling back slightly. Over Dante’s shoulder you could see a positively giddy grin on Max’s face, who was excited over the success of his plan. Dante ran his hands back up to the bottom of your spine, before leaning down to murmur in your ear.
“You want to get out of here?”
His lips were back on yours as soon as the wall of the club alley hit your back. The way he kissed you was desperate and needy, as if your body was the only thing sustaining him. Your arms came to grip desperately at his biceps as his tongue forced its way into your mouth, drinking up every needy whimper that escaped you.
One of Dante’s hands slid down and pulled one of your legs up to his hips as your eyes fell closed. In the back of your mind you worry if somebody might turn the corner and see you like this, with your leg hiked up and his face pressed into the side of your neck, leaving bruises that will last for days, but it’s difficult to care when his hand slides up your inner thigh and slips into your panties.
Your head falls back with a moan as two fingers slide through your folds, gathering your growing wetness before sliding up to circle your clit. You grip his biceps harder in an attempt to ground yourself, and your head falls to the side as you let out a quiet moan at the contact. Your eyes open again, now facing the entrance to the alleyway.
Two deep red eyes stare back at you from the darkness.
You freeze and stiffen against Dante. Blinking through your drunken daze, you attempt to decipher the figure you saw at the end of the alley, but whoever it was had already disappeared. Unfortunately, the damage was already done. The hands on your body felt alien and cold, and the lips on your neck hurt now, no longer pleasurable. Your hands began to push against Dante’s arms, no longer comfortable with your current situation, he noticed and began to pull back.
“You good?” He murmured.
You wince slightly, buzz fading and reality hitting.
“I uh-“ You hesitate. Dante recognises your discomfort and backs off immediately, gently pulling your skirt back down over your thighs in the process. He sees the conflicting emotions on your face.
“Hey, don’t worry about it.” You look up, and he continues. “It’s not fun if you’re not into it.” He gives you a lopsided, but genuine smile before he offers his hand to lead you back to the club, but you stop outside.
“I think I’m going to walk home. Doubt they’d let me carry on drinking anyway” You laugh nervously.
Dante nods, and bids you goodbye before returning to the club. You shoot Max a text with your plan and your location before beginning your walk home. The whole way home, you couldn’t stop thinking about what happened in the alley. Heated memories of Dante’s hands on you, before they get interrupted by that set of red eyes that you are unable to erase from your memories.
Across the street from Carnival, just outside of a convenience store, Aizawa watches you walk away. His eyes never left your tipsy frame, watching as you wander home like Bambi on ice.
Although Bambi was a poor analogy, as after what he witnessed tonight he knew you were anything but innocent.
He followed you at a safe distance. For your safety, or so he told himself. There are so many people out there that would do you harm. He’s just trying to keep you safe. Aren’t you grateful? Anything could’ve happened to you without his protection.
He watched as you entered your apartment building and drunkenly stumbled into the elevator before walking away.
He couldn’t wait to see you tomorrow.
Chapter 4: 4
Notes:
Next chapter! Hope you enjoy :)
We will get into darker stuff soon. I really want to develop relationships a bit further first
Thank you for all of the lovely feedback and comments I am so blown away by the love for this story so far. Hopefully we will only get better!
Chapter Text
Even the air tasted like regret the day after the big night out with Max. The sun itself seemed to have a personal vendetta against you, as the morning rays bypassed the half-closed blinds and chose to settle directly on your eyelids. You squeeze your eyes shut even tighter, to the point where your nose scrunches up in protest at the new day. You know that drinking on a work night was a bad idea, but at least it was Friday, and you had the weekend to recover from the lethal hangover wracking your head.
You reached one hand out from the nest of blankets and slap your bedside table a few times in an attempt to find your phone. The light from the screen hit your face in a sharp beam, further tormenting your poor, throbbing head. You were greeted by a few notifications, and the realisation that you had thirty minutes before you had to leave:
Max (2:17am) – DID YOUR GOT HOUSE?
Seems Max hadn’t gotten any better at drunken texting since the last time, but you appreciate the seemingly genuine attempt at ensuring your wellbeing.
Dante (05:36am) – Hey, I hope you got home okay. Your friend gave me your number, I was hoping you would want to meet up for coffee sometime? Let me know. 😊
You made a mental note to have a conversation with Max about giving your number out to near strangers, but the sentiment was sweet.
The last notification made you let out an annoyed groan:
WARNING – 5% BATTERY REMAINING – CONNECT CHARGER
You always had a habit of forgetting to charge your phone after a night out, and this one had been no exception. You quickly throw it on charge and proceed to drag yourself out of bed to get ready for the day ahead. You had three classes to assist with today, but the majority of it would be helping specific students with dissertation edits, so nothing too strenuous for today.
Shuffling into the kitchen with a yawn, you come across a note written in sparkly orange gel pen:
Gone to the gym! Have a good day at work, and I made pancakes! See you later x
Something you found incredibly annoying about Max was his innate ability to escape hangovers no matter how many shots of tequila he downed on a night out. He came in at 4am and was somehow back up at 8am for leg day. The thought of that made you sick considering walking around your apartment sent you light-headed, but you couldn’t be too grumpy with him, as Max makes the best pancakes for the rough mornings. Internally thanking him for his foresight, you grab one and pick your bag up from where you dropped it the day before. Checking your phone, you realise the percentage has only increased to 10. With a frustrated groan, you turn on low power mode and head out the door, unable to hang around any later for the battery to charge. You were not willing to walk into that class late a second time.
You noticed a few odd glances being thrown your way on the way into class, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care that much as you sat down and began to work with a student who needed some extra assistance with her dissertation. Aizawa walked in a few minutes after you. With this being a more relaxed class that was focused on being a space for people to work and ask questions rather than a structured lesson, so it seemed he was in a more relaxed mood.
You had barely acknowledged him when he entered, engrossed in highlighting paragraphs and making suggestions to the students that needed it, and it seemed as though he was in the same boat, moving around the classroom from one person to the next, providing support where necessary.
The hour passed in what felt like minutes, and you were helping one final student with corrections ten minutes past the end of class. As they packed up to leave with a grateful smile and wave in your direction, Aizawa returned. You hadn’t noticed him leave in the first place, and you watched him with a mixture of confusion and incredulity as he placed a coffee cup down in front of you on the desk you were working at. You stared at it for a second, before looking up at him.
Aizawa nods towards the coffee.
“I didn’t poison it if that’s what you’re worried about.”
You must have done a poor job at disguising your confusion, as he elaborated.
“Thought you could use it. Looks like you’ve had a… long night.” Those last two words were punctuated by a quick glance down to your neck and then back up to your eyes before he walked back to his desk while sipping his own coffee. Your hand flew up to your neck in realisation, and you scrambled for your phone and opened the camera. Sure enough, deep red marks littered your neck and collarbone from your night with Dante. You watched yourself flush scarlet in the camera before dropping your phone back to the desk with a groan. From across the room, Aizawa lets out a short, deep chuckle as you realised your predicament.
“Well that explains the weird looks I was getting today. This is what I get for going out on workdays.” You took a sip of your coffee and then looked over at Aizawa in confusion.
“How did you know my coffee order?” You asked with narrow eyes.
He looked over at you from the desk with a deadpan expression. “You’ve brought coffee to every class I’ve taught, do you think I’m so unobservant to have never seen the sticker on the side?”
You raise your hands in mock surrender.
“Alright, alright. I see your point.”
You don’t need to know he’s watched you order nearly every day from the other side of the street.
You take another sip and watch from the corner of your eye as he slips a hair tie between his teeth, gathers the top layer of his hair and pulls it back away from his face. You tried desperately not to notice how his arms flexed in just the right way as he did it.
You snap yourself back into reality and internally admonish yourself for even entertaining that idea for a minute. The pair of you worked independently alongside each other for another thirty minutes before the next throng of students began to trickle into the classroom. A few of them make eye contact with the obvious bruises on your neck before offering you a weak smile in apology. You roll your eyes and accidentally make eye contact with Aizawa who is clearly trying – and failing – to not laugh at your predicament.
You narrow your eyes at him and return to the corrections you were making on some papers as he launched into the opening spiel of his “Romeo and Juliet” lecture. Luckily, the next class led straight on from the previous one, so now it was just a countdown until you could go home.
About ten minutes into the third and final lecture of the day, you leant back in your chair and rubbed your eyes. You knew that staring at words on a page for hours at a time was no good for you, yet you continued to do it. As you removed your hand from your eyes, the sharp, white light from the ceiling lamps burned into your retinas and made your hangover headache throb even harder in your skull.
From across the room, Aizawa had noticed your visible discomfort despite how hard you had tried to hide it for the majority of the day. He continued to discuss the intricacies of Shakespeare while wandering over to the light switches, completely unnoticed by you as your eyes were still squeezed shut in reaction to your headache. He reached over and dimmed the lights slightly. The next time you opened your eyes, Aizawa was back in his previous position leant against the desk, and the white lights were slightly easier to handle than before. When he makes eye contact again, you give him a nod of thanks. Initially he seems unaffected, but you could have sworn that you saw a ghost of a smile on his lips for a split second before returning to the class.
The problem with drinking is that it messes with your ability to plan ahead. If you hadn’t had been drunk, you would have checked the weather forecast. If you hadn’t had been drunk, you would have charged your phone to full.
If you hadn’t had been drunk, you wouldn’t have been stuck in your current predicament.
You stood at the entrance of the arts building, staring out at the torrential downpour that had started at some point during the last two classes of the day. You had tried to book an uber, but as you were about to hit confirm the last dregs of battery life in your phone had depleted. You couldn’t call Max either. You were stuck staring out at the rain, picking your nails anxiously, debating waiting it out or making a run for it even if your apartment was a mile away.
“Forget your umbrella?” A deep, yet mildly teasing voice resonated next to you.
You give Aizawa the darkest side-eye you could muster.
“No. Maybe I just like watching the rain.” You mumble.
Aizawa lets out a low scoff.
“I know you leave this building as fast as you can every day. I call bullshit.” He gives you a look, and you finally turn to him.
“Fine, yes. I’m debating the best way to get home with no umbrella and no battery.” You relent. “So if all you’re going to do is take the piss then keep walking.” You give him the most sarcastic smile you can muster. He raises one eyebrow.
“I mean I was going to offer you a ride, but if that’s how you feel…” He takes a few steps out into the rain towards the car park.
You swallow your pride.
“Wait!” He turns to look at you.
“If it’s not too much trouble…” You still stand in the doorway, and he gestures to the car park.
“I’m not going to stand in the rain all evening. Let’s go.” He turns and keeps walking, to the point where you have to jog a little to catch up.
When you reach his car you slide into the passenger seat as quickly as you can. Aizawa is already in the driver's seat. You risk a look at him and wish you hadn’t, because the way his damp hair sticks to his neck, and the way his shirt had become ever so slightly transparent had you snapping your head forward again, especially when he leant a hand on the back of your seat to reverse out of his parking spot. You’re praying that this journey won’t be awkward, when he breaks the silence.
“I looked at some of the suggestions you had for the dissertations. You really know what you’re doing.”
You make a noise that is somewhere between a snort and a scoff.
“You know they put me in that class for a reason right?” You ask with a teasing lilt to your tone.
He sighs and continues.
“My point is, why aren’t you doing a masters? You could teach on your own.” He turns to give you a brief look at a red light.
You blink slightly, having been caught off-guard by the question.
“Oh. I guess I was just tired? After eighteen years of education I guess I just wanted a break. Not to mention how expensive it is.” You answer with a weak chuckle.
He changes gear and pulls off.
“You shouldn’t be worried about the cost. You could easily get a scholarship. Talent like yours should be shared, not left to sit on the sidelines.”
You don’t reply to this, so he changes the subject.
“How are you getting on with the dissertation marks?”
You sit up at this.
“Oh, okay I think. There are a couple that I could use your opinion on. I can bring them to you on Monday?”
He pulls the car up outside of your building.
“You won’t learn if I do it for you. Come to my office hours on Tuesday, we can work on it together.” He said with an air of finality. You give him a suspicious look.
“You’ve been weirdly nice today. Who are you and what have you done with Aizawa?”
He rolls his eyes at you and leans over to open the car door for you. It takes an embarrassing amount of self-restraint not to take in his scent.
“Come on Tuesday, or you struggle alone.”
You nod, thank him with a promise of extra coffee and exit his car. You watch from the lobby as he pulls off, and you’re left thinking about his honest, glowing review of your intelligence as you step into the elevator. It’s only then that a much more alarming thought hit you.
How the hell did he know where I live?
Chapter 5: 5
Notes:
CHAPTER WARNINGS: Breaking and entering, panty theft, pervy behaviour all round
Keeping y'all fed recently. The writing demons have gotten me and I fear they won't let go so there will likely be another chapter this week.
Thank you once more for all of the love and support so far you guys are amazing I hope your pillows are always cool :)
Chapter Text
Max didn’t hear you come back home immediately, too engrossed in the horror movie he was watching. He remained staring at the screen, with a fistful of popcorn halfway up to his mouth for a solid minute. You stood behind the couch for a minute, debating the best way to announce your arrival without scaring the shit out of him. Luckily, you didn’t have to, because the next moment, the screen turned to black and lightning lit up the outside world, perfectly illuminating your face in the reflection of the TV and effectively sending both you and Max into a round of girlish screams.
Popcorn flew everywhere, and you had to hold on to the back of the couch to avoid collapsing to the floor in a fit of laughter at the look on his face. Max held a had to his rapidly rising and falling chest, trying to steady his breathing after his fright. His frightened expression quickly turned to one of playful anger and he began to throw popcorn at you.
“Bitch! Why were you just standing there?!”
You couldn’t even respond through your laughter. Max looked to the window, then back to you again, and narrowed his eyes.
“And how are you not soaking wet? You left your umbrella here this morning.” He stated accusingly, one eyebrow arched.
With that comment, you were snapped back into the sobering reality of the events of that evening, and yet somehow, Aizawa knowing where you lived wasn’t the strangest thing that had happened. You recalled the way he looked in the car, slightly damp with rainwater. You remembered the way his arms flexed in just the right way to tie it up, and the way that he held the band between is teeth. He had looked far too good-
Fingers snapped in front of your face, effectively awakening you from your fantasy-induced daydream, and Max gave you a look that screamed “well?!”
“Oh, uh. Aizawa gave me a lift.” You said, turning to go into the kitchen and start dinner. Max followed, an incredulous look on his face as he tried to connect the dots in his brain. The last he had heard, Aizawa had been treating you like crap, and had been taking advantage of your hard work.
“The same guy you yelled at a few days ago because he was being a complete dick?” Max questioned, eyes narrowing in suspicion at you. You nod at him.
“And was he the reason you were deep in your fantasies just now?” He asked, one eyebrow raised at you, as if he could read the highly inappropriate thoughts you had been having moments ago, and despite knowing that he was right you still choke on your own breath. Max laughs at you.
“I do not fantasize!” You protest as you pull a near empty pasta packet out of the cupboard and sigh at your lack of foresight to go shopping sooner. Max comes to hug you from behind and slides his phone in front of you on the counter with a takeout app open already.
“I wouldn’t blame you! I’d climb him like a tree if I could.” Max says while chuckling slightly. You elbow him in the ribs in response.
“You’re so gross! Besides, thanks to you giving out my number to random strangers I’m going out with that guy from the club tomorrow.”
Max blinks in confusion.
“Who?” He questions, furrowing his brow.
You flick him in the forehead.
“And this is why you should have a weekend off drinking every now and again.”
The screen of your phone illuminated your face in the darkness of your bedroom. It was almost 11pm, and you could hear the sound of Max’s TV through the wall. He would often watch TV as a form of white noise to help him sleep, much to your annoyance. You made him buy you ear plugs while you were out the other day to drown out the noise, and you’ve slept much better ever since.
You open the chat with Dante, where you had agreed to meet with him and were arranging where to go for coffee.
Dante (10:46pm) – Does the place on campus work for you? I don’t want you to have to travel too far.
You did smile at this. You barely knew this guy and yet he seemed to care a lot about you. That was sweet.
You (10:56pm) – That works for me!
Locking your phone for the night, you put it on charge and slid it onto your bedside table. You had resolved yourself to go to the gym with Max the next day, and he was so excited for this, he had been begging you to go with him for ages, and you couldn’t let him down now.
It had been far too easy to slip in through your bedroom window.
Aizawa was currently incredibly grateful to his past self for keeping his old hero gear in the back of his closet, as it allowed him to move through the streets undetected and stealthily slip in through the window you left cracked at night, no matter the height.
His boots landed gently on the carpeted floor of your bedroom, careful to ensure that you weren’t stirring. Aizawa took a moment to glance around your room, which was illuminated by the moonlight slipping through the curtains.
Your room was a perfect illustration of your personality. He started with your desk. Your laptop sat front and centre, it was a battered, slightly older model, but it was clear that you had made it your own through lots of different stickers that decorated the lid. Some of them had been given to you by students whom you had helped with their studies as little tokens of appreciation.
The rest of your desk was in a disarray of marked work; to-do lists and half-finished drinks. One of your favourite hoodies lay draped over the back of your desk chair, and Aizawa picked it up, feeling the soft yet worn material between his fingers. He brought it up towards his face and inhaled your scent deeply. He forced himself to supress a groan that was building in the back of his throat, knowing he couldn’t wake you now when he was in the midst of learning so much about you.
Still holding onto your hoodie, he shifted over to your wardrobe and dresser. He ran a delicate hand across the clothes hanging up, making the hangers clink together delicately in the silence of the room. He glanced over at you as you mumbled and shifted slightly in your sleep.
Thank God for the earplugs Max bought.
He moved to open the top drawer of your dresser, pulling it slowly to avoid making unnecessary noise. His expression would seem unmoving to the untrained eye, but when he opened your underwear drawer his breath quickened slightly, and his pupils dilated to almost double their original size. With a slightly trembling hand he reached into the drawer and picked up a pair of your panties. They weren’t anything particularly special, a seamless pair that you wear from day to day, but to him it was as if holding solid gold. He could already picture dragging them down your thighs as you tremble below him, looking on with half-lidded eyes, his marks on your neck, not the ones belonging to a random club guy.
He shoved the silky fabric into his back pocket and closed the drawer again, ensuring there is no trace of his presence left behind and then he finally turned to your sleeping form. Your bedding was so typical of you, it mirrored the autumnal season outside and was patterned with leaves and mushrooms in shades of green, brown and orange. Aizawa could see on the floor where you had discarded the throw pillows that you decorate your made-up bed with, but what you had left there with you was a stuffed bear. It had clearly been loved for a long time, with matted fur that bent in a way that gave it a mildly angry expression.
Ever so gently, Aizawa gave himself permission to pull the duvet up to cover your shoulders once more and then crouched next to your sleeping form. He stayed there for a moment, watching your chest rise and fall steadily. Slowly, he lifted a hand towards your face and let himself shift a strand of hair away from your face. To him, you looked simply ethereal in your sleep. You never look this calm, a look of perpetual stress usually graced your features, so he felt honoured to be able to see you in such a state of serenity.
He turned his attention to your phone on the bedside table. Hitting the lock button, he allowed a slight smile to take over his features at your background which was a photo of you and Max with a stray kitten you had found on campus. However his mood soured drastically when he saw a text notification from Dante at the top of the screen.
Dante (11:30pm) – Can’t wait to see you! It’s a date.
A date?
A pang of fury ran through Aizawa’s veins at this. How dare you spend time with people who think you deserve to be taken care of in an alley way? You deserve to be worshipped from head to toe. You need someone who would take care of your every need, not someone who would get themselves off and then leave your vibrator to take care of the rest. You deserve to feel so good you end the night in tears of sheer ecstasy.
You deserve to be with me.
Aizawa decided he had overstayed his welcome when he heard Max get up to use the bathroom. He spared one last glance towards you as he exited back out of the window, careful to return it to it’s original position on the way out. He couldn’t risk you closing it again, he couldn’t give this up again, not when he had only just gotten a taste.
Chapter 6: 6
Notes:
Hi everyone! Thanks for your patience on this chapter :)
Quick note - updates will become slower as of this week, I start working my 9-5 on Monday so ill have less time to write, but I am still fully intending to finish this fic.
Thank you again for all the support!WARNINGS: death by hanging, stalking, somnophilia (kissing) blood, implied mutilation
I think that's all, let me know if you see something I've missed from the warnings :)
Chapter Text
You loved the weekends. They meant no alarms, no going to work, and no strange tension between you and your boss. You were finally able to roll out of bed at whatever time you wanted and not have any responsibilities. With your window slightly cracked, the room had an autumnal chill that was perfectly offset by the cosy cocoon you had created for yourself under the sheets. You are so warm and comfy you can actually feel yourself starting to grin in sheer bliss at how relaxed you finally felt after a week of hard work.
It was still early, and the sun was only just beginning to creep through your blinds, so you were allowing yourself to drift off back into your slumber for a couple of hours before you made a lazy breakfast and got ready for coffee with Dante.
Or so you thought that was going to be your morning.
Sadly your comfy bliss was interrupted by a knock at the door, and then an entrance from a very enthusiastic Max, who was apparently dead set on not letting you bail on a gym session again. He flopped on top of you in bed, to which you let out a mildly pained grunt and then a loud yawn, before beginning to ruffle his hair somewhat affectionately.
“Good morning.” You murmur, dragging out the “g” with a slightly gravelly morning voice. You couldn’t be too mad at him for disturbing you, it wasn’t often you to were able to spend weekends together, what with Max’s insane drinking habits and the mountain of work you were usually buried under, but this time Max wasn’t going to the club, and you were on top of the work you had to do. It was going to be the perfect weekend together.
Max began poking you repeatedly in the cheek.
“Are you ready? It’s leg day today.”
You groan slightly and rub your eyes with the backs of your hands. Max snorts in response and gets up again. He begins to drag the mountain of blankets off your bed, threatening you with exposure to the cold air of your bedroom. You shoot up and grab them in protest.
“Okay, okay! I’m up!” You say, panicked at the prospect of losing your blankets. Max relents and wanders over to your drawers and throws a shirt and joggers at you from across the room as you pull yourself out of bed. As you do so, your feet land on something soft and you look down to see your favourite hoodie strewn across the carpet carelessly.
Strange. Could’ve sworn that’s not where I left that.
You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes again; you made the assumption that in your sleep-filled haze last night you had dropped the hoodie to the floor and forgotten to pick it up again. You grab it and head to the bathroom to brush your teeth and hair in preparation for the hell you had no doubt that Max was about to put your body through, all in the name of looking good.
“Come on! You can do two more!” Max said from behind you, hands ready to catch the squat bar if your legs gave out at the bottom of the rep.
You clenched your lips together in exertion as you pushed your way through the rest of the exercise. You were positive Max was some kind of sadist as he seemed to take some sort of sick pleasure in making you think you had one more rep and then hitting you with “two more!” Finally you came back up from your last squat with a harsh breath, and you put the bar back up on the rack before flopping onto the bench, exhausted.
Max laughed at your dramatics before doubling the weight on the bar and repping it out with ease. The pair of you make eye contact in the mirror, and you find it within your exhausted body to flip him off before you reach for your water bottle. Max laughs again as he finishes his set, before turning to you with a sigh.
“You excited for your date?” He asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.
You rolled your eyes.
“it’s just coffee, and I have no idea if I’m going to be interested in him while I’m sober, so don’t get your hopes up.” You say as the pair of you began to wander back towards the lockers together to gather your things and go home. Max huffed at your attitude.
“You never let yourself have any fun, Y/N. Stop being so pessimistic, he was hot!” He squints slightly and rubs his temples. “I think… I can’t remember I was pretty smashed.”
You roll your eyes at him as you grabbed your bag from the locker and began to make your way towards the exit with Max in tow, who was still going on about how you apparently never let yourself have any fun when he stopped in his tracks, looking towards the pull-up bars in recognition with furrowed brows.
“Isn’t that your boss?” He gestured with a nod of his head.
You follow his eyeline over to that section of the gym where you see the familiar figure of Aizawa. Now as a gym novice yourself, you hate to call anyone a show off but seeing him complete pull ups with a weight belt on so easily did make you hate him a little more. However, you definitely didn’t mind the view of his back in a tank top.
“You’re drooling.”
You give Max a harsh shove again and continue towards the exit.
“I see enough of that guy at work, I don’t need to be seeing any more of him at the gym.” You say, walking towards the bus stop with Max eyeing you suspiciously.
“Oh I’m sure you want to see more of him.” He cackles evilly.
Your jaw hits the floor, and you become a five-star athlete out of nowhere as you launch your plastic water bottle at the back of his head, hitting him squarely. He just laughs even harder in response and doubles over while trying to gather breath. You storm past him as he shouts after you.
“I hear no denial!
You hadn’t laughed this hard in ages, you thought to yourself as you sat opposite Dante who was telling you the story of his last football game, and how he accidentally kicked the ball squarely into his own teammate’s face.
“… they benched me for the rest of that game.” He finished, wiping a tear out of the corner of his eye.
“I’m not surprised, saves the rest of the team from a broken nose.” You say and take a sip from your latte. The date has gone well so far with a lot of conversation about work and hobbies, and a few awkward silences. You liked Dante, he was kind and funny, but you were still sceptical about Max’s matchmaking skills and whether you were even looking to be with anyone right now, and yet you could still hear Max’s voice in the back of your head telling you to stop being so pessimistic. So you shook yourself out of your thoughts and put on your best interested face as Dante showed you pictures of his baby niece.
“-and she just turned two last week!”
He looked at you, pride clear in his eyes as you chuckled and finished the last mouthful of your coffee.
“She’s cute! You must be proud.” You say, as the pair of you move to take your empty mugs back the counter.
“Oh unbelievably so.” He says as he holds the door open for you, and the pair of you step out into the chilly autumn air together. You flinch slightly as the first droplets of cold rain landed on your head, and right as you were about to suggest ducking back into the coffee shop Dante pulled an umbrella out of his bag and put it up, offering his arm for you to hold, only partially to keep you under the umbrella. You smiled slightly at that; it was a very sweet gesture.
Together, the pair of you wandered back over to Dante’s car so that he could drop you back at your place. On the way there, you noticed Aizawa exiting the arts building. He must have come into his office to get some work done over the weekend. Dante must have noticed your furrowed brow, and he tracked your gaze over to him.
“Do you know that guy?” He asked.
You nod in response.
“Yeah, that’s my boss. Although it feels like I’ve been seeing him everywhere today.” You say with a slight laugh.
Dante chuckles in response to that.
“Maybe he’s following you. Haunting you with the prospect of more work!” He joked, and you laughed in response.
“I would not be surprised.”
The car pulled to a stop in front of your building with a squeak of the brakes. Dante winced slightly.
“Sorry, I don’t know what’s happening to the car. It’s never acted up before.”
You lay a hand on his shoulder in reassurance.
“It’s all good, I just appreciate the ride.”
Dante looked at you then.
“I had a great time.” He murmured lowly, taking your hand in his and rubbing a thumb back and forth across the back of it.
“Me too. Maybe I can text you and we can go out again?” You ask shyly, almost afraid of the rejection.
Dante squeezed your hand once.
“I’d really like that”
He leant over the centre console then to leave a chaste kiss on your lips, before opening the door next to you before you could reach for the handle.
You got out, and waved goodbye as you ran into the lobby to avoid the rain which had escalated into a full-tilt downpour. As the elevator hit your floor with a chime, you received a message from Max.
Max (9:02pm) – Gone to the club! Don’t wait up I’ll be back late. Leave a scrunchie on the door if you need to ;)
You snorted at that and rolled your eyes as you pushed your way into the apartment, eager to sit down and relax for the rest of the evening.
Smoke billowed out from under the hood of the car, which prompted a curse from Dante and a very quick pull over to the side of the road.
The journey back to his house wasn’t one he particularly liked making, especially at night. The fastest route took him down narrow lanes that were surrounded by trees that cast sinister shadows in the sparse streetlights. While Dante didn’t scare easily, even he had to admit that the journey made him feel uneasy in the dark.
Grabbing his phone to use as a flashlight, Dante popped the hood on his car before getting out to inspect the issue. He lifted it and was immediately sent reeling backwards with coughs and splutters, as he was hit in the face with a wall of smoke. His eyes were watering, but he was still able to barely make out the pair of headlights approaching from the darkness.
This new arrival must have noticed the hazard lights he had hastily thrown on, as it began to slow to a stop just behind where Dante was parked. The door clicked open, and a figure stepped out. Dante squinted against the headlights and made out a tall figure against them who was approaching him rapidly. He relaxed at the sight of help.
“Hey man, I don’t know what happened. I’ve been having issues all day.”
The figure said nothing and continued to walk towards Dante. Through his smoke-hazed eyes, he was filled with a sense of vague recognition as he noticed the long, dark hair and dark, bloodshot eyes approaching him.
“Hey, aren’t you-“
Dante’s words were cut off suddenly as a scarf-like material constricted itself around his neck before he could blink. His eyes shot open, and his hands flew to his neck as he began to grab and scratch at his throat, desperate to get air back into his lungs. He was suddenly pulled off his feet as the other end of the scarf wrapped itself around a high tree branch.
Dante let out deep, guttural heaves as he desperately tried to breathe. His eyes began to bulge and water at the pain, and with every struggling movement he made the scarf only got tighter, further strangling him. As he began to black out, Dante could see Aizawa watching him through the haze of his teary eyes. He just stood there, leant against the side of his car. Just watching.
It was only when Dante’s body went limp that Aizawa moved, pulling a hunting knife out of the inside pocket of his jacket, and approaching the near-lifeless body with an impassive expression. He didn’t like having to make things messy, but when someone dared to lay a hand on what was his, Aizawa knew he had no other choice.
It was a couple of hours later that Aizawa found himself standing over your sleeping form once more. He was hyper-aware of his clothing, knowing that the moisture weighing his sweater down was the blood of the man you were on a date with mere hours earlier, and that there was a sickly metallic scent following him around.
And yet, he couldn’t resist coming to see you again.
One of the main things that amused him about you was that despite how clever you are, you are easily one of the most oblivious people he has ever known. For example, you had no idea he was sat on the bed next to where you slept right now, and you had no idea that he had been sat in the same car park as you when Dante had kissed you. Even the mere thought of another man’s hands on your body had made a quiet rage bubble up within Aizawa, so he turned his attention back to your face.
He took in the fluttering of your eyelids as you lost yourself in a dream, the slope of your nose, the roundness of your cheeks, and the shape of your lips.
He kept his eyes on your lips, remembering how Dante had kissed – no – contaminated them with his. Aizawa needed to fix it, to erase any trace of that man from your body.
He leant over you while you slept, careful to watch your breathing, ready to dart back out of the window at the slightest signs of you waking. When you didn’t stir he moved his face closer to yours, soft tendrils of his long hair tracing your face as he finally, finally allowed himself to brush his lips across yours, only the slightest movement but enough for Aizawa to have to pull back and bite his knuckles to stifle a groan that was threatening to rip its way out of his throat and pull himself back out of your bedroom window before he did anything that might awaken you, and lose any semblance of trust that you had in him.
Realistically, all he had to do was wait now. When the messages to Dante will go unanswered, Aizawa will be there to help you pick up the pieces.
Chapter 7: 7
Notes:
Hi all, thanks for your patience on this chapter :)
Work has been crazy, but I'm in more of a routine now so it should (hopefully) become easier for me to update.
Hope you enjoy this one! Missed you all <3
Chapter Text
Mondays are easily the worst day of the week, you thought to yourself as you turned off your alarm and raised your arms above your head to enjoy a full-body stretch. You rubbed your eyes gently, coaxing the sleep out of them from the night before and blinking the last of the bleariness out of them before picking up your phone.
Swiping through notifications, you noticed that the message you had sent to Dante last night had gone unanswered and unread. You frowned slightly, beginning to run over the night before in your head, and starting to wonder if you had done something wrong. However you were quickly able to shake that feeling off, remembering the kind words and sweet kiss the two of you had shared, which put a shy smile onto your face.
He probably just fell asleep. You thought to yourself. Maybe I’ll give him a call later.
You placed your phone down and got out of bed to get dressed, knowing that Aizawa wouldn’t hesitate to publicly humiliate you again should you be late. Thinking back over the past couple of days at work, you had noticed that Aizawa seemed to be… kinder than usual? It had started with the coffee, and then him turning the lights down slightly for you to ease your throbbing hangover headache. His actions had been almost… sweet?
You blinked yourself back into reality at that thought and pulled your clothes for the day over your frame, internally thanking yesterday’s you for having the foresight to iron a shirt before bed. At least you can cosplay being put together if your shirt wasn’t rumpled.
Making your way down the hall to your kitchen, you found a shirtless Max standing over a couple of pans with bacon and eggs in them. He was standing a healthy distance away so as to avoid any oil and fat that may spit itself towards him. You looked at him with uncontrolled glee in your eyes, not because he looked terrified of a frying pan, but because he had a hangover for once. You watched as he rubbed his temples in pain and blinked hard to get rid of the sleepiness that was plaguing his eyes.
Oh you were going to enjoy this.
Sneaking into the kitchen behind him, you slowly opened the cupboard where you keep the coffee mugs and take one out to go with your breakfast. You watch for a second longer as he lets out a small yelp as a drop of fat lands on his exposed chest, dangerously close to a nipple. Having drawn out your wait for long enough, you slammed the cupboard door shut behind him and announce yourself with a cheery “GOOD MORNING!” As loud as you could, to make up for the many times that he had made fun of you or barged into your room to interrupt your post-night out slumber. The payoff was worth it as you watched Max jump out of is skin and let out a high-pitched squeal, as you had to grip the counter to stop yourself from falling over in laughter. Max groans again and takes a sip of water before flipping you off. You go to hug him.
“Good morning sunshine! Isn’t this the most beautiful day ever?!” You say in a sickly-sweet sarcastic tone. You knew you may not get the opportunity to take the piss out of a hungover Max ever again, so you had to milk this opportunity for everything it was worth. You go to hug him but are met with a palm to your forehead holding you at arm’s length the way that siblings would. Your laughter doubles at this as you walk away to gather your work from the counter.
“I feel like I got hit by a truck, driven over, and then as if the truck went into reverse just to hit me again.” He laments mournfully, finally feeling the full effects of eight shots of tequila on a night out.
You were about to send back another sarcastic comment but were interrupted by the sound of Max’s bedroom door creaking open, and the sight of one of his classmates draped in nothing but his shirt greeted you.
Alexis was well-known to you as one of Max’s closest friends, you had been out together on a couple of occasions too. You raise your eyebrows into your hairline as you make eye contact with her, and she stops in the doorway clearly having not expected to see you. Turning back to Max, you were met with the most sheepish expression you had ever seen on his face, and you were struck with the thought that based on his embarrassment and the sudden appearance of hangovers, this might be the best day of your life.
Picking up your coffee from the countertop, you walked to the door with a spring in your step, clearly enjoying the awkward atmosphere in the room you were about to leave. You turned back as you opened the door.
“Have fun you two! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” You said cheerily as you tossed an exaggerated wink in Alexis’ direction, who flushed a bright shade of red in her face and neck and you laughed as Max shouted an expletive in your direction as you closed the door behind you.
Your uncontrollable glee hadn’t ebbed as you made it to the lecture hall for your class. You were mildly surprised to see Aizawa there already setting up, as it was thirty minutes before any of the class would begin showing up, however that surprise faded when you saw the word “assessment” written on the PowerPoint, and you knew that while that one word would strike fear in the hearts of the students, it meant a silent room for an hour for you.
This day just keeps getting better!
You place Aizawa’s coffee down on his desk before you move to yours, and you must have had a blissful expression on your face, because he was eyeing you suspiciously.
“Who are you and what have you done with Y/N?” He asked with a tired expression on his face. “You’re never this upbeat in the mornings.” He commented as you pulled out your laptop to look over the assessment brief.
Not wanting to admit that your chipper mood had come from the suffering of your housemate, you shoot a look over to him and smile.
Aizawa knew in that moment that he would tear the world apart to see that expression on your face every day.
“No particular reason, guess I woke up on the right side of bed today.” You say dismissively and reach for your coffee.
“Sure you didn’t wake up on the right side of Dante’s bed?”
You choke on your drink and droplets fall onto your white shirt as you look at him in utter disbelief at his comment. He blinks at you.
“Dante and I aren’t- we’re not- how did you even know about that?!” You say, voice rising in pitch with every defensive comment that left your lips.
“Saw you on my way off campus yesterday. A friend of mine taught Dante last year so I know of him.” He said simply.
In your flustered haze you had forgotten about having seen Aizawa on campus yesterday, and in the gym. You decided that now wasn’t the best time to bring up that you had seen him there and began to try and blot the coffee out of your shirt while turning your back to Aizawa, so he didn’t see your embarrassed expression.
Luckily, he decided to diffuse the awkward atmosphere by changing the subject.
“Have you given any thought to doing a masters?” He asked casually, reminding you of the conversation you had in the car a few days ago.
You turn back to him, still trying to get the coffee out of your shirt before it dried.
“Oh, uh- yeah? I think I’m going to do it. I just need to get the money together.” You say offhandedly as you stare in frustration down at your shirt.
You didn’t notice Aizawa getting closer to you until he grabbed the wrist holding your shirt at an awkward angle. You looked up at him in surprise and were met with his intense gaze on yours. In his other hand he held some work that you had marked a week prior.
“I read what you wrote here. It’s good. You have a talent for this.”
You just blink up at him, too overwhelmed at his sudden closeness and his scent overtaking your senses. He rolls his eyes slightly and steps even further into your space.
“I’m going to sponsor your master’s program.”
Your eyes widen.
“I’ll put you under my mentorship for the next year. I can’t let you walk away from this.”
You hadn’t moved from your spot; he was still gently holding your wrist and was standing close enough for you to see the slight stubble on his face and the flecks of gold in his dark eyes.
“I don’t know what to say – thank you.” You say, voice barely over a whisper.
“Don’t mention it.” He murmurs in return, neither of you moving away from the other.
You could feel the heat of his body with how close you were, he could count every freckle and beauty mark on your face with how close he was.
Then the moment was shattered as the door opened, and the chatter of students filled the room. You ripped away from him as if you had been scalded and turned to talk to a student who had become very anxious at the sight of the word “assessment.”
Although Aizawa had moved to the other side of the room, the skin of your wrist where he had held you burned, and your head was still spinning with his scent.
What the fuck was that?
Chapter 8: 8
Notes:
CHAPTER WARNINGS:
ELEMENTS OF NON-CON, SOMNOPHILIA, PANTY THEFT AND GROPING. PROCEED WITH CAUTIONHi everyone, thank you so much for your patience and for all of the love on the previous chapters.
Full disclosure: this is my first time writing anything remotely smutty so please give feedback and any recommendations I will take them onboard :)
Thank you again for reading!
Chapter Text
For the rest of that class, your head was reeling. You stumbled over your words, gave the occasional incorrect advice to some students which you had to quickly correct, and even hit your knee loudly against your desk during Aizawa’s explanation of the task they had to complete. Your face had flushed bright red as you offered a mumbled apology.
While you were completely thrown off your game, Aizawa took great pleasure in seeing your dazed figure stumbling around the lecture hall and knowing that he was the cause of it only made everything better. He knew he had to be careful with the glances he sent your way, lest one of his students get suspicious of his intentions. Aizawa had to admit that his favourite part of watching you was when you picked up your phone with hope in your eyes, and then watching it die as you realised that Dante still hadn’t messaged you back.
Aizawa would never let you down like that. He was planning to take care of you for the rest of your life, whether you wanted it or not, and the masters was just the beginning. He wanted you to feel as though he cared for you, which he did! However, you didn’t need to know that the masters was simply an opportunity for him to get closer to you, to enforce one-to-one meetings in his office to discuss your progress.
Oh, how he couldn’t wait to see you squirm.
The lecture came to an end, and you were ready to gather your things and bolt out of the building as fast as you could. Unfortunately, you were caught by a student who was feeling incredibly anxious about her first assessment, knowing how formidable Aizawa could be when it comes to marking. Usually you would be happy to help her, but today you couldn’t wait to see the back of her.
As she continued to anxiously ramble at you, you noticed Aizawa leaving over her shoulder and let out a sigh of relief and a quiet “Oh thank god…” In your relief, you hadn’t noticed that Steph had stopped talking to you, and she was now staring at you with a mix of confusion and mild offense. Your face flushed red for the umpteenth time today as you scrambled to offer her a solution and some resources that she could use to back up her arguments.
She took the shuffled stack of sheets from you gratefully, and with one more look of confusion Steph left you in the silence of the now empty lecture hall. The echo of your shaky breath reverberated around the room, mocking you in its repetition and putting your flustered state on blatant display for your ears. You shake yourself out of your stupor and turn back to your desk to gather your things and head home for the day, when you notice a stapled set of pages that wasn’t there earlier.
Picking them up, you read the heading at the top:
Application for postgraduate study.
You flick through the pages with barely restrained eagerness, looking at all of the details you would need to fill in. Your eyes blur at the number of pages in front of you, stopping when you came to the last one. It outlined the course fees, which were broken down into chunks to outline what they were used for. As the sums added up, the amount got even more eye-watering as it began to include extras like insurance and meal plans. The total sum was listed at the bottom.
$50,000.
But the number wasn’t the thing that made your breath hitch. No, what did that was Aizawa’s perfect, looping signature at the bottom, naming himself as the sole benefactor of the degree next to large, stamped letters that spelled out “PAID IN FULL.”
You had to lean on your desk when you read that, and as you did so, a neon green post it note fluttered to the floor. You picked it up.
“When you sign it tonight, bring it to my office tomorrow. – Aizawa”
You almost snort at that. The way he automatically assumed that you would take him up on his offer was so unbelievably arrogant that you almost snort. But you cannot bring yourself to do so when you’re staring your future in the face.
You’re still staring at the dotted line two hours later at home. It sat on the coffee table, looming in your peripheral vision like a lion waiting to pounce, only it felt as though your boss was the one who had his claws in you.
Max came in then with Alexis following slightly behind him. You gave a weak hello in response to their greeting, and Max came over to the couch to sit with you with a concerned look in his eyes.
“You look like you’ve just been told that your whole family died. What happened?” He asked after plopping down next to you.
Wordlessly, you hand him the stack of papers and watch his reactions shift from surprise at the idea of you pursuing a master, to mild horror at what it would cost, and finally to pure unbridled shock at the sight of Aizawa’s signature at the bottom of the page.
“…holy fucking shit.” He said and handed the pages off to a curious Alexis who was standing behind the couch.
“I know.” You replied. “What am I supposed to do?”
“Are you stupid?” Max looked at you with an incredulous expression on his face. “Obviously you take it! How often does someone come along and offer to fund your entire education.” Max was on his feet, pacing back and forth in front of you, rambling on about how you would be foolish to not accept. From behind you, Alexis’ voice rang out.
“Is your boss into you or something?”
Now that stopped Max in his tracks.
Both of you turned, slowly and simultaneously to stare at her before bursting out in hysterical laughter at that suggestion.
Alexis shrugged.
“Just a thought.” She said, before returning the stack of papers to you and wandering in the direction of the bathroom.
Max continued to laugh, but your smile faltered slightly.
Your mind drifted back to how close he stood to you, and the way that he held your wrist to keep you close to him. You thought about the warmth of his body when you stood close to him, and the way that he looks at you from across the room. Your unfaithful heart skipped a beat. You shook yourself out of the mess of thoughts you found yourself in yet again and picked up your phone. You frowned yet again when you saw that still, Dante had not seen your message. However it was difficult to care completely when your thoughts were a mess of emotions.
There’s no way, right?
There was absolutely a way.
Or at least that’s what Aizawa was thinking as he sat next to the head of your bed that night. He gazed upon your sleeping form reverently, as if you were a goddess sent to him for worship. Dark eyes drifted over your form slowly.
The duvet you usually slept with had been shrugged off your bed tonight, leaving you exposed to the night air. If you were awake, the way that his eyes were raking over your naked thighs would have you squirming and clenching them under his watchful gaze. His fingers drifted towards them and skimmed over your soft skin; he took fast glances towards your sleeping face to ensure you didn’t wake up under his ministrations.
You shifted slightly in your sleep and Aizawa froze, but not because he was worried you would wake up, but because the way that you moved had caused the oversized shirt you were wearing had shifted up your body, exposing your midriff and the top of the underwear you were wearing.
Aizawa’s hands drifted upwards, under your shirt and skimmed across your sides, mapping out the way that your ribcage pressed against his fingers under your skin, and how soft the underside of your breasts was in contrast to his own calloused fingers. He had to shove his face into the mattress and bite down harshly on his bottom lip to avoid letting out a groan at how your body felt beneath his palms. When he released the hold on his lip, the metallic taste of blood lingered on his tongue.
Without removing his eyes from your face, Aizawa ran his hands from your chest all the way down to your hips and hooked his thumbs under either side of your underwear. He allowed them to skim over the joints once, then twice, before gently tugging them down your exposed thighs. They were tangled around your ankles briefly, before he managed to get them into his hands. Pupils blown wide, he brought them to his face and inhaled deeply, savouring your scent before shoving them deep into his pocket to join the other pair he had taken home.
Adjusting his trousers, which had suddenly become much tighter, Aizawa allowed himself a moment of weakness where he ground his sudden hardness against the mattress.
Sadly for him, the sound of you stirring from your sleep sent him flying back out of your window before you could spot his perverse actions over your vulnerable, sleeping form. He watched through the window for a few more minutes as you fumbled around your bedroom for a moment in a half-asleep daze, desperately searching for your duvet to cover your now half-naked form, before rolling yourself up and returning to your slumber.
From outside, Aizawa watched on with a look that could only be described as pure adoration at your tired state. Through the window, he could see the stack of papers he gave you resting on your desk with your signature printed next to his, sealing your close proximity to him for the next two years.
Aizawa grinned menacingly.
This was going to be fun.
Chapter 9: 9
Notes:
THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SMUT. IF YOU'RE NOT COMFORTABLE WITH THAT DO NOT READ
No warnings for this one, just Aizawa being a SLUT.
Sorry this took so long! Who knew working a 9-5 would be so tiring? Promise I'll try not to leave y'all hanging this long again. I also apologise that this isn't as long as the previous chapters, it is late here.
Thank you so much for your patience and continued support. Love you all :)
Chapter Text
Your arm felt like lead by your side as you tried to work up the courage to lift it to knock on Professor Aizawa’s office door. You knew realistically he was nothing to be scared of, but the thought of being scrutinised so closely in a one-to-one environment gave you pause for a moment. You took a glance down at the paperwork he had given you, only now it had your signature alongside his, signing yourself away to be under his tutelage for the next year. You had gone back and forth over the paperwork with Max last night, debating the pros and cons of taking the offer, before he had finally taken the ream of pages and hit you on top of the head with them.
“How often does an opportunity like this fall into your lap? Sign the damn paper.” Max had said, clearly sick of your indecisive nature.
Despite having decided to go through with the application, you still continued to second-guess your decision from behind the frosted glass of his office door. You couldn’t stop running through the events of the previous day in your head over and over, thinking back to the way that he had grasped your wrist and pulled you closer to him, and spoken in that low timbre of his.
God, even his scent had wormed its way into your mind and refused to leave.
After that last thought, you had to shake yourself off and give yourself a horrified look in a nearby window, your reflection portraying the horror and disgust you felt for yourself as you wonder when the hell you began to find your boss even remotely attractive.
Shaking yourself free of those thoughts, you raised your lead-laden fist and knocked gently on the lass of his door.
“Come in.”
Taking one final breath, you turned the knob and entered.
The first thought you had was that Aizawa looked a lot less put-together than usual. Choosing to leave his hair loose rather than up in its usual half-up half-down style and wearing his button-up with the first two buttons loose, exposing a smattering of chest hair where it sat against his torso, and he was wearing his glasses when he would usually wear contacts.
Lord have mercy.
You closed the door gently behind you, willingly walking into the lion’s den.
“Four minutes.” He said, his eyes not leaving his computer screen.
You blinked in confusion.
“Excuse me?” You asked, brows furrowing.
Now he looked up at you, leaning back in his chair with a self-satisfied smirk on his face which you desperately tried to keep your eyes on as his shirt pulled taut across his broad chest.
“That’s how long you stood outside debating whether to come in before you knocked.”
You turned to look back at the door, only now noticing that you could indeed see the shadows of people passing by behind the glass. You let out a groan and turned back to him.
“Do you want me to do this qualification or not?” You asked bluntly. “Because I can leave now.”
Aizawa threw up his hands in mock surrender and held one out to take the forms from you as you took a seat on the opposite side of is desk. He looked over them and began to type something into his computer as you were left to look around his office.
On the right, a massive window lit the room in natural light despite the tint preventing people from looking in. It had a view of the central campus which was constantly a hive of activity with students travelling to class, to study, or even just to sit on the grass and relax. On the opposite side stood floor to ceiling shelves filled with books in every genre you could possibly imagine which made you insanely jealous, especially when you noticed that some were first editions and near impossible to get. Just below the window sat a leather couch which you could tell had been hardly used by its condition, and next to it stood another, smaller shelf with a record player on top of it, and a collection of vinyl below.
You pulled your eyes away from the dark oak décor of his office when he leant back from his computer and slid his glasses up onto his head and turned his screen towards you with a tired rub of his eyes.
“Fill these in.” He pointed towards several boxes on his laptop screen before sitting back again. You take a couple of glances at him between typing.
“Long night?” You ask, looking at the slight shadows under his eyes.
He laughed softly.
“You have no idea.” He responded.
If only you knew he had spent the night gripping, squeezing, exploring and lusting over your vulnerable, sleeping state.
You turned the screen back to him and watched as he continued to type. Only this time you couldn’t help but notice the way his hands moved deftly across the keyboard. You watched his long fingers hit the keys and traced the veins in the top of his hands with your eyes up into his forearms, to the crease of his elbow where his shirt sleeves sat sinfully rolled up revealing his pale skin. You watched closely as he drew his thumb over the knuckle of his index finger effectively producing a pop as it cracked.
I wonder how they would feel on my-
“Y/N? Are you listening?” Aizawa asked, his dark eyes trained on your face.
You jump back into reality.
“Oh! Sorry I missed that.” You say with a nervous laugh. “I zone out when a room is warm.” You stutter, scrambling for an excuse.
Well, you couldn’t exactly respond with “Oh sorry! I was imagining what it would be like for you to be three fingers deep inside of me!”
Aizawa raised a brow at you, and his eyes darted over to the very open window that was letting a cool breeze into the room.
“I just asked if you had any questions about the course.” He repeated, much slower.
You flush bright red upon seeing that the window was open, and quickly squeak out an answer while standing, desperate to leave as fast as possible.
“No! No, I think you cleared everything up! Yep! No questions at all.” You say, stumbling through your sentence. Aizawa stood from his desk and stretched, making the bottom of his shirt rise slightly and reveal pale skin just above the waistband of his trousers.
Jesus fucking Christ.
He walked by you to open the door.
“If you have any questions, you have my email. Otherwise I’ll see you on Monday, Y/N.” He said, watching as you walked past.
“Thank you for your time.” You walked past him, breath hitching as he lay a hand on your lower back to usher you out. When the contact left your body, you turned back one more time to meet those obsidian eyes.
“The pleasure was all mine.”
Upon returning to your apartment, you threw your bag down onto your bedroom floor and flopped onto your bed with a frustrated scream.
You had tried so hard to get Aizawa out of your head, but the shape of his hand resting firmly at the base of your spine felt burned into your skin, and the space where it had sat was still tingling.
Get the fuck out of my head!
You couldn’t erase the way that his hands had looked as they ran across the keyboard with precision, or the way the skin of his toned stomach had revealed itself with a stretch. Shamefully, you began to feel the beginnings of your arousal pooling in your gut as you continued to think about your boss.
Squeezing your thighs together, you desperately tried to erase any thoughts of attraction you had by scrolling through your phone, but after opening and closing apps for a while you realised that the thoughts weren’t going away.
“Fuck it.” You said to yourself, pulling your shirt off over your head.
Leaning back, you closed your eyes and focused on the remaining sensation of his hand on your back, remembering the way he had guided you out of his office.
You began to run your hands up your body, squeezing gently as you went and stopping to grab firmly when you reached your breasts. You let a shaky breath out as you began to squeeze and pinch your nipples, allowing the sensitive feeling to run through your body, only increasing the build-up of desire coursing through your system.
Leaving one hand at your chest, you allowed the other to fall between your now-spread thighs, teasing at the sensitive skin there as you allowed yourself to imagine it was him touching you with skilled fingers, not yourself.
Would he be this gentle? Or would he grab at you with desperation, unable to wait any longer to get his hands on you?
Slowly, you slid your hand under the waistband of your panties, feeling the silky material stretch slightly as you slid your fingers into your folds and let out a sharp gasp at how sensitive and wet you found yourself. Gently, you began to rub circles around your sensitive clit, allowing yourself to get lost in your fantasy a little deeper and let out a small moan.
Would he tease you first? Run his hands over your body as you squirmed in his hold, squeezing in warning when you moved too much for his liking? Or would he be cruel by hooking your legs over his, keeping you spread open so those deft fingers could work you up, over and over again until you’re begging for mercy?
You pushed two fingers into yourself as you imagined that, curling them just so, and pushing yourself ever closer to your inevitable climax.
I would want him to push me around.
Your fingers begin to move faster, back arching from the mattress slightly.
You sit in his lap with your back to his chest, legs hooked over is strong thighs. Skirt still on, shirt popped open to reveal your breasts to the cool air of his office. One hand was wrapped around your throat, keeping your head pulled back against his shoulder so he could bite and lick and suck and mark your neck, claiming you as his territory. The other hand disappeared beneath your underwear, curling into your walls, hitting just the right spot every time while the palm of his hand ground against your sensitive little clit which screamed for more attention.
That image did it for you. Your back arched further and you let out a gasp as you finally reached your peak, your fingers continuing to move as you rode out the remainder of your orgasm.
Breathlessly, you slowly sat up against your pillows and swiped across your face with your non-soiled hand.
What the fuck was that?!
Chapter 10: 10
Notes:
WARNINGS: Semi-public masturbation
Hi guys :)
Thank you for the support so far. I appreciate it all very much, especially when I've been so slow at updating. All of the comments and kudos genuinely mean the world to me and help motivate me to keep writing, you are all too kind :')
Thank you again, and I hope this was worth the wait <3
Chapter Text
Sleep didn’t come easy to you that night. You spent the entire night tossing and turning and replaying the events of the previous day.
How the fuck had he gotten into your head this easily? A few looks, and a couple of moments of touch and he had you like this?
Your obsessive thoughts were only interrupted by the sun piercing through the blinds, and the sound of your alarm beginning to vibrate and beep from your phone, signifying that your fitful night’s sleep had come to an end. With a rub across your eyes and a slight miserable whine at the thought of leaving the warmth of your cozy bed, you picked up your phone and turned off the alarm with a push that was more forceful than usual.
You were about to put your phone back down on the bedside table, when a news alert with a very familiar face caught your attention.
MISSING: Dante Taylor.
Your heart caught in your throat at the sight of it. The picture was the one from his university photo ID, and the article detailed his degree course, where he lived and other information. If the picture wasn’t proof, the information was damning. This was definitely the Dante you had been out with.
Stumbling up with part of the blanket still wrapped around your leg, you hurry into the living room, hair still knotted from sleep and pyjamas hanging from your frame awkwardly. Max looked up from his phone and his brow creased in concern when he saw you, already knowing what you were going to say.
You held up your phone.
“This has to be a sick joke right? There’s no way he’s missing?” You start, voice coming out fast and stuttered, clearly displaying your stress and anxiety at the situation. Max stood and took your hands.
“His family hadn’t heard from him in a few days, that’s why the report went out. I’m sure he’s fine.” Max explained in a slow tone, as if approaching a scared animal. You look back down at the article.
“Max, this says the last time they had heard from him was the night of our date! What if something happened because he took the time to drop me off? What if-“ You hadn’t noticed your eyes had begun to fill with unshed tears until Max took your face in his hands, and made you look directly at him.
“This is not your fault.” He stated firmly, using his thumbs to wipe your falling tears away from your cheeks.
“You did nothing, and there was nothing you could have done.” He continued. “I guarantee he’ll turn up fine in a couple of days. I bet he went away for a few days and just didn’t tell anyone. Worrying before something happens is stressing twice.” He drew you into his arms and helped you to take a few slow, deep breaths. The two of you stood that way for a few moments until you calmed down and your breath was even once more.
Max drew back slightly to look at you.
“You can’t worry about this today.” Max said firmly. “You have to go and learn how to be an awesome lecturer from your attractive boss.” He joked, trying to lighten the mood. You have a half-hearted laugh at that, but your cheeks flamed a bright scarlet at the same time. Max let out a scandalised gasp at that.
“Is that a blush I see?!”
You waved him off and went to grab your lunch for the day. Max followed, practically skipping with glee at the newfound revelation.
“I still don’t know how to react to the whole ‘paying for my degree’ thing! Lay off!” You say, fanning your face slightly to try and cool it down.
Max doesn’t have to know that you touched yourself to the thought of being spread out on his lap last night.
With Max’s teasing lilt still ringing from where he had re-situated himself on the couch, you gathered the rest of your supplies for work along with an extra notebook. You truly had no idea what Aizawa had in store for you today, so you figured it would be better to be overprepared than underprepared.
“Have a good day-y-y!” Max shouted as you put on your shoes to leave. You gave him a look and made eye contact with the biggest shit-eating grin you’d ever seen in your life.
“Learn lots! But make sure it’s from behind a desk, not under his!”
Max didn’t have time to duck before the slipper hit him squarely in the forehead.
You opened the door with your back so as not to spill the coffees you had bought on your way in. As always, Aizawa was there already setting up for the class. It was a seminar today, rather than a lecture which afforded more opportunity for students to ask questions and have discussions rather than simply sitting and listening.
He looked up from his desk when you entered the room and gave a thankful grunt when you placed one of the coffees next to him. He picked it up and motioned for you to walk with him to the back of the room. Your breath hitched slightly when he guided you by your elbow towards the desk where he wanted you to sit.
“I’m not expecting you to know anything today.” He explained as he pulled your chair out. “I am expecting you to ask questions and make notes. That’s how you learn.” You pulled out your notebook as he was speaking in preparation for the beginning of the seminar.
“You’re not stupid.” He said. “As long as you listen, you’ll be fine.” He walked away after that, leaving you wondering whether him calling you ‘not stupid’ was a compliment or not.
You weren’t left in your thoughts for too long though, as students began to filter through the door and take their seats. Some of them looked at you in confusion, as you never usually join for the seminars. Your support wasn’t often needed there, but from today you were going to be taking on more of a studious role.
It didn’t take long for the last student to arrive, and for Aizawa to begin speaking to the class.
You had been in his lectures many times before, but now you were truly watching him teach. It was entrancing watching him weave explanations through stories, while taking on the thoughts and opinions of the students. He listened to each opinion so closely, and even gave them extra things to consider, including recommendations for other literature they might enjoy based on what they pulled out of the class read.
The way he asked them questions was equally mesmerising. He constantly pushed and probed their minds to make them consider their thoughts in full and get them to explain their rationale. It was unbelievably clear that he was very good at what he did. Aizawa was the kind of teacher that could make anyone fall in love with his subject.
It wasn’t just the teaching though, you thought to yourself as you continued scribbling questions and notes. It was just him.
The dark eyes, the long hair. The way he carried himself with such confidence, as if he knew every word he spoke would be correct before it even left his mouth.
Your pen stopped in its tracks as you caught up with your own thought process and looked up once again, only to make eye contact with the man who was currently occupying your thoughts.
A ghost of a smile split his face when your eyes met. It held for a few moments, before you began to feel your face heat up and you forced yourself back down to your notes, face still filled with blazing heat.
God, you were so screwed.
“Lunch?”
Now that snapped you out of your working mindset. You blinked and looked up to see Aizawa looking at you from across the room.
“I’m sorry?”
“We should go over your notes.” He spoke slowly. “It’s one o’ clock.” Still slowly. “I wanted to eat. You don’t have to.” The sarcasm oozed from every pore now.
Jesus Christ.
“That sounds good, if you can leave the sarcastic tone here.” You retort, raising one eyebrow at him in challenge. He lets out a huff that disguised his laugh at your comment, secretly impressed with the challenge in your tone. He looked at you with mock defeat in his eyes.
“No so-called ‘snarky’ comments I swear.” He says, leaning against the wall while he waited for you to pack up your notepad and laptop. “Believe it or not, I do actually care if you pass this course.”
You tossed a look at him over your shoulder.
“Do you really? I couldn’t tell from the amount of money you spent.” You teased, a small grin on your face as you walked past him to the door. “I’ll have to figure out what you want in return.”
He laughed at that and said something about how your progress was enough for him, but the voice in his head was screaming:
Sweetheart, you have no idea.
God, he just couldn’t take his eyes off you.
The way your brow furrowed slightly as you listened to him answer a question he had only been half listening to.
The way your lips wrapped around the straw of some overpriced coffee you insisted on paying for despite his offer to do so.
He fucking loved how headstrong you are. Every jab and sarcastic comment sending a jolt of excitement through his body, as each one was another layer he looked forward to breaking as soon as he got his claws into you.
He loved the way that you moved. Every subconscious shift in your seat, watching your hips move just so. The way you picked at your nails when you felt a little nervous. The way you tucked your hair back behind your ear to keep it out of your face. The way you stretched your whole body when you became slightly stiff from sitting for a while. The way you let out little noises you let out when you did so. The way your aching joints popped every now and again with your stretch, which forced Aizawa to claw back the urge to massage the pain out of them. The way you uncrossed and recrossed your legs when the position got uncomfortable. The way you pulled your sleeves down to cover your hands when you were cold. The way you would tap your foot in thought when he asked you a particular question that made you think a little more deeply than before.
Aizawa couldn’t help himself. He wanted to know everything about you, to peel back the layers of your mind and understand how you work, and how best to break you down, and how best to rebuild you to be completely his. To be reliant on everything he gives you, and to do everything he could possibly wanted.
You had begun to pack your things after your lunch, thanking Aizawa for taking the time to talk to you, and deciding to head to the library to study more with Max. It wasn’t Aizawa’s fault that his eyes were drawn to the curves of your body as you stood. Watching as you bent slightly to pick up your bag and admiring the way your trousers hugged your ass and thighs and framed them perfectly for him. He let his eyes linger until you turned to say goodbye to him, when he innocently gave you a list of things to support your studying, and you took it with a grateful smile.
God, your smile.
You walked away as Aizawa began to leave after you, and head to his car. His mind whirling with the thoughts of things he wanted to do to you.
He wanted you all to himself, his hands on your skin, worshipping you the way you deserved. There wasn’t another person alive who wanted to know you as intimately as him, and you didn’t even know. He allowed his mind to wander even further when he was back in the drivers seat of his car.
Had you thought about it too?
Had you thought about his hands on you, gripping at your hips as he pulled you to him, standing over him in his desk chair. That nervous look in your eye, breath hitching as you watch his thumbs rub circles into your skin, skimming just under the soft material of your shirt.
Aizawa was incredibly lucky, as his car was in a quiet, secluded part of the staff car park. So there was no risk of anybody walking by as he popped the button on his trousers and pulled his hardening dick out into his hand.
He could picture it so clearly, as he began to jerk himself off. Images of him pulling you down into his lap, legs spread over his thighs, sensible skirt riding up higher, threatening to expose you to him. His hands running further up your shirt, toying with the band of your bra as he pulled your face to meet his in a passionate kiss.
His hand moved faster as he imagined the noises you’d make. Would you whimper as he gripped your skin? Let out soft moans as his tongue fought its way into your mouth, dominating the kiss, moulding it the way he wanted? How would you look when he runs a hand to the front of your body, pushing a hand under your bra to grab at your breast, and pinch at your sensitive nipple? He could picture you jerking in surprise against him at that, and then hiding your face in is neck as his other hand begins to toy with your sensitive clit over your underwear.
He could almost feel the crescent shape of your nails digging into his shoulders as he pictured himself slipping his hand into your underwear, gathering your growing wetness on his hand and slowly pushing two fingers into your tight hole. He increased his pace again as he imagined himself releasing your breast to pull your head away from his neck, forcing you to make eye contact with him as he pulls the hair at the nape of your neck. Aizawa could almost feel the way that your hips would rut against him as he curled his fingers, searching for the spot that would make you come undone all over his hand.
He could feel his release quickly approaching as he imagined himself increasing the pace at which his fingers thrusted into you. The soft whimpers you had been letting out into his neck had morphed into full-on moans with his hand in your hair, forcing you upright and letting out sinful noises that echoed off the walls of the room.
His hips jerked off the seat of his car as Aizawa’s release it him hard. He sat back in his seat, chest heaving, low groans escaping his throat as he came down from his high. He stayed there for a moment, before a low laugh rumbled through his chest as he looked at the mess he had made on himself.
Oh, (Y/N). Look what you did now.