ok but horny older bf!aizawa tending to his nympho gf who's over a decade younger than him has me in a chokehold
nsfw. legal age gap (33 and 21), sex toys, male masturbation, vaginal sex + creampies, high sex drives
horny older bf!aizawa has two steady streams of income from teaching and hero work, enough to spoil you relentlessly with anything you heart desires. a text from him reads go ahead, sweetheart. buy that, don't worry about the price. you've accumulated a large collection of toys - vibrators, wands and dildos all charged on his card, but knowing he'll be generously rewarded when they come in the mail.
he's most certainly a hands on learner and takes pride in the many ways he worships your body. at the start of your relationship, he felt ashamed of being such a pervert for you due to the ten year age gap. poor man couldn't stop himself from jacking off for hours after that one instance at the cafe.
whether or not you did it on purpose, - each time you crossed your legs, that damned skirt would ride up your thighs just barely exposing the lace panties underneath. it made his jeans feel tighter than ever, half hard cock strained and imprisoned by the fabric.
the only solution of treating the worst case of blue balls he'd had the displeasure of experiencing was a lengthy, imagination fueled masturbation session. pathetic, he thought after his fourth orgasm - a thirty year old man shooting load after load on his abs, instead of draining his balls inside his smoking hot vixen of a girlfriend.
ultimately, horny older bf!aizawa can't hide who he is from you anymore - a sex crazed, lustful pervert with a thing for young and impressionable sluts. "so, are you a tits or an ass man?" you pop the unexpected question a couple weeks in, before either of you had engaged in anything sexual. "that's um, random." the skeptical tone in his voice contradicts the sudden arousal rushing to his loins. tits, ass, pussy, thighs - it didn't fucking matter, he wanted to run his hands over every inch of you. "this might not be the answer you're looking for, but. all of it. of you, that is. i can't say there's one specific part of your body i favor more," he replies respectfully, self control hanging by a thread.
"hm, but that's not quite what i asked." you pick up on how he's sweating, debating on which words to use cause he can't let you know how much of a sexual deviant he is. "fine, well. if i absolutely have to choose, it would be your ass." shouta says he's an ass man at first, but it's just to deter you from bothering him more about such a foolish question. all it takes is for him to wrap his lips around your nipple while bouncing the flesh in his palm for the first time. "alright, i take it back. guess i'm a tits man now." that's until he's impaling you on his thick cock from behind, your perfect ass on display for his eyes and hands only. "you know what baby, forget it. i'm neither an ass or a tits man. fuckin' can't get enough of both."
not once have you felt a man cum in your cunt as hard as horny older bf!aizawa - who possesses unrivaled stamina with a dick that throbs inside of you like crazy. his sounds become primal the closer he gets, losing himself in the ecstasy of your vice grip. it's when you repeatedly continue to gush around him like a damn fountain that he checks in with you, worried about the fragile state of your body. "awe, my girl's so cockdrunk she didn't even realize how many times she fuckin' soaked me. you're so cute when that brain of yours is turned off, consumed by pleasure." although, your boyfriend isn't devoid of morals, and has studied your body well enough to determine if you are genuinely overwhelmed.
he's older, wiser, experienced - knows enough about intimacy to be attentive to his partner. "your body's preparing for something incredible, but we need to slow down. just, let yourself ride the wave. don't overwork your muscles." he kisses your nose, guiding your tired hips and massaging your tender thighs. because he has to carefully lead the way, pave the path for the orgasm that's about to wreck your whole body with indescribable bliss.
initially, you doubt that horny older bf!aizawa can keep up with a slut like you who can't get enough older cock stuffing her pussy. his sex drive can't be anywhere near yours, you thought - and you'd never been more wrong in your life. "listen, i'm not that much older than you. quit acting like i have some sort of dysfunction. wasn't i just bouncing your exhausted body on my lap last night when you couldn't even hold yourself up?" he isn't wrong - the substantially well endowed hero has the strength and libido of a madman, opting to use your body as a fleshlight when your bones turned to jelly. "whatever you say, old man." fuck. he couldn't let you walk away from him after that demeaning phrase.
"old man, huh? is that what you called me?" the earlier comment had pissed him off, finding it frustrating but alluring that you thought you could get off scot free. "you think guys your age could fuck you like this?" your body is forced up the bed with each slam of his hips, the headboard colliding with the wall. "no, sho- fuck, only you. 'm sorry, didn't mean to say that." the wet heat of your cunt is intoxicating - he's close to blowing his load inside for the second time after that snarky mouth of yours decided to talk back. "gonna flood this pussy, you ready?"
too blissed out to answer, shouta leans over your back, long and steady fingers decorating your neck. "atta girl, fuck- this pussy's too good." shouta's a responsible man, only agreeing to cum inside you if the right precautions were in place. birth control was your best option, and you'd been going at it raw ever since. "gonna cum so hard, feel it? feel how hard i am?" answering him with choked moans and cries of pleasure is all you can deliver, eyes rolling back with each slam of his tip against your cervix. "fuck!" he buries his hips as deep as possible, flooding your already drenched pussy with his warm cum. "how's that for an old man?" your body collapses, a smirk forming on his face at the satisfactory sight of your leaking pussy.
being a kid and hearing adults say stuff like "woah 2011 was 4 years ago haha" didn't really convey the fucking horror of a youtube video crossing my recommended labelled "9 years ago" and it's from 2017. that's not true. 9 years ago is 2010 or something. don't lie.
Summary- Hannibal notices how increasingly overwhelmed you’re becoming and finally does something about it and his growing feelings for you.
Combining two requests with this with one that said ‘Hannibal who finishes quickly which is unusual for him’ and ‘more cockwarming with Hannibal please’ 💕
Warnings: Smut. Explicit filthy smut. Car sex, cockwarming, p in v, choking, 18+ only thanku. Finger sucking , unprotected sex. Hurt/comfort. Slight praise kink. Written with a chronically ill reader in mind but just use ur imagination ok
A/N- I know I ghosted everyone I am sorry I’ve had a horrible time the writers curse got me good and well fucked anyway. And then my immune system discovered my eyes. What a fucking mare. Pls be nice. 🥹 Enjoy 😘
⛔️Do NOT feed any of my works into an AI we do not do that shit here ⛔️ we work off unresolved trauma and daddy issues x
“So, Hannibal and y/n will drive down to the hometown of the victims and work from there okay”. Jacks voice carries through the room, you give a half arsed nod as Jack continues laying out everyone else’s job for the rest of the day.
“I’ll meet you down in the parking garage” you smile at Hannibal as you get up to leave.
You lean against a concrete pole, flipping your keys over in your hand as you wait.
“I’m looking forward to this” Hannibal’s voice breaks you out of the haze your in. Your brows raise. “What?” You say, schooling your face into something more present. Hannibal chuckles “me and you, I enjoy working with you y/n” he says genuinely, smiling at you.
You chuckle, half arsed, again, looking away before he can see your face fall. Hannibal sees it, Hannibal sees everything. “It’s gonna be like 11pm by the time we get there” you say, unimpressed gesturing him to the passenger side of the car. You sigh quietly as you sink into the drivers side, eyes closed briefly as you think of the absolute mission ahead.
you lean over and reach for the hot water bottle you’d left on that side and throw it in the back seat as Hannibal gets in. His cologne fills your car and it makes your head spin. It’s not too strong, it’s just so him. You shake your head, trying to will away the thoughts flooding through your mind.
Your eyes widen as the radio comes on, loudly
“Shit- sorry” you murmur, twisting the dial down. Hannibal shakes his head, warmly as he fastens his buckle.
You stick your phone on the mount in the middle of the dash and put in the town your headed to. “Fuck me” you groan as the drive time shows up five hours forty minutes
“Mind if we stop for coffee once we get out of the city?” You ask as you reverse out the garage.
“Not at all” Hannibal says, his eyes remain on you as you drive. His fingers tap on his thigh, a strange thing for him, given his usual composere.
“Your sunglasses, they suit you” he says, brown eyes trailing your face. You don’t look away from the road “they’re prescription” you reply. You sigh as you turn into a coffee drive through. “Sorry, thank you” you chuckle to Hannibal. “Are you simply unused to such compliments or is that your response to everything?” Hannibal says, amused. You blink at him.
“ What do you want?” You say, unimpressed with his remark. Hannibal shakes his head.
You order one iced latte, caramel, no cream. And an americano. You tap your phone as you pay and hold out Hannibal’s drink for him. Hannibal’s brows raise. “What? If you don’t want it I’ll have it as well” you say, eyes back on the road. “You know how I like my coffee” he says as if it’s a strange concept. You shrug “yeah? So?” You murmur, “we work together all the time. Of course I know your coffee order”. You groan as your phone rings. You let it ring, ignoring it. And again when Jack calls back a second time. He’ll give in eventually and just call Hannibal anyway.
Hannibal notices the way your jaw ticks every time it goes off. Subtle, but hannibal always did make a point of being aware of the small things.
The sun moves lower in the sky as you drive, an orange hue setting across your face. You shift slightly in your seat, uncomfortable, slightly pained and definitely irritated.
“Pull over” Hannibal says quietly. You do. Hannibal turns to you as you stop.
“What?” You ask, turning to him, confused. Hannibal’s distracted momentarily by the way your face looks in the light. He clears his throat
“Are you okay?” Hannibal murmurs, his arm coming round the back of his seat. “Yes. Why?” You ask. Hannibal’s eyes narrow slightly. “You’re overwhelmed” he states. Your brows raise slightly. “It’s that obvious” you murmur. Hannibal chuckles, leaning forward so he could touch you if he wanted. “No” he says “it’s not obvious at all, but you didn’t deny it” he points out softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You let out a breath, could be a sob, could be a sigh. “Come here” Hannibal says, I clipping your belt for you and pulling you into his lap
“Oh I-
Your eyes widen as he wraps his arms around your waist. Hannibal’s hand cups the back of your neck as his eyes bore into yours.
“Beautiful” he whispers, his other hand cupping your face. Your lip quivers, he catches it. “Darling, when was the last time you slowed down, let someone take care of you” Hannibal murmurs, thumb tracing your jawline. Your silence gives him all the answer he needs. Your eyes meet his and your taken slightly with how he’s looking at you not with just concern but with awe too. You shift your hips slightly, his gaze making you not uncomfortable but unused to such, affection. Your breath catches in your throat when you feel it.
Feel him. Heat pools in your core as you brush against him. You hope the slight eye roll was subtle.
Hannibal chuckles softly under his breath. “Let me show you, slowly” he says, his voice is lower. Almost breathless. You nod
“Words, darling” he says, accent thick as he waits for you to say it. You do. Hannibal taps your thigh , signalling to lift up as he frees his cock and hooks his fingers in your waistband. His eyes briefly flick to your underwear appreciatively before he pulls those down too. Hannibal grips the base of his cock and braces one hand on your shoulder, his eyes level with yours.
“Slowly” he breathes. You gasp as you sink down on him, holding back a whimper. “Good girl, breathe” he says thickly as you lower yourself fully on his cock. You press your forehead to his as you adjust to him. “Fuck” you murmur. “Don’t move” he murmurs, hand trailing up your back. “Just breathe” Hannibal nips at your ear as he speaks. It makes you shiver.
His hand grips your jaw, his brown eyes blown wide with lust as you warm his cock. Your face twitches “sh, darling, not yet” he soothes as his eyes study your face, the way your lips curve at the side, the dip in the middle. Hannibal lets out what could be a moan as his head falls back slightly. His thumb swipes across your lip.
They part and his eyes widen as your tongue darts out and your lips wrap around his thumb. You keep your eyes on his as you suck. The groan from Hannibal this time is unmistakable. His other hand holds your hips firmly in place as he teases. “There have been nights, where i was unable to contain my thoughts” he says, eyes falling shut. “About you, how you’d feel around me, the sounds you’d make, whether you’d beg”. he groans as he pushes another finger into your mouth. You shift your hips in response. “Please” you groan around him. “You feel better than I ever imagined” he whispers, removing his fingers with a pop before trailing them down your neck. He pauses where your collarbone meets your throat. Eyes searching yours. You nod.
Hannibal thrusts, once as he applies the tiniest pressure at the base of your throat. Your pussy tightens around him and you moan. Hannibal’s cock twitches at the feeling. He does it again, a little more pressure and your eyes roll back in bliss. “Please, I need you” you groan. You feel his cock twitch again at your words. “Hanni please” you say, eyes moving back to his. Hannibal leans in, captures your lips in a kiss, he’s suprisingly gentle as his hand remains around your throat. “Say it again” he whispers, almost pleading. “I need you” you say, voice catching. Hannibal almost looses his composure when he hears the barely audible “I’ve always needed you”. The groan Hannibal sounds makes your head spin. “Stay still, let me, darling” he says, voice wavering as he tightens his hand and thrusts again. And again.
“Oh fuck” you groan, “fuck, m’so full” you murmur, pussy tightening as Hannibal continues to push into you. Hannibal groans at your words, his orgasm approaching far too fast for his liking “your so wet” he pants. “All for you” you moan as your toes start to curl. Hannibal curses under his breath. “Fuck, darling I-
His words cut off as he groans, pleasure coursing through him
“S’okay” you say, lip caught between your teeth. “Come with me” you say as Hannibal’s thrusts start to become less controlled “please Hanni, your gonna make me come”
Hannibal’s hand tightens around your throat as your orgasm crashes through you “let go with me, I’ve got you, darling” he says, voice strained as you feel him spurt inside you “fuck Hanni- fuck oh my god” you groan as you drench his cock with your own release.
You fall into him as you both try and catch your breath. His arms tighten around you, pulling you closer, you curl into him and he places a kiss on your scalp. “You’re incredible” he murmurs, breathless still. “So are you” you reply. Hannibal squeezes your waist.
You laugh softly. “Good” he says “I’ve been waiting to hear that laugh again” he says softly. You hum. Arms wrapping around him. Hannibal swallows.
“Did you mean it?” He says, almost inaudibly. You frown, lifting your head up to look at him. The suns set fully now, only the light from the dash illuminating your faces. “Of course I meant it” you say. Pulling him into you. Hannibal nods. “And I meant it too” he says, foreheads pressing against yours.
You smile, the first real one in a while. “Good, then you can drive the rest of the way, yeah?” You say, brows raised. Hannibal laughs. “Of course darling” he murmurs, peppering your forehead with gentle kisses. “Let’s just stay like this a little while longer first”.
✮ SEX EDUCATION: where your hot professor teaches you how to cum!
⋆ LESSON 1: GUIDANCE ON HOW TO TOUCH YOURSELF
you're on his lap, your back is pressed against his chest, your legs draped over his. "wider, baby." you spread, your skirt is bunched around your waist. your soaked panties are already on his desk. he made you take them off the moment you walked in, holding them up to the light and tsking at the wet spot.
"there," he says, satisfied. "now i can see everything." his hands grip the soft skin behind your knees and push your legs even further apart. you're completely open, completely exposed, your bare pussy on full display, glistening in the lamplight. you can feel the wetness pooling beneath you, soaking into his trousers, into his chair. "fuck, look at you. you're already dripping, good girl." you whimper and try to close your legs, but his grip tightens. "ah-ah. keep them open. this is a lesson, remember? you need to watch. you need to learn."
you force yourself to stay still, your pussy throbbing under his gaze. "touch yourself." you hesitate. your hand hovers over your own body, trembling. "i said touch yourself, baby. two fingers. start with your folds. feel how wet my good girl is." your hand moves. your fingers slide through your wetness, and the sensation makes you gasp. you're so wet that your fingers glide effortlessly, your own arousal coating them. "that's it. feel how wet you are? you've been thinking about it, haven't you, baby?" "yes," you whisper. "every night?" "yes, professor." "tell me what you did." "i—" your fingers are moving in slow circles around your clit now, and it's hard to think. "i touched myself. in bed. thinking about you." "good girl. show me how."
your middle finger sliding down to circle your entrance, then back up to your clit. "mmnh..." your hips buck against your own hand. "faster, baby."
you speed up. the wet sounds fill the room, your head falls back against his shoulder, and you feel his breath against your ear. "now two fingers inside, good girl. fill that pretty pussy for me." you slide them in, and the stretch makes you gasp. your walls clench around your own fingers, but it's not enough. it's never enough. you can feel how tight you are, how desperate. "that's it. fuck yourself on your fingers. imagine it's my cock, baby. imagine it's me splitting you open." "ah— ah— hnnggh! professor—" "look at you," he murmurs. "so desperate. such a good student, fucking herself on her own fingers. you'd take my cock just like that, wouldn't you? all desperate and whimpering." "yes! yes!" you're fucking yourself faster now, your hips lifting to meet your own hand. "that's my good girl, play with your clit now. use your thumb. circle it." your thumb finds your clit, and the it makes you cry out. you're so sensitive, so swollen, every touch sending sparks through your body.
"ah—hah! professor! i'm— i'm close—" "good. cum for me, baby. cum on your fingers like the good pretty girl you are." but something stops you, you're right there, teetering on the edge. your fingers pump desperately, your thumb rubs frantically, but you just can't. "i— i can't— nnghhh! " your voice breaks. "i can't without you, professor. please. please, i need your fingers. i need you."
his grip on your legs tightens so hard it might bruise. you can feel how hard he is against your lower back, his cock pressing into your spine. "if i touch you, baby, it's no longer for education. do you understand that? if i put my fingers inside this tight little pussy, it's because i want to. not because i'm teaching you. do you really want that?" "yes," you sob. "yes, i want that. i don't care. please! i don't care about the lesson... hah! i just want you—"
"say it again." "i want you to touch me. i want your fingers inside me. please, professor, please— i need you—" "that's all i needed to hear, babygirl." his fingers slide into you over yours. two of them — thick, massive. he pushes past your fingers, deeper, and the stretch is blinding. you scream, but his other hand clamps over your mouth, muffling it.
"shh, shh," he breathes in your ear, but he doesn't stop. his fingers move inside you with yours, fucking you open. "take it. take it all, baby." "mmmnnnghh! hir— nnnghh!" "that's it. feel how thick i am? feel how your pussy stretches around me? this is what you've been begging for, good girl." his fingers are so much bigger than yours. they fill you completely, pressing against your walls, curling exactly where you need them. and then his thumb finds your clit, presses down, circles. "fuck— ah!.. haaah— professor!"
your legs kick, but he holds them wide, keeps you open, keeps you taking it. you're sobbing against his hand, drool running down your chin, completely destroyed. "that's it. that's my good girl. you're going to cum on my fingers now. you're going to soak my hand, baby. say thank you." "th— thank you—" "louder." "thank you, sir!—"
your orgasm rips through you, your back arches, your head falls back against his shoulder, and you cum hard, your walls clenching around his fingers, your own fingers, everything. your vision whites out. a long, guttural moan tears from your throat as he works you through it, his thumb still circling your clit, his fingers still pumping, never stopping.
"fuck," he mutters, watching you fall apart. "that's it. that's it. good fucking girl. look at you cumming all over my hand. such a pretty sight." when you finally come down, you're shaking. your hand falls away, when he slowly withdraws his fingers, shiny with your cum, and brings them to his mouth. he sucks them clean, one by one, eyes never leaving yours. the sight makes your pussy clench again. "you're a fast learner, babygirl."
⋆ LESSON 2: LET HIM DROWN IN YOU!
his desk is cold against your bare ass. he's cleared it — pushed aside stacks of papers, a laptop, a mug of pens, some students' project folders — and lifted you onto it like you weigh nothing. your legs are spread wide, your heels resting on the edge, your pussy fully exposed and dripping, the papers beneath you are getting wet, but neither of you gives a single fuck.
"you asked me how this would help you learn," he says, his hands gripping your thighs, spreading you even wider. "the truth is, baby, it doesn't." you blink. "what?" "i just want to eat this pretty pussy. i've been thinking about it since the first time you sat on my lap. that sweet little cunt grinding on my thigh. i need to taste it."
"then—" "you need to know what a good eating out feels like. so you know what to expect." he grins against your inner thigh. "but mostly because i can't stop thinking about your taste." and then his mouth is on you. he doesn't start slow. he dives in, tongue flat against your entire pussy, licking from your entrance to your clit in one long, wet stroke. you cry out, your hands flying to his hair. "ah! fuckfuckk! professor!"
"mmmnh— fuck—" he hums against you, and the vibration makes your hips buck. his tongue circles your clit, flicks it, sucks it into his mouth. he pulls back just enough to spit on your pussy — a wet, obscene glob that slides down your folds — and then he's back, spreading it with his tongue, mixing his spit with your wetness.
"that's it. taste so fucking good, baby. sweet, wet and perfect. this is what a good pussy tastes like. remember that." "nnngh!— ah— hnnggh—hiro—" his fingers spread your folds open, and he dives deeper, his tongue pushing inside you. you feel it fucking you, curling, tasting your walls, and you're already so close, your thighs trembling around his head. "cum for me, baby," he says against your clit. "first one. give it to me." "i— i—" "cum. now."
his tongue flicks your clit fast, hard, and you cum with a scream, your back arching off the desk. he doesn't stop. he licks through it, groaning against your sensitive pussy drinking everything you give him. "mmmngh— yes. there we go, good girl. that's one."
your legs are shaking, you think it's over. well, it's not. he goes back in, sucking your clit between his lips, rubbing it with the flat of his tongue. his fingers slide inside you, curling, hitting that spot that makes you see stars. "i can't! — another one— it's too haah! much—" "you can, pretty girl and you will. look at this pussy. she's not done yet."
his mouth descends again, and this time he's rougher. he presses his face hard into your pussy, his nose grinding against your clit, his tongue fucking you deep. he talks to it, low and breathless, his lips brushing against your folds. "such a pretty pussy. so wet for me, baby. you love this, don't you? having your professor on his knees eating you out in his office while others' works get ruined under your wet ass. you love it."
"yes! i love it! oh my go—i love it! professor—" "tell my pussy you love it." "i love it! i love my pussy— i love your mouth on it—" "then cum again, good girl." he pinches your clit between his teeth — just enough pressure, and the second orgasm rips through you. your legs clamp around his head, but he doesn't move. he stays buried in your cunt, lapping at you, groaning against you. "mmmngh. mmnh—" until you're twitching and oversensitive, sobbing from the intensity.
when you finally go limp, he looks up at you. his face is destroyed — wet, shiny, your cum dripping from his chin, his lips, his nose, his eyebrows. he doesn't wipe it off. "one more, baby."
⋆ LESSON 3: GET ABSOLUTELY POUNDED BY HIS BIG COCK
he points to his desk — the lower one, where his teaching assistant usually sits, covered in student papers. "on all fours." you don't hesitate. your palms hit the wood, your spine arches, your ass pushes back toward him, grinding in the air. you're wearing a dress tonight — short, thin, no panties, and you know he can see everything. your pussy is already dripping, your arousal slicking your thighs.
"look at you," he breathes. "soaking wet and i haven't even touched you yet." "please," you whimper. "please, professor, i can't wait anymore! i need you—" "you'll wait until i say you're ready, good girl." he drops to his knees behind you. his hands spread your cheeks apart, and you feel his breath on your cunt, hot and damp. "i've already made you cum twice tonight, remember? on my tongue, on my fingers. so this won't hurt, baby. i made sure you're ready."
"yes— yes—" but his mouth isn't finished. he leans in, licks a long stripe up your slit, and you moan, your arms nearly buckling. "for luck." "professor— i can't! mmnh! i've already—" "shut up and take it." his tongue slides inside you just to try it again. "good girl," he says, standing up. "now you're ready."
he unbuckles his belt, the sound of the metal jingling makes your pussy clench. his trousers drop just enough to free his cock — thick, hard, leaking, the head glistening with pre-cum. he strokes himself, and you watch him over your shoulder, drooling, your mouth open.
"tell me what you want, baby." "i want your cock, professor. please. inside me." "how badly, pretty girl?" "so badly i can't think. i can't breathe. please— i've been so good— i've learned everything— please just fuck me—" he steps forward. the head of his cock presses against your entrance, and you push back, trying to take him, but he holds your hips still.
"slow, baby or it'll hurt. i'm big and you're tight. breathe." "nnnngh... please—" he pushes in, just the head. you scream, but it's late, the building is empty, no one can hear you. he's so big — bigger than you imagined, bigger than his fingers, and the stretch is blinding, burning, perfect.
"breathe, baby. breathe for me." you gasp and he pushes deeper. "ah! mmnghh!!— fuck! professor!" "that's it. taking it. taking all of this cock. such a good fucking girl." he slides in to the hilt, and you feel like you're being ripped apart. his balls press against your clit, and he's so deep inside you that your walls clench around him, trying to adjust to his size.
"look at you," he groans. "taking my whole cock. this tight little pussy was made for me, babygirl." "move— please— move—" and he does. at first he's gentle — slow, deep thrusts that let you feel every inch. his hands grip your hips, guiding you, teaching you. you can feel every ridge of his cock, every vein.
"rock back into me, baby. meet my thrusts. that's it. feel how good it is when you move together." "harder, please! haah! harder!" "yeah? you want me to fuck this sweet pussy proper?" "yes, please!" he slams into you. hard. the desk screeches against the floor. papers scatter. a lamp wobbles and falls. "fuckkkfuck! hiromi!" "that's it— that's my good little slut— take this cock."
his hips pound into you, his balls slapping against your clit. he reaches around, fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight circles. your legs give out, but he holds you up, one arm around your waist, still fucking you, never stopping. "i'm gonna! gonna cum nngh! wanna—" "not yet."
he pulls you up against his chest. his cock stays buried in you, and now he's fucking you from behind, upright, one hand on your hip, one hand on your throat, squeezing just slightly. "you feel that? that's what a real cock feels like, baby. that's what you've been begging for all these weeks." "yes yes! mmmhnah! thank you, thank you professor!" "thank me by cumming. cum on my cock. soak it."
he slams into you, and his fingers work your clit, your head falls back against his shoulder, making you cum with a scream that echoes through the empty building — "ahhh— fuckkk, yesyes, so good! "fuccck, yes— cum for me— cum on my cock." your walls clench around him, and he groans. "nnnnggh— fuckkk— baby mmmnhh— gonna cum, where do you want it?"
"i'm on the pill," you gasp. "cum inside me, professor. please. please, i want to feel it." "yeah? you want me to fill this tight little pussy? you want to walk around campus tomorrow feeling my cum dripping out of you, baby?" "yes! haahhh! pleasepleaseplease!" "gonna! i'm gonna— fuck—"
he slams into you one last time. his cock pulses, and you feel it — hot, thick, flooding you. he groans your name and you feel him twitch inside you as he fills you, his cum spilling deep into your cunt. "fucckkk that's my baby, mmhnh... sweetest pussy, all mine." when he's done, he doesn't pull out. he stays inside you, his forehead resting on your shoulder, both of you breathing hard, sweat-slicked and shaking. lessons completed.
more? ──── art cr. @ yunonoai on x sparkle cr: @kthice
cw: varka x female reader. smut. we love varka's fat dick 🩷 and yes i said WE.
ohh varka my beloved. i just KNOWWW it's big. i just know each time you fuck him you have to readjust to having him inside you. i just know that he has to tease you and rile you up for a while to make sure you're soaked before he sticks his dick in you-- if you're wet, it's much easier for both of you. not only is it long and fat, he probably gets off on it when you tell him to be gentle or tell him to wait.
"varka, wait. fuck... wait-- you're too..." your voice is shaky, weak under the pressure of him. varka is leaning over you, hands planted firmly beneath you as your legs are hooked around his waist, ankles on his hips and cock fully inside you. "too what?" he asks, his voice low and heavy. he's staring holes into you, his cheeks slightly warm and his lips parted a bit as he pants. his hair sticks to his face some. he's pulsing inside you and you can't even respond. his lips quirk into a smirk and he tilts his head forward, pushing his hips further against the back of your thighs. you moan, and his cock applies more pressure against your walls. you squirm, walls fluttering and squeezing on his length and causing your own juices to leak out beneath you.
he waits. very patiently. giving you tentative little thrusts, bucking his hips to test how ready you are. but the seconds tick past and you have not relaxed a bit. he lifts a hand to rub the back of your thigh, shushing your whimpering. his eyes move down your face and throat, down the curve of your chest and past your twitching abdominal muscles, to where your bodies meet. his cock is lodged within you, and you try to relax, only for your pussy to flutter and pulse in a simultaneous effort to push him out and welcome him in.
you whine, and varka follows it with a slow stroke to push himself in more. he shifts his hips against yours then, groaning and dropping his head to kiss your throat. you're still squirming. you might as well be fucking yourself with him. he huffs.
"relax, baby. stop moving... i wanna fuck you properly before you make yourself cum on my cock."
✶ ⠀ what being lestat de lioncourt’s lover is like :
1910’s lestat x mortal fem!reader ⟢ masterlist 18+mdni
starting off strong, he’s a drama king. he pouts when you leave, sighs like he’s auditioning for an opera, and insists he’ll “wither away without your company” as if he isn’t immortal. he’ll even clutch his chest when you tease him.
he stares at you when you talk. he simply just admires the view of the woman he loves. your mere existence is the most intoxicating and beautiful distraction for him. sometimes you’ll catch onto him staring and go, “lestat, are you listening?” he’ll just simply reply, “of course, mon cher” with a soft grin on his face as he looks at you like you hung the moon — obviously he wasn’t listening.
he never raises his voice when he speaks to you. he’s always soft with his tone. he’s too reverent of you to ever be loud. with every word he speaks, there’s love in his voice for you. the quieter he gets, the more serious he is. even when he’s angry, he talks to you like he’s afraid the sound might break you. his control is proof of him trying to be good.
he spoils you rotten. to him, he has a beautiful, whiny doll he created. he gifts you with luxuries a girl could only dream about, holds you close to him every night, and makes sure you have everything your heart desires. even when you complain about something small, he just leans down to rub your cheek and go, “mais vraiment, ma belle. what is it that you need?” — half teasing, half serious. his world revolves around you and it stops when you’re inconvenienced.
he loves your attention. he needs it. a glance your way can make him grin like he just discovered the sun. when you’re quiet, he paces, he worries. it’s a tragedy for him — a true injustice of you ignoring him. he’ll lean close when you finally speak, his voice soft but insistent, “parlez moi, ma belle, je meurs sans vous,” because again, he’s a drama king.
his apologies are even dramatic. expect flowers, an apology letter, and a gift of something he heard you think about. he can’t live knowing that you’re angry, so you never go to sleep that way.
he’s very affectionate. he needs your touch and lives to feel the softness of your skin. he’s always kissing you or his hands are always resting somewhere — the small of your back or your thigh. he needs to feel you. he’ll have you curled in his lap as he hums to you, reads, writes, talks, or just so he can hold you. he’s possessive in a way.
the jealous type. not the loud kind, but the kind that lingers in the room. his smiles turn tighter, his tone a little too polite, his eyes too focused. he doesn’t make a scene, but you feel it. the temperature drops a few degrees. the silence stretches. when you finally notice, he’ll just say, “does he make you laugh like I do?” — again, he’s a drama king.
protective. he’d kill for you, yes, but also he’s always there when you’re out. he petitions that he goes with you when you say no. “i just don’t want you out there alone, ma petite,” he’d say as he’d grab your waist, trying to be persuasive — he is. he’s clingy, he just won’t admit it. he calls it his love and protection for you.
his heart flutters when you tell him he can drink from you. to him, it’s an act of devotion and reverence when he does it to you.
his favorite position is missionary. but not in a boring way. he likes to watch you squirm under him and moan his name as he gives your body what it wants. he’ll wrap your legs around him and pound into you until you’re too dumb to remember anything but, “lestat.” he loves to see your jaw drop and stay there with your eyes rolling back as he makes you come undone for him over and over again.
he’s a romantic. he sets the mood with perfection. lestat was always the romantic type. he’d make a trail of roses to your shared bed, light candles, and make sure your favorite melodies are playing. once he’d get you in bed, he’d pamper you with kisses all over and treat your body like it was the most precious thing he’s ever laid his hands on.
sweet talker (is that a surprise?) he doesn’t stop talking either. he could be whispering the sweetest words in your ear as he pounds into you relentlessly from whatever position he put you in.
he moans in your ear when he’s inside you to make sure you know what you’re doing to him. sometimes he can’t help it, sometimes it’s to undo you even more. it’s his way of praising you.
“you feel so good, mon cher.”
“one more, hm?”
“taking me so pretty — so wet for me.”
he bottoms out and stays there sometimes just to watch you pout impatiently underneath him with your soft whines. “why so impatient, ma petite? you know i’m eventually going to give you what you want,” he’d tease.
he eats you out with devotion and precision. he does it to please you, of course, but he can’t help but to get turned on as well from the way you react to him.
he’s dominant. however, he lives for when you ride him. he craves it more than blood sometimes. he gets really vocal when you ride.
he can be mean, of course. sometimes he fucks his frustration right into you until you see stars. he’ll whisper the meanest words to you, yet he’ll still hold your body with care. he knows what you can take, and he knows how to push your limits. “so pathetic, ma belle. you’re already crying under me.” he loves to see you dazed with desire and teary-eyed from his cock drilling in and out of you. you’re his own personal art.
he’d last forever if he wanted to, he just can’t always bring himself to do so when you look so pretty while you’re all spent and spread open for him after having multiple orgasms that night simply because he couldn’t stop chasing the high of seeing you make those pretty faces and sounds that you made from the first one. eventually, he’ll get all in his head and boom, he’s coating your walls with his warm, thick cum — moaning your name as he did so.
Also I apologize to everyone who sent me requests, I didn't realize so people would actually request anything from me and I got burnt out. So sorry if I never wind up writing any of them but in the meantime here's some James Wilson because no one's writing for him so I guess I just have to do it myself.
Thinking about Dr. James Evan Wilson right now….
James Wilson whose big and warm hands cup your cheeks as his lips kiss the tears off your face.
Who wraps his arms around you and pulls you against his chest after you appear at his door at 12 am because you were scared and lonely.
Who drives you home and carries you up to bed when you get too drunk at the poker tournament at the hospital, tucking you in and helping you get undressed without looking.
Physical touch is never an issue, the pecks on your forehead and the hand on your lower back is his silent but constant reassurance.
The doctor is older, the faint creases appearing at the corners of his eyes when he smiles, and the slight grey that peeks through his brown hair giving away his true age.
He's a bit traditional, holding the door open for you and taking you out to nice restaurants for dates with his Oncologist money, and never letting you touch the bill.
James’s fingers that brush against your hair as you curl up on the floor beside his leg, the material of his expensive slacks brushing against your cheek as it rests against his knee.
James who gives. Who gives and gives to everyone and takes care of you as best as he possibly can.
He's observant, perceptive. He knows your every insecurity, your vulnerable naivety, and he can't help but feel guilty for needing to be needed by you. Exploiting your innocence.
But it works.
He'll comfort you and protect you forever, like the broken little bird that you are.
Smut under the cut!!
You know James is selfless, and a giver, so obviously that does not change in the bedroom.
He won't touch you for a long time once your relationship starts, wanting to take things slow. It will take even longer if you're inexperienced or a virgin.
But once he finally gives in to his urges after waiting for a year? He can barely control himself.
You finally realize that sweet, responsible, mature Wilson is secretly a freak, and not as vanilla as you thought.
He's vocal, always whimpering and whining into your neck as he presses you into the mattress, even when he's the one in control. But can you blame him? He's pent up after years of being alone and you're so warm and wet and perfect it just brings it out of him.
He'll talk you through every second of it, slow and gentle or fast and rough, it doesn't matter.
And you CANNOT tell me that he's not into cockwarming. I can already imagine how he'd beckon you to sit on his lap as he works. He's a busy man, but wants to do anything to make his little girlfriend happy anyway. He'll make you sit there with him buried inside you for what seems like hours, sternly reminding you not to move an inch, no matter how bad you both want it.
Or sometimes he'll make you rub yourself on his thigh or the tip of his dress shoe, letting you use him for your pleasure as he sits at his desk and flips through files.
He surprises you by tying your wrists together with his tie, shoving your face into the mattress as his chest presses against your back. It's okay when he's rough, when he's selfish. He deserves it. You don't mind being his outlet when things get too stressful.
And those big brown puppy eyes that look up at you from between your thighs as he eats you out, lacing his fingers with yours as he dives back in for a third time… GOD.
When you wake up in the middle of the night, restless and sweating he’ll just gently shush you, turning you over and slipping his hand into your pajama shorts, fingering you back to sleep.
AUUUGGHHH I NEED THIS MAN OH MY GODDDDD. Okay. Enjoy this. It kinda sucks.
Warnings and Genre : NSFW/ 18+/ Self-stimulation/ Voyeurism/ Praising and Guiding (basically Aizawa using his voice to stimulate you)/ Sexual Intercourse/ Creampie/ Fluff (at the end)/ One shot
Notes : Based on this.
Dividers by @/cafekitsune
Masterlist | Second Masterlist | Third Masterlist
The way he stumbles upon what would later become one of his greatest discoveries is purely accidental.
It’s a typical evening in your shared apartment—after long hours of work and a quiet, relaxing end to the day—when he calls out to you:
_ "Come here princess. Dinner’s ready."
Yeah, it’s his turn to cook, but that’s beside the point.
Because what matters most is what that rare endearment—uttered in that low, rough, and slightly tired voice of his—does to you.
A familiar heat settles low in your stomach, a warm tingle creeping up your neck to the tips of your ears. Your breath hitches, a soft gasp slipping past your lips, and your knees nearly give under you.
How.. strange.
_ "Uh, y-yeah, I’m coming."
And you can’t—for the life of you—hide the fluster in your voice.
But it’s fine. Maybe he didn’t notice?
He did..
He just doesn’t comment on it, not yet.
Not until he sees it again. Not until he’s sure.
You sit together at the table, wrapped in that familiar, comfortable silence as you eat.
Or so it seems..
Because you’re anything but comfortable.
Not after that unexpected discovery, of what he's able to do to you without even trying.
He steals glances at you, a faint smirk curving his lips as he takes another bite, watching you struggle to swallow what little you have in your mouth.
Perhaps he should just test it again. See if he’s right.
_ "Eat. You’ve barely touched your food, princess."
His gaze settles on you—steady and assessing—and you choke on your food, eyes watering as you cough.
He chuckles.. amused and intrigued.
_ "Easy, sweetheart," he murmurs—clearly teasing now—while handing you a glass of water, "drink it slowly."
He leans back slightly, elbows resting on the table and fingers steepled as he watches you through his one visible, heavy-lidded eye while you regain your composure.
_ "You’re laughing? I’m choking and you’re just laughing?"
Despite your frustration, it’s obvious you’re only trying to hide your bashfulness, and failing miserably.
He raises an eyebrow, that infuriating smirk still in place.
_ "I’m not laughing at you, princess," he says calmly, "I’m laughing because you’re not as subtle as you think you are."
_ "What? What’s that even supposed to mean?"
This time, he doesn’t answer—not with words anyway—but what he does next makes his intentions clear, and they are far from innocent.
He stands slowly, pushing his chair back. The wood scrapes against the floor, loud in the otherwise quiet room.
When you look up at him, whatever playfulness lingered is now gone and replaced by something more intense.
_ "Get up." the command is simple yet final, and you see it in the way his visible eye darkens slightly.
You blink up at him—flustered, confused, and in no position to argue—but before you can move to obey, he leans down, one arm slipping beneath your knees, while the other supports your back as he lifts you effortlessly.
You instinctively wrap your arms around his neck, breath hitching, heart racing, and heat pooling in the pit of your stomach.
_ "Shouta, wait! What are you doing?"
_ "Conducting an experiment."
His tone is even as he carries you toward your shared bedroom, leaving dinner behind, half-eaten and forgotten.
He approaches the bed, steps slow and measured, before lowering you onto the plush mattress and pulling back, just enough to look at you.
To study the way you struggle to keep your composure.
_ "Alright," he murmurs gruffly, arms crossing over his chest, and a hint of amusement tugging at his expression. "Here’s how this is going to go. You listen carefully, and you do as I say."
You swallow thickly, nodding before your mind can even catch up with the command. Because you can’t disobey, you won’t disobey, not when it’s delivered in that low, steady tone.
_ "Good." He nods once—slowly—satisfaction threading through his voice, "let’s start with your clothes. I want them gone," he pauses a bit before adding, "now."
You hesitate briefly, and he senses it, arching an eyebrow and studying you from head to toe, "don't make me repeat myself."
And that's it, that's all it takes for your hands to start pulling at your clothes, peeling them off your body one article at a time, until you're sitting there above the silky sheets , in nothing but your undergarments.
_ "All of them, baby girl."
Heat, inexplicable and undisguised, washes over you at the sound of those few simple words.
He knows, oh he definitely knows..
_ "Shouta, um, whatever you think is happening here, y-you're wrong." hearing the words leave your mouth in that small and uncertain voice, makes you realize how ridiculous that empty excuse must sound.
_ "shhh. No talking, remember the rules. I say, you do." he interjects with a slander index to his lips, tilting his head slightly to the side, and his luscious dark strands sway with the movement.
You swallow again, intrigue and desire filling your senses. You reach behind you to unhook the clasp of your bra, keeping your eyes on him the whole time.
His adam's apple bobs as the soft garment slides off your breasts and hits the sheets, a low growl tears from his throat at the newly exposed flesh.
_ "Fuck, you're beautiful."
A blush spreads across your cheeks at the praise spilling from his lips with such controlled hunger, and you smile, a smile that makes him grumble and curse again.
Your smile widens at his reaction, and you lock eyes with him, shifting to kneel, the plush mattress creaking under your weight.
_ "Carry on love." he instructs with that same low and raspy voice, and your hands move on their own command, fingers hooking into the delicate fabric of your panties, pulling them down inch by tantalizing inch, all the while looking at him with barely disguised arousal as he stands at the foot of the bed.
_ "Good girl." he uncrosses his arms, running a hand through his mane of dark hair, his visible eye glowing with raw intent, "now," he adds, "I want you to touch yourself, and keep your eyes on me while you do it."
Your eyes widen slightly and the blush tinting your cheeks deepens noticeably. It's not that you haven't done it before, of course you have, but never in front of another soul, not even him, the one person who knows every dip and every curve of your body.
But he's standing right there, mere inches away, gaze intensely drinking the enchanting sight of you before him, and a flutter in your heartbeat rocks you whole.
You can't disobey, you won't disobey..
Fingers trail down your exposed skin, from your breasts to your stomach and then lower, until your palms are resting over your convulsing core.
A low growl rumbles in his chest at the sight, a voice you know very well to mean he's quite pleased.
_ "Go on sweetheart." he leans slightly forward, the movement almost imperceptible, but you catch it.
You take a shuddering breath, biting down on your lip to muffle any moans or whimpers you know you'd inevitably make, before moving a hand up to cup the tender curve of one breast, while your other hand starts pressing gentle circles on your glistening pussy.
_ "Don't bite your lip princess, I want to hear every sound you make."
He licks his lip, bringing one calloused hand to stroke his chin, the stubble grating under his fingers as he does so.
_ "Shouta.." his name leaves your mouth in a breathy whisper, easily reaching him in the quiet of your shared bedroom.
Your fingers quicken their pace, and your eyes—half lidded and glassy—are still on him.
You cannot look away..
_ "Keep going," he murmurs, the vibration of his gravelly voice is carried straight to your core, and the obscene sound of your forming juices is a symphony to his ears, "good girl."
A moan—desperate and shaky—is your reaction to the praise, and two fingers easily slip into your naturally lubricated pussy, while the other hand squeezes your soft mounds and brings your nipples to hard pebbles.
_ "Yes, fuck. Just like that." his voice is turning a bit strained, and you can tell he's barely in control at this point.
You moan again, this time his name is what comes from between your slightly parted lips. You pump your fingers faster in and out of yourself, fantasizing about all the times his cock stretched you out deliciously until you were tossed over the precipice of orgasm.
And he notices it..
_ "What are you thinking about sweetheart?" his tone turns playful, but doesn't lose its edge, "are you thinking about me fucking you so hard that you forget how to breathe?"
That damn voice..
_ "Shouta.. I can't.." you squeeze your eyes shut as that familiar heat starts coiling in the pit of your stomach
_ "Eyes on me princess."
Your eyes snap open, and your fingers instinctively quicken their pace with every word he says, bringing you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy.
_ "Tell me how it feels." he demands, one of his hands sliding down to cup his throbbing bulge over the fabric of his sweatpants.
_ "It feels so good," you reply breathlessly, "but not as good as having you inside of me."
The confession gains you a deep chuckle, and he finally moves from his spot to approach you with slow and steady steps, despite the stiff length swaying proudly between his legs.
_ "Is that so?" he asks, now standing right in front of you.
_ "Yes." you reply, the word leaving your mouth before your mind could register it.
_ "Alright then, you got it." and in an instant, his sweatpants are lowered to reveal the thickness beneath, smooth head raging and already leaking precum.
The sight of him—turned on while watching you—almost snaps what little control you still possess over yourself.
But he doesn't allow it—not yet—not until he's finally buried deep into your warmth.
He climbs on the bed, the soft mattress dipping under his weight as he moves to push you back and crawl over you, like a predator cornering his prey. His hand replaces yours on your pussy, not to carry on where you left off, but simply to glide his long fingers over the dampness he finds, and it pleases him immensely.
_ "That's my girl." and the praise this time is fanning over your exposed skin in a warm whisper, that sends a tingle of anticipation through you whole.
He gives you no time to respond, no time to react, no time to even breathe.
He pushes your legs wide apart and kneels between them, fingers encircling his shaft and giving it a few lazy pumps while his gaze is intensely on you.
Your breathing turns heavier as your eyes drink in the majestic vision of him : hair slightly messy with a few dark strands falling over his forehead, visible eye glowing with a kind of passion only you can ever arouse, and a subtle flush dusting his cheeks and neck as he guides his throbbing cock into your welcoming core.
He spares you no moment to adjust—he's already at his limit, and so are you—his thrusts come hard and deep, and his pace is animalistic in its speed, that it knocks the air out of your lungs.
He leans over you, pressing your body between himself and the ruffled silky sheets, his mouth trailing kisses along your neck and jawline until reaching the soft skin under your ear and whispering in a rough voice, "you feel so good wrapped around me like that."
He knows what he's doing, because the moment those words leave his mouth, your walls clench on him involuntarily, and a whimper shakes your sweat-slicked body.
His pace doesn't relent, it's in fact bordering on brutality now, and you feel his stubble tickling your heated skin as his lips curve into a wicked smirk.
_ "Shouta! I'm so close!" you cry out in a desperate wail, tensing beneath him and clinging to his powerful arms braced on each side of you.
_ "That's it princess, go ahead and show me how good I'm making you feel." his voice is strained, and his balance is hanging by a thread, but he will watch you fall apart beneath him before allowing himself release.
He delivers a particularly powerful thrust, and that's all it takes for you to fall over the edge of ecstasy with a high-pitched cry of his name and an arch in your spine, as wave after wave of pleasure wash over your convulsing form.
_ "Yes beautiful, just like that."
You cling to him while he doubles down—chasing his own release—and the look of sheer bliss in your glassy eyes as you're finally sated, is what snaps his control.
His hips stutter, and after just one, two, three more urgent strokes he stills, and you can feel the familiar hot seed pumping into your cunt and coating your sensitive walls as a low guttural grumble vibrates in his chest.
He collapses onto you, and you welcome him with trembling arms encircling his neck.
For a long moment, neither of you speaks. The tension fades, replaced by a comfortable silence, broken only by your shared, uneven breathing and the erratic rhythm of your hearts beating against each other.
After a while, he shifts slightly, lips brushing the crook of your neck as he speaks, his voice low, tired, yet edged with quiet amusement.
_ "So… my voice, huh?"
_ "Wha—no!" your fluster returns instantly. "I told you already, didn’t I? You’re wrong about that."
A chuckle escapes him. Deep, unburdened, and warm against your skin.
_ "Alright, princess… whatever you say."
You don’t respond right away. Your expression softens, eyes fluttering shut as his lips press featherlight kisses along your skin.
_ "You’re not going to let this go, are you?" you murmur with a resigned sigh, though the small smile tugging at your lips betrays you.
Practically all of class 1A is sick, and to Aizawa's horror, none of them decided to stay home from school. Now quirks are going haywire, and he just wants to go to bed. ● implied erasermic, class idiocy, Parental Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead | Dadzawa, Sickfic ● Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Class 1-A
thinking about retired pro!aizawa who’s pushing 40 and daydreams about a family of his own after semi retiring from hero duties in favor of teaching. decades of navigating the criminal underworld gifted him with unparalleled insight, all of which would benefit the next generation of young heroes.
still, a void within him remained in his heart and soul. the proper term would be companionship, according to nemuri and hizashi. as an older bachelor, shouta questioned whether or not he was even eligeable. "nobody wants a man pushing 40 who's never stepped into the dating pool," was his excuse at any social gathering.
"you'd be surprised," nemuri snatched the sake bottle away from him before more drunken intrusive thoughts would arise. "i promise there are plenty of women out there, you just need to open yourself up. let your guard down." he scoffed, the alcohol influencing his cynical mentality. "i've spent decades mastering the craft of not letting my guard down. i'm not going to change for something as silly as love."
retired pro!aizawa eventually fell victim to peer pressure, desperate to satiate the emptiness he felt. you met him at a less chaotic but vulnerable time in his life, a rocky transition stage into civilian society. on your first few dates, he comes off as a timid lover. averting his eyes if you'd caught him staring for too long, or running a hand through his hair if any doubts crossed his mind.
months later, you're recognized as an established couple and he's baffled at how the time flew by. for once in his life, his heart swelled with adoration from your delicate touches in the mornings. the strong aroma of coffee brewing always felt strangely domestic, but a scent he could get used to.
when baby fever hits retired pro!aizawa like the plague, it doesn't matter that you aren't married yet. he's made it his mission to stuff you with his cock in every room and on every surface. whether or not you're ovulating or on your period, the primal instinct within him demands that his seed take route regardless of your cycles. "sho, we really shouldn't be doing this now. you're late-"
his hips increase in speed, palms spreading your thighs wider on the kitchen counter. your messy cunt leaks down the edge into a pool on the floor, shouta humming with satisfaction. "yeah, baby. but my coffee's not done yet, and i haven't filled you up today." his eyes are decently bloodshot, circles of fatigue decorating his lids. but he's hungry, feral even, consumed by the madness brought about by his libido.
"your coffee's been done for like, ten minutes." shouta pulls your body closer as you wrap your legs around his waist, your bottom supported by the counter's edge. "ten minutes goes by just like that," he emphasizes with a snap of his fingers. "when i'm deep in this tight cunt, darling."
pillowtalk in between rounds with retired pro!aizawa lasts no more than a few minutes. "you feel me leaking out?" he interrupts you mid sentence, bothered by the amount of cum that escaped your pussy. "that's no good." he collects the mess on his fingers in an attempt to push his load back where it belongs. "sho, i was trying to lecture you on birth control." you truly were, especially since he was curious about nexplanon and iuds.
"and i'm learning, trust me." he pats your sticky thighs, running a finger up and down your folds for good measure. you pretend not to notice how he repositions your body to fit snugly against his chest. "i like learning about your body," he whispers into your neck, planting a leisurely kiss. "can't wait to see you pregnant."
his stamina is unheard of for a man of 40, considering he can fuck for hours on end. he's got a lot of cum to give, but also endless amounts of love to offer. his favorite phrase before leaving for work, "can't wait to see you knocked up with my children," rings in your ears until he returns in the afternoon.
retired pro!aizawa is ecstatic upon learning he is going to become a father. nemuri and hizashi encourage him to celebrate with their colleagues, but he argues at his age he's going to need all the rest he can get before fatherhood. he'd much rather spend nights browsing through furniture and clothing websites with you, a protective hand on your stomach. "you think i'll be a good dad?"
your answer is immediate. "absolutely. you've practically fathered a whole classroom." your chuckle clears him of anxiety for a moment. "yeah, but. this is different. this is my kid, my flesh and blood. i'd never put them in harm's way." he taps his fingers against your stomach, a telltale sign that he's minimally anxious. "i don't want them to become a hero, at least not doing the same work as i have."
"sho, they're not even born yet. can you just relax?" he's distracted by the valley of your breasts, tempted to play with the mounds. you redirect his hand from your sensitive chest, but he happily resumes tracing your tummy. "ok, fine. i just- want to protect the two of you, that's all."
when retired pro!aizawa fucks his pregnant wife, his movements are tailored specifically to your body's needs. when your breasts feel sore, he'll knead them carefully with his large hands. having done an impressive amount of research on pregnancy safe positions, he insists he knows "what's best."
he places his own needs on the backburner, refusing to orgasm or chase pleasure before you've been taken care of. as your bump grows, some standard positions are no longer possible or comfortable. he worries that your orgasms could trigger painful contractions, often holding himself back from his typical rough paces. "you can go harder, sho. fuck me like you mean it."
"fuck, i'm trying not to- hurt you or the baby." his movements are uncoordinated and loose, fingernails digging into your hips. "don't wanna lose control." he was petrified after the one time where you suffered an intense contraction after a rougher lovemaking session. since then, he'd have to be reassured multiple times that he wasn't causing you any pain. taking preventative measures was his strongsuit, but his overly rational thinking frustrated you and your sexual appetite.
even weeks after leaving the hospital, retired pro!aizawa refuses to touch you sexually, ignoring your pleading. "you need to heal," he affirms. aside from the chronic sleep deprivation, shouta found fatherhood to be incredibly rewarding. UA granted him a generous paternity leave, with nemuri and hizashi offering to take over for a few months.
your obgyn validated shouta's concerns, eventually convincing him that your body was properly healed. whenever the two of you had a spare moment, he would make up for lost time. "i wanted you every night, every single day. every fucking hour." he felt at peace with himself again, with your legs over his shoulders or his chest flat against your back. "think i'll put another baby in you, yeah? would you like that, mama?"
the force of his deep thrusts ignites a spark within your body, one that was repressed for over a month. your attraction towards each other never dwindled, as shouta viewed you as the most beautiful woman before, during and after giving birth. "can't wait to become a dad again. and again, and again."
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