i told the moon about you

aizawa stays quiet for a beat, staring. you take the opportunity to rake your eyes down his form, too.

he's wearing all black; nothing new there. a soft sweater and slacks—because he'll never be caught wearing joggers outside the house for reasons unbeknownst and frankly asinine to you—hair falling around his carefully arranged expression in dark waves.

the hint of stubble across his jaw has you reaching out to touch before your brain can intercept the subconscious command.

aizawa doesn't lean back.

the pads of your fingers brush his jawline. "can i shave you?"

"weird time to propose edward scissorhands roleplay."

you huff and roll your eyes. "not tonight. another time. when i can see straight."

"told you," aizawa murmurs lowly. he crowds closer, until there's a boot between your heels and an exhale brushing over your forehead. he's not forward in public in the way people usually are—hands on skin, lips on lips, front plastered to front. but he is forward, in his own strange fashion, and with a meticulously defined sliver of air between you both. "drunk."

"well... i guess you won't want to take advantage of me tonight then, hm?" you tip your head back onto the wall and look up at him. "too many... ethical considerations."

"that's certainly one way to put it," he mutters, dark eyes contradicting his composure.

"'s a shame, really."

a group of patrons stumble out of the bar and onto the street. aizawa's gaze flicker's to them momentarily, surveying, before they drag back to you with a new weight.

"is that so?"

"mhm."

you don't elaborate as you fish out your phone from your bag, nor as you type in your passcode and swipe across your littered homepage.

this is one thing you love about aizawa: his patience.

he doesn't utter a word. waits calmly, quietly. grants you space to gather your thoughts and speak your piece in your own time.

it's sweet.

he's sweet.

but tonight, you don't want him to be.

you find the app you're looking for and click on it, flipping your phone around and handing it to aizawa a beat later.

he looks at your face. "what's this?"

you shrug.

the figure it out goes unspoken.

taking your phone carefully, aizawa stares at the screen as though trying to decode hieroglyphics.

you exhale a soft laugh.

"quiet," he murmurs, only a touch of admonition in his voice.

"alright, old man," you reply, ignoring the warning flash he sends you. "take your time."

curiously, he presses a thumb to the screen.

nothing happens.

he drags it downwards.

still, nothing.

then, he swipes his thumb up.

sparks skitter along your spine in an instant. heat creeps behind their path.

you inhale sharply.

aizawa raises an eyebrow. he drags his thumb up higher.

you choke on a weird sound in the back of your throat.

a brush of his thigh between yours.

there and gone.

enough to feel the evidence—vibrations.

aizawa clicks his tongue in reprimand. "really?"

you hum, a small, helpless noise. there's not much point pleading your case. it's not your fault he said he'd pick you up tonight, and it's certainly not your fault aizawa decided to like this when he did so; all tired, hooded eyes and a stern set to his mouth. looming over you like a sexy guardian angel.

his thumb drags back down.

you bite back a whimper as the vibrations settle into a mind-numbing tease.

"i'd rather you just say you hate me," you manage to bite out.

at that, the corner of his lip twitches upwards.

"and break your little heart?" he glances askance at the bar's entrance.

between one blink and the next, you're thrown over his shoulder. it's so utterly disorientating that you only manage to let out a startled yelp—holding onto his sweater for dear life, despite realistically knowing aizawa has never dropped you once in all the years you've known him and most certainly won't start now.

he pats the back of your thigh with a big palm. "i'm not that cruel."

your vision swims, but thankfully you're not drunk enough to feel any nausea.

small wins, you suppose.

"what the— shouta!" you slap his back. "what the fuck? let me do—ah!"

the vibrations increase.

high.

"ohmygod."

"this is what you wanted right?" aizawa starts walking down the street. you wiggle on his shoulder but he only tightens his grip under your knees. your stare at the fuzzy mess of pavement sliding past you. "you want me to be mean tonight."

"no i—"

"yes."

"no, shouta, listen—"

he hums. it's accusing enough that you fall silent immediately.

the vibrations climb as though they're your reward for not fighting. you bite your lip. heat swells from your core and races to the very tips of your toes. they curl against the sole of your shoes.

"i'm only 'shouta' when you're pleading innocence, hm? what happened to 'dad' earlier?"

"dad," you gasp. "please—"

he laughs.

well—

exhales. amusedly. the brief notes of a chuckle sounding in the air before they're swallowed once more. your fingers tangle in the soft fabric of his jumper when he turns the vibrations up again. and again.

and again.

you keen, low, but it's a gunshot in the deserted nighttime streets.

you don't remember him taking your bag but you catch a flash of your keychains in the street lamps and follow the sight, thinking, huh, before aizawa tucks your phone in and zips it closed.

"how 'bout the long way home?" he asks, while it's all you can do to keep quiet as the vibrations crawl over your skin. your expression scrunches against the firm muscles of his back. "i'll keep you safe."

"please," you try again, voice cracking over the syllable.

aizawa squeezes your thigh.

you muffle a strangled groan into the knit of his sweater.

the vibrations continue eating you alive.

“‘Toruuu.” You whine, bracing your hands on his abs like you can barely even hold yourself up, your hips staying still and heavy on his. “C’mon…I don’t like it…”

Satoru grins, utterly endeared by your little attitude. He chuckles, grabbing your hips between his big hands and starting to roll them for you. “Aw, baby…You tired?”

You nod, whimpering softly as you let him do all the work moving your hips. He snorts softly in amusement, looking up at the way your eyes are all big and pleading, your little hands plastered on his stomach, your legs practically limp as you sit there in his lap. Rolling his eyes fondly, Satoru settles back against the pillows even more, letting go of your hips entirely and putting his hands behind his head.

“Wha-…” You start, looking perplexed as he lets go and stops doing any work. Then, realizing what he wants, you glare down at him lightly. “…Don’t be lazy, Satoru.”

“Lazy?” He barks out a laugh, shaking his head and looking up at you incredulously. “You think I’m lazy? Honey, you’ve barely done anything except cum this whole time.”

Face flushing, you glance away with a little scoff. “Okay? That’s bad now?”

His grin only widens at your continued attitude. But he stays firmly lounged back on the pillows, not even grinding his hips even as his cock twitches inside you. “Not bad, no. But you’re not pullin’ your weight. C’mon, sweetheart. Ride.”

Frowning- actually it borders on a grimace- you lift your hands and cross your arms instead, shaking your head. “No. I’m tired.”

‘From what?’, Satoru wants to ask. But instead he only lets out one of those long, fake-disappointed sighs. You blink now, glancing back down at him with a flicker of worry at his reaction. I mean, usually that only has a 50/50 chance of winning, but you always get surprised when he doesn’t give in.

Instead, he gives you that look. Y’know, the one that says ‘if you keep fucking around we’re stopping right now’. No teasing, no punishment, no apologies- just pulling straight out and continuing on with his day like nothing happened. And that’s even worse than having to do any work.

Holding back a, admittedly petulant, little whine, you uncross your arms and brace your hands on his abs again. Satoru grins again, obviously pleased with your obedience.

“Atta girl.” He praises teasingly, giving a motivational little grind of his hips. “Now, ride.”

Blushing deeper, you drop your eyes away from his and lift your hips. Ever so slowly, you pull halfway off…then drop down soooo slowly. Over and over. Up and down. At a glacial pace.

It still feels good. You feel every hard, thick inch of his cock as you purposely move at a sluggish pace. He throbs and twitches inside you, responding to the stimulation, but responding to your fucking bad behavior. Nails digging into his skin lightly, you continue on with your retaliation to his orders, just waiting for him to lose that ever-present patience.

Satoru watches the whole time, of course. His eyes never leave your face or your body, watching silently as you ‘obey’ his orders. It’s more amusing than anything, really, the way you’re such a spoiled little brat. Going all slow, whining pitifully like you can barely stand this, glancing up at him with adorable little pout every few seconds just to see if he’s close to giving in. But he’s the one who made you like this, encouraged and even rewarded your bratty mindset. Of course he’s not giving in yet.

The tipping point comes when you have the gall to stop and pant like you just put in so much work, batting your lashes as you glance at him as if pleading for help. Satoru has to hold back a laugh, his eyes nearly rolling out of his head as he smiles.

“Oh my god, you’re such a little baby…” He drawls, chuckling lowly.

“Satoru, please…” You beg, already starting to slowly lean down towards his chest, aiming to lay down.

He tsk’s you while quickly grabbing your shoulders to keep you up. “You’re being ridiculous, sugar. This is really unbecoming of a grown up woman, y’know…”

This time it’s you rolling your eyes, knowing he’s full of shit. You rest all your weight in his hands, knowing he can hold you up…and you both know you’ll just flop down and smack your head on his if he lets go.

He holds eye contact with you for a moment, and you stare right back, just as stubborn as him. The silence is long and heavy, like a silent battle of wills…as if you both don’t know who always wins in the end.

With dramatically indulgent sigh, Satoru tugs you down and crushes you to his chest, his strong hands grabbing your ass instead. You don’t even bother hiding your delighted little smile, happily grabbing at his arms and burrowing your face in the crook of his neck.

“Fuckin’ brat…” He grumbles, although he’s smiling as he plants his feet on the bed and starts pulling out to ram up into you.

“Mhmmm…” You hum in agreement, shivering in anticipation and excitement as he stops at the tip.

Spreading you nice and wide in preparation, he turns his head and murmurs lowly in your ear. “…Better take it until I tap out then, Princess.”