Shinsou feels like a fucking teenager sneaking into the agency’s bathroom, double checking all the stalls to make sure he’s alone, and hopping on the window sill to light a cigarette. He pushes the window open, leg hanging out of it, and takes a much needed drag.
Shit has been insanely stressful the last few weeks. They have had multiple high-level, top priority cases fly across multiple desks and somehow they all end up being thrown at Shinsou. It’s bullshit.
But he’s under so much stress he’s taken to sneaking smoke breaks in the bathroom, always careful to make sure a certain Sensei doesn’t find out. He’s been scolded so many times, each time those dark eyes leveling Shinsou with enough anger to level a city block. It really gives a whole new meaning to ‘if looks could kill.’
But fuck it, Shinsou is an adult and he wants it and so as long as he can keep hiding like this it shouldn’t be an issue.
Shinsou takes another drag, smoke pluming through his nose and out the window, and he finally feels himself relax just a little. He can hear Aizawa now, trademark scowl in place, scolding Shinsou for fucking up his voice and putting his quirk at risk. It shouldn’t be so hot, but fuck Shinsou loves the way he looks at him, even when he’s mad.
Yeah, he just needs to make sure his bathroom breaks stay secret.
Aizawa doesn’t know why his hand is resting on the bathroom door. Well, he does know, but it’s so far-fetched. Shinsou is only five minutes late to the debrief they were supposed to have after the day’s patrols, and he’s rarely punctual.
There’s no reason for Aizawa to check up on him this time, but he’s a man of instinct, and something tells him Shinsou’s up to something. Shinsou rarely isn’t up to something, but as his mentor, it’s his job to make sure his student’s at least being a decent intern to the agency Aizawa had gotten him placed in.
Aizawa hates agencies. Hates that he has to frequent one, just to give Shinsou the best shot he has at a successful hero debut.
One he won’t have if he ruins his goddamn voice with that goddamn habit—Aizawa pushes the door open. The bathroom is dark, dusky in the sunset’s half-light flooding through the window.
It picks up the edges of Shinsou’s hair, turning the unruly ends a luminescent mauve. The smoke from his cigarette floats in white-gold whisps, trailing out the window.
Shinsou is staring at him, violet eyes wide with shock. His mouth hangs open, cigarette hanging from his bottom lip. Aizawa stands there, nearly trembling with fury.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing,” he snarls, crossing the room with a few quick strides. Shinsou looks like he’s about to say something, probably to mouth off again, the goddamn brat, and Aizawa just can’t tolerate it. He grabs the front of Shinsou’s shirt before he can dive out the window like a complete idiot, and pulls him forward just enough to slam him back into the frame.
He ignores Shinsou’s pained cry in favor of snatching the burning cig straight out of Shinsou’s mouth, brandishing it in his face. He can see the embers of it reflected in those purple-white eyes.
“Smoking?” Aizawa snaps, his voice frayed with rage, “Again? I fucking told you to cut this shit out. You think you can be a hero like this? How are you going to trick anyone when you’ve ruined your voice? Do you really want to throw it all away, Shinsou? Hm? Did my training, my effort to teach you, mean nothing?”
Aizawa’s grip on Shinsou’s shirt tightens like he wants to shove him into the wall again. His shoulder aches where it connected with the tiled surface the first time and the idea of it happening again shouldn’t sound as appealing as it does in Shinsou’s head.
He doesn’t bother answering Aizawa, there’s no point because those black eyes look ready to slice him in half and Shinsou likes that look. As if it wasn’t bad enough he had a thing for his high school teacher/mentor, now Shinsou loves to provoke him every chance he gets.
The smoking has been a thing for a while now, and every time Shinsou gets caught it just gets worse. Aizawa gets angrier and angrier, and Shinsou is sure at some point he might actually toss Shinsou out a window.
Now is definitely not a good time to do it, but something, some absolutely moronic (read: masochistic) part of him wants to see how angry he can make Aizawa before he finally snaps. So, he grins and reaches for the cigarette even though he knows Aizawa won’t give it back.
“You should try relaxing, Sensei. Maybe you need a cig more than I do.” Aizawa looks murderous and Shinsou is hard within seconds. Yeah, he’s fucked.
“Ungrateful brat,” Aizawa growls, gripping Shinsou’s shirt so tight his knuckles hurt. He knows that look in Shinsou’s eyes, knows he’s testing Aizawa’s limits on purpose. He does it all the time. Aizawa has half a mind to let him see exactly what will happen if he goes too far.
Aizawa holds the cigarette just out of his reach, his mouth twitching with irritation as Shinsou half-heartedly grabs for it. “Don’t try me, Shinsou. You’re done with this.”
Shinsou’s pout is a work of art, eyebrows upturned, teeth glinting as he bites his lower lip in frustration. Aizawa can’t stop staring. It’s another thing Shinsou does on purpose—the teasing, the flirting, the unsubtle touching… It’s gone on since the kid turned sixteen. Even now, he’s got his leg propped up against the other side of the window frame, showing off the tent in the standard-issue sweats he’s wearing. It just makes Aizawa angrier.
He’s always been so good. Carefully not noticed Shinsou’s advances, been so fucking straightlaced you could use his spine as a ruler. And god, he’d love to break a ruler over Shinsou’s disobedient ass.
Aizawa takes a deep breath, lets it out. Lifts the cigarette to his lips, staring right into Shinsou’s impertinent little face. He goes slow, wondering absently if he can taste Shinsou’s mouth on the filter. Aizawa tracks the way Shinsou's eyes flit to his mouth, the way they widen as he takes a long, slow drag.
He holds it in his lungs, enjoying the warmth of it as he leans down, shoving his face right up against Shinsou’s. He holds his gaze, letting his fury show as he breathes out slowly, blowing smoke straight into Shinsou’s mouth.
“Is this what you wanted? I hope you’re happy,” Aizawa says huskily, not moving away. He can practically feel Shinsou’s hastened breath brush across his lips. “Because if I catch you doing this again, I’m going to get you fucking fired. The world doesn’t need more self-destructive heroes.”
Shinsou breathes deep, taking in the cigarette smoke while secretly hoping he can taste Aizawa on the incredibly erotic exhale. Aizawa takes the drag way too easily, like a seasoned smoker, and that knowledge alone does things to Shinsou that he and his cock cannot handle.
“It’s not even close to what I wanted,” Shinsou grits out. He’s torn between his hard dick and being pissed at the idea of Aizawa getting him fired. “But you wouldn't, you don’t have it in you. Not after spending years training me, sticking with this shitty agency just to keep track of me, and yes I know you wanted to leave till I got on. So stop posturing and give me back my fucking smoke.”
“Not a fucking chance,” Aizawa growls.
Ok, anger is winning out, but Shinsou is tired of the straightlaced bullshit. It wasn’t like Shinsou was chain smoking anyway. He mostly did it to fuck with Aizawa. That, and it was nice to escape for a smoke every now and again.
Shinsou pulls his leg from the window and turns so he can hop off the window ledge.
“Fuck it, just move,” he says. This may be the first time he’s cut their little back and forth short. Shinsou loves to flirt, to be as suggestive as possible to see if Aizawa will cave one day. He’s caught him looking when he thinks Shinsou can’t see him. He knows Aizawa is interested. But he won’t do anything because he’s a hero, a perfect fucking hero who wouldn’t jaywalk, let alone act on sexual urges toward an ex student.
“Keep the cig. Might take the stick out your ass and loosen you up a bit.”
Aizawa’s eyebrows shoot up. Shinsou is extra mouthy today, and Aizawa’s blood is running way too hot. It’s a dangerous combination.
Instead of moving out of the way, he steps between Shinsou’s legs, so close that his toes hit the wall, forcing Shinsou to spread his legs to accommodate his hips or risk being pushed backwards out of the window. Not that Aizawa would let him fall.
“You sure you want me to loosen up?” Aizawa rasps, his free hand grabbing the top of the window frame as he leans into Shinsou’s space. “You act real fucking cute, but you’re not gonna like it if you get whatever the hell it is you think you want.”
“Try me.” It’s out Shinsou’s mouth before his brain can play catch up. There’s a look in Aizawa’s eyes that’s feeding the part of him that craves the man’s heated gaze. “I'm a lot more than cute, but you know that don’t you?” He’s inching forward, face so close to Aizawa’s he can practically taste each of the angry man’s breaths. “You’re talking a lot of shit for someone so angry over a smoke. Your age is showing, Sensei.”
Aizawa’s jaw is clenched so hard he can practically hear his teeth grind. He forces himself to part his lips, taking another slow drag. He half-hopes it will calm him, but it’s just a reminder of why he’s so fucking pissed.
“You know it’s not just a smoke,” Aizawa tells him, exhaling smoke as he talks. It’s really not—it’s the countless forms of self-destructive bullshit Shinsou indulges in. He doesn’t know if it’s a cry for attention, if he’s just determined to make Aizawa go gray at thirty-five, if Shinsou is just so fucked up over the obstacles he’s faced that this is the only way he has control. But—
“I’m so sick of your bullshit,” Aizawa says, watching as Shinsou’s eyes widen. “You want it so bad? Fine. Let’s see how you like it.”
He holds the cig in his teeth, reaching down with a hand to grab Shinsou’s dick, hard. He uses the grip to pull himself in close, teeth snapping right in front of Shinsou’s face as he says, “This is your last chance to say no, kiddo.”
Shinsou’s knees nearly give out as he chokes on the half-formed comeback about to leave his lips. Aizawa’s grip is tight, and Shinsou can’t decide if he wants to pull away or get off on it. His teenage self is losing his mind at the contact, but it’s bordering on painful and Shinsou can barely catch his breath enough to grunt out.
“I’m all in, old man.”
“Damn,” Aizawa says. He can barely get the words out past the ringing in his ears, how the back of his mind is screaming at him that he shouldn’t do this, shouldn’t ever touch Shinsou—but he can’t feel anything except the rage heating his veins and the way Shinsou’s dick pulses eagerly in his hand. If Shinsou is all in, then so is Aizawa.
“If you’re going to act like a child, I may as well treat you like one.” As soon as the words are out of Aizawa’s mouth, Shinsou’s jolting up indignantly. Aizawa takes the chance to spin him around, pushing him forward so his legs are pressed against the wall, the window sill digging into Shinsou’s upper thighs. Aizawa yanks the back of his sweats down without warning, baring Shinsou’s ass. He pushes a hand between his thighs, grabbing Shinsou’s balls roughly.
“Say you’re sorry, Shinsou,” Aizawa demands, squeezing him. “Say you’re never going to smoke again.”
“ Fuck! Fuck you,” Shinsou wheezes as the hand on his balls grows tighter. This is the single greatest and worst moment of his life, and Shinsou’s head is spinning. “ Nothing to, s-shit, be sorry for.”
His heart feels like it will beat right out of his chest at any moment. Aizawa stands pissed and unforgiving behind him, and, even with a tight fist around his balls, he can’t stop antagonizing him, can’t stop running his fucking mouth.
“If this is all you wanted, Sensei, all you had to do is ask.” Shinsou spreads his legs a little wider, the hard edge of the window digging painfully into his thighs. “You can look all you want now.”
“Oh, I am,” Aizawa murmurs, taking another drag as his eyes trace Shinsou’s tight, muscular ass. He’s pale, skin smooth and still unscarred. Aizawa has a horrible urge to change that. He’d be so easy to mark. He exhales smoke out past Shinsou’s head. The cherry’s nearly down to the filter. A shame.
“You have a lot to be sorry for,” Aizawa says, voice low and rough. He runs his hand from Shinsou’s balls up to his asshole, toying with the rim for a moment. His hair is purple even here, and he’s clearly never bothered to groom anything. It hits Aizawa for a moment just how young he is. Has he even fucked anyone else? “But we can do this the hard way, if that’s what you want.”
He swats Shinsou’s ass, hard and fast, staring in fascination as color blooms in his hand’s wake. “Say you’re sorry, Shinsou.”
“Ah! Are you fuckin—” Two more quick, sharp slaps hit his ass, and Shinsou loses his train of thought to the pain blooming across his skin. Aizawa hits hard, and Shinsou is grabbing the edge of the window so hard it’s cutting into his hand.
“Fuck. You.” It’s more a growl than actual words, but he knows Aizawa hears him. “I’m not fucking sorry.”
Another smack and then another, and Shinsou is on his toes, back arched as he tries to run from the pain with nowhere to go. “Should light another one and smoke it while you spank me.”
Aizawa hits him again, hard, just for good measure. His cheeks are already splotchy red and white. He pushes his own hard-on against Shinsou’s ass, groaning slightly at the friction. It’s a fucking trip, to finally retaliate to years of antagonizing, and Aizawa’s control is slipping further and further from his grasp. Shinsou’s mouth is dirty, but the rest of him is still so sweet. Aizawa needs to destroy him.
He reaches down between Shinsou’s legs, fondling his dick briefly, humming to himself. “Still hard, aren’t you? Bit of a pain slut, but that’s good. Might make this easier for you.”
He puts hand in Shinsou’s hair, grabbing near the roots, pulling, making his back arch enough that it has to be painful. He grinds the filter in his teeth as he holds Shinsou’s hair with one hand, and spanks him with the other. Fast, uneven strikes, only stopping when Shinsou begins to cry out. He drinks in Shinsou’s pained breathing, and leans in to talk in his ear.
“Let’s try again, brat. You gonna apologize? Or are you gonna keep ruining your lungs?”
Tears are welling in Shinsou’s eyes and threatening to spill over with every hard smack to his ass. The pain is white hot, like fire spreading from his ass to his toes every time Aizawa swings.
“T-try harder, Sensei. I might actually think— ah! Fuck!” Shinsou nearly screams and the sound echoes around the bathroom walls. Aizawa’s smacks are getting harder, faster, and Shinsou’s legs are shaking.
“I-I just might think about apologizing for you being so fucking predictable,” Shinsou pants out in ragged breaths. Even now he can’t make his mouth stop. His ass is screaming and even the air around them hurts where both his cheeks are no doubt flaming red. “You can do better than that, can’t you, Sensei?”
“Predictable? Even when you get what you want, you complain.” Aizawa sighs, pulling Shinsou back against his chest by his hair. Shinsou keeps his face turned away, like a perfect little brat hiding his teary eyes. “You think you fucking know everything. It’s always the same thing with young people.”
He grinds his cock against Shinsou’s sore ass, drinking in his pathetic whimpers. It shouldn’t get him so hard, to see Shinsou in pain, but he’s straining against his jumpsuit, and the urge to bend Shinsou over the windowsill and fuck him till he sobs is getting strong.
But that would just be giving Shinsou what he wants, and then he would learn nothing. Aizawa is a teacher, after all.
“So is that it?” Aizawa asks coldly. “You think you know shit about me because I taught you? You think I’m some fucking All Might-brand, goody-two-shoes hero who’s never done anything worse than run a red light?”
He pushes Shinsou forward, hard, enough that he’s flying through the window, yelling in alarm. Aizawa grabs his hips, fingertips catching around the ridge of bone, thumbs digging into his ass as he catches him. Shinsou’s crying out again, hips twitching in his grip as his hands fumble to find purchase on the outside of the building.
“Think again, kiddo,” Aizawa says, his words languid and mean-spirited. “You think I’m good because I’ve been good to you. Intentionally. Because I thought you had potential. But if you don’t give a shit about that, if you want to throw that all away... then I don’t see why I should fucking bother.”
He hears Shinsou’s quick intake of breath. Maybe the idea of Aizawa abandoning him hasn’t occurred to him yet, or maybe he’s afraid of that specifically. Either way, Aizawa’s at the end of his rope. He’s sick to death of seeing his best student routinely self-sabotage. He’s been angry about it for so long that now his rage has found an outlet, he can’t stop it. Doesn’t even want to, not when it gets him so fucking hard.
“I’m done giving a shit,” Aizawa drawls, saccharine-sweet. “You want a smoke so bad? Fine. You can have the rest of this one.”
“What?” Shinsou’s head snaps around, teary eyes finding Aizawa’s immediately. Aizawa keeps hold of Shinsou’s hip with one hand, finally pulling the cigarette from his lips with the other. He leers at Shinsou, knowing full well he looks deranged but he’s way past caring. He’s never been harder in his life, and he’s not going to stop until Shinsou’s sobbing and full of his cum.
“I’m not nice,” Aizawa says simply, “and I’m done being nice to you.”
He doesn’t hesitate. Aizawa meets Shinsou’s eyes as he presses the burning stub of the cigarette into Shinsou’s perfect ass. Well, it was perfect. Now it’s Aizawa’s, which is even better. He can practically hear the sizzle of flesh in the brief, shocked moment before Shinsou reacts.
There are a thousand thoughts screaming through Shinsou’s head, but nothing comes out of his opened mouth as he stares at Aizawa with wide, shocked eyes.
The pain is unlike anything he’s ever felt before, and suddenly Shinsou isn’t sure who he’s dealing with. There’s a part of him that’s scared, that doesn’t even recognize Aizawa right now. But he’s hard, harder than he’s ever been, and the contrast between his body and his mind in this moment has Shinsou unable to form coherent thought, let alone words.
Aizawa twists the stub against his abused ass and the sound that leaves his throat is closer to a wounded animal than anything human. “ S-sensei! ”
He’s staring into those black eyes, and something else is looking back at him. It’s not Aizawa, at least not the one he’s come to know, to lust after and torment in every way he can think of. The man behind him now looks cruel, utterly pleased as he puts out the now-extinguished cigarette on Shinsou’s ass.
He tries to move, tries to pull himself back into the bathroom — but it’s futile and the fear begins to settle deeper in Shinsou’s gut.
“P-please, Sensei, I-I can’t.” Shinsou has no idea how to finish that sentence. He doesn’t know what he wants, but the groan that’s pulled from his throat when his cock is pressed into the wall seems to decide his fate for him.
“Can’t what? You finally gonna apologize?” Aizawa sneers, his rough voice crawling over Shinsou’s skin and making his cock throb.
Shinsou clenches his teeth and turns so he doesn’t have to look into those dark eyes anymore.
“N-no.” He wants to apologize now. Wants his old sensei back, but the one with him now brings out something in Shinsou he’s not ready to examine just yet. “ No.”
“No,” Aizawa repeats in disbelief, feeling his cock pulse at the simple word. His stomach is twisting, a volatile mix of desire and pride, because hell, he knows how hard he hits, knows how it feels to have embers pressed into his skin. Shinsou is tough if he’s still managing to be such a brat. He really does deserve to be broken with the best Aizawa has to offer.
Aizawa holds Shinsou’s hips, rutting against his ass, letting himself indulge in how good the friction feels against his dick. He needs more, needs to push inside him, find out how well Shinsou can take his cock.
“Open your mouth,” he demands. Shinsou looks at him over his shoulders, defiance and alarm in his gaze. His eyes catch the dying light of the setting sun, glowing violet and too beautiful to belong to the dirty boy bent over in front of Aizawa.
“No?” Aizawa says, unbothered. He slaps Shinsou’s ass, right over the burn, drinking in Shinsou’s shout of pain. He lets it go on for a moment, enjoying the way Shinsou’s ass cheeks twitch and clench against his cock. God, fucking him is going to be even better.
Then he reaches under Shinsou’s arm, pulling him a little more upright as he gropes over his face, feeling for his mouth. Shinsou’s teeth snap shut.
“God, it’s like you want this,” Aizawa groans, starting to feel drunk on power. He doesn’t even stop to think if he’s going too far, just digs his thumb right into the wound on Shinsou’s ass like he’s trying to make it deeper. Shinsou screams, squirming deliciously, and Aizawa takes advantage of the opening to shove all four of his fingers into Shinsou’s mouth.
The shouting turns into choked gurgling, and Aizawa has to school himself not to come from the feeling of Shinsou’s throat convulsing around his fingers alone. He finally stops pushing into the burn, if only because he’s slightly concerned about people hearing them, and instead grabs the hair at the back of Shinsou’s head, pulling him back up enough for him to force his hand deeper into Shinsou’s mouth.
“There you go,” he says, “get my fingers nice and wet. You should thank me for doing this much, as if an ungrateful brat like you would ever show gratitude.”
Shinsou gags around the fingers in his throat again. He wants to retort, to tell Aizawa to fuck off… or keep going? His brain can’t decide on a course of action when all he can feel is the pain radiating from the spot where Aizawa put the cigarette out on his ass.
The hand in his hair is getting tighter and tighter, and Shinsou’s cock weeps pitifully every time Aizawa grinds against him. He shouldn’t like it, shouldn’t want it when seeing Aizawa like this is scaring the fuck out of him. But every word, every touch and spike of pain has Shinsou desperate to push a little harder, to get under Aizawa’s skin and see just how far he can push until Aizawa finally breaks.
Shinsou shudders, the burn of the cigarette and his abused ass and now the fingers shoved down his throat are proof enough of what can happen if Shinsou keeps pushing.
It’s a fucking rush.
Shinsou’s heart is pounding when he starts rolling his tongue along Aizawa’s fingers, soaking them in spit and groaning when Aizawa hums behind him in approval.
He tests his luck, because he wants and he wants to test Aizawa’s resolve. Shinsou leans back into Aizawa’s chest, body arched uncomfortably with those fingers still gripped tightly in his hair, and grinds his ass against the cock pushing against his ass. It leaves Shinsou lightheaded.
He keeps it up, sucking on the fingers and rubbing his ass against Aizawa like a bitch in heat. The fingers push farther down his throat and Shinsou chokes so hard his body tenses and convulses.
“Greedy brat,” Aizawa growls, right against Shinsou’s ear. “You like it so much, hm? Should’ve known you’d be a whore.”
He pulls his fingers from Shinsou’s mouth, grabbing his jaw instead, keeping his face tilted up at an uncomfortable angle but still allowing him to speak. Aizawa takes his other, dry hand and presses the pad of his thumb against Shinsou’s little hole. He can feel the ring of muscle twitching under the light pressure, just as slutty and eager as the rest of him.
“Do you spread your legs like this for everyone? Or just for me? Have you been saving yourself for me, Shinsou, or am I getting sloppy seconds? Thirds? How many people have you begged to fuck you?”
“N-no one!” Shinsou voice is raw, gravelly from Aizawa’s fingers. “I’m not a fuckin’ whore.”
It's only a partial lie. Shinsou has never fucked anyone else, not because he didn’t want to but because his schedule doesn’t allow for it. That, and maybe he’s been dreaming of dark hair and dark eyes for far too long.
“Why the fuck would I save it for you?”
Aizawa can’t hold back his laugh. God, it’s too precious, the perfect virgin whore bent over before him and still spitting out defiance.
“That’s probably the only smart thing you’ve said today,” Aizawa snorts, pushing his dry thumb inside Shinsou without warning. Shinsou tries to jerk away, making sounds of protest, but Aizawa just chases him with his hand, cock throbbing as he feels Shinsou clench around his knuckle. “But fuck, kid, you shoulda picked someone better than me for your first time.”
Shinsou is straining and pulling against Aizawa’s hold on his chin. “Wait, wait! At least, fuck, at least use the wet fingers, asshole!”
It fucking hurts, the dry push of his thumb against such sensitive skin. Shinsou is shaking where he’s trying to pull away, to run from the spiking pain shooting from his ass to his toes and everywhere else.
“S-stop, I can't!”
“Aw, you can’t?” Aizawa grins, satisfaction blooming hot in his chest. He doesn’t take his thumb out, but he does stop moving, letting Shinsou catch his breath. “Alright, you little brat. You ready to apologize? Ready to say you’re sorry for wasting your Sensei’s time? I’m not unreasonable.”
Aizawa stopping is worse than the slow push of his thumb. Shinsou feels full almost, but he needs more, or less, or something. “Can’t, fuck, I can’t. Stop stop stop.”
He’s not going to apologize, he won’t. But taking the stretch, that dry friction is too much and Shinsou wants to scream.
“This is your fault! You apologize!”
The words freeze Aizawa in place. He’d almost been enjoying himself, but god, Shinsou has to ruin everything. He grits his teeth, face twisting as he yanks Shinsou’s head back by his chin, pushing his thumb in up to the second knuckle hard, the rest of his fingertips nudging Shinsou’s balls. He ignores Shinsou’s yelp, pulling him flush against his chest, savoring the strain in his arms as he tries to hold the squirming boy still by just his face and his ass.
He talks in Shinsou’s ear, low and furious. “Maybe I should apologize,” Aizawa snarls, “for wasting my goddamn precious time on an ungrateful brat like you.” The way Shinsou trembles in his grasp isn’t lost on him, and he can’t help himself as his voice turns toxic-sweet. “I’m so sorry, Shinsou, for making you think you could be a hero.”
Shinsou’s heart stops and drops into his stomach at the cruel words. Aizawa has never been so cruel or heartless, and Shinsou is shaking .
He’s pushing his thumb deeper and deeper into Shinsou with each ragged breath the younger hero takes, and Shinsou has never hated his own dick so much. It’s hard and throbbing between his legs, standing red and angry against his stomach where it twitches and bobs the deeper Aizawa’s thumb goes.
He wants to sob from the intensity of it all. Did Aizawa really mean it? Did he regret making Shinsou his protege and training him? Did he regret everything?
Before he knows it there are tears streaming down his face, hands gripping at Aizawa’s arms and hands still gripping him tightly. “You’re lying.” It’s a broken whisper, barely audible even with how close they are. “You—you don’t mean it, do you?”
“Come on,” Aizawa says, loosening his grip on Shinsou’s face just enough that he can turn his head to fix those glassy eyes on Aizawa. There’s a faint shine of hope in them, one Aizawa ruthlessly crushes. “Didn’t I train you better than this? Don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answer to.”
He leans in, closer, so he’s practically embracing Shinsou from behind, their lips nearly touching. “Why wouldn’t I mean it? What have you done that I should be proud of? When’s the last time you did anything but shit all over my attempts to help you? I wasn’t wrong—you did have potential. I’m just sorry I couldn’t stop you from throwing it all away.”
“Maybe this is all you’re good for now. Just a hole for me to fuck. I guess I can give you that much, for old time’s sake,” Aizawa sighs.
“No, no I—” It hurts, it fucking hurts hearing Aizawa say these things and mean them even as he slowly rolls his thumb in Shinsou’s ass. It’s all you’re good for. It echoes in his head over and over, and Shinsou can’t fight the tears anymore.
“Sensei, I—I’m…” It shouldn’t be so hard, just apologize and it all ends. But of course, Shinsou could never do anything the easy way, which is exactly why he’s in this fucked up situation now. He pushed too hard and got exactly what he wanted.
“I’m s-sorry.” Shinsou feels so fucking small. He and Aizawa are almost the same height now, and he still feels so fucking small as he breathes the two words between them. Part of him hopes Aizawa won’t hear it, that this will keep going until it ends with Shinsou broken and fucked in the dirty agency floor.
But the sane part of him, the one latching on to Aizawa’s words, his anger, just wants to make things right. Wants to be better for Aizawa and make him eat those words.
“ I’m sorry, Sensei .”
“Fuuck,” Aizawa groans, unprepared for how much it would turn him on to hear those words. He pushes himself against Shinsou’s ass, not caring that he’s pressing his own hand into him hard, not caring that Shinsou’s crying in his grip. He rolls his hips, eyes fluttering shut as he drinks in every little choked sob, every wave of heat that rolls through his body.
“Bet you’re so sorry,” Aizawa rasps, unable to stop humping Shinsou, “fuck, you look so pathetic right now. Say it again.”
“I’m sorry,” Shinsou sobs out, and the words go straight to Aizawa’s dick.
“Shit, need to be inside you,” he grunts, dropping his hold on Shinsou, careless of the way he nearly falls out the window when Aizawa lets him go. He’s unzipping his jumpsuit, letting it fall down to pool around his knees, pushing his underwear down just enough to free his aching dick. The night air is cold against his skin, and the old undershirt he’s wearing really isn’t enough to keep him warm. The things he does for Shinsou.
He bends Shinsou back over with an uncaring hand placed on his spine, rolling his tongue around his mouth before spitting straight down onto Shinsou’s hole.
“That’s enough, right?” He moans, impatiently rubbing the head of his dick up and down between Shinsou’s cheeks. “You’re gonna be good for me, aren’t you? Take my cock and tell me how sorry you are, like a good little whore.”
Shinsou uses the window to balance himself, every filthy word Aizawa utters washing over him in tandem with the distinctively slutty feeling of Aizawa rubbing the head of his cock over Shinsou’s hole over and over.
He wants it, wants it more than anything, and finds himself pushing back with encouraging little movements to get Aizawa to move, move faster.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, so so sorry—“ He’s chanting it over and over again until he feels the head begin to push forward, sink in, and Shinsou is groaning, the sting bringing more tears to his eyes.
“Oh, oh fuck, S-sensei—big, b-big too much.” The stretch is pulling the very air from Shinsou’s lungs. His groans are turning into pained moans, and the deeper Aizawa sinks, the louder and more pained, more broken they sound.
“Sensei, I’m sorry ! I’m sorry, sorry. I’m sorry—”
Aizawa slaps his ass again, hard, cutting off Shinsou’s cries as he sucks in a shocked breath.
“I know you are,” Aizawa scolds him, groaning as he finally bottoms out. “Do you really think that’s enough?”
Aizawa hits him again for good measure, moaning when he hears Shinsou’s soft sob. Shinsou just sounds so good, all wrecked like that, obedient and begging for Aizawa’s approval.
“Fuck, your little virgin ass is so tight. Not for long, though,” he murmurs, running his hand up Shinsou’s back, feeling how tense he is, the way he’s trembling. “Gonna fuck your hole wide open, you brat. And you’re gonna thank me for it.”
He feels so fucking full .
Shinsou's entire body tenses and clenches down on the cock buried deep inside him. He doesn’t even have time to dwell on the fact that he’s just given his virginity to his teacher, his mentor and the man he’s been mentally and sexually tormenting since he was sixteen.
All he can focus on is the way Aizawa is suddenly moving inside him, pulling all the way out and slamming back in so hard Shinsou shouts from the force of it.
There’s a string of unintelligible words falling one after the other from Shinsou’s lips as he’s rocked painfully into the window sill.
“Please, please—” Shinsou begs, hand moving to grip his dick and causing Aizawa to groan when Shinsou tightens around him from the stimulation. “I’ll do better, I promise! Shit, don’t stop.”
Aizawa groans above him, hands tightening painfully on his hips as he slams back in again.
“So good, so fucking good, Sensei.”
“F-fuck, take it,” Aizawa grunts, pulling out just enough to push back in, making Shinsou jolt against the window sill. He’s so tight, and the drag on his cock is driving him insane. “You like it hard, don’t you? Always gotta make things fucking hard.”
With a groan, he pulls out suddenly, ignoring Shinsou’s wail or protest. He spits on his palm, saliva mixing with the wetness leftover from Shinsou’s mouth and strokes his cock. He squeezes his dick for a moment, admiring how debauched Shinsou looks, bent over, begging for his cock like he can make everything better by taking a bit of cum.
“Alright,” Aizawa says finally, slowly feeding his cock back into Shinsou’s abused hole. “Impress me. Tell me every fucking thing you’re sorry for; show me that you’re not just a worthless hole for me to fill.”
He grabs the windowsill on either side of Shinsou’s hips, pulling himself forward as he drives deep into Shinsou, again and again.
“Tell me,” he snarls, bent over his back, filling the bathroom with the echoes of his balls slapping against Shinsou’s ass.
“Shit, shit, wait! Fuck, it’s too much!”
“Too much?” Aizawa snaps, not slowing at all. “Isn’t this exactly what you wanted?”
Yes? No? Shinsou doesn’t know anymore. All he knows is Aizawa is splitting him in half in the most brutal way possible, and he’s struggling to hang on at all.
“I want it, just n-not like this.” He’s choking on each word, Aizawa slamming into him hard enough to knock the breath from his lungs. So, he does as he’s told.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry for being so awful. For always— fuck, for making you miserable and for, for throwing away my potential just to fuck with you.” It’s almost impossible to talk with how he’s being railed into the wall. But the more he talks, the harder and faster Aizawa goes, and Shinsou craves it.
He’s not actually sorry for any of these things. Shinsou fully plans on doing it again and again even after this, but Aizawa doesn’t need to know that—not yet.
“S-sorry I’m such a problem for you. Sorry you caught me smoking again—I’m sorry you had to fuck me to show me how awful I am.”
“Sorry you got caught, huh? Little bitch,” Aizawa says, slowing his pace to a slow drag in and out, trying to pace himself. “What did you think was gonna happen? I’d just tell you off, let you go? Or did you think I’d fuck you all sweet and soft?”
He groans at the thought, wrapping his hands around Shinsou’s hips, thumbs rubbing circles into his lower back. “Did you think I’d take care of you? Be gentle with my student, teach you how to take cock just like I taught you everything else you know?”
Aizawa rolls his hips, closing his eyes, thinking of all the times he’d imagined doing just that. But it was an impossibility, always had been. If he was that rational, he’d never fuck Shinsou in the first place.
“Mmm,” he says, cock throbbing as he considers it, “coulda been calling you my sweet boy, my perfect boy. But what do you fucking give me? Some bratty slut who can’t even deal with his hero career while I’m practically holding his goddamn hand through it. You should be apologizing for that.”
“ I’m sorry! ” Shinsou sobs as his hand tightens around his cock.
He steps a bit away from the wall, pulling Shinsou with him as he makes room for them. “It’s okay though, little whore. You can show me how sorry you are. Fuck yourself on my cock, and if you can actually be good enough to make me come, maybe then I’ll decide you’re worth my time.”
Shinsou releases his cock in favor of balancing both hands against the wall so he can rock back against Aizawa. “I will, I’ll do it. I promise.”
He’s never been more motivated. Not when training at UA, not when working on his internship or finding an agency. Shinsou has never been more motivated to succeed than he is right now, split open and begging on his sensei’s cock.
Shinsou tries to pick it back up the pace Aizawa had originally set, hips rolling back in rough, uneven jerks that leave himself gasping and chasing his own orgasm along the way.
The sweats bunching around his knees make balancing hard, unable to spread his feet far enough apart to get the leverage he needs, but Shinsou makes do by using the wall to push back.
Aizawa’s fingers tighten against Shinsou’s hips again, and he takes it as a sign that he’s doing something right, especially when Aizawa starts talking again, filth and moans and insults trailing one after the other until Shinsou is fucking himself so hard, ruined hole sucking Aizawa’s cock in greedily. He almost loses balance and knocks them both to the floor.
“So close, Sensei—so, so fucking close please!”
He has no idea what he's begging for when Aizawa is making him do all the work, but Shinsou can’t stop, not when he can feel his orgasm rolling through his gut and ready to top him over the edge.
“Please, please come. Come inside, make me yours. I’ll be so good! I’ll be better, work harder—please, come!”
“Oh fuck, baby, that’s good,” Aizawa groans despite himself, trying desperately to keep his own finish at bay. Shinsou looks amazing when he begs like that, ass milking Aizawa’s cock like he was made for him. Aizawa feels obsessed, unable to stop staring at the way his dick disappears into Shinsou’s ass.
“You take it so well,” Aizawa praises him, holding him still with one firm hand. He spreads Shinsou’s cheeks with the other hand, fingering the puffy, swollen rim carelessly before pushing his thumb in alongside his dick. “Come on this, if you like it so much.”
Shinsou is coming whether Aizawa wants it or not. The added pressure, Aizawa’s thumb sliding in wetly alongside his cock, sends Shinsou spiraling towards his own release.
He’s losing his rhythm, hips jerking back and slamming into Aizawa as he chases the very peak of his orgasm. Aizawa’s thumb presses further in, and on the next chaotic roll of his hips it fixes the head of Aizawa’s cock straight into his prostate.
It’s a pained, animalistic noise that’s entirely too loud for the small space. But Shinsou isn’t in control anymore, not that he’d ever been in control before, and he’s wheezing by the time he’s covered the wall in front of them, his sweats, and his shoes in his cum.
Shinsou clenches around him as he comes, unbearably tight, and suddenly Aizawa can’t take it anymore. He jerks Shinsou off his dick while he’s still spurting out feeble stripes of cum, throwing him to the floor.
Shinsou lands hard on his back, staring up at him with wide, glassy eyes, his flushed dick making a sad little pool of cum on his stomach as his orgasm finally peters out. Aizawa is so fucking close that it hurts, and he’s falling over Shinsou, dropping down so his knees are by his head, pinning his upper arms down with his shins.
“Fuck, couldn’t make me come, could you,” Aizawa says, pushing the head of his cock into Shinsou’s mouth. It doesn’t matter that he’d been right on the edge for most of it. “Maybe you should’ve”— Aizawa groans at the wet heat of Shinsou’s mouth —“should’ve cared about your throat, if you didn’t want me to use it like this.”
He grabs the back of Shinsou’s head with both hands, fingers winding through soft hair as he tugs him closer, pushing his cock down his tight throat. From the second he put his fingers in Shinsou’s mouth, he knew he needed this, needed to shut Shinsou up with his dick.
He groans, low and deep, shoving Shinsou’s nose into the thick curls of hair at the base of his dick, eyes rolling back in his head as Shinsou chokes, body jerking under him in protest as Aizawa mercilessly cuts off his air.
He comes almost instantly, vision whiting out as pleasure slams through him, ears ringing with the muffled sounds of Shinsou struggling to breath. He’s groaning unintelligibly, perfectly mindless as he sends wave after wave of cum down Shinsou’s throat.
He doesn’t pull out until his dick is softening in Shinsou’s slack mouth. Shinsou looks… rough, eyes glazed over, face red, cum he couldn’t swallow dribbling from the corners of his mouth. Aizawa feels distant, like he’s floating, not entirely able to believe he really just did that. He wipes his cum off of Shinsou’s face, somewhat concerned at how limp he is in Aizawa’s grasp.
“Shinsou,” he says, giving him a little shake. Shinsou’s eyes open to mere slits, locking onto Aizawa’s gaze as tears spill out of them. He doesn’t know if it’s just residual tears from being choked or if he’s really emotional, but it still has Aizawa heaving out a long sigh.
He gets off of Shinsou just long enough to pull his underwear back up because it’s still cold, before he pulls Shinsou onto his lap.
“Talk to me, kid,” Aizawa says gruffly, trying to stave off the storm of regret that’s already fast approaching on the horizon.
Shinsou is lightheaded, his vision is blurry around the edges from lack of oxygen and his throat is sore .
“‘M fine,” he croaks out, Aizawa’s hands cold where he’s pulled Shinsou into his lap.
He feels himself shaking slightly, from the adrenaline or the cold he isn’t sure and is trying his hardest not to care either way. Shinsou’s body is heavy, his ass is sore—fuck, everything is sore.
He tries to get up, he doesn’t want to sit there and listen to Aizawa say more cruel things, he can’t handle that right now, could barely handle it before. But Aizawa’s arms tighten around him and he’s too tired to fight it.
“Don’t have to hold me. ‘M ok, Sensei.” Even as he says it he’s sinking deeper into the solid wall of Aizawa’s body. He’s always loved how Aizawa hides his strength behind baggy clothes and a tired facade. But he’s strong, so strong, and right now Shinsou has never loved it more.
“Can get up… just need a sec.” His words are slurred a little, fuck, he’s so tired, but he’s never been held like this, and the fact that it’s Aizawa of all people is fucking with his head. Shinsou just had sex with his walking wet dream, the man he’s been shamelessly flirting with for years, and he’s got the burn on his ass to prove it—ok, maybe this could have gone better? But it’s still the most amazing thing that’s ever happened to him, even if Aizawa was doing it to fuck with him.
“I really am sorry… well, kinda, I think.” Shinsou buries his face into Aizawa’s neck and breathes in the scent of him, wraps his body just a bit tighter around him and lets himself enjoy it while he can.
“Brat,” Aizawa sighs, winding a hand through Shinsou’s sweaty hair as he holds him close. “Are you ever really sorry?”
He’s coming down fast, his anger at Shinsou draining away like the sun sinking below the horizon. He’s glad the bathroom lights have timed out. The remnants of what they’d done are muted by the dark, and there are things he really doesn’t want to see in sharp fluorescents.
Maybe he’d taken things a little far. A lot far, in a way he probably only got away with because Shinsou is Shinsou. Tough as nails and spitefully determined not to give a shit about what society says about him—like maybe how being railed by his mentor in their agency’s bathroom is very definitely wrong.
“Guess it’s good enough for now,” Aizawa says, holding Shinsou’s shivering body a little tighter. He’d been furious, sure, but not just at Shinsou. At everything, at the way the agency overworks him, at how society treats the un-marketable issues of society and the people who try to solve them, at himself for failing to be a better mentor for Shinsou.
But Shinsou’s the one who’d borne the brunt of his rage. Aizawa sighs, suddenly feeling unbearably tired, dirty, and old. Maybe he wants to make it up to Shinsou, just a little.
“Alright,” he says gruffly, “you stubborn little shit. I know you’re pulling this crap because you’re struggling. Tell me what you need, and I’ll see what I can do.”
Shinsou doesn’t wanna talk, doesn’t wanna answer any questions, he just wants to sit in Aizawa’s lap and enjoy the way he holds Shinsou so tightly. But he also knows his mentor far too well and knows if he doesn’t answer Aizawa will just continue to nag him until they end up fighting again—that sends a shudder straight down Shinsou’s spine, the idea of them doing this again.
“I don’t—I don’t know.” He does have a million questions but has no idea where to start. If he needs anything it’s answers and he’s not sure how much Aizawa will give him. So he pulls himself closer and rubs his face into the side of Aizawa’s neck.
“Tell me what happened just now? I know I can be… a lot. I know I’ve always driven you crazy, but I didn’t know it was this bad. Am I really so awful?”
“Even worse,” Aizawa mumbles, but is taken aback when Shinsou stiffens in his arms. Is he actually worried? That’s out of character enough for the eternally-smug kid that Aizawa feels himself soften, just a little.
“You’re a menace,” Aizawa says slowly, “but it’s not a bad thing. You’re gonna have to be dangerous to live the life you’re planning on. Just pisses me off when I can’t help you. It’s not just you. Whole system is rigged against everyone who doesn’t suit the spotlight. Gets me furious. Frustrated. And then you frustrate me even more, and…” Aizawa shuts up, feeling like he’s revealed too much. He’s supposed to be a solid presence in Shinsou’s life, not crumble in front of him.
“And you have to fuck me in the agency bathroom to relieve said stress...” Shinsou interrupts.
Aizawa growls, already annoyed with Shinsou’s quick return to being a pain in his ass. “You trying to tell me you weren’t desperate for it? You took it better than I thought you would.”
“Desperate is a strong word…” Shinsou can’t even hide his smile. “It’s not a secret I’ve been very bold with my… advances since I was sixteen.” Shinsou was awful, especially in the locker room.
“It was a lot, but it was good . I’ve never come so hard in my life.” It’s weird talking about it with Aizawa but every word is true. “I just never thought you’d actually give in, and not like this .” Lucky Shinsou.
“Yeah, well. It’s not happening again.” Aizawa knows he took it too far, even if Shinsou seems like he can handle it. “You’re too… young to take the kinda shit I do. And I don’t want to use you for this.”
With a grimace, he removes his hand from Shinsou’s hair, setting it awkwardly on his own knee, abruptly uncomfortable with how intimate it feels. Like Shinsou is his to hold, to comfort, when he’s anything but.
“You’re gonna need to disinfect that burn,” Aizawa settles on saying. “It’ll get nasty if you leave it. Probably should get an STD panel, too.”
It takes Shinsou a moment to process the rest of what Aizawa says because he’s stuck on the part where the man whose lap he’s sitting in after having been fucked to within an inch of his life—that man just said they weren’t going to do it again.
“What if I want to do it again?”
“Tough shit, kid,” Aizawa says, a little nastily. “Can’t always get what you want.”
“Am I gonna have to chainsmoke an entire carton of cigarettes to get you to spank me again? I don’t know... that’s a lot of burns but I’m game if you are.” Shinsou retorts with a smirk that makes Aizawa glare daggers at him.
The rage hits almost as fast as the desire, and Aizawa is getting conditioned to be aroused by the strangest things. He can only hope Shinsou didn’t feel the way his dick’s already showing interest, twitching beneath Shinsou’s perfect, abused ass.
“Not happening. Give yourself lung cancer, for all I care,” Aizawa growls. “If I see you smoking another one of those things, I’m done. I’m not gonna sit around and waste time on you if you don’t give a shit. Fucking you was a mistake.” An incredible, mind-blowing mistake that Aizawa wants to make again and again—even if he’ll never let himself. “If you’re so fucking set on driving me away, I can’t stop you.”
Shinsou finally pulls his head from Aizawa’s neck to stare directly into those endless black eyes. “You’re a pro, Sensei, you’re supposed to be a better liar than this.”
Shinsou shifts in Aizawa’s lap, no longer being held but wrapping his arms around the older man’s neck and letting his knees rest on either side of his hips.
“I can be very persuasive when I want to be.” Shinsou rolls his hips, feels Aizawa’s dick resting perfectly against his ass, and grins as he leans into Aizawa’s space. “You know you loved it, Sensei. Or was I not everything you wanted?”
“I want you to behave yourself for once,” Aizawa mutters, sliding his cold hands over Shinsou’s ass and gripping so hard Shinsou flinches. And god, that shiver goes straight to his cock, and he really can’t help using his hold on Shinsou’s ass to grind him against his lap, nails digging into his sensitive skin. “You wanna get hurt that bad?”
“Yes.” It’s out so fast it even surprises Shinsou. He liked it, liked being hit and burned and fucked hard.
“Why,” Aizawa groans, leaning back against the wall as his dick throbs just from Shinsou’s simple answer.
“Because it’s you. Because I liked it. And because you like it when I’m an awful, ungrateful, chaotic, lazy, useless brat—don’t you, Sensei?”
Aizawa can’t bear to answer, but he’s never gotten hard again so fast in his life, and that’s really telling enough. His head drops back in defeat, thudding against the wall. He doesn’t even hesitate before he’s pinching the underside of Shinsou’s ass, holding onto the sliver of flesh even as Shinsou tries to jerk away with a pained whine.
Fuck, nothing turns him on as hurting Shinsou. The second Shinsou manages to get out of Aizawa’s grip, he wraps an arm around his waist, tugging him flush with Aizawa’s chest. He spanks Shinsou with his free hand, hard enough Shinsou jolts into him.
“I hate it,” Aizawa snarls, “that’s why I need to beat it out of you.”
“Then what are you waiting for?” Shinsou raises up, arches his back to press his ass directly into Aizawa’s hand. “Better get started, there’s so much to beat out of me.”
“Fuuuck,” Aizawa groans, drawn out and completely helpless against him. “Gonna make you regret saying that.”
He spanks him again, over and over, getting off on the way Shinsou jerks in his lap, the friction against his dick almost too good to believe. Aizawa doesn’t even want to fuck him anymore, just wants to break him, see him sob, those pretty, mean eyes swollen with tears.
It looks like Shinsou’s trying not to cry out, and Aizawa can’t stand it. His next hit misses. Misses in that it hits his exact target—the underside of Shinsou’s balls. Shinsou wails, and Aizawa grabs his reddened ass, holding him down on his lap even as Shinsou struggles to move away.
As if Shinsou could ever regret this.
He finally loses his tentative grip on his mouth and fucking howls when Aizawa hits his balls. Shinsou is choking on the moans, hands fisted against Aizawa’s shoulders. “ Fuck! ”
He’s FUCKING hard already, ass on fire and his legs are shaking on either side of Aizawa. But he wants it, doesn’t want him to stop.
“A-again. Do it again.” He’s pants against Aizawa’s lips, not really a kiss but enough of something that Shinsou can taste every breath Aizawa pushes between clenched teeth.
“Needy whore,” Aizawa snaps, instantly slapping him again. A little less hard this time, but still aimed dead on at the vulnerable place between his legs. “Can’t believe you get off on this.”
He can’t stop himself, can’t stop the way he takes his frustration out on Shinsou’s ass, getting more and more careless as he hits anywhere from his lower back to his upper thighs.
Shinsou just refuses to make it satisfying, refuses to break under Aizawa’s hands, begging for more like— “You're a fisgusting pain slut,” Aizawa tells him, feeling the sudden urge to be inside him. “Spread yourself, if you want it that bad.”
Shinsou huffs out a laugh, breathy and laced with need, and spreads his ass open exactly as Aizawa demanded.
“You can call me desperate, call me a whore, but your cock is hard, Sensei. You want it as much as I do.”
“Don’t want any of this,” Aizawa says, pushing two fingers inside him carelessly. He doesn’t want this. He craves it, needs it, can’t live without it, maybe, but he definitely doesn’t want it.
“Fuck, still so loose,” he groans, pulling his fingers out in favor of ‘helping’ Shinsou spread his ass a little hard. “Feel that, feel how open you are.”
Fuck, it hurts, Shinsou thinks. Aizawa is holding him open with rough, hard fingers and his ass is so exposed he feels dirty .
“Fuck me,” Shinsou says “Fuck me right now.”
Aizawa can’t help his laugh. “So demanding. You think if you beg pretty enough I’ll give you what you want? Fuck yourself, if you want it so bad.” He punctuates the words with another fast slap to the burned side of Shinsou’s ass.
Shinsou is already spitting in his hand and sliding it between his legs to wrap around Aizawa’s cock. He’s been dreaming about riding him since the first time Shinsou saw him naked in the locker room. He wastes no time in slicking up Aizawa’s cock and lining it up with his own hole.
“I’ve already gotten what I want, Sensei. This is just a bonus,” he says just before he slides down Aizawa’s cock. It’s easier than before, the stretch is delicious, perfect, and Shinsou moans all the way down.
“Shit,” Aizawa hisses, feeling his balls tighten abruptly as he tries not to come. He manages to hold back, barely, face twisted as he glares at Shinsou.
“Really,” he grits out, taking hold of Shinsou’s cute, flush dick in a grip tight enough to stop him from coming. “This is all you want? You think small, kid.”
“Then help me think bigger. You are the fucking teacher after all.” It's supposed to sound snarky, confident, bratty, but it just sounds so pathetic when all Shinsou can do is moan and whine as he bounces on Aizawa’s cock.
It’s good, it’s so fucking good especially when Aizawa grabs his hips with brutally tight fingers and helps slam him back down every time Shinsou lifts up.
“I wanted you, I fucking got you and I’m about to come with your dick in my ass.” Shinsou uses Aizawa for leverage and rides him harder. “Everything else is icing on the cake.”
It feels so good, way too good to be fucking his past student. Aizawa’s head is swimming with it, and the urge to just give in and spill into his ass is so, so tempting. But Shinsou can’t stop rubbing him the wrong way, with his cocky little attitude winning out however much Aizawa tries to hurt him.
He yanks Shinsou off his dick before he has a chance to come, groaning as he denies himself what he wants.
“So fucking annoying,” Aizawa snaps, “why can’t you just shut up for once?”
He’s running his hands up Shinsou’s body, distantly admiring the smooth skin, the little whines he makes as he pinches at his nipples, until his hands are around his throat. “What do I have to do to shut you up?”
“Give my mouth something to do.” Shinsou grins and leans into the hand around his neck.
“Finally a good idea from you,” Aizawa says, eyes widening as Shinsou chokes himself around his hand. He’s perfect. So perfect, like he was tailor-made for Aizawa to break, and he feels the sudden urge to enjoy every moment of this because he’s still determined to never do it again. After this time, of course.
He uses his grip on Shinsou’s neck to pull him down harshly, pushing his face down onto his cock. Aizawa ruthlessly holds him down until he can feel his dick sliding into Shinsou’s tight throat. It feels amazing, and he has no intentions of ever letting Shinsou up.
Aizawa is rough and Shinsou’s cock likes it more than he’s willing to admit. He swallows Aizawa eagerly, tasting himself as he’s forced to take every inch until the head is resting at the back of his throat.
He’s gagging, trying to choke around it and being held down by Aizawa’s hand until he feels his face turn red, tears leaking down his face and snot dripping down his nose into the coarse black pubes at the base of Aizawa’s cock.
“Ah, fuck, that’s good,” Aizawa groans, despite himself. He can feel Shinsou’s spit pooling between his legs as he drools, struggling to breathe. “Keep struggling, boy, maybe I’ll let you breathe if you sound pretty enough.”
He won’t, but Shinsou already knows he’s a bad liar. He holds Shinsou’s head down with one hand, reaching for Shinsou’s ass with the other. He’s bent over Aizawa’s lap, back arched and ass up in a way that’s irresistible.
AIzawa drinks in the way his gurgling chokes gain a new, plaintive edge as Aizawa plunges two fingers into Shinsou’s loose, puffy hole.
It’s too much, and Shinsou has never struggled so hard in his life. He’s getting lightheaded, his vision going blurry around the edges as his cock leaks and pulses between his legs. Aizawa’s fingers are rough and filling him so well he wants to sob with it.
He’s trying to fuck himself on those fingers, each time he pushes back his finger tips graze Shinsou’s prostate and he sees stars, choking on the cock in his throat all over again. Aizawa is groaning above him, and Shinsou ends up in an endless loop of struggle and pleasure and Aizawa, and he’s so close to coming he can taste it.
Aizawa can barely feel his limbs, feel anything but the pleasure winding tighter and tighter in his gut. He grits his teeth, holding off solely because he suddenly doesn’t want this to be over too soon.
“Shit, take it,” he grunts, pushing two more fingers into Shinsou’s ass, breath catching when he feels Shinsou clenching around him. He hooks his fingers, pulling Shinsou’s whole body towards him by his ass, eyes rolling back at the animal moan Shinsou lets out around his cock as Aizawa holds him down.
Shinsou comes with a moan that’s muffled by Aizawa’s dick in his throat. The stretch is unbelievable, Aizawa’s fingers splitting him open for all the world to see. It’s that combined with the way Aizawa is pushing his hips up, pulling his dick in and out of Shinsou’s throat in time with his fingers deep in Shinsou’s ass, that finally pushes him over the edge.
The come hits the floor, Aizawa’s legs, and Shinsou’s stomach from the way his dick bobs with each rope of come that leaks out. Shinsou can barely think past the pounding in his head and his ass.
He finally goes limp, body falling heavy on the floor and Aizawa’s legs, while Aizawa keeps his head pressed firmly on his dick.
Shinsou looks impossible erotic when he comes, his shaking body lit only in the weak moonlight coming through the window.
“Came a little fast, didn’t you,” Aizawa says hoarsely, using most of his willpower to stop himself from coming just at the sight of Shinsou stretched out in a puddle of his own cum on the floor. He’d feel worse about it, but Shinsou had returned to being a brat extraordinarily fast last time, and Aizawa doesn’t want a repeat.
He leans over, pushing his fingers back inside Shinsou from where they’d nearly slipped out. Shinsou squirms pathetically on the floor, and shit Aizawa likes how that looks. His cock throbs in Shinsou’s wet mouth, painfully hard, but Aizawa just came and maybe it is a good thing he’s so much older, because he really can’t come again that fast.
“It’s okay,” Aizawa says roughly, flexing his fingers inside Shinsou, “you can always try again. I’ll even let you hump the floor.”
The idea of coming again has Shinsou groaning. He couldn’t come again if he wanted to, could he? His cock is already so sensitive where it’s pressed into the floor. Just thinking about it has him shaking. But he wants Aizawa to come, wants to taste it on his tongue and feel it as it fills his belly.
“-ease,” Shinsou mumbles around Aizawa’s cock. He wants to feel Aizawa come undone around him.
But every time those fingers in his ass flex, his body starts shaking again. It’s too much and Aizawa knows that as he continues to fuck into Shinsou’s used ass. He faintly thinks of them getting caught, someone seeing them like this on the agency’s bathroom floor, and his dick twitches painfully against the floor.
Maybe he could come again.
“What was that?” Aizawa breathes out, pushing Shinsou down harder. He feels amazing around Aizawa’s dick, but what’s really getting him off is the way Shinsou's twitching against the floor. Seeing Shinsou debase himself like that… it makes Aizawa feel lightheaded with power.
He abandons Shinsou’s ass for a moment, in favor of placing his hand flat on Shinsou’s lower back, pushing him down flat against the floor. The way Shinsou moans tells him his over-sensitive dick must be grinding against the tile. The mere thought of it has Aizawa jerking up into Shinsou’s mouth, too turned on to hold still anymore.
He presses down on Shinsou’s back over and over, eyes wide and manic, needing to hear Shinsou suffering.
Panic is crawling along Shinsou’s skin as the overstimulation makes him choke and gag on Aizawa’s cock. He’s trying to pull away, escape Aizawa’s torturous hands, but there’s nowhere to go, and he just keeps getting shoved into the floor, Aizawa’s cock throbbing in his mouth every time he whines or groans in protest.
He seems to like it, the way Shinsou is suffering, and something about that goes straight to his own dick, and it fucking hurts .
Shinsou pulls up enough to get a few non-garbled words out. “S-stop...can’t...t-too much.” He’s already come twice; there's no way he can do it again.
But Aizawa pushes him back down, forces his cock deeper than before and Shinsou can’t breathe let alone speak. All he can do is swallow and moan and hope Aizawa comes before Shinsou passes out.
“Sh, sh, you can take it,” Aizawa groans, hips thrusting into Shinsou’s slack mouth. “Fuck, such a good boy, taking it so well.”
He can’t remember a time when he was this turned on, and he’s way past caring about how wrong it is. Nothing matters except watching how much Shinsou wants to take, just for him. He holds his head down, grinding into his throat, groaning as each movement sends waves of pleasure up his entire body.
It takes him a second to realize Shinsou’s being quiet, even for someone with a mouthful of cock. Aizawa pauses only to lift Shinsou’s eyelid, freezing when he sees only white, his eyes rolled back into his head. Out cold. Oops.
He actually is ashamed of the way his cock throbs at that, but it doesn’t stop him from pushing deeper into Shinsou’s slack throat, groaning way too loudly for just a moment before pulling out. He doesn’t want to risk Shinsou getting brain damage from lack of oxygen.
Panting hard, he pulls Shinsou off his dick, turning him on his side and holding his head tipped back, allowing him to breathe freely.
Maybe it makes him a terrible person, but he still strokes his cock, slick and coated with the thick saliva from the back of Shinsou’s throat, as he waits for him to wake up.
Shinsou comes to a few seconds later, trying to figure out why Aizawa’s cock is no longer in his mouth. His head feels fuzzy, and he realizes pretty quickly he’d passed out on Aizawa’s cock.
“Holy, holy f-fuck.” Shinsou’s throat is destroyed. He sounds like his vocal chords had been put through a blender and then tumble dried in high. The irony of that isn’t lost on him either.
Aizawa is still hard, still stroking his spit-shiny cock and looking at Shinsou like he wants to devour him.
“Aw, too much for you?” Aizawa can’t keep the smugness out of his voice, even if his free hand is back on Shinsou’s hair, reassuring himself that Shinsou’s awake and okay.
“Shouldn’t have stopped.” God, why is that making Shinsou hard again? He’s fucking hard, and Aizawa is still stroking his dick right in Shinsou’s face.
“Should have used my throat while I was knocked out,” he breathes before sucking the head of Aizawa’s cock into his mouth again.
“How do you know I didn’t?” Aizawa drinks in Shinsou’s muffled moan, tugging his head a little lower on his cock, “but I wasn’t trying to kill you, kitten. Even you can only take so much.”
‘So much’ meaning rather a lot, because he barely protests as Aizawa pushes him slowly down farther, unable to resist having that mouth wrapped around his cock again. He does protest, though, when Aizawa runs a hand down his side, and wraps it right around his reddened, half-hard dick and gives it a quick couple of yanks.
“Hnnng!” Shinsou groans around Aizawa’s dick. But Aizawa doesn’t stop, just keeps stroking Shinsou and using his free hand to push him farther down his cock.
It’s torture, but Shinsou’s getting so hard and through the pain he can feel himself getting close to another orgasm. So, he sucks and licks and swallows around the dick in his mouth in a desperate attempt to get Aizawa to finally come.
Aizawa is so absorbed in watching Shinsou get hard again in his hand, licking at his cock like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted, that he barely even notices his orgasm coming. It hits him hard, tensing his whole body as his cum splashes across Shinso’s open mouth, his face. Aizawa curses his way through it, hands flexing, heedless of the way Shinsou shouts in pain as he accidentally squeezes his dick way too hard.
By the time he comes down, Shinsou is whimpering between his legs, hands clutching at Aizawa’s wrist from where he still has Shinsou in a punishing grip.
“Shit, kitten, that felt amazing,” Aizawa grunts out, collapsing back against the wall. He lets go of Shinsou in favor of pulling him close, his back pressed to Aizawa’s chest. He’s still running on an orgasm-high, feeling light and sated and very, very pleased with himself. Enough that the guilt and shame is a distant memory, and then he’s running his hands down Shinsou’s chest, pinching at him, down his stomach, to grab his dick in one hand, balls in the other.
“But you didn’t come,” Aizawa says sleepily, nipping at his shoulder. “We can’t stop now.”
“W-wait, shit I can’t,” Shinsou half-protests even as he lifts his hips to fuck into Aizawa’s hand.
“Stop whining, you obviously want it,” Aizawa says, tightening his hold on his balls.
“I hate you so fucking much,” Shinsou gasps as Aizawa begins to jack him off with tight, even strokes that make his toes curl. He reaches for Aizawa’s hand, a pathetic attempt to stop him even if he doesn’t really want it to stop.
His cock feels raw, even as Aizawa is quickly pushing him into his third orgasm in such a short amount of time.
He’s whining, half sobbing with every downward stroke, and Aizawa just continues to shush him through it, holding him tight against his body while Shinsou fights not to scream when it finally rips through him like a chainsaw.
He’s skin feels like it’s on fire, he’s a live wire and everything is alive, too sensitive, too much . Hardly anything comes out this time, but Aizawa refuses to let his dick go until it’s soft again and Shinsou is completely limp against his chest.
“That’s better,” Aizawa says, letting Shinsou go limp, catching his chin so they’re eye to eye. “Good boy,” he murmurs, completely disarmed by how pretty Shinsou looks, all fucked-out and teary. On impulse, he leans down, licking from Shinsou’s jaw up to his eye, tasting the salt of his tears accumulating on the flat of his tongue. It fills him with some kind of feeling—not desire, exactly, though there’s a lot of that. Something pleased, possessive, like a hunter who’s finally taken down a particularly difficult animal.
“Are you finally satisfied?” he murmurs, licking away the rest of his tears, not caring if he’s being disgusting or showing how much of a freak he is. Shinsou already knows that by now. “Are you going to be good?”
“ Yes.” Shinsou’s voice is nonexistent but he tries to push everything he’s feeling into that one word, to answer all of Aizawa’s questions because he’s never felt this good before.
Aizawa hasn’t felt this at peace with himself for years. He handily ignores how he arrived at this state of mind, and instead focuses on getting them both in acceptable shape to venture back out into public.
He still doesn’t intend to do this again.
But that doesn’t mean he’s going to leave a fucked-out Shinsou lying on the floor of their agency’s bathroom, especially not if he could have potential brain trauma from being knocked out. Aizawa will just take him home and take care of him a little.