Hey minty d'you think inevitable au aizawa would let you ride him? It feels like he'd prefer it bc he doesn't have to fuck with his leg to be on top, and it lets you set the pace and chase your orgasm which ALSO seems very him
The house is humid and hot. He sleeps on top of the blankets, pillow on the floor. Sure, he could get up and fix the fucking thermostat, but then he'd never get to sleep. No, it's best to lay here and suffer-- to wallow in how much he fucking hates you and you're sudden fucking attitude and your--
"Shouta," you hum.
He's dreaming. It's too fluffy, too hazy to be reality. Your skin is too warm to be real, almost burning as your thighs loop around his hips. You're wearing the same blouse as you did today, the sheer one that you always layer, but now there's nothing beneath to hide the pearling of your tits-
"Shouta." You'd never say his name like that, so sweet, so needy--
"You wish you could, right?" You're pulling at the band of his briefs, coaxing out his cock into your hands and between your legs. "You wish you could fuck me?"
Oh, your pussy slips against his length, molten hot and devilishly wet. You roll your hips selfishly slow, chasing your own high with soft, measured sounds, little whines that he wishes he could swallow up.
He's not even inside you yet and his body is revolting; each breath is a pant, each twitch of muscle threatens to be a thrust. His hands are reaching for you, but never find purchase, forever chasing what he can't hold.
You fall forward and press your forehead against his, hot breath tickling his lips as you lean closer, closer--
Your lips brush against his as you speak. "I want it too."
The jerk of his cock drags him awake. He's not cumming, no, but he's on the precipice, an inch too close for comfort. When he readjusts, it throbs again, painfully hard.
It's not enough for you to make his work day miserable; you have to haunt his dreams now too?
