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  Shōta would admit that he liked dressing up when it came to sex. He indulged Hizashi’s desire to see him in too-tight lingerie he was near bursting out of, a collar, or even once, for some reason, a wet t-shirt. It certainly excited the blond and he never minded — who was he to argue what Hizashi found sexy? After all, Hizashi wore whatever he wanted; towering heels, his own set of lingerie, and while Hizashi and Nemuri wore matching skimpy Halloween costumes, Shōta often requested or got to see one of the outfits in bed.

  The tiny, tight nurse’s costume was one of Shōta’s favorites so far.

  So when Hizashi had asked him to wear his leather jacket, one of the larger ones he owned that would fit Shōta’s muscle mass, when they had sex, of course he’d agreed. It had been only a little uncomfortable, a little too tight and stifling with his body pressed onto their kitchen table, but the way he felt wonderfully sore for awhile after getting fucked so roughly, he wondered distantly what Hizashi might be like in his clothes.

  At the time he had dismissed the idea — he had seen Hizashi in his clothes since they had become friends and started staying over at each others’ houses. He ended up bringing the idea up to Nemuri when they next hang out together and the topic of sex is brought up.

  She’s been helpful in, well, since Shōta had met her, but she definitely planted a few interesting ideas in his head. One of them being, most obviously, Hizashi in his hero costume. He had seen Hizashi wrapped up in his capture device before, both in and out of the bedroom, but never his jumpsuit and goggles.

  He was never incapable of bringing things up when it came to sex. If he was into something Hizashi would be told and they would either discuss it and try it, or.. well, Hizashi was adventurous and after his beginning bout of shyness they would enjoy whatever new prospect brought into their bedroom.

  “Would you wear my costume in bed tonight?” Hizashi looked up from where he was covering some poor student’s essay in red ink, eyes peering over his sunglasses to inspect the near-empty staff room. Nemuri was in the corner by the coffee machine and Snipe seemed to be asleep on his desk. He turned to Shōta with a smile. “Hell yeah.”

  It was when they got back from school and had completely relaxed, Shōta with a real meal and Hizashi’s hair manageable, he had near forgotten. The paper in his hands was promptly finished with a mark of a passing grade and, because he may have been biased toward a certain transfer student, a paw sticker was stuck onto the top.

  “Oh, ah, Shō?” He perks on the couch when his husband’s voice comes from their room, then realizes what was taking the voice hero so long to join him.

  Shōta sets the assignment to the coffee table with the others and, ask he passes the genkan, he registers that his capture device is still where it should be. His goggles are not. His pace quickens and when he reaches the bedroom his breath catches only slightly. Hizashi sits at the end of the bed with his feet laced into a set of heavy boots; a pair of his own, as Shōta’s would be too wide and short, his legs spread wide and hands resting behind his back on the bed.

  The jumpsuit is unzipped just enough to reveal the broad, lean physique of a hero who does not rely on close combat; Hizashi’s shoulders are wide and his chest tapers out gorgeously to his slim hips and thighs, a mouthwatering combination and one that often allows Shōta to lift his husband without difficulty.

  But in the baggy black suit, it’s hot. Hizashi is often swallowed by the large clothing Shōta buys for himself, but the way he’s adjusted the costume has it hanging at the edges of his shoulders to reveal his nipple piercings, stopping just before the reveal of the jewel in his naval. Perched in Hizashi’s hair are his goggles, sitting at the top of his head and rounding to disappear in the silky relaxed strands of bright blond.

  “Oh kitten, you don’t have to stare,” Hizashi’s grin is dirty and his voice purrs. Shōta feels blood rush and moves closer until his legs hit the bed, body bracketed by slim thighs disappeared into baggy black clothes. He skims his fingers over the show of Hizashi’s chest. “I’m glad you like it so much, should I tie you up with your capture weapon?” Shōta scoffs.

  “You know how to use it but not well enough to not accidentally choke me out.” Hizashi laughs and stands abruptly, swapping their positions and pushing Shōta onto the bed where he crawls backward to rest near the pillows. “I could if you want.” Hizashi tosses a leg over his hips and his hair back over his shoulder, lowering himself to first press a kiss to Shōta’s cheek, lips skipping down to his jaw and neck, alternating between sweet kisses and sharp bites. Shōta brings his hands down to inspect the odd patch on the thigh after his thumb rubs across it.

  “Did you put on my old spare?” Hizashi hums through the skin caught in his teeth, sinking a bite in before he responds. “Yeah! So we can ruin this if we want,” Shōta turns his head to bring his husband into a kiss, opening his mouth immediately to allow Hizashi’s over eager tongue to slip inside. His hands continue wandering into the open jumpsuit, pinching one of Hizashi’s nipples in a pass of rough fingers. Shōta relishes the higher pitched sound it brings.

  They part to allow Shōta a moment to breathe. Hizashi’s tongue drags across his own swollen lips and he tips his head just as his hips lower to grind against the bulge in Shōta’s sweatpants, causing him to groan and gaze up at his flushed partner while the suit is unzipped further. “You’re wearing panties?”

  A high laugh is his answer. Hizashi sits up, then directly onto his dick where it begins to ache from the confines of his underwear. Shōta watches Hizashi finish unzipping the suit, the broken zipper line allowing the blond to press further until the bright, thin yellow underwear is revealed. It barely contains Hizashi’s leaking cock, damp spots clinging to the first row of piercings. Shōta’s palms grab handfuls of the small ass dropped onto his dick.

  Hizashi’s noises grow suspiciously breathy and his hips rock harsher, rolling and thighs jerking and flexing. He catches his bottom lip between his teeth and Shōta props his feet up while his fingers make contact with a slick mess of lube where they inch forward to feel a thick, solid base stuffed into his husband’s tight hole.


  His cock twitches in his pants and underwear at the very thought of Hizashi lying on their bed with his fingers stuffed inside himself to fit the toy before fucking himself on it. Shōta is unable to resist grinding harsher on the toy, the friction on his cock wonderful and the sight of Hizashi in his costume, hair held back by his goggles, his husband’s pierced cock dripping into matching panties, it’s enough that Shōta just wants to fuck him already.

  “Dirty, ‘Zashi,” His hips stop their jumping so he can twist the toy inside Hizashi, grinning when the man above him moans and tightens his grip on the admittedly tight t-shirt Shōta wears, shoving it up to his collarbones with a high sound. Shōta pulls the toy out and thrusts it in roughly. “First panties, now this?” Hizashi tangles his fingers upward into Shōta’s body hair with his tongue between his lips, eyes lidded and gaze filthy.

  Shōta only pulls his hands from the jumpsuit to shove the toy in harshly, pushing his sweatpants and underwear down to release his fat, wet cock. Hizashi tugs only light enough at the hair on Shōta's chest to get just an annoyed look, pulling Shōta’s shirt up and off his head. “I can’t help it, kitten, you’re so hot. I only fucked myself on it a little.”

  Hizashi is yanked down with a fist in his hair, the clash of their mouths a little harsh but the sound the voice hero makes when Shōta bites down on his lip before shoving his tongue into his mouth is all worth it. He untangles his fingers from soft blond hair to bring both hands to the zipper of the old costume, bracing his hands on either side before tugging it with a short snap, breaking the tab and giving him enough room to push his dick between Hizashi’s thighs.

  “You’re soaked.” Before Hizashi can make a comment back, Shōta repeats the motion to tear at the thin panties. The blond squawks when they come free, tossed above Shōta’s head and ringing to land hooked around their headboard. The toy is torn free without warning, soaking the end of the bed in lube where it lands. “My — oh, god, baby, Shōta,” Hizashi hisses, palms planted on Shōta’s abdomen with his spine arched.

  Shōta pushes his cock between Hizashi’s ass, the fat head catching his stretched hole and teasing actual penetration before slipping through the abundance of lubricant, up to hit over the blond's own cock before rolling right back down. Shōta pushes his hips in another slow grind, admiring the way the broken jumpsuit framed Hizashi's body, barely holding onto his arms and thighs, bracketing his body in a thin frame. He distantly registered the sound of heavy boots hitting the bed before being kicked off to the floor.

   His attention is better focused on slim legs and the way they tremble, how Hizashi rolls into the rough, calloused fingers grind over the sensitive head of his dick, leaking freely and slicking Shōta's way when he strokes across the rows of piercings. Hizashi hisses and rocks his fingers and nails forward up across his partner's chest, tipping his hips with his tongue between his teeth and a sly grin. "You aren't being slick, 'Zashi." He laughs again and snakes a hand back to hold Shōta's dick in place as he begins sinking down.

  He grips Hizashi's thighs tight from the costume, bunching the fabric in his palms and spreading his husband's legs further as his cock is slowly enveloped in a soaking, heavy heat. His tongue piercing clicks out against his teeth when Hizashi lets his tongue loll out; Shōta is not sure if he is being cheeky, or if it's just one of those faces his partner seems to make whenever he's stuffed full, hips rocking in an easy, deep wave as he's settled completely on top of his sweet spot. "Oh baby, you're red," He purrs, light and breathy and dirty,  his cheeks lightly flushed and goggles slipping in their hold against thick blond hair.

  "You already know you're pretty. You don't need to hear it." Hizashi plants his hands back firmly onto Shōta's chest before he begins moving with the bruising, vice grip Shōta keeps on his hips. Shōta keeps his husband's legs spread unnecessarily far to enjoy the harsh stretch of his old costume under his finger tips, to feel Hizashi's hips work, his dripping cock bouncing along with his movement. "Oh, wouldn't hurt to—to hear, though, kitten, why don't you tell me," Hizashi sucked in a breath and arched his back while his chin dropped to his pink chest. "How much you love seeing me on your dick in your hero costume?"

  Shōta groaned and planted his feet on the bed to pump his own hips quicker, drawing out with a tight squeeze and thrusting back in with a delicious, wet resistance. His pace grew faster, the old costume tearing further when Shōta kept his pace harsh and fast. The goggles slipped from Hizashi's head and to his chest, swaying on his collarbones in a way that tugged the burning coil in his gut tighter. "Slutty, Hizashi. You just want to get fucked." His husband's loud, eager moaning did nothing to change Shōta's mind, only growing when he flipped the pair to pipe his hips in as harsh as the odd draw of fabric between them would allow.

  Hizashi twisted the yellow goggles in his fingers with a shaking grin, trembling with his noises while long legs fought their way from the oppressive costume, his left leg slipping free to force Shōta's hips to grind harsher, his cock pummeling into Hizashi's sensitive bundle of nerves while he trapped his partner's hips with his arms squeezed in tight, cock twitching and muscles tense. "Yeah! Oh, Shōta, Shōta, Ah," A devious, filthy look grew onto his husband's face, eyes rolling shut and chest arced out. Shōta pressed his lips to Hizashi's neck, moving up to suck marks just below his ear on sensitive skin, dropping his body low to grind against Hizashi's dick with every ruthless thrust.

  Hizashi sucked in a breath and dug his nails into Shōta's back, letting out a cry that boarded on painful, "Eras—oh, babe, baby, Eraserhead!" Shōta would be embarrassed about how that's all it took later, that a cry that left his head a little achy of his hero name was all it took for him to come. A single thrust that hurt even Shōta's hips into Hizashi's clenching, rippling insides before emptying deep into his hole.

  Until Hizashi began whimpering lightly, over sensitive and understandably whiny, letting out a heavy breath when Shōta removes his teeth from his husband's neck, a bite he had not realized he made. He spread his thighs in the suit, head tipped back and leg pushing back into the pants for the erasure hero to see the mess of come and lube on the inside. Shōta groaned and sat back to catch his breath for a moment. "Oh, Shōta," Hizashi sang out with a hazy, pleasure-filled smile, "I didn't know you wanted to be called your hero name in bed, kitten, why not say something sooner?"

  Shōta rolled from the bed and stood on shaky legs toward their bathroom. "Shut up."