BNHA | Oɴᴇsʜᴏᴛs

Aizawa Shota x You

Authori's Note: Part of the "Fetish Exploration Series".

Aizawa was never loud, he never needed to be. The weight of his gaze alone could make your knees shake. That voice, low, levelled, always just above a whisper, could pull obedience from your lips before your mind caught up.

Tonight, he wasn't looking at you like a tired man who needed sleep. Tonight, he was looking at you like a man who was about to ruin you slowly.

"Come here," he said, voice thick, eyes hooded as he leaned back in the chair by the window, dressed in all black. Shirt half unbuttoned, hair down, framing his sharp face like a shadow.

Slowly, you moved towards him. As soon as you were within reach, his hand came up and tangled slowly into your hair. You gasped, caught off guard by how fast he took control.

"Mm," he murmured, twisting the strands around his fingers, tugging just enough to tilt your head back. "You always get soft when I touch your hair like this."

A small whimper escaped your throat.

"Do you like that?" he asked, already knowing the answer. "Of course you do."

His other hand slid up the inside of your thigh, teasing between your legs through thin fabric. You were wet already, the kind of wet that came from anticipation alone.

He tugged again, firmer this time, and your hips bucked.

"You're so responsive," he said, letting the tension in his fist guide your body. "So easy to read. I don't even have to say anything to make you fall apart."

"Shota..."

The tug in your hair tightened.

"You're not in charge here."

Your thighs clenched at the sound of that voice...low, dark, and just threatening enough to make you want to disobey only so he'd punish you.

He stood then, pulling you with him by your hair, gently but inescapably. You followed his silent command until your back hit the wall and his mouth was on yours; slow, devouring, in control. One hand still in your hair, the other cupping your jaw, keeping you where he wanted you.

"You're going to let me fuck you like this," he whispered against your lips. "Head tilted back, mouth open, eyes begging."

You moaned; breath ragged. "Please..."

"You're not ready to beg yet," he said, lips brushing your ear. "But you will be."

He turned you around, pressing your chest against the cool wall, his hand still tangled in your hair, keeping you arched exactly how he wanted. You could feel the hard line of him against your ass through his pants, feel the restraint thrumming in his body.

"You always look so good like this," he murmured, dragging your skirt up with his free hand. "Bent over. Exposed. Ready."

His rough hand outlines your ass, spreading your legs wider. You trembled. The goosebumps on your skin made his jaw tense. Never untangling his hand from your hair, he undid his pants, just enough to slip them down and take out his throbbing cock. One step close. You could feel him pressing against your leg. Dripping. Ready.

You bit the inside of your cheek in anticipation. Aizawa slid into you, slow and thick and deep, making you cry out, but the sound was cut off by his fist tightening in your hair again, pulling your head back just enough to keep you open.

"Let me hear you," he growled. "You wanted it rough, didn't you?"

You moaned, desperate for friction, for praise, for the rhythm you knew he was holding back.