Work Text:
As much as Shouta loved Hitoshi, there were certain downsides to adopting him.
He had to share a kitchen for the first time in years. He always found the thermostat cranked way the hell up, because Hitoshi liked it hot. And sometimes he had to just pretend that he couldn’t hear his son’s stifled moans through their paper thin walls.
But all of those paled in comparison to Denki fucking Kaminari.
Ever since Hitoshi started dating him, he’s made their house a second home for himself. He eats their food and uses their shower and drinks Shouta’s expensive coffee, and he moans like a fucking pornstar. Every. Goddamn. Night.
Overhearing Hitoshi jerk off now and then is one thing, but being kept awake by a symphony of-
Slap!
“Oh fuck, daddy yes-“
Slap!
“Ah! Hard, hit me hard, make’t hurt!”
SLAP!
“AH! Ffffuu-uu-uuck ohmygod-! Choke me chokemeI’mgunnacum-”
It was inconsiderate, unnecessary, and it never failed to make his dick harder than Riot’s unbreakable.
He tried to ignore it. Tried to shove a pillow over his head and think about paperwork. And that worked. For a while - until it didn’t.
Until one night, Hitoshi was the one moaning like a whore.
That had been Shouta’s breaking point - Hitoshi. Because usually Hitoshi was quiet; a low, unintelligible rumble to offset Denki’s soprano. But that night, Hitoshi’s voice was clear as day, and it was devastating.
“Uuugh, Denki, fuck baby.”
“Yeah? Y’like that?”
“Yeahh, mmmn, more - fuck me harder - yessss fu-uck oh-my go-od!”
“Hah, yeah, Toshi lemme hear you. Sound so sweet takin’ my strap.”
“Uh-fuuh-ye-e-esss!”
And the catalyst to Shouta’s orgasm:
“Guh-nuh-cuuumohmygod-!”
All it took was a few strokes in a loose fist and Shouta was cumming so hard he almost forgot to stifle his moan.
Almost.
Unlike the walking pornhub ad living in his house, he had some self control.
And yes, of course he felt like shit about it. Of course he struggled to look Hitoshi in the eye the next day. Of course he spent the following week overworking his body in the gym because it was the only way he knew how to punish himself.
Disgusting old man, he mentally self-chastised as he shuffled to his front door, muscles screaming with every step. You’re better than that.
He needed to shower. Needed to wash away the sweat, and the shame, and the fucked up little thoughts that still plagued the back of his head.
“Ggh-Hh-!”
A strangled gag re-routed him instantly. Because it was coming from Hitoshi’s room - and Hitoshi wasn’t supposed to be home. His work study started an hour ago.
“Hitoshi?” He called, already making his way over, heavy limbs preparing for action.
A similarly choked off gasp answered him, struggling for air, and Shouta’s feet moved quicker.
“Hito-“
And then they stopped.
Because it wasn’t Hitoshi, and it wasn’t an emergency; it was Denki fucking Kaminari fucking himself stupid on Hitoshi’s bed. And Shouta knew about it because he’d left the fucking door open.
He knew he should do…something.
Leave him alone and shower. Scold him for being careless. At least close the fucking door.
Instead, he freezes. And he watches. And he feels like shit about it.
Because Kaminari is…sinful. Absolutely fucking shameless. He’s naked from the waist down, drowning in one of Hitoshi’s oversized hoodies from the waist up, and he’s currently fucking himself with a cute, sizable dildo covered in yellow hearts, fisting his own hair and choking on a silent moan.
Shouta has been around the block. He’s seen some crazy shit. But nothing has prepared him for this; for Denki Kaminari whining to himself like he’s not the one pulling all the strings.
“G-uh!” He eventually gasps, pushing his heels into the mattress and bucking his hips. “C’mon - c’mon don’stop,” he whines - to him-fucking-self. “Please please I wanna cum! Hhnnwannacu-hu-hum!”
The kid is practically begging to be babied through a good fuck, and if Shouta were a weaker man, he’d fuck him.
Instead, he stands in the doorway, swallows a groan, and prays for the strength to do the right thing. But Shouta isn’t strong. His muscles are still shaking from the gym, struggling just to keep him standing. And when Kaminari tosses his head to the side with a broken, pathetic sob, they finally give out on him.
He scrambles at the door frame when his knees buckle, catching himself within half a second, but not fast enough to avoid his back bracing against the wood.
Fuck.
Kaminari yelps at the sudden noise, eyes flying open and finding Shouta, hard and blushing in his doorway.
Fuck fuck fuck.
His knees pull together slightly, and Shouta feels like a fucking creep - and then they spread. And then Denki smirks.
“Zawa…”
Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.
He should leave. He should close the door. He should apologize.
Instead, he watches with a shaky, slack jawed breath as Kaminari pumps his dildo faster, rolls his eyes to the back of his head, and moans Shouta’s name.
“Mmm…fuck me, sensei…please fuck me, please pl’s I need it, need a real fuck, need it so bad’n’ Toshi’sn’t he-ere!”
He should leave.
He should close the door.
Instead, Shouta pushes off the door frame and stumbles his way to the bed. Because his muscles are screaming at him, and the bed looks soft, and Kaminari looks desperate.
His knees hit the mattress before his brain decides to take him there. And then it’s backtracking, trying to do the right thing. Trying not to do the wrong one.
“No, Kaminari, this is-“
As soon as Kaminari manages to sit himself up and grab Shouta’s shirt collar, his world turns sideways and his words get swallowed.
Kaminari’s mouth is hot.
His lips are tacky from gasping.
His moans vibrate on Shouta’s tongue.
And Shouta should stop.
He should leave.
Instead, he collapses on top of Kaminari, moaning at the reprieve on his muscles, at the bare legs wrapping around his hips, hugging him closer, pulling him into a grind that he meets despite himself. Because it’s sweet, and addicting, and Shouta’s brain is emptying at the touch of smooth skin under his gym calloused fingers.
It’s been so long.
It’s been fucking years since he’s felt skin against skin, fingers in his hair, the weight of another body squirming against his.
Since he’s felt needy, impatient hands tugging his pants down. Since his dick has swiped through the hot, sticky folds of a pussy waiting to be fucked.
“Wait-“ he struggles, breathy and stuttered and not at all convincing when he fails to swallow a moan. Because Kaminari has his cock in hand, lining it up with his cunt - and Shouta still doesn’t know how he got here-
“Condoms-“ is the only thing he can think of.
“It’s fine,” Kaminari bites back between kisses. “J’s’fuck me, fuck me fuckmefuckmefuckme- yeesss yes yes, thank you sensei!”
And Shouta should stop.
He should stop.
He should stop.
Instead, he bucks his hips and bottoms out in a perfect little cunt, moan ripping from his throat at the way it hugs him, and he can’t even bring himself to feel like shit about it.
Because Kaminari melts underneath him. Slack jaw, crossed eyes, delirious little smile moaning about the way Shouta fucks long and slow and deep; pulling out until the head of his dick kisses Denki’s entrance and then sliding back in, grinding where it counts, and doing it all over again.
“Ohh fuuck, sensei - uuugh you fuck goood, oh my god - uuhh - sensei, holy shi-hit!”
Shouta’s jaw clenches at the same time his eyes roll to the back of his skull, horny and annoyed in equal amounts, which seems to be Kaminari’s specialty.
“Don’t call me that,” he growls, face buried in Kaminari’s neck, hips still rolling.
A bratty little whine answers him. “Why not?”
“Because I’m fucking you, Kaminari.”
“Hnn - fine.” He swears he can hear the shitty smirk in the kid’s voice when he says it. “Daddy.”
Shouta’s been called daddy before. He’s called other people daddy before. But when it’s his actual son’s boyfriend saying it (while Shouta’s balls deep in him, no less), it hits a little different.
It hits a little harder, a little hotter, a little sicker, a little more fucked up, and a lot more shameful.
It hits like Shouta bottoming out and grinding there, chasing that animal-brain need to go deeper, deeper, fuck him deeper, fill him up. It hits like a strangled moan in his throat. It hits like a stupid, shitty, gleeful giggle in his ear, struggling through the fuck to laugh at him.
“Do yo-ouuu fuck, aha-haa-ohfuu-uuuck- d’you - d’you like being-nng-hn- being a daddy, Zawa?” Y’like having a-aah hhohmygod d’you like having a baby t’fuck?”
“Shut up,” Shouta groans into the mattress, hips betraying him when they start to snap.
Kaminari doesn’t shut up.
“Ah-haha! You - you - fuck - you like it, don’t you? Yeah - yeah yeah yeah fuck- fuck me daddy, yes!”
“I’m not - your fucking - daddy.”
“No,” that shitty smirk is back. “You’re Toshi’s.”
And the way Shouta has to slow his hips when he hears his son's name just to stop himself from cumming - he’s not proud of it. He’s also not proud of the ragged moan that punches out of him. And he’s definitely not proud about giving Kaminari a chance to run his filthy fucking mouth some more.
“Ohh, you like it - you like being Toshi’s daddy, don’t you?”
Don’t cum don’t cum don’t cum.
“Y’wanna know something? A-ahh about Toshi?”
Don’t cum to your son’s name.
“He doesn’t wanna be y’r son, y’know.”
For a couple seconds, Shouta’s heart shatters. And then it’s overshadowed by his balls drawing tight. Because-
“He wants to be y’r slut.”
And Shouta really isn’t proud of the way he moans something guttural and fucked up about that. Isn’t proud of the way his hips start to snap again, abandoning their attempt to edge his orgasm because it’s happening whether he likes it or not.
“Oh-fu-uh-uck daddy yes!” Kaminari sings, moans, giggles on Shouta’s cock like he isn’t ruining his life. “Yo-ou like that? Ah-haha! Wa-ahh-nna fuck y’r son? Show me, daddy - fuck me like I’m Toshi - show me how you’d fuck him - show me showmeshowme-!”
Shouta growls despite himself, pleasure and anger and arousal all battling for dominance. He snaps his hips fast, hard - painful on his muscles. He snarls Kaminari’s name and chokes him with a firm hand just to shut him up. He fists the other in the bedsheets and fucks his son’s shitty boyfriend through a loud, unreasonable orgasm - makes him squirt buckets on Shouta’s dick, until the filthy sound of wet splashes fills the room - and then he forgets they’re fucking raw, and he cums in him.
He’s gasping ragged breaths into the mattress by the time he remembers to let Kaminari breathe, reminded by the hand tapping incessantly at his wrist. And he isn’t proud of the fact that part of him wants to keep choking the little shit, make him pass out so Shouta doesn’t have to listen to him anymore.
But he doesn’t. He releases his neck and lets him drink the air in heavy, overwhelmed gasps. It almost makes Shouta feel bad - has him cradling Kaminari’s face and stroking a soothing thumb across his cheek.
And then he starts talking again.
“Guh! Fuck, Zawa! Ah-haha! That was - ha! Fuck that was so good! Ohmygod…wait till Toshi hears about this…he’s gunna-“
“NO.” Shouta covers Kaminari’s mouth with a bit too much force, pushing the back of his head into the mattress. “You,” Shouta pants, still catching his breath. “Are not going to say a word about this.”
“Mmf-“ Kaminari wriggles his way free, jaw now clutched in Shouta’s hand. “But-”
“NOT A WORD, DENKI.”
Kaminari grumbles under him, then concedes with a huffy pout.
“Fine! But you’re totally missing out-“
“NOT. A. WORD.”
“Uuugh, you’re no fun!”
Shouta knows it’s fucked up. Knows he shouldn’t be forcing Kaminari to keep this a secret - and under different circumstances, he wouldn’t. Under different circumstances he would be paying for Kaminari’s therapy and coming clean to Hitoshi about what a disgusting creep he is.
But this isn’t those circumstances. This is Kaminari giggling like he wants to dish to Hitoshi about fucking his dad. Like it’s fun. Like it’s girl talk.
And that terrifies Shouta.
Kaminari terrifies Shouta.
Because he can’t tell what’s real and what’s Kaminari running his mouth to get his rocks off. Doesn’t trust anything he says when he’s drunk on fucking like that.
And even still, his words echo in Shouta’s head like a dvd logo bouncing around a black screen.
“He wants to be y’r slut.”
“Hey, can’y’let go f’my face now?”
Kaminari brings him back from his head, and Shouta realizes he’s still shoving the kid’s face into the mattress.
“Sorry.”
Kaminari sits up, still dizzy and dumb, and kisses Shouta with a lazy tongue. And Shouta is processing too many things to stop himself from kissing back.
“Hmmm,” Kaminari sighs, fingers playing in Shouta’s hair while he rests his head on his shoulder. “Hope I don’t get pregnant.”
“What-“ Shouta’s chest twists tight with panic, fear, what the fuck Kaminari- “You said it was fine!”
And then, when Denki giggles something overjoyed and shitty, all of that is replaced by pure, all-consuming annoyance.
“Kidding! I’m on the pill - your - ahaha! Your face- w-AH!”
Shouta gets to his feet, uncaring of the way it leaves Kaminari faceplanting onto the mattress.
“I’m showering! Don’t follow me!” He yells, and stomps to the bathroom where he proceeds to angrily fist his dick and curse Kaminari’s entire bloodline.
⚡️
When Hitoshi gets home from his work study, something is…off.
It could be that his bed has a fresh set of sheets. Or maybe that Denki greets him with a cheeky kiss instead of his usual “Toshi fuck meee, you were gone so looong.”
But when Shouta shuffles into the kitchen and sees Hitoshi sitting on the couch with Denki’s thighs straddling his lap, that’s when it clicks. Because Shouta’s eyes blow a little too wide, and instead of asking Hitoshi how his shift went and what he learned from it, he simply ducks out of the room with hunched shoulders and red ears.
Shouta is off.
Hitoshi looks to Denki for an answer. “What was that about? Something happen while I was gone?”
Denki simply giggles, and hums something cheeky, fingers dancing on Hitoshi’s chest. “I dunno what you’re talking about.”
“Alright…” Hitoshi eyes him skeptically. “Fine. Don’t tell me.”
He brushes it off. Figures Denki must’ve said something a little too Denki and Shouta must’ve felt a little too Shouta about it.
It isn’t until dinner that he starts to wonder if maybe it was more than Denki being Denki and Shouta being Shouta.
Because Denki insists on eating all together, “like a big happy family.” And the way he says it is laced with layers of subtext that Hitoshi isn’t privy to, but seem to irk Shouta something awful.
Yeah, Shouta’s off.
He’s never been one for family dinners with Denki, but his reaction goes a little beyond “uncomfortable introvert.”
His face is white. Paler than Hitoshi’s ever seen it. And he still won’t look him in the eye - avoids him altogether, actually. He eats in silence and meets all of Hitoshi’s attempts at conversation with shrugs and one word answers. It’d be cute if it wasn’t so concerning.
And the way Kaminari watches them with a shit eating grin and cheeky, probing questions makes Hitoshi really curious about what the fuck happened during his shift.
“Hey Toshi, what’s that thing you said about ‘Zawa the other night?”
Shouta tenses up so fast it’s almost funny.
“What-“ Hitoshi scans his brain for an answer, because most of their conversations involving Shouta aren’t exactly dinner appropriate.
“Oh yeah!” Denki finishes for him. “You told me you wanted to ask him about his training routine cause he’s been goin’ so hard at the gym.”
“Oh,” Hitoshi remembers. “Yeah. Uh…everything okay with that?” He turns to Shouta, who’s silently poking his chopsticks into his noodles.
“Fine,” Shouta grunts, and shoves too much food into his mouth.
“You sure? You’ve been pushing yourself pretty hard…are you training for something?”
“Mm-mm.”
“Okay…” Hitoshi pouts at Denki, who’s smiling like the Cheshire fucking cat and slurping his noodles a bit too loud.
What the fuck happened?
As soon as he’s done eating, Shouta bolts from the table. “Gunna hit the gym,” he mumbles to the ground and leaves before Hitoshi can have an opinion about it.
Once they’re alone, Hitoshi huffs and fixes Denki with a stern frown. “What did you do?”
Denki shrugs, cheeky.
“Oh my god. Denki.”
“What?!”
“What do you mean what - you fucked my dad!”
Hitoshi rubs the tension out of his eyebrows while Denki giggles.
“Yeah, and? Isn’t that what we’ve been tryin’a do for like, months?”
“Not like that! Oh my god, he’s never gunna talk to me again.”
“I mean…he’ll get over it, right?”
“Have you met him?”
Hitoshi hates the way he can’t stay mad at that plumpy little pout.
“It just happened…I wanted to help…m’sorry, Toshi….”
Hitoshi sighs and pulls Denki into his chest, kissing his forehead. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault - well, it is your fault, but I’m not mad.”
He smiles at the hands grabbing his sweater so Denki can nuzzle closer. Hitoshi just had to fall in love with a slutty idiot.
“Did I fuck things up?”
An adorable, slutty idiot.
“No, baby, it’s okay…we can fix this.”
Denki relaxes in his arms, nudging his nose under Hitoshi’s jaw.
“He totally wants to fuck you, by the way.”
Hitoshi leans back so he can see Denki’s face, smiling something cheeky despite the way his eyes still shine with unshed tears. “Yeah? You think so?”
“I know so. When I started talkin’ about you he got all desperate n’ tryin’ not to cum n’ stuff. And then I told him you wanted t’fuck him, and he busted in like, two minutes. I don’t even think he believed me.”
Hitoshi pulls Denki’s hips flush with his own and grinds against them, groaning through a smile at the mental picture. At the way Denki giggles about it like he thinks it’s cute.
“Well then…I guess we’ll just have to convince him it’s true.”
“This’s gunna be so fun,” Denki snickers like the demon that he is, catching Hitoshi’s mouth in a dirty kiss.
⚡️
“Okay,” Hitoshi pants, still slick with sweat and Denki’s cum. “I think I have an idea.”
Denki turns to Hitoshi with a little hum, breathless and too fucked out to open his eyes.
“You need to fuck Shouta again.”
Denki finally perks up at that, grinning from ear to ear. “Say less.”
“No,” Hitoshi chuckles, “no, lemme finish. So you fuck him again, and I walk in on it. He’ll probably get all - like - emo n’ stuff, but s’fine, I’ll just tell him it’s super hot and - like - confess that I wanna fuck him or something.”
Denki hums, running the toes of one of his feet up and down Hitoshi’s shin. “You gunna be able to say it? You always get all cute n’ bashful about stuff like that.”
“Yeah,” Hitoshi forces the confidence into his voice. “Yeah, no, I can do it.”
Denki fixes Hitoshi with an unimpressed eyebrow. “Babe, if I hadn’t gotten drunk and fucked you at that party you’d still be silently pining for me.”
“Hmm,” Hitoshi smiles at the memory. “That was a good party.”
“I’m serious, you have like, negative rizz until your dick gets wet.”
“Then it’s a good thing you’ll be there to get my dick wet.”
Denki laughs, rolls his eyes, and lands a light slap to Hitoshi’s chest with the back of his hand. “Why I gotta do everything around here? You n’ your emo dad are such piss babies.”
“I love you,” Hitoshi plants a placating kiss to his cheek.
“Of course you do, I put out like crazy.”
⚡️
Denki has encountered a problem. One he’s never encountered before.
Aizawa won’t fuck him.
He’s never not gotten fucked before, and it’s taking a serious toll on his pride.
He tried ‘accidentally’ walking in on Aizawa in the shower, but the dude just wrapped himself in a towel and left without a word, hair still soapy with shampoo.
He tried dressing himself in the skimpiest tank top and boxer briefs he owned and complaining that it was too hot - he even bought a popsicle to suck on because he knows it makes him look slutty - but Aizawa just went out and bought a portable AC unit that couldn’t have cost less than $300.
Like - seriously? People should be paying him $300 to flirt like that!
He even tried shooing Hitoshi out of the house for ten minutes so he could play the whole “please, Zawa? I’m so horny n’ Hitoshi isn’t here to fuck me, you did it so good last time, just fuck me like that again - oh no Hitoshi’s home early and he’s walking in on us getting sloppy” gambit. Hitoshi had come home to him pouting on the living room couch while Aizawa ran away to work out some more.
⚡️
“This sucks!” Denki squeaks, pacing around Hitoshi’s bedroom in a tizzy. “Like - what the fuck? I’m a snack! And I can squirt! Those are like - the two sluttiest things! Your dad’s a fucking loser!”
“I’m sorry baby,” Hitoshi coos a little too condescendingly. “You’re a total snack.”
“Don’t I’m sorry baby me like that! You think this shit’s hilarious, don’t you?”
Hitoshi can’t stifle his laugh. “I mean…it kinda is. It’s about time your hubris caught up with you.”
“What the fuck’s a hubris? I don’t have a hubris! I’m just hot, and fuckable, and I should get any dick I want without having to try, y’know? It’s like - the cosmic scales or whatever! Your loser dad broke the cosmic scales, Toshi!”
Hitoshi doubles over on himself. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry it’s just - haha! I’ve never seen you crash out like this before-“ A pillow hits him square in the face, and it makes him laugh harder. “I’m sorry!”
“I said I was sorry, baby please!”
“Say it again!”
Hitoshi thumps his head against the wall behind him, cock angry red and drooling pre in Denki’s hand.
“I’m sorry - I’m so sorry, I’ll never laugh about your crash outs again I swear, just please let me cum, pleaseletmecum-”
“Promise?”
Hitoshi nods so fast it makes him dizzy. “I promise - I promise!”
Mercifully, Denki’s hand stops strangling the base of his dick and gives it a few gentle strokes. “Fine. Cum, then.”
“Thank you, thankyoubaby, thank y-uughn f-fuuck-!”
“Oh, wow. That was fast.”
“We need a new plan.”
Hitoshi and Denki have been lounging on his bed in silence for the past half an hour. Denki finished licking the cum off his fingers while Hitoshi tried to rub two brain cells together - made difficult by Denki’s revenge edging - and they came up with nothing.
“I dunno,” Denki hums, shoving his cold feet under Hitoshi’s ass. “I think I might’ve like, fucked him up for real.”
When Hitoshi turns to him, Denki is biting at his bottom lip like he does when he’s worried. “I mean he still should’ve jumped on this, I’m a total hottie, but…I dunno. He seems kinda…like, not okay.”
“Yeah,” Hitoshi stares at the ceiling. It’s been about a week, and Shouta still won’t look him in the eye. He’s leaner than he used to be, too. Not thinner, but his skin has started to strain a little tighter across his muscles.
“Baby…” Denki mumbles, soft, serious. “I think you should talk to him. Like…for real. He deserves the truth, y’know?”
Hitoshi’s chest coils tight. Because it’s not just a confession of his feelings anymore, now it’s complicated. It’s being Shouta’s son. It’s Shouta fucking Denki. It’s Hitoshi knowing about it. It’s the damage they’ve caused because Hitoshi doesn’t have the balls to be honest.
They both fall silent for a couple minutes, and when Denki speaks again, his voice is shaky and a little broken. “I’m really sorry, Toshi…I shouldn’t have fucked him. I thought it’d help you two get together, but it just messed everything up….”
He wipes a tear with the back of his hand, quickly like he doesn’t deserve to be crying.
“No,” Hitoshi sighs, pulling Denki’s forehead to his lips. “I should’ve just been honest with him when he offered to adopt me. I’m the one that turned this whole thing into a fucked up scheme.” He sighs again, and pulls Denki a little closer. The hand running gentle fingers up and down his back relaxes his shoulders just a bit. “Fuck,” he breathes. “What do I even say?”
Denki stretches to kiss his cheek. “You don’t have to do it alone…I’m part of this too, y’know? We'll do it together. It’ll be okay.”
⚡️
Shouta is a failure.
He’s a disgusting, pervy, creepy, deplorable failure.
He wanted to give Hitoshi a home - somewhere safe, and stable, and loving. He wanted to be a good dad. Wanted to do the right thing. Wanted to set a good example.
Instead, he fucked his son’s boyfriend.
And he can’t even look him in the eye - let alone face up to it….
He needs to train.
Knock knock!
Just as he’s slinging his gym bag over his shoulder, a knock to his bedroom door has him jumping out of his skin. And then it has his stomach sinking to the deepest level of hell.
“Yeah?” He opens the door - blinded by the light of the hallway after sitting in the dark all day.
Hitoshi and Kaminari idle in his doorway, and Shouta can’t look at them. Because if he looks at Hitoshi, his stomach will eat itself from the inside out. And if he looks at Kaminari, the kid will try to fuck him again.
Menace, Shouta thinks bitterly to himself, even though it’s his own fault.
He could’ve closed the door. Could've said no. Could’ve come clean about it.
Still, Kaminari’s a menace.
Now though, he speaks in an almost meek voice. Something unfamiliar to Shouta’s ears after the week he’s spent fending the kid off with a stick.
“Um…Hitoshi and I wanted to talk to you about something….”
Here it comes.
“I told him what happened…sorry.”
Goodbye fatherhood.
Shouta swallows something thick and emotional in his throat. “Just get it over with….”
He turns back to his room and sits at his desk, limbs heavy, forehead resting in one of his hands, door left open for Hitoshi and Kaminari to follow if they wish.
He chances a glance at them, focuses on their feet, and sees Kaminari nudging Hitoshi with his elbow, whispering a little “go on…you got this.”
Hitoshi stumbles forward, Kaminari close on his heel, and Shouta’s eyes dart back to the floor. That thing in his throat is back, so he swallows it again.
“Uhm…” Hitoshi clears his throat, and Shouta braces.
You betrayed me.
I don’t wanna be your son anymore.
I’m moving out.
“I um…well…that stuff Denki said about me…it’s uh…it’s kinda…true.”
You’re a terrible fath-
“Huh?” For the first time in days, Shouta looks at his son, because he wasn’t listening.
And he notices for the first time that Hitoshi is blushing from ear to ear. That his eyes dart between Shouta’s, searching for a reaction before they study the floor.
“I um…yeah I…u-uhm…y’know…like-“
“Oh my god, he wants to fuck you!” Kaminari interjects, exasperated, and then seems to realize what he said. “I mean - wait - no,” he flips flops. “Wait, actually? Whatever - he wants to fuck you, okay? He thinks you’re a hotty with a body. He wants that old man dick. Sometimes he makes me use his AVC dial n’ pretend I’m you while I strap him. He’s down bad, okay? Okay. Yeah. Good. Yeah.” He’s breathless by the time he finishes, worked up and proud of himself.
“W-what?” Shouta struggles for words. “Old man dick?” Is what comes out.
Fucking - Kaminari-
“I’m- I’m thirty five!”
“Yeah well, we’re nineteen so, y’know…y’r old. It’s like math or whatever.”
Fucking - KAMINARI-
Just as Shouta starts grinding his teeth, glaring daggers at the whore-shaped bane of his existence, Hitoshi laughs. And it's only then that Shouta realizes this isn’t the conversation he expected to be having.
Because Hitoshi is laughing. Not yelling at Shouta. Not denouncing him as a father. Not hurt, or angry, or betrayed - he’s laughing.
“I’m sorry-“ he wheezes. “I’m sorry, I know - haha! I know this is like - serious but - hahaha! But old man dick-!”
“See?” Denki smirks to Shouta. “I’m a fucking poet, old man.”
“If I’m so old, why were you calling me daddy and trying to fuck me all week?” Shouta snaps.
Something about this kid just fucking…gets under his skin.
“Cause you’re old! Daddies are old! I never said that was a bad thing.”
Hitoshi doubles over on himself.
“I’ve heard you call Hitoshi daddy every night for the past year!”
Denki flounders a little on that one, and Shouta likes the way he looks, stammering for an answer. “Yeah well! Well - I mean - Hitoshi’s like - an old man trapped in a teen body! He drinks tea and complains about technology, and - and he cracks all his bones all the time and it’s like, gross - but also kinda hot! You two should just kiss and have old man sex already!”
And that’s when it really hits Shouta.
Sex.
Sex with Hitoshi.
Hitoshi wants to have sex with him.
Shouta’s eyes land on Hitoshi, seeing him for the first time, and Hitoshi’s giggle fit dies with a strangled little choke.
“You…do you want that?” It comes out as a whisper, caught in that thing in Shouta’s throat.
Hitoshi swallows something similar, still smiling, still a little breathless. “Um…I mean, I’d rather not call it old man sex….”
Denki chuckles, but Shouta is stuck in place, stuck studying the way Hitoshi licks his lips, the way his addams apple bobs when he swallows again, the way his eyes study Shouta like a mirror.
“But…you want that? With me?”
Hitoshi’s eyelashes flutter a little when he looks at the floor. “Yeah….”
And Shouta should move. He should stand up and run his fingers through Hitoshi’s hair and kiss him until he’s putty.
Instead, all he can do is stare.
And all Hitoshi does is stare back.
And then Kaminari opens his god damn mouth.
“So like…are y’all gunna kiss?”
“Kaminari I swear to god I will kick you out of my house.”
“Hey!” Kaminari whines. “You should be thanking me! If I hadn’t done my part as a whore you two would still be hopeless horny piss babies!”
Hitoshi chuckles. Shouta flexes his jaw and inhales a steadying breath through his nose.
“Thank you for your service, baby,” Hitoshi plants a placating kiss to Denki’s cheek, which seems to be sufficient compensation by the way he huffs his approval.
When Hitoshi’s gaze lands back on Shouta, it’s bashful, it’s coy, and Shouta should kiss him.
He should stand up and kiss him.
And he does.
“Hmmm….”
And the soft hum that vibrates against Shouta’s tongue tastes like home. The product-sticky hair he tangles his fingers into, his lifeline. And the hands snaking up his chest, over his shoulders, down his back, and into his hair - they feel like being wanted.
And Kaminari’s happy little giggle - for once - sounds sweet.
“Mmn - Shou-mm,” Hitoshi chases the kiss even as he speaks against Shouta’s lips. “Mmn - wanted - mmn - thought about y-mm - so many tim-mm-s.”
Shouta moans, and Hitoshi swallows it. His hands find their way to Hitoshi’s face, holding him like something precious as he touches their foreheads and lets their lips part.
“Hitoshi…why the fuck did you let me adopt you?”
Hitoshi huffs a little laugh. “Got me into your house, didn’t it?”
“I thought you wanted to get in his pants,” Kaminari teases, plopping his ass on Shouta’s unmade bed.
Shouta takes another deep, steadying breath.
Fucking Kaminari.
Hitoshi smiles. “He grows on you.”
“I don’t want him to.”
⚡️
Denki is the luckiest motherfucker in the world.
He leans back on one hand, head lolling absentmindedly to the side with a stupid little smile.
Zawa and Toshi look good together. Two hot, sleepy trainwrecks making out in front of him like they forgot he was there. He studies the way Hitoshi gets all sweet and dopey in Aizawa’s arms, letting himself be pushed onto the bed.
“Hey handsome,” Denki slides down until he’s laying on his side next to his boyfriend, head propped up on one hand. “Having fun?”
Before Hitoshi can answer, Aizawa crawls on top of him and catches his mouth in a hot kiss. And Denki smiles wider, because the way Hitoshi moans all breathy and desperate is adorable.
It’s about time someone else stepped up and topped his boyfriend - it’s a lot of work! And Denki is a pillow princess through and through.
But god, does he enjoy watching Hitoshi get taken apart like an old Lego set; the way he huffs all breathy when his neck gets loved on; the little tremble in his fingers when they run through thick black curls like he’s still not sure he’s allowed to touch; his fucking face. All pinched eyebrows and hazy eyes, moaning through a bitten bottom lip when Aizawa squeezes his waist hard enough to bruise.
Ugh, Hitoshi is so cute.
Denki can’t help kissing his red cheeks and telling him about it.
“You look so good, baby,” he whispers all sweet in Hitoshi’s ear, nudging a stray lock of hair out of his eyes with gentle fingers. “Cutie.”
He expects Aizawa to shoo him out of the way, but he’s pleasantly surprised when he gets a simple, sandpaper “so good,” agreeing with him.
Denki takes a moment to observe Aizawa. He’s a catch in his own right, and he fucks like a god, but Denki’s always found the most attractive thing about him to be how much of a wreck he turns Toshi into.
Now though, he thinks he could get real down bad for that old man. Because he looks ragged (and Denki has a Thing for ragged, sleep-deprived men who look one minor inconvenience away from walking into the ocean). His eyes are bloodshot and cloaked in dark circles, face just a little scruffier than usual, brows all knitted and serious like he’s focusing hard on turning Hitoshi into putty.
And ohhh, the way his arms shake like his own body weight is too heavy to support? Yeah, Denki is into that.
He feels a little bad about it - like, he knows it’s from overextending in the gym, and he knows it’s not healthy, and he knows it’s his fault. But the way Aizawa has to fight just to grind his hips into Hitoshi’s? The way he struggles to tease him?
It’s fucking sexyyyy.
It has Denki’s smile turning a little evil in that way he can’t help. The way he knows Aizawa hates but secretly wants to fuck off of his face.
Denki looks forward to the day he finally snaps and does it.
But this is not that day.
This is the day that Aizawa collapses on top of Hitoshi. This is the day Denki has to stifle a horny little giggle when the dude’s arms finally give out under him.
“Shouta?” Hitoshi comes back to reality just enough to worry.
Denki’s going to hell for a lot of reasons.
The way his pussy drools when Aizawa struggles and fails to pick himself up? Add it to the list.
Add his feelings about the dude’s pathetic whimper to the list too.
“I’m…I’m sorry.” Aizawa’s voice breaking like he’s trying not to cry? Going on the list. “I can’t…I’m sorry, Hitoshi….”
“Shouta…stop punishing yourself.” Hitoshi’s definitely not going to hell. “It’s okay….” He speaks in that soft, sweet voice he’s gotten so good at. “Let me take care of things….” His hands soothe down Aizawa’s back, and then up his sides and into his hair where Hitoshi cradles him. “Let me do it…okay?”
The wet, frustrated sob that accompanies Aizawa’s nod?
Denki hopes Hitoshi will be able to visit him in the tenth circle.
He shifts across the bed so Hitoshi can help Zawa flip onto his back, arms still trembling with effort. He looks good like that - choking down another sob because he’s too exhausted to fuck the way he wants to. Because Hitoshi has to do the work now.
“Hey…,” Denki scoots closer to Aizawa, brushing his hair out of his eyes to reveal a teary little scowl directed at him.
Cute.
“What?” Zawa sounds too tired to bite the way he wants to.
Denki tries to make his voice soft, even though he can’t quite stifle his smile. “I’m sorry you did this to yourself because of me….”
Aizawa studies him skeptically. “You don’t look sorry.”
“It’s not his fault,” Hitoshi placates, straddling Zawa’s hips and leaning down to kiss him again. “I kinda roped him into my schemes to bag you…he was just tryin’a help.”
Denki plants a little kiss to Aizawa’s cheek, ignoring the annoyed grunt it gets him. “Just so you know,” he whispers, sucking another kiss to a stubbled jaw. “Toshi fucked me like an animal after I told him about it.”
For a second he thinks he’s finally overridden Aizawa’s annoyance, because the dude chokes on a punched out moan, but then his palm lands on Denki’s forehead and pushes him away.
It’s fun, tormenting his old sensei like this. He giggles about it.
“Be nice,” Hitoshi asks more than he scolds, trailing open mouthed kisses down Aizawa’s neck, hands bunching his shirt up so Toshi can love on his chest and stomach too.
“I’m letting him stay, aren’t I?”
Oooh, Zawa’s voice sounds sweet when it’s all breathy and shaky like that, lungs a little laboured when Hitoshi bites the meat of his waist and hooks greedy fingers into the waistband of his sweats.
Yes! Denki thinks to himself, smile getting evil again. He’s gunna suck that old man’s diiick!
Hitoshi looks so good sucking Denki’s strap - he can only imagine how good he’s gunna look swallowing a real dick. Especially one he’s been thirsting after for the better part of five years.
“Hitoshi,” Aizawa whines. Straight up whines. “You don’t have’t’do that….”
Denki can’t help laughing at the way he sounds like he’s desperate for it. Especially when he huffs a little gasp after Hitoshi gets his dick out and kisses the precum beading at the tip, all hazy eyes and slutty lips.
“Don’t worry, daddy,” Denki coos.
“I’m not your daddy.”
He sits himself up so he can pull Zawa’s head into his lap and play with his hair, denying him any choice he might’ve had about watching the show Hitoshi puts on for them. “Toshi loves sucking dick…just look at him.”
Hitoshi licks a whoreish stripe up Aizawa’s cock, from base to tip, and then swallows it with a satisfied hum.
“He’s been dreamin’ about this since first year. You really gunna refuse him?”
Aizawa huffs a little moan. “N-no….” He fights to lift a shaky, heavy hand and card his fingers through Hitoshi’s hair.
“You can pull it a lil,” Denki whispers. “He likes that - right at the back.”
He watches Aizawa’s hand hesitate, and then fist in the back of Hitoshi’s hair and tug. And the way Hitoshi slurps up his dick before breaking away to moan, all horny and drooling? Man, Denki bagged a good one.
“How’s that taste, Toshi?” He asks, positively giddy.
“I’h’guh,” Hitoshi slobbers around the head of Aizawa’s cock. Perfect little whore.
“F-fuhck…Hitoshi….” And yeah, who wouldn’t sound like that while they’re getting sloppy head from Hitoshi throat-goat Shinsou?
Because Denki’s boyfriend sucks dick like a pro; slurping and moaning and making himself gag when Denki knows he doesn’t actually need to.
“Slut game’s strong today. You like showin’ off for daddy?”
“Hnn- shut up,” Aizawa complains, but it loses a lot of heat when it comes on the heels of a moan like that.
“Why?” Denki giggles. “He loves it. Look at ‘im, he’s humping your leg like a desperate lil puppy.”
It’s true: Hitoshi has one of Aizawa’s thighs under his hips, and he’s grinding against it like he can’t help himself. And Denki doesn’t know how, but Aizawa must not have noticed until he pointed it out, because he nearly cums about it.
“Oh fuck-“ he spits, and then pulls Hitoshi’s hair again, hard enough to separate him from his dick with a betrayed little whine.
And the way Aizawa immediately grips his cock hard and breathes heavy through his nose? Yeah, he was definitely about to cum.
Denki giggles despite himself, because Hitoshi scrambles to pull his pants down, too eager to crawl his way back up to Aizawa’s mouth to kick them off properly. He moans into a sloppy kiss like he wants Aizawa to taste himself on his tongue. The same way he kisses Denki after eating him out.
“Mm- shouta - mm.” Desperate baby. “Lemme - mm - lemme ride you - mmwannaride you-“
Toshi really does find his stride in the sack, doesn’t he? From bashful to bonafide whore the second he has a body to love on.
Cutie.
“Let the old man breathe, baby,” Denki teases. “Pretty sure he’s gunna blow his load the second you sit on his dick.”
Hitoshi whines like a brat on Aizawa’s tongue, and Denki’s chest swells with pride. He taught Hitoshi how to whine like that.
“Why don’t you show him what you’re hiding down there?”
Hitoshi sits up at the suggestion. “Oh, yeah,” he remembers with a cute gasp, and then turns so he can straddle Aizawa’s waist backwards. Denki has to swallow a moan when he bends over and reveals the purple gem-studded plug Denki convinced him to wear for this.
(“Trust me, babe, it’s gunna be so hot.”
“But what if he says no? I can’t get rejected with a plug up my ass, Denki.”
“Ohmygod he’s not gunna say no!”)
Denki is a genius. A mastermind, wrinkly brained genius.
Because as soon as Aizawa sees the cute purple gem sparkling in the dim light of his room, he loses his fucking shit.
“Ohmyfuckinggod, Hitoshi - fuck, baby-“
Genius.
Hitoshi peeks over his shoulder to see Aizawa’s reaction, timid like he isn’t the hottest thing in the world. His eyes flick up to Denki in a silent plea for approval.
“Told you this was a good idea,” Denki smirks as Aizawa raises a trembling hand to Hitoshi’s ass cheek, thumb grazing over the plug.
Hitoshi swallows his anxiety. “Does he like it?”
Too fucking cute.
“I dunno, whaddaya say, daddy?”
Zawa is speechless, absolutely enamoured with Hitoshi’s ass. All he can do is nod a little dumbly.
“I think that’s a ‘yes.’”
“Fuck yes,” Aizawa corrects him, pushing his thumb against the plug hard enough to pull a shaky gasp from Hitoshi.
Denki watches, ignoring his sopping wet pussy, while Aizawa takes his time playing with the plug. He pushes on the bottom and wheezes about the way it tugs Hitoshi’s asshole just a little, then gets a hold on it and starts to pull it out so slowly. It makes the stretch of that perfect little hole torturous - has Denki’s thighs clenching together under Aizawa’s head.
Hitoshi muffles his whines into the crook of his arm, hips twitching, cock drooling pre on Zawa’s stomach. And when the plug finally slips out only for Aizawa to push it back in?
Ten out of ten. Absolutely no notes.
Hitoshi chokes on a debauched little moan, and Denki can’t help reaching forward and landing a playful slap to one of his ass cheeks, biting his smile to keep himself from giggling.
It gets Hitoshi bucking back, swallowing the plug to the hilt again with a surprised cry. And then it gets him rutting his dick against Aizawa’s stomach, desperate for more.
“Uuhn-sense-Shouta-“ he corrects himself a little too late. Denki beams.
DoN’t cALl me tHAt wHeN I’m fUCkiNg yOu, he silently mocks to himself when Aizawa responds with a moan and pulls the plug free a little too quickly. He tosses it absentmindedly to the floor and instructs Hitoshi to “sit on my dick, baby, go on,” with a firm hand pushing his ass forward to get him moving.
Hypocrite.
Denki isn’t going to let him live this down for the rest of his fucking life.
Hitoshi takes a second to get his bearings, and then he’s turning around again, grabbing hastily for Aizawa’s dick and biting off a cute cry as he starts to sink down on it.
And Denki’s pussy is really starting to feel neglected now, watching Hitoshi’s face pinch in pain and pleasure, swallowing Zawa’s cock and grinding a little once it’s bottomed out inside him. He wouldn’t be surprised if he’s soaked through his underwear.
But can you blame him? He’s watching his adonis of a boyfriend start to bounce on their sensei’s dick like it’s everything he needs, jaw dropping to moan freely about it while Zawa’s hands snake up his thighs and grab his hips with bruising fingers.
And fuck, when Aizawa fists the hem of Hitoshi’s shirt and raises it to his mouth, where he tells him to “bite this, baby, wanna see you,” with gravel in his voice? Denki needs something inside him like, yesterday.
“Toshi,” he whines, sitting up and crawling over Aizawa’s head so he can kiss his boyfriend’s cute fucking face, down his neck, and up his jaw. “You look so hot, baby.” He grinds down on Aizawa’s stomach through his basketball shorts - pleasantly surprised when he doesn’t get reprimanded for it - and pulls at Hitoshi’s shirt so he can peel it off him entirely.
“S’it feel good?” He asks, wrapping his arms around Toshi’s neck, tangling his fingers in his hair, and kissing him with tongue and teeth and desperation while Hitoshi nods his head and sighs into his mouth.
He’s too busy sucking Hitoshi’s face to notice the hands snaking up his hips, until they drag his shorts and boxer briefs down in one firm tug, exposing his sticky-wet pussy to the cold air.
“Ah!” He yelps. “Zaw-AH! Ohhfuck-!”
Denki’s head empties faster than when he short circuits himself, because Aizawa hooks strong, weak arms around his thighs and pulls him backwards so quickly it takes him a second to realize he has a scratchy, stubbled face shoved into his cunt and eating him out like a starving man.
“Oh fuck, oh fuuuck, yes, fuck, thank you, daddy!”
“Holy shit,” Hitoshi curses above him, bouncing a little faster. “Shouta - fuck, yeah-”
When Denki opens his eyes, he finds Toshi’s cock slapping against his stomach. He reaches for it without thinking, and fists it while he hooks his other arm around his boyfriend's thigh and lets his head collapse there.
Denki really is the luckiest motherfucker in the world.
The hand carding affectionate fingers through his hair reminds him of that. As does the mouth sucking on his little dick and moaning so loud he feels the vibrations on his pussy.
He might be going to hell, but damn is he gunna have fun getting there.
“Fuuuck,” Hitoshi moans long and low, hips starting to stutter. “Denki - Shouta - fuck, m’gunna- gunna cum-!”
Denki twists his wrist at the tip of Hitoshi’s dick the way he knows he likes, spreading the pre around with his thumb. “Yeah Toshi, cum for us.”
He chokes on a bratty whine when Aizawa parts from his pussy, but promptly forgets about it when a couple fingers slip inside him, find their way to his g spot, and grind down hard on it. And the way Aizawa gasps for air like he’s drowning makes the fireworks in Denki’s gut all the sweeter.
“I’m gunna - hah- mm-me too,” Aizawa rasps between ragged breaths, hips starting to buck into Hitoshi’s bounce, filling the room with a symphony of increasingly erratic slaps - skin against skin.
“Fu-uuck,” Hitoshi moans.
“Fuck-!” Zawa parrots.
“Fuh-m’mygod-!” Denki squeals.
Because Zawa’s fingers know what they’re doing. They melt him from the inside out. And he’s gunna squirt - he’s gunna squirt he’s gunna-
“No nonono don’stop!”
Aizawa fingers him right up to that edge - right up to that delicious, toe curling, thigh shaking precipice - and then his fingers freeze.
Denki lifts his head in protest, bucks his hips back to chase his orgasm, and then Hitoshi’s dick paints his face in hot, sticky cum with a debauched little moan.
It isn’t until he hears Aizawa groan something guttural and punched out to match Toshi that Denki realizes what’s happening.
Sensei can’t finger him and cum at the same time?!
“Daddy!” He whines, kicking his feet against the headboard in an effort to get Zawa’s attention. And when the fingers inside him slip out to grip his ass instead of fucking him again, he strangles on a frustrated sob, tears starting to prick his eyes.
Denki does not take well to being edged.
“Toshi-!” He cries, fingers clawing at Hitoshi’s hips for attention. “Need’a cum!”
For a second neither of them respond, too preoccupied riding out their orgasms, and Denki’s throat gets tight. He also does not take well to being ignored.
“Fuck, shit, I’m sorry, baby,” Hitoshi eventually rasps, lifting Denki’s face so he can see him. One of his thumbs wipes the cum from Denki’s cheek, but Denki doesn’t care about that.
“I w’s’so close!” He sobs, lips trembling, tears falling, because Denki is a crybaby when he doesn’t get what he wants. “Make him finish, Toshi!”
And Hitoshi’s never been very good at denying a crybaby.
Even when he’s sweaty and still catching his breath - even when he’s trying to blink himself back down to earth after his own orgasm, Hitoshi takes care of him.
He guides Denki to lie down beside a panting Aizawa, peels his shorts the rest of the way off - even when he struggles not to stumble on his own orgasm-weak limbs - and lifts Zawa’s sticky fingers to Denki’s cunt, reminding him he has a job to do.
“Hah, fuck, Hitoshi,” Aizawa huffs between sawdusty breaths, eyes squeezed shut.
Hitoshi kisses his scruffy cheek, collapsing beside him opposite Denki where he catches his breath. “Shouta…Denki…needs you.”
“Daddy,” Denki whines, already grinding on Zawa’s limp fingers. “Daddy please, pl’s I w’nna cum, make me cum-“
“I’m not…your fucking daddy, Denki…”
Aizawa’s still catching his breath, still a little fucked out, still not quite clued into the situation…still hearing an evil smile in Denki’s voice when there isn’t one.
Because now, Denki needs a daddy for real. And Zawa isn’t his daddy.
He chokes on a sob - a real one this time, not a whiny, orgasm-denied one. Because his skin feels cold, and his throat feels tight, and his pussy feels desperate, cloying, awful, needy, and nobody’s taking care of him.
“No - Shouta,” Hitoshi sits up a little, managing to get serious despite his exhaustion. “He’s not fucking with you anymore…he’s in subspace. He needs a daddy.”
“Huh? Oh - fuck.”
Suddenly, there’s gentle fingers petting Denki’s hair, soft lips kissing his forehead, and Aizawa’s voice, completely devoid of annoyance, speaking softly in his ear.
“I’m sorry, baby,” he’s still breathless, still shaky when he sits up on sore muscles, but he’s there. “I’m so sorry…daddy’s here, okay? Tell me what you need, love.”
“Da-addy,” for a few seconds, Denki just cries. He wraps his arms blindly around Aizawa’s shoulders and cries relieved tears at being held. Distantly, he registers Hitoshi climbing over him and settling at his back, spooning him gently and kissing his shoulder.
“We’ve gotcha, baby,” Hitoshi’s voice is warm honey on his heart. “Tell daddy what you need.”
Denki struggles to put the words together - he always gets a little dumber than usual when he’s in subspace. Eventually, when he stops feeling afraid that the arms holding him will disappear, he calms down.
“Wanna cum,” he whimpers into Aizawa’s chest. “You - you stopped…I w’s g’nna cum, b’you stopped.”
Hearing Aizawa chuckle fondly at him isn’t something Denki is used to, but he likes it. Especially when it’s accompanied by a sweet, soft kiss.
“I’m sorry I stopped,” Aizawa whispers against his lips. “Let’s make you cum, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Denki nods, still choking on the remnants of his tears.
The hand between his thighs comes to life again, rubbing calloused fingers through his pussy a few times to get them wet, and then sinking a couple inside.
His jaw drops open immediately, going slack when the fireworks in his gut return tenfold the second Aizawa finds his g spot. Within milliseconds, the awful, cloying, desperate pulse tormenting his body turns sweet, and warm, and addicting.
“Uuuuhhhh-!” He moans long and sweet, hips grinding to meet the way Aizawa’s fingers pulse inside him, right where he needs it.
“That’s better,” Hitoshi coos behind him, dipping one of his own hands down to rub quick, gentle circles on Denki’s dick that have him gasping for air, because his lungs are full of fireworks. “Sweet baby, just needed a little love, yeah?”
Denki nods, because his voice is caught in his throat, a silent scream waiting to explode, fireworks waiting to detonate. He fists his hands in Zawa’s shirt, in his hair.
“I’m sorry, Denki,” Aizawa says again, soft and a little genuine. “You’re a good boy…” he peppers Denki’s face in kisses between his words. “So good to Hitoshi. And to me…most of the time. I can be your daddy if you want.”
Denki tries to speak, but he can’t. His body’s full of fireworks and he can’t - he’s gunna scream - he’s gunna cum - he’s gunna-
“UuuUUGHN-nnNN-Daddyyy!”
Aizawa’s fingers speed up inside him while Hitoshi’s rub him in long, hard strokes, and the fireworks finally detonate - escaping him in a long, loud, brain-melting scream at the same time wet splashes fill the room.
“Don’stop don’stop!” He chokes, hips bucking off the mattress, heels scrambling against the bedsheets, lighting up from the inside out.
“M’not stoppin’,” Zawa reassures, voice dripping gravel, fingers working diligently to fuck Denki through a thigh-shaking, brain-melting orgasm.
“Fuck, baby,” Hitoshi rasps behind him in awe. “Needed it bad, huh?”
“Yeaaa-aaah!” Denki nods, throwing his head back and reaching an arm above him to brace against the headboard so he can arch his back off the mattress - make room for the fireworks.
He feels a hot puddle pooling under his ass, but it still isn’t enough. Still isn’t finished yet.
“Maybe we should edge you more often,” Hitoshi teases with a hint of a smirk in his voice.
“Nooo!” Denki whines indignantly, kicking his feet a couple times to prove his point. “Nononono!”
Hearing Aizawa and Hitoshi laugh to each other while Denki gushes buckets between them isn’t something he thought he was missing out on - but he’s always happy to be proven wrong. Because it makes him feel cute and a little embarrassed in a way that has his cunt spilling another waterfall over Aizawa’s fingers.
By the time he starts to feel the sting of overstimulation, Denki can’t form words anymore. Instead, his hand flies to Zawa’s wrist in a white flag.
“All done?” Aizawa slows his fingers and double checks for Denki’s delirious nod before removing them.
Hitoshi’s hand slides down to replace it, holding his pussy gently until his pulse stops throbbing in it, the way he knows Denki needs after squirting.
It grounds him while he shakes through the aftershocks of having his world rocked, tipped upside down, shaken around like a snow globe, and then rocked again.
“Christ, baby,” Aizawa chuckles with a hint of disbelief while Denki struggles to reboot his brain. “This pussy should come with a fucking warning.”
“And a caution: wet floor sign,” Hitoshi adds.
“And a mop.”
“An’- uhh - fuh - di’me-nuhh - guhh,” Denki tries to speak. It doesn’t work. He’s not even sure what he wanted to say.
But this is good too. There’s something nice - easy - about letting his brain melt while he listens to Zawa and Toshi laugh about it.
“Poor baby,” Hitoshi teases and kisses Denki’s cheek. “Shouta’s fingers that good, huh?”
Denki nods, chest still heaving for air.
“I dunno,” Aizawa’s voice vibrates in his chest, against Denki’s temple. “I’ve fingered my fair share of people, but that was…a lot.” He sounds dead serious when he mumbles to himself “I might need to replace my mattress….”
A delirious little giggle bubbles out of Denki. It’s not unusual for him to get giggly after a good fuck, but this time he can’t stop. Even when he has tears pricking his eyes again, he gasps through fits of laughter.
“No, I’m pretty sure your fingers did somethin’ to him,” Hitoshi chuckles, snaking the hand holding Denki’s pussy up to his waist. “This is new. Y’okay, baby?”
“Y-aha! Ye-ah-haha-!” Denki nods, biting his lip to try and stifle his laughter. It doesn’t work.
What does work is Aizawa grabbing his jaw with gentle fingers and sticking his tongue down Denki’s throat, kissing him slow and deep and sloppy. It leaves him sighing contentedly and melting into the mattress, stuck in the rhythm Zawa’s lips set for him.
“Better?” Aizawa asks, brushing his nose back and forth against Denki’s a couple times.
“Yeahh,” Denki breathes, eyelids too heavy to open. “Thank’y daddy…”
“You’re welcome, baby.”
He feels Aizawa's lips press sweetly against his forehead once, and then his body collapsing back on the bed with an exhausted, satisfied sigh.
“You two are gunna send me to an early grave.”
Hitoshi chuckles, nuzzling his face into Denki’s hair and hugging him a little tighter. All Denki can manage is a stupid little smile, basking in that delicious, heavy-limbed, empty-brained, post-orgasm bliss.
He can’t be certain how long the comfortable silence lasts, but eventually Aizawa inhales a sharp breath like he’d momentarily fallen asleep, and speaks again.
“Hitoshi…I’m un-adopting you.”
Denki can hear the cheeky smile in Toshi’s voice when he answers.
“Okay daddy.”
End!
Did a few lil doodles of the best boys, you can find more art on my twitter & patreon (though I have nnnnot been active on either for a while)
