in-universe, 18+, nsfw- no detailed sexual acts, endearing, cussing, about 1.3k; reader is a UA faculty member, shota's adoring thoughts (in italics), parallel hers in ways she wouldn't expect (narration is primarily her perspective); est. relationship, both ~30 reader, Black/fem; as always, imagine what you'd most enjoy!
"Shota, I can help y-"
"No way," he grunts, clawing through a third, well-worn expanding file folder. "Gimmie two seconds- I know exactly where it is. Just don't go anywhere, so I can read it to you. Nezu's lost his mind this time."
Of course you'll stay put; you enjoy these hasty, haphazard hunts of his far, far too much to miss the next few minutes. Happily sidelined and sprawled on cool, jersey knit bedsheets, you watch the man you love do his thing: He shuffles through dangerously high stacks of loose paper and books, scoffing and mumbling in partial sentences, "Higari's not thinking... alphanumeric codes- for what? Ha... those kids'll... keh elevators? How's that gonna... about a hundred false alarms... no way I'm dealing-" You swear the friction from his spinning mental gears is exhaust producing.
... you in bed... in our bed... god, and I'm rummaging around like an idiot...
He's hell bent as usual on reading these procedures to you, excited and ready to scrutinize each word like a corporate lawyer buried in high-stakes litagation. All UA policies receive the same treatment, and when he's satisfied with his work, he pridefully plops them- covered in scribbled, illegible notes- on Principal Nezu’s desk, expecting full adoption of his revisions.
As a second-year UA student import, you'd become an oddly well-fitted fourth wheel for Shirakumo, Yamada and Aizawa, then spent the next 14 years in deep friendship, and effortlessly bantering with, Shota. Slow-burning, provocative romance finally conquered you both last year, for ages so longed for. But after its initial seismic release, you started to feel out- and worry about- whether what worked as friends still... worked. Those silly exchanges were part of what made you such an ideal pair, so you confidently continued your well-honed cadence of exasperating the shit out of him.
Shota, grumpy, nutty professor, is on full display, and by now he should know- he's begging to be teased. You quickly weaponize his top three most disliked behaviors in other people: Loudness. Cussing. Ridiculousness. And you'll absolutely add a side of pet names. Of course he'll be irate and hush you; he has a decade and a half's worth of experience tolerating your antics admirably.
"FREEZING... WARM... HOT HONEY, HOT!"
...thought I’d hate pet names... but these... from you... I love them... I love this...
"Be. Quiet. I've gotta concentrate. I told you I know exactly where it is, but you might as well help instead of bugging me..."
...your voice. I don't care about decibels or what you say, as long as I can hear it...
"A) Hell no- the window for aid closed five minutes ago baby, B) You aren't hunting a wild animal my darling, so I'll be as noisy as I damn well please, and C) I know ya wanna, but ya can't expel me... WAIT! Shit it's right
Shit there sweetheart! Under that book-"
...you sound so damn sexy when you cuss...
"Shut up, you. Geez, annoying me really is your secondary quirk, isn't it?"
"Yep." He glances your way briefly and witnesses your carefree, beaming smile. His grumblings rarely affect you; he knows he’s brusque, he knows he's impatient, but here you are, resting content and close.
...can't believe you put up with me- thank you...
He eventually, very roughly, drags a thin document from the pile, and sheets instantly fly in all directions, like a flock of birds shocked by a sudden thunderous boom. These routine search and rescue attempts tickle the hell out of you, and so does your dresser's surface- for years hardly used- now cluttered with piles, red pens, worn leather gradebooks, pink sticky notes and a dried out yellow highlighter. The cap is long gone, likely welcomed by a post-laundry missing socks society. Efficiency, environmental stewardship, not a single argument for anything digital wins against his stubborn choice to print any and everything, and mark it all up with Shota-speak comments and symbols. He bends over with a grunt to grab what’s fallen, accidentally losing again the very information he’d just found. You love him for all of it.
When he lived alone, stacks rarely plummeted to the floor, he never lost a cap, and he found what he needed in seconds. Not that your campus apartment together is the problem- the problem is you. Freshly showered, dark dewy skin, the room faintly scented with eucalyptus and coconut oils... you're his real, most worthy distraction, always.
...you smell so good, god you're beautiful...
“Don’t you laugh.”
"But Shota, I love to laugh at you." You never miss an opportunity to laugh at Shota Aizawa, so you do. And when Shota Aizawa's within arms reach, you never miss an opportunity to kiss him. After finding the copy, he plops down in bed next to you and you get him- a zillion kisses in rapid succession.
“Stop it... this is important!" You feel the hot skin of his cheek scrunch into a lopsided smile, and a quick snicker bursts from his mouth.
...it isn't important at all... you are...
“I win and now call to the stand a very vexed, high-brow professor. Please proceed,” you state plainly, thrilled to add laughter to his life.
...you're ridiculous ya know. I love that about you, I wish I were more- you're... wonderful...
“Procedures for Student Dormitory Access,” he announces formally, clearing his throat. But those kisses, and who you are, they scramble his brain.
...you're warm, you're always so warm...
"Gotta smooch you while you read it babe.” Your nose smashes into his cheek again. Just one. He'd wanted to finish shrewdly editing and ripping apart just one policy...
...rip you apart, destroy you, make you cum, cum inside you again and ag-
"Hello, hellooo... you there, my esteemed colleague- you've yet to begin over-analyzing, er reviewing-"
"Your British accent is still terrible-"
...dammit so damn sexy...
You're sure he's eager to dig his nerdy fangs into the meat of it, so you pause your badgering.
"I know, I know... I'll work on it. Alright, please read it. I'll stop being a pain in the ass, I promise. I can't remember, is 'ass' a no-no? Anyway I read it yesterday, and I've got a few notes too. Nezu has the right idea, but the whole process is more like an exercise in theory; far too cumbersome for stude-" Your head turns towards him as you speak, and you stop abruptly.
His eyes, typically sleepy and bloodshot, reveal overwhelming depth and feeling that few notice- but you do, every bit of it: Whether his pupils dilate, his blinks change in speed or his lids shift to shield one quarter or half of his eyes... And his face- a slight protrusion of the vein on his right temple, a cool reddish pink dusting his cheeks or a twitch of his lips, all have meaning.
Now, under soft yellow light, his hair piled high in a sloppy bun, Shota frowns, tilts his head slightly backwards and blushes differently- a warm, deep red. You know the look; it's seductive, smoldering, puddling you like warm jelly. He wants you, he wants you now, and you, beholding his expression, immediately need his hands, his lips, his cock in or on every inch of your body, all at once. You've done nothing other than expertly irritate him for the last few minutes, which seems to you to be the opposite of alluring. Your eyes flash widely with surprise as his hands gently cup your cheeks.
"Shota. Fuck me," you whisper with an intensity absent of all humor. But embarrassment freezes your limbs. Shit, surely he had only a quick kiss planned and a return to reviewing the damn policy.
"Shota- oh- I'm so s-sor-"
...still surreal... you want me... me...
"Mm. Yeah, I will. But say it again," his voice husky and so sincere; he's quietly turned the tables, abruptly ending all silly mischief. Your head leans to the side.
"I want you to- fuck me." You must sound so awkward, so foolish; you brace for a big taste of your own medicine. But god he would never. Not during a moment so precious as this. Instead, his eyes sparkle.
"Honey, sweetheart, baby... babe, was it? Call me anything. Be as loud and ridiculous as you want. Cuss. Cuss all the time. I love it and I love you. Now say it again." He kisses your open, jaw-dropped mouth, and continues to make you say it, while he fucks you with passion unparalleled.
...Shota- you stun me, you're beautiful, your voice, your brooding, your everything... I love you... this- this thing with you is wonderful... you love me, only me... thank you. fuck me. rip me apart.
