The underground doesn't follow the same rules as the surface.
No PR.
No sponsors.
Just danger.
Dust.
And legends.
You and Aizawa ran a two-person agency now.
Unregistered. Off the grid. Special ops only.
Villains whispered your names like curses.
Civilians passed stories about the "Silent Eraser" and the "Shadow Girl" who didn't play by the system, but always saved the day.
⸻
You lived on the edge of the city in a quiet, fortified home.
Your bedroom overlooked the lights from the hill.
Your patrol gear was hung on door hooks.
Your coffee mugs didn't match.
And your bed?
Still the safest place on earth.
You woke up with his arms around you.
Always.
Your legs tangled, your thighs sore, your neck marked from the night before.
Aizawa still wore black.
Still hated mornings.
Still kissed your shoulder like it was instinct.
"You hungry?" you murmured.
He grunted. "Only for you."
You laughed, smacked his chest, and padded off to make eggs.
He followed a minute later, still shirtless, hair tied low.
Kissed your neck from behind while you stirred.
"Stop that," you muttered.
"Never.
At 4:15 p.m., a mission alert pinged.
You both read the encrypted message together.
High-risk villain sighting. Civilian cluster.
Request: Silent approach. Stealth duo. Lethal optional.
You looked at him.
He nodded once.
"Let's end it quick," you said.
He smirked. "So I can get you back in bed faster?"
You didn't answer.
You didn't need to
You landed from the ceiling, slammed the target unconscious in under 8 seconds.
Aizawa neutralized the Quirk mid-air.
No blood. No screams.
Clean exit.
No one ever saw your faces.
You got home late.
Showered first.
Hot water. Soft light.
Steam curling around your thighs as you washed the soot from your chest.
You didn't hear the door open.
But you felt him behind you.
⸻
[SMUT — Soft, Slow, Worship, Reward]
He stepped into the shower fully clothed.
You gasped. "Shouta—"
"I needed to touch you."
You turned to face him, water dripping down your skin, eyes wide.
He kissed you like you were air.
Hands cupped your breasts, then dropped to your waist, pulling you tight against his soaked body.
"Two years," he whispered. "And I still can't get enough of you."
⸻
He dropped to his knees, the water drenching his clothes, and ate you out with slow, lazy strokes like he had all the time in the world.
You gripped his soaked hair and moaned into the steam.
He made you come once like that.
Then again with two fingers inside you, curling perfectly.
When he finally stood, he didn't take off his clothes.
He just pushed inside you against the shower wall — strong, slow, grounding.
You gasped, legs around his waist, slick heat making you arch.
"You like that?" he growled.
"Yes—fuck—yes—"
He thrust deep.
"Say my name."
You moaned, "Shouta—"
He kissed your throat.
"Say it like you own it."
"Shouta, I—God, I love you—"
⸻
You came so hard your knees gave out.
He held you up. Came with a growl. Pressed his forehead to yours.
And whispered:
"Forever."
He dried your hair later while you laid in his lap, half-asleep.
You wore one of his old shirts.
He wore nothing but a blanket.
Your fingers traced his arm lazily.
"Still think they'll talk about us?" you asked softly.
He looked down, smirked.
"They already do."
⸻
Six months later, you were asked to guest speak at UA.
You stood in front of a new generation.
Told them the truth.
That heroism was about more than power.
It was about love.
Sacrifice.
Fear.
And fighting anyway.
They gave you a standing ovation.
But your eyes?
Only searched for one man.
And when you saw Aizawa in the back of the crowd, smirking, arms folded—
You smiled.
Because you'd already won.
⸻
THE END
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...
