Work Text:
Shinsou Hitoshi: Are you okay? Mic-sensei said you went home because you’re sick.
Shouta hates being sick. He might actually hate it more than anything else in the world. There’s nothing good about it—he misses out on work, on seeing his students, on performing his duties as a hero. On spending time with the boy he’d broken every rule in his book for.
Aizawa Shouta: I’m fine; don’t worry about me.
Shouta stares up at the ceiling in his room. It’s unfathomably boring. There’s nothing to look at. Maybe that’s his fault for not decorating his room, for leaving it the same gray and white color scheme that it’d had when the support staff at UA built it. It’s too late to regret it now, when he’s laying alone in his bed, nose plugged and eyes running as he stares at his phone.
Not only is this room utterly boring—he’s utterly bored.
Shouta glances back down at his phone, the screen still lit up from sending that message just a few moments ago.
Aizawa Shouta: Aren’t you supposed to be in class?
As always with Hitoshi, his answer is quick.
Shinsou Hitoshi: It’s lunchtime, Sensei.
A pause. An instant later, his phone dings.
Shinsou Hitoshi: Miss you.
Shouta sighs.
The cold medicine Hizashi had all but forced down his throat is supposed to make him tired. Supposed to being the key, because it definitely hasn’t yet. Hizashi also stole all of his work, requisitioning his laptop after Shouta had tried to take it back to the teacher dorms with him and then stealing all of his physical grading. That man is evil, Shouta’s convinced, but this cold has done its damage on him and he’s in no shape to fight Hizashi off.
So he’s bored. And he can’t work. And he has a very cute, very naughty student on the other end of this text chat. And he’s full of probably twice the dose of cold medicine that he’s supposed to take. So maybe he’s about to make some bad decisions.
Aizawa Shouta: I’d be there if I could.
Shinsou Hitoshi: I know, Daddy. That’s why I miss you.
Shinsou Hitoshi: [1 new attachment]
Shouta opens it without a second thought.
Shockingly enough, it’s not explicit. But it might as well be. Hitoshi is sitting on Shouta’s desk in the empty classroom, the afternoon light giving him a warm glow. The look he gives the camera is innocent, his hands curled around the edge of the desk. He’s sitting in the middle of it, legs slightly spread, fully dressed with his head turned slightly to the side, as if he’s waiting on an answer from the camera. The sun shines on his wild violet hair, pale skin looking warm and inviting to the touch. And god, does Shouta want to touch.
He wants to do much more than touch.
Aizawa Shouta: I’m a little surprised you haven’t left more scratch marks on that desk. Though, it’d probably be trouble if you did.
Shinsou Hitoshi: Do you want me to?
Shouta ponders his question as he saves the innocent photo. He considers making it his phone background image, but in this state, he knows he’ll forget to change it back and accidentally get them both in trouble. Even the photo he has on his bedside table of the two of them is pushing it, but Shouta likes having it too much to get rid of it.
Aizawa Shouta: More trouble than it’s worth, unfortunately.
Aizawa Shouta: You can do it at home, though.
Shinsou Hitoshi: Careful, I might destroy your furniture if you tell me that.
Shinsou Hitoshi: Like a cat 😼
Aizawa Shouta: Maybe that’s what I get for taking in strays.
Shinsou Hitoshi: 😽
Shouta’s lips twitch upwards. Hitoshi is actually the only reason Shouta even has any furniture to destroy. Hizashi chastised him for it for years, but Shouta lived most of his adult life in a sleeping bag. He hadn’t wanted that for Hitoshi, though, and when he became a ward of UA and Shouta gifted him with a key to his on campus apartment, Shouta had taken a very expensive trip to the furniture store. Hizashi had nearly thrown a party when he found out Shouta had bought an actual bed.
Shinsou Hitoshi: What are you doing right now?
Aizawa Shouta: Texting a horny student.
Shinsou Hitoshi: I sure hope it’s me.
Aizawa Shouta: Today’s your lucky day.
Shinsou Hitoshi: Unlucky, actually. Shame on you for picking today to get sick.
Shinsou Hitoshi: I made you onigiri and you’re not even here to eat it!
Shinsou Hitoshi: [1 new attachment]
It’s, predictably, a photo of the lunch Hitoshi had made for him. Shouta makes sure to take his time looking at it; if he can’t be there to appreciate it in person, the least he can do is appreciate Hitoshi’s photo of it. He has a major soft spot for the kid, obviously, but Hitoshi treats him well. Lately, he’s taken to making Shouta lunch, having a newfound interest in cooking since he moved into the dorms full time. Shouta is silently grateful; as Hizashi’s always told him, home-cooked meals are leagues better than the jelly energy packets Shouta downs like water.
Today, it’s little rice balls shaped into cats, with sesame eyes and mouths. They’re adorable and Shouta’s heart hurts a little, mad at himself for getting sick and not being able to be there with Hitoshi. He has so much to do—grading and patrols and casework that all need to be put on hold until he recovers, but it’s this that he’s more upset about. A year ago, Aizawa would’ve kicked himself for missing a single student more than his work but right now, with all the cold medicine running through his body, he just lets himself long for Hitoshi’s warm, loving touch.
Aizawa Shouta: You did a good job on those. They’re cute.
Aizawa Shouta: I’ll make it up to you later.
Shinsou Hitoshi: How about I drop by after school and give it to you then?
Shinsou Hitoshi: In exchange for you giving me something in return, of course 😉
Aizawa Shouta: Are you referring to my dick
Shinsou Hitoshi: Your bluntness is extremely sexy
Shinsou Hitoshi: (that was sarcasm)
Shinsou Hitoshi: (mostly)
Shouta forces his eyes away from his phone for a moment to make himself comfortable. He’s alone in the dorms and will be for a while. Anyone who might be inclined to drop in (or break in, in Hizashi’s case) is hard at work teaching the next generation of hero fledglings. He’s truly alone.
He slips down further in bed, stretching himself out as he starts to move things into place, making a nest in his bed. It’s an odd habit, but Shouta feels most comfortable with a bed full of pillows and blankets. Part of it, he thinks, is because he doesn’t like the openness of his bed, the cold spot next to him. There’s a reason he spent years in his sleeping bag, and there’s a reason that he sleeps wrapped around Hitoshi when he stays the night.
Shinsou Hitoshi: You never answered me. What are you doing right now?
Aizawa Shouta: Laying in bed. Hizashi gave me more cold medicine than any person is supposed to consume in a lifetime.
Shinsou Hitoshi: Wow, you’re not asleep yet?
Aizawa Shouta: Whatever it’s doing, it’s not making me tired.
Shinsou Hitoshi: I can help with that.
No part of him is tired, because Shouta’s cock twitches at that. He’s already changed into casual clothes, a thin t-shirt and sweatpants that Hitoshi inexplicably thinks are lewd. He sighs and snaps a quick photo of himself, not even of his face. It’s just the bed, full of pillows and blankets, his lower half, and the window, blinds open with afternoon sunlight streaming through.
He sends it to Hitoshi without thinking much about it. The kid probably has more photos of Shouta than existed before he came into his life. They’re long past the point of worrying about things like that.
Shinsou Hitoshi: I think you need more pillows.
Shouta snorts. He glances around at his surroundings, at the near circle of pillows surrounding him and the multitude of patterns of blankets. There’s ten pillows, to be exact, because Shouta counts them every time he shoves them in the closet when Hitoshi comes over and fills that cold void on the other side of the bed.
Shinsou Hitoshi: Wow, though, you’re really not tired.
Aizawa Shouta: What makes you say that?
Shinsou Hitoshi: Oh, just the fact that I can see the outline of your dick through your pants.
Shinsou Hitoshi: I haven’t even sent you anything dirty yet, Daddy.
Aizawa Shouta: You texting me during school is dirty enough as it is.
Shinsou Hitoshi: It is?
Shinsou Hitoshi: I think you’re just horny and making excuses.
Aizawa Shouta: If you keep talking to me like that, I’ll make sure your face is even more acquainted with that desk.
Aizawa Shouta: Maybe you can tell me if there’s any scratches on it.
Shinsou Hitoshi: Promise?
Shouta wishes. He misses Hitoshi, despite the kid literally being on the same campus as him. He’s a good kid and… they have a habit of spending lunches together. Shouta tried, at first, to convince Hitoshi to spend his lunchtime with his classmates, but Hitoshi kept coming to the classroom, and Shouta kept letting him in.
He reaches down, rubbing his palm over the growing tent in his sweatpants. Hitoshi gets him worked up so easily, sometimes without Shouta even noticing. He’d expected it to stop as their relationship went on, but Hitoshi gets him hard just as easily as he had when they’d first started this thing they had.
Aizawa Shouta: And what are you doing?
Shinsou Hitoshi: Texting my horny teacher.
Aizawa Shouta: Your teacher should punish you for doing such a thing in school.
Shinsou Hitoshi: My teacher’s dick is too hard to even think about giving me detention.
Shinsou Hitoshi: Isn’t that right, Daddy?
Shouta’s cock twitches hard, throbbing against Shouta’s slowly circling palm. He allows himself a quiet moan, remembering that no one’s here. He wishes someone were here, though. Hitoshi, to be specific.
Aizawa Shouta: Maybe.
Shinsou Hitoshi: I really do hope you feel better soon, Daddy.
Shinsou Hitoshi: You know, it’s been a couple days since we fucked… my ass is probably really tight right now. Bet that’d cure your cold right away.
Aizawa Shouta: You’re tight no matter how often we have sex.
Aizawa Shouta: I’m still worried about tearing you.
Shinsou Hitoshi: You won’t if you haven’t already 🍆
Shinsou Hitoshi: How about I come over after school and bring you that onigiri I made? Then I can make you feel better.
Shinsou Hitoshi: I’ll wear the girls’ school uniform for you so you have easy access.
Aizawa Shouta: You might have to do the work. I’m really not feeling well.
Shinsou Hitoshi: You know I’ll never pass up a chance to ride you.
Shinsou Hitoshi: Let Doctor Shinsou help you feel better.
Aizawa Shouta: I don’t think you went to medical school.
Aizawa Shouta: Too busy seducing teachers in hero school for that.
Shouta gives in, pushing down the waistband of his sweatpants. His cock springs out, already fully hard from Hitoshi’s incessant dirty talk. To be fair, Shouta’s doing his fair share of returning it. His student isn’t the only one who’s horny, but at least Shouta has the excuse of being sick. He does actually feel terrible, his stuffy nose backed up all the way to his sinuses, and his eyes water as if dry eye is a thing he’s never even heard of. He’d really like to sleep, but he’s far too alert for that.
There is a chance this will help him sleep. Shouta does usually calm down after sex or jerking off. Orgasming helps him relax and wind down.
He lets out a long breath of relief as he wraps a hand around his thick cock, giving himself a long stroke from base to tip as Hitoshi’s next message comes in.
Shinsou Hitoshi: Any requests?
Shinsou Hitoshi: [1 new attachment]
Shouta’s breath hitches when he opens the attachment. Hitoshi has a talent for taking photos, whether it’s of himself or others. His nudes are no exception to that.
Hitoshi has his phone propped up on the chalkboard, the photo showing his entire body. He’s still mostly dressed, sitting in the middle of Shouta’s teaching desk. His legs are spread more, his uniform pants unzipped and pushed down enough to show off his pretty cock. Like Shouta, Hitoshi is hard, his cockhead beautifully flushed red with a pearly bead of precum at the tip. Hitoshi smiles quietly at the camera, a private smile just for Shouta and Shouta only, one hand wrapped around the base of his cock, fingers brushing in the violet hair there that Shouta knows is so, so soft, the other hand curled tight around the edge of the desk.
So fucking pretty. If Shouta felt up to it in any sense of the word, he’d be running out of this apartment so fast that he’d forget to lock the door behind him. He’d devor Hitoshi, tease him by licking his way up that pretty cock before dragging his tongue up Hitoshi’s body and steal his mouth in a hungry kiss as he got the boy’s tight little hole ready for him. He’s mad that he can’t do that, angry that he’s stuck here with all his pillows and a head cold that doesn’t want to give up.
Shouta saves the photo and snaps one of his own. He gives Hitoshi a little more this time, setting his phone up in a similar way where the camera captures most of him. He’s not as good as Hitoshi is at taking photos, but sometimes the teacher becomes the student and Hitoshi has taught him more than he could ever learn on his own.
Aizawa Shouta: You have no business being that pretty.
Aizawa Shouta: That door better be locked. The other teachers wouldn’t be able to resist you, let alone the other students.
Shinsou Hitoshi: I locked it, Daddy, don’t worry 💜
Aizawa Shouta: Good boy.
Aizawa Shouta: [1 new attachment]
A pause, clearly due to Hitoshi looking at the photo. Shouta waits, toying with the head of his swollen cock, rubbing the underside with his thumb. It feels good to relax like this, to text Hitoshi the dirty things in his mind and have his boy respond in kind. Should he be doing this? No, absolutely not, but he is and Shouta doesn’t regret it one bit. The pleasure takes over some of the soreness sitting heavy in his body from the cold, makes him forget about the congestion plugging up his head. It’s fun. Dirty, lewd fun.
Shinsou Hitoshi: Daddy 🥺
Shinsou Hitoshi: I want that inside me.
Aizawa Shouta: Later.
Shinsou Hitoshi: No, call me out sick!!!
Shinsou Hitoshi: Tell the office there’s an emergency and I have to leave immediately!!!
Aizawa Shouta: We can’t abuse the system just because you really want to ride a dick.
Shinsou Hitoshi: It’s not abuse if there’s a real emergency
Aizawa Shouta: And what’s your real emergency?
Shinsou Hitoshi: The fact that your cock isn’t inside me.
Aizawa Shouta: That’s not an emergency.
Shinsou Hitoshi: Then it’s child abuse!
Aizawa Shouta: Please explain to me in detail how me not letting you cut class to ride me is child abuse.
Shinsou Hitoshi: You’re depriving me of my needs!
Alone in his room, Shouta laughs quietly, breathing out another soft moan as he strokes his cock. He pulls up Hitoshi’s photo again, zooms in on him. He looks at his smiling face, at the playful little glint in his eyes. Hitoshi has such beautiful eyes; Shouta could admire them for hours if Hitoshi would let him. He loves the violet color, the way they light up when he sees his teacher, the white pupils that make his eyes so unique. Hitoshi really has no idea how perfect he is.
He’s lucky that having Hitoshi as his protege was a unique enough circumstance that the other teachers agreed to take on Hitoshi’s grading. He can’t separate his bais from the kid and it’d be a lot of trouble to try to come up with some other explanation as to why he couldn’t grade Hitoshi’s work anymore.
Hizashi does most of Hitoshi’s grading. Shouta knows what he suspects, and it’s become far more of a trouble to argue with his friend’s teasing than to just let him have his laughs.
Speaking of which…
Aizawa Shouta: I do have one request.
Shinsou Hitoshi: Anything for you, Daddy.
Shinsou Hitoshi: But you better hurry.
Shinsou Hitoshi: That picture you sent me was really hot.
Aizawa Shouta: Cum on my desk.
Shinsou Hitoshi: Wow, that’s even more naughty than I expected 💦
Shinsou Hitoshi: Getting back at Mic-sensei?
Aizawa Shouta: Maybe.
Shouta twists his hand on his cock, groaning as he pictures Hitoshi. He’s had him on his desk enough times that he can see him vividly. Sitting on his desk, pretty cock out and hard as his slender fingers stroke it, head tipped back slightly as he moans into the empty classroom. His thighs always twitch, jerking against the smooth wood of the desk as he toys with himself. Shouta loves feeling them twitch against his head when he swallows Hitoshi’s cock or around his hips as he slides into him and it’s a feeling he’s missing.
In just fifteen minutes, that classroom will be full again and Hizashi will take over Shouta’s after lunch class. None of them will know that Hitoshi had been there, moaning for his teacher just a few minutes before.
Shinsou Hitoshi: I’ll cum all over your desk if you want me to.
Shinsou Hitoshi: He probably won’t see it before he puts all his stuff down.
Shinsou Hitoshi: It’d get on that big leather binder he carries around.
Aizawa Shouta: He probably won’t even notice until it’s already dry.
Aizawa Shouta: He’s oblivious.
Shinsou Hitoshi: Damn, he must’ve really pissed you off.
Aizawa Shouta: When doesn’t he piss me off?
Shinsou Hitoshi: it’s kind of hot.
Aizawa Shouta: Does everything turn you on?
Shinsou Hitoshi: Only when it involves you.
Shinsou Hitoshi: You’re my favorite teacher for a reason.
Deep down, Shouta loves that. He basks in being Hitoshi’s favorite teacher, in being his favorite hero. Out of all the flashy, attractive heroes, Hitoshi likes him, inexplicably. He’s so used to people fawning over All Might that having his own biggest fan is still new and novel and Shouta can’t lie; he likes it. It’d be different if it was anyone else, anyone outside of Hitoshi, but he’s lucky enough for Hitoshi to be his.
Shouta’s hand moves quicker over his cock. His length throbs and pleasure coils in his stomach, clouding his mind even more than the head cold currently occupying his entire body. He feels lighter, pleasantly warm all over, and for the first time all day, Shouta feels good.
Aizawa Shouta: Come over after school.
Aizawa Shouta: Stay the night.
Aizawa Shouta: Stay the whole weekend.
Shinsou Hitoshi: Yes, sir.
Aizawa Shouta: Don’t call me that.
Shinsou Hitoshi: Yes, Daddy?
Aizawa Shouta: Better.
Shinsou Hitoshi: I’ll bring onigiri.
Shinsou Hitoshi: And soup.
Shinsou Hitoshi: That’s what sick people are supposed to eat, right?
Aizawa Shouta: I’d rather eat something else.
Shinsou Hitoshi: What is it you usually tell me?
Shinsou Hitoshi: “Dick does not constitute as a meal, Hitoshi”?
Shinsou Hitoshi: Does that apply to eating ass, too?
Shinsou Hitoshi: Oh wait, hang on.
Shouta’s expecting another Hitoshi-branded snarky remark from him, but the texts pause for a moment. Shouta waits, steadily stroking himself. His hand goes from the base of his cock to just under his cockhead, the thick length of it so swollen that Shouta has a hard time fitting his fingers around it.
As he waits, he occupies himself by imagining Hitoshi with him. In just a couple hours, he won’t have to imagine anymore. Hitoshi will be here with him, smiling down at him as his cute little ass hugs his cock in a tight vice. The kid’s hole was practically made for him with how well it fits Shouta, how easily Hitoshi takes his thick cock deep into his body, moaning the whole time.
He remembers back when this started, how worried he’d been about hurting his boy. He’d put off going all the way with him, terrified that it wouldn’t fit, but Hitoshi had waited patiently and Shouta’s worries had been for nothing. Hitoshi takes his cock like he was born for the sole purpose of doing it.
Shinsou Hitoshi: [2 new attachments]
Shouta can’t open the pictures fast enough.
“Fuck—” Shouta moans openly at the first one. He sees now what Hitoshi had meant by his text.
He’s bent over Shouta’s desk, standing on the tips of his toes so his hard, leaking cock lays on the wood surface. His pants are off now, probably kicked somewhere else in the classroom, and Hitoshi is bare from the waist down. He’s spreading himself for Shouta, letting him see the small, tight hole between his cheeks, letting him admire his plump ass and his creamy thighs. Every part of Hitoshi is so delectable, but Shouta is a particular fan of this part of him.
He hopes whatever he has isn’t contagious, because he wants more than anything to run his lips all over Hitoshi, to open him with only his tongue. Fuck, the kid really has no business being as hot as he is. Shouta’s lucky that he’s such a good boy, because there’s no way he could ever say seriously no to him if he misbehaved.
His cock is drooling precum now. It drips down his cockhead and Shouta swipes it up with his fingers on every upstroke, using it to wet his shaft and make fucking his fist easier. This is the way he likes it—tight, wet, sloppy. Not quite as good as any part of Hitoshi, even his hand, but Shouta doesn’t mind jerking off at all. Especially when he has such good help.
The second photo is different. It’s not of Hitoshi’s whole body but instead a point-of-view shot of his cock on Shouta’s desk looking down. His cock is so pretty—a bit smaller than average but almost taking after Shouta with thickness. Hitoshi had never had anyone give him oral before Shouta and it shows from the way he pulls his hair and fucks into his mouth each time Shouta swallows him down. His teenage dick fits so easily in his mouth, too, and Hitoshi’s still growing. Guilty, Shouta likes that.
Shinsou Hitoshi: There you go.
Shinsou Hitoshi: A little preview for later.
Aizawa Shouta: You’re such a good boy.
Aizawa Shouta: Do you know that? Shinsou Hitoshi: I’ve been told.
Shinsou Hitoshi: Weren’t you just calling me naughty a few minutes ago? You change your mind quick, Daddy.
Shinsou Hitoshi: How close are you?
That question alone makes Shouta teeter even closer to the edge. He pants into his empty room, hips canting up into his tight fist as his strokes become sloppy and his thrusting hips take over. Hitoshi only ever asks that question when he’s about to cum. He likes to cum with his Daddy, and Shouta is more than happy to oblige.
He slows down, only to take a photo of himself stroking his cock. He quickly resumes at the same pace, sending it to Hitoshi.
Aizawa Shouta: Close.
Aizawa Shouta: [1 new attachment]
Shinsou Hitoshi: Are you sure you won’t let me cut class?
Shinsou Hitoshi: Just kidding.
Shinsou Hitoshi : Don’t cum yet, okay? I’m going to take a video for you.
Aizawa Shouta: You’re treating me to a video today?
Aizawa Shouta: What have I done to deserve such a reward?
Shinsou Hitoshi: Sick people get lots of treats.
Shinsou Hitoshi: It helps them feel better.
Aizawa Shouta: Maybe I’ll take sick days more often.
Shinsou Hitoshi: No!
Shinsou Hitoshi: I’ll miss you.
Shinsou Hitoshi: You’re allowed two (2) sick days per semester.
Shinsou Hitoshi: No mroe
Aizawa Shouta: You’re going to have to clear that with Mic first.
Shinsou Hitoshi: Adn how woudl you suggest i do tht?
Aizawa Shouta: Must be really close, aren’t you?
Aizawa Shouta: Gonna cum on my desk just like I asked, pretty boy?
Aizawa Shouta: I’ll let you wipe it up after so you don’t get in trouble, as long as you’re good for me.
Aizawa Shouta: You always are, aren’t you?
Shinsou Hitoshi: yes daddy
Aizawa Shouta: So good.
Aizawa Shouta: I’d give anything to be there right now.
Aizawa Shouta: If Mic hadn’t taken my keys.
Aizawa Shouta: I know how much you like it when I watch you.
Aizawa Shouta: Is that why you want me to cum to your video?
Shinsou Hitoshi: pleasse
Aizawa Shouta: Anything for you, baby boy.
Shouta grins to himself, because he knows. Hitoshi has been the center of his life for the better part of a year now. He knows what sets the poor kid off, the shortcuts to making him cream his pants without meaning to. He doesn’t pull out the stops often, but Shouta can be a little bit of a sadist and seeing Hitoshi squirm when he calls him pet names and makes his feelings clear gives him a wicked sort of entertainment. He can be mean sometimes, but only because it makes Hitoshi cum hard.
Shinsou Hitoshi: [1 new attachment]
Shouta eagerly opens it, turning the volume on his phone all the way up.
Hitoshi’s desperate panting immediately fills the empty room, much louder than Shouta would ever risk if there was anyone else in the dorms. Hitoshi has his phone on the desk and the surface rattles and shakes with every thrust. His cock is on the surface of Shouta’s teacher desk, Hitoshi’s slender fingers both pinning it against the wood desktop and creating a vice for him to thrust into. His other hand grips the edge of the desk, his knuckles turning white as he clenches his fingers, letting out a moan into the classroom.
His pretty voice echoes off the walls, off the empty desks and blank space. It’s five minutes before the rest of the class is supposed to start coming back, but it doesn’t matter. Hitoshi won’t last a fraction of that with how close to coming he is.
And oh, his face is so fucking beautiful. Shouta could stare at it for days. Hitoshi’s violet eyes dart towards the camera, checking to make sure that his phone is still properly set up, but his white pupils are blown wide and huge, his gaze unfocused as he whimpers, voice like music to Shouta’s ears.
“Daddy—” The Hitoshi on the video cries out sweetly, lovely, perfectly. He tilts his head back, wild hair brushing against his shoulders and neck, where Shouta can see a hint of sweat under the still buttoned collar of his uniform shirt. The sweat glistens off his skin, highlighting the bruises hidden there, usually covered by hair or his collar and just barely peeking out from underneath.
“Gonna… gonna cum all over your desk…” Hitoshi pants, voice breaking in a high pitched whine. Hitoshi, who’s usually so quiet in class and in school, moans so wonderfully, so loudly. He whines and cries and whimpers. He can keep quiet when needed, but alone in an empty classroom, he lets his voice out freely, and Shouta groans in response as he watches, thrusting into his hand.
“Mm—Ah!” Hitoshi’s hips stutter. So do Shouta’s. He races towards that edge with him, wants to cum right when Hitoshi does. All he can see is the video, Hitoshi rubbing himself against Shouta’s desk, using his hand to fuck the surface of it. Doing everything Shouta asked of him and more.
Hitoshi throws his head back, baring his neck to the empty classroom. Shouta’s mouth waters; he wants to bite, mark, make the world know Hitoshi is his and his alone. He wants Hitoshi here, wants to sink his teeth into him, sick or not. Hitoshi’s throat bobs as he swallows hard, his eyes clenching shut for a moment. He’s trying to ward off his orgasm, trying to edge himself a little more.
“I’ll be good for you and—” Hitoshi doesn’t manage to get the rest out. His eyes fly open and his entire body stiffens and jerks, cock twitching under his hand, hips slamming hard against the edge of the desk. “Daddy!”
Shouta grips himself tighter than ever, squeezing his cock as he fucks into his fist, watching close and not daring to take his eyes away from the screen for even a moment as Hitoshi loses control on the video.
Thick white ropes of cum cover Shouta’s desk. Hitoshi whimpers, going limp, scrambling to brace both arms against the edge of the desk as his body sags and slouches and he sinks deep into his orgasm. He twitches and shakes, hips giving short little thrusts as more cum shoots out the tip, nearly covering the surface underneath him.
His cum spreads all over, ropes of it spraying directly in front of him, drops of it running down Hitoshi’s cockhead and smearing against the desktop as Hitoshi drags his cock over it. He’s made a mess—just like Shouta told him to.
Shouta cums with him, jerking himself off as Hitoshi cries out for him, letting out a groan and a string of curses as he paints his fist and phone screen the same way Hitoshi had painted his teacher’s desk.
“Fuck, Hitoshi,” Shouta breathes, as if Hitoshi is here, as if the boy still quivering and dripping cum on screen can hear him. He wishes he could, almost wishes that he’d risked doing a video call with him, but this is just as good.
None of his load gets on the most important part of the screen, though, and Shouta can still watch as he works himself through the aftershocks, milking his cock as Hitoshi pants and his teenage cock finally stops spasming, leaving him sagging against a cum-covered desk, trying to catch his breath. Shouta loves each and every ragged breath, each slight whimper as he comes back into himself.
He loves the way he can see Hitoshi come back to the surface, as the awareness starts to return to his eyes. But more than anything, Shouta loves the way he stares at the desktop for a moment, a mischievous look lighting in his eyes, before he glances at the camera and flashes Shouta a smile that has Shouta shooting out a last rope of cum—right on Hitoshi’s grinning face.
The video ends.
Shouta lays back, nearly collapsing into the sea of pillows. His entire body feels light and unbearably heavy at the same time. He can feel the soreness, the congestion, but there’s something else at the forefront—
He’s tired.
He’s so tired that he could roll over and go straight to sleep right now.
He would, but his phone buzzes, and Shouta grumpily rolls towards the nightstand and plucks a couple tissues from the box to wipe off his poor phone screen. He’ll clean it better later, preferably before Hitoshi comes over so he can’t make fun of him for being an adult with a phone that smells like cum. That’s a problem for future Shouta, though, and present Shouta is very tired.
He settles himself in his nest of bedding, cleaning himself with tissues before burrowing under the covers. The other side of the bed is cold, but it won’t be for longer than a couple hours.
Shouta’s lips curl up at the thought as he reads Hitoshi’s messages, pausing to type his own.
Shinsou Hitoshi: Dear Post-Nut Sensei, don’t worry, I cleaned up so neither of us will get in trouble. Though you’ll have to find another way to get back at Mic-sensei.
Aizawa Shouta: If I damaged my phone, I’m holding you liable.
Shinsou Hitoshi: Damaged your phone?!?!
Shinsou Hitoshi: What the hell did you do?
Aizawa Shouta: Take a guess.
Shinsou Hitoshi: What do you mean, take a guess? That could mean anything!
Aizawa Shouta: Electronics typically break when they get wet.
Shinsou Hitoshi: Oh my god.
Shinsou Hitoshi: Did you cum on your phone???
Apparently, Shouta wasn’t saved the embarrassment at all. Fortunately, he’s far too tired to care.
Aizawa Shouta: I’m going to bed.
Aizawa Shouta: Tired.
Shinsou Hitoshi: No, you’re not getting away that easy.
Shinsou Hitoshi: Did you?
Aizawa Shouta: Isn’t the bell about to ring? Better get in your seat.
Shinsou Hitoshi: That’s a dirty trick and you know it.
Aizawa Shouta: Be a good boy and go sit down.
Shinsou Hitoshi: For your information, I’m already in my seat!
Aizawa Shouta: Good boy.
Aizawa Shouta: Goodnight.
Shouta’s vision starts to blur, his focus drifting in and out. He uses the very last of his energy to type out one last sentiment, hitting send on both messages before his eyes finally slip shut.
Aizawa Shouta: Let yourself in after school and come to bed.
Aizawa Shouta: Bring the onigiri.
His phone buzzes in his hands, the screen still on and Shouta manages to crack an eye open to read the last of them, not even having the energy to type back a response.
Shinsou Hitoshi: To bed???
Shinsou Hitoshi: That cold medicine must’ve finally kicked in.
Shinsou Hitoshi: Daddy???
Shinsou Hitoshi: Get some rest, okay? Sleep well.
Shinsou Hitoshi: I’ll clean your phone when I come over.
Shinsou Hitoshi: Love you, feel better soon 💜