After that night, everything changed.
It wasn't just sex.
It wasn't just tension.
It was need.
He was careful—always after hours, always locked doors. He never touched you in public, never gave himself away. But behind those closed walls?
He worshipped you like something forbidden.
Every glance during class held weight now. Every training spar, every brush of fingers—supercharged with memory.
But he also kept his distance during the day, trying to stay professional. Trying—and failing—to pretend he didn't remember the way you moaned under him.
You remembered everything.
How his voice broke when he came. How he kissed your neck after. How he lingered afterward, pretending he didn't care.
But he did.
⸻
You started sneaking into his apartment three nights a week. He lived off-campus, small and spartan. Cold floors. No decorations. But the bed was always warm when he pulled you into it.
He didn't say much—never sweet words, never confessions.
But his hands spoke louder.
They told you things he couldn't say.
Like when he traced the scars on your hips and pressed his lips to each one. Or when he pulled you into his lap and let you ride him until you were shaking.
"Say it," you whispered once, grinding against him. "Say you want me."
He gripped your thighs tighter, his voice gravel.
"I want you."
You came undone at the sound.
⸻
But even this couldn't last.
One night, you came over with a bruise on your cheek—from a rogue training incident with Bakugo. Aizawa's eyes darkened when he saw it.
He touched your cheek carefully, like you might break.
"What happened?"
"Training accident."
"Was it deliberate?"
"No. I can handle it."
He looked like he wanted to kill someone.
You touched his hand. "You don't have to protect me."
"Yes, I do."
And that night—he was different.
Softer. Slower.
He took his time undressing you, tracing every inch with reverence.
"Tell me if it's too much," he murmured as he eased between your thighs.
"It's never too much."
He made love to you that night—not just fucked.
And afterward, he didn't pretend it meant nothing.
He pulled you against his chest and whispered against your temple, voice cracked and tired.
"I can't lose this."
YOU ARE READING
Shadows between the lines (Aizawa X student reader
FanfictionYou were just another student at U.A.-until he looked at you differently. Eraserhead was supposed to be off-limits, but late nights, stolen glances, and shared secrets made that impossible. The tension is electric, the rules are strict, and the desi...
