aizawa fingering you off the wakeup before he leaves
mdni 𑄝 my hero academia
aizawa just sliding between your knees just so he can ‘rest his head on your chest’ before he needs to arrive at u.a. early as a teacher, seeking a moment of brief respite at the sight of you perched comfortably atop the kitchen island counter. his stubble tickles your collarbones, prickling through his own t-shirt that you wear to bed. he sets down his coffee beside you, arms tentatively wrapping under your armpits, calloused fingers clutching the small of your back— feeling your waist there.
aizawa inches closer, even more so that your face settles into his black scruffy hair. his pecs press against the plush mounds of your chest, doing nothing but rather— feeding the flame that always seems to burn him silently, especially when you’re all soft and sleepy like this. as if on cue, your hips move closer, thighs instinctively enveloping his hips to accommodate aizawa closer just so you can hug him better. but now you’ve simply given him morning wood. two can play this game, and he’s more than eager to.
“baby…” aizawa grumbles, trying his best to seem composed and nonchalantly relaxed, though all he can clearly focus on is the point of contact, where he can feel the warmth of your pussy enveloping his dick through the seam of your shorts. his hands retreat from your back, detouring down your torso, his fingertips massaging your hips, sneakily sliding down between your thighs. aizawa’s lips curl into a lazy smirk, grabbing and gently pinching the softness of your inner thighs.
curiously, his hands wander to the center, just aiming to taunt you and abruptly leave. he does quietly promise to himself that he’ll get off you soon— that he’ll move on with this morning so it’ll feel faster when he comes back home later. as he usually does, every day and every night. he swears to himself. but aizawa freezes. you’re not wearing any panties, he can tell by the obvious shape of your slit, and the patch of dewy moisture aizawa feels through the thin fabric of your sleep shorts.
“are you trying to kill me?” he accuses, voice coming out rougher and more gravely than normal, jolting in the slightest. his accusation doesn’t have any weight to it— his hand silently panics and settles atop your knee. you don’t speak, you’re too invested in the way you’re actively making him late just because he can’t really harness himself back into composure.
your head lolls to the side, as if to taunt him back, giving aizawa the option of arriving with a frustrating boner at u.a. or being a minuscule few minutes late for class 1-a. you’ve managed to plan this perfectly. a busy, hero-work filled week without feeling him has got you overly easy. easy enough you’re going to the length of not wearing panties.
maybe a quick one won’t hurt, the thought is irresistible in aizawa’s headspace. ten minutes is all i need.
his hand returns back to your clothed slit, earnestly slipping under the seam smoothly. the pressure on your clit is firm and insistent, rubbing against the sensitive bud, coaxing a soft, breathy moan that aizawa catches with his mouth. he bunches up the soiled seam before dragging it off to the side so you’re rightfully exposed fully.
aizawa’s tongue slips past your lips, face inching closer as he laps against your teeth and tongue. with a heavy, intentional movement, he presses his bulge against your hamstrings, erection prominent even under his black trousers.
“so wet, aren’t you?” he whispers, pulling back just the slightest so he can feel every puff of your strained breath, especially when he touches you like this— flicking your clit and rubbing it between his thumb and index, then flattening four fingers against your pulsing entrance and grinding, slipping against it. “you’re so needy.” aizawa quips, tapping enough against your heat that it sounds like a slap.
your knees threaten to close, muscles seizing with each purposeful pass of his calloused fingertips. “shou—shouta…” you breathe shakily, and a lazy grin crosses his face once more, enjoying the mere fact that he can get you so worked up in a short period of time, with just teasing, gentle friction. the kitchen is quiet, save for the sound of the distant thrum of the refrigerator and the schlick schlick schlick of your arousal in the air.
aizawa’s middle finger slides smoothly inside you, pumping slowly at first, as he vacuums your hushed moan into his lips. though he is steadily running out of time, it seems like touching you good like this is worth the trouble of jerking off in the u.a. staff bathroom at the farthest stall, and silencing his mouth with his own scarf.
“yeah, you feel that?” he groans, curling his fingers against the gummy texture of your walls, feeling around for that sweet spot that has you arching against a surface. and you do feel the toughened skin of his fingertips prod inside you. aizawa slips in a second finger, then a third, hushing your whine cause you can take it.
his fingers scissor, alternating between curling and pumping. he finds it quickly, and doesn’t waste a single minute exploiting it to reach your orgasm. “so messy, baby…” aizawa teases, his wrist shifting so his thumb lands back on your clit again, looking down at your heaving body with a proud ego that he can unravel you so quickly— just under ten minutes.
aizawa’s well aware of the time limit he has, but isn’t worried in the slightest; he knows he already has and can make you cum with just his fingers under ten. all is well in his universe, your arching spine and frequent shallow breathing is telling him everything he needs to know. he indubitably making you cum. his fingers redouble knowingly inside your pussy, his thumb grinding heavy circles around your swollen clit.
a whimpering cry rips from your throat, hips canting up to meet his friction and pace— an instinctive reaction to the sensation aizawa’s inflicting on you. he bathes in the shift of your demeanor completely, fully infatuated that you’re so undone and he hasn’t even really, really fucked you yet. and he probably won’t get to, cause he does need to leave in two minutes— aizawa does every single thing he knows you like so he can make up for it. “wonder how even more needy and sensitive you’ll be when i get home later…”
your knees buckle up and your vision gets fuzzy, breaths stunting into shallow little gasps for air. the soft flesh of your thighs quiver around his insistent hand as you feel that particular feeling bubble up inside you. “sss— shouta!” you mewl, words a little incoherent and babbled as you lose yourself to the sheer touch of him. mind hyperfocused on such details like the roughened, almost abrasive grit of his thumb against your sensitive, puffy clit.
your orgasm hits you like a freight train, eyes dilating so that your irises are swallowed up by the pure ecstasy amplifying your pupils. “that’s it… atta girl…” shouta grunts, acknowledging you— fingers never once faltering to ensure you were deeply infatuated with the presence of him even if you seemed to drift to a different, blurry world.
aizawa may have arrived later than he should, facing his class with his signature tired expression, clad in his yellow sleeping bag he prays is thick enough to hide the almost painful, pulsing bulge in his pants. when tenya reports that all is well, aizawa sighs gratefully.
but his mind will wander back to being your shota— tucking you right back to sleep, efficiently cleaning the kitchen counter and wrapping you in a blanket, just right after he pressed a gentle kiss to your temples, promising that he wasn’t done yet.
he’s so 👀 mayb i do have a little problem
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