𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘 𝐂𝐀𝐓 | 𝐬. 𝐚𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐰𝐚

( XXV )

[ NOTE ; whoops sorry for late update lol anyway y'all get quiet every time i write smut and it makes me nervous should i tell a joke or something ]

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"You alright?" he asked, voice dipped into a whisper, deep with lingering fatigue.

"Yeah," you stammered a bit.

Shouta realized by morning that the both of you couldn't waste any time moving to his apartment. The walls of the dorm weren't terribly thin, but they definitely weren't going to be good enough for the entire week. Not with how your heat had affected your hormones, and not with how 'active' the two of you were starting to get. Neither of you were new to sex and Shouta was particularly diligent about making sure you came hard each time, so it tended to get a little loud. Bottom line: you had to move to his apartment ASAP.

The day had just started, Shouta got back in bed and rested his head against his pillow. His raven black hair was disheveled, and his sweatpants tented at his crotch. Not how I usually wake up, he thought.

"Sorry it started so early," you said, stretching out your legs. You tried a sheepish smile before letting your embarrassment take over your expression.

"Don't apologize," he told you simply.

You sat up and looked at him with wavering eye contact. "I feel like I should."

"That's not necessary," he said, rubbing his forehead. "How about we go get your things so we can get out of here?"

He remembered that he also had to talk to Principal Nezu about his short notice leave, 'coincidentally' the same time as yours, but he figured that could wait a little bit longer. Getting off campus took priority, and since there were no emergencies, there was no need to wait. All he needed to do was grab his grade book and paperwork before heading out.

His apartment was hardly a ways away from campus, so he didn't need to worry about the kids... too much. On the off chance that something did happen, he would be the first to know and he'd be back in minutes.

"Okay," you got off the bed hesitantly, looking back at him, anxious at the thought of him seeing the mess of your room a few doors down. "You're sure?" you asked, hand on his door knob.

"I am."

"Then we'll go to your place?"

"Sounds about right," he said dryly. "You can stop delaying it now."

You checked the glass peephole once more before turning to him with airplaned ears. "When we get in there you can't say anything about my cat toys."

He let out an amused breath, leaning his back against the wall as he waited for you to open the door. "I didn't last time," he raised a curious brow.

"My room wasn't as messy that time either." Your grey tail flicked behind you anxiously. "Come on, let's go before someone comes."

You pulled him into your dorm by his sleeve, shutting the door after him before anybody saw. You went directly for one of your cabinets, looking for a bag and pulling out the first one you saw to start packing. Meanwhile, Shouta looked over to the pile of clothes on your bed. "What's this?" he asked. He had a feeling he knew from his research but he wanted to be sure and hear it from you.

"It's a nest," you confirmed, not looking at him as you threw some necessities in your bag. "I only make them when I'm in heat," you clarified defensively, ending conversation there.

He hummed, looking over it before turning and his eyes drifted to the scratching post next to your bed. You really did have a lot of accommodations for your quirk, there was evidence of it all over your room. He found more as he looked carefully.

Seeing his dark eyes wandering around your messy room, your response was cat ears pinned back. You started packing faster. 

"Is there a reason you're embarrassed to talk about your heat?" he asked, glancing at your tail pressed between your legs. "Or really anything about your quirk," he confronted, expression free of emotion. Not demanding or judgmental.

You stopped momentarily, doe-eyed at his observation, before scoffing. "You mean besides the fact that it's embarrassing? Right," you shook your head.

"It doesn't have to be."

"Easy for you to say." You closed the window left open from the previous night. "I'm almost done."

He thought about digging deeper into that comment but decided not to when he remembered that both of you needed to be back in his apartment before another wave hit. He looked around for a clock, eventually finding one on your nightstand. There was still some time, presumably. A couple of hours, maybe. Still, he would have preferred to be at his apartment already just in case.

His gaze panned back to you then halted and reversed upon catching sight of something familiar among the pile of clothes on your bed.

"Is that my shirt?" he asked, pinching the fabric and peeling it out, not all the way but just enough that he could confirm that it actually was his.

Your feline pupils focused on the shirt possessively. In a second you dropped your bag and ran to handle the situation. "I'll give it back, just put it down, please," you asked, voice quiet but rapid as you refused to look him in the eye.

He observed your expression, something foreign but obvious on your face. Letting your guard down at a moment's notice to be vulnerable. Atypical mood swings—he was going to have to get used to that. "It's all yours," he took his hands off, keeping his eyes on you, "Okay?"

You nodded, taking a breath and patting it back into place before returning to packing like nothing happened. You chewed your cheek for a second, hating the way your thoughts had beelined involuntarily but it wasn't like you could control it. What could you do? Except for continue to pack and move on.

"What are you looking for?" he voiced after you paced a few aimless circles like you lost something. Your bag was almost full.

"I don't know. I just don't want to forget anything," you said, sneakily throwing a small yellow mouse-shaped cat toy in.

"If you do, I'll just buy you a replacement." He nodded towards the door, "Are you ready to leave?"

You looked around once more, eyes catching on the polaroids taped to your walls. It felt like a sign to text Rumi and update her, so you made a mental note of it.

Lastly, you looked down at the plastic bag in your hand. You were pretty sure you'd have everything you needed for a week. Clothes-wise, at least. In all honesty, you probably weren't going to be fully dressed often, and you'd probably opt for Shouta's clothes when you did.

"Yeah. Let's go," you nodded, a little anxiety in your stomach, but you still looked up at him without doubt.

He held out a hand to you offering, "I can carry your bag."

You raised a brow at him. "Suddenly a gentleman?" you teased, letting him hold it.

He let out an amused dry chuckle. "Don't get used to it," he said with an added edge to his tone that was about as sharp as a blanket. "It's circumstantial."

"Softie," you whispered after a fake cough.

Shouta refused to acknowledge that comment with anything but a scowl. There was no way he'd lose his prickly edge, it was just a touch of special treatment for the temporary occasion.

Shouta's apartment looked sort of different from the image of it you had in your head. Granted, all you remembered from the last time was his kitchen counter and the couch you woke up hungover on the next morning. The alcohol and moonlight really changed the look of the place.

It wasn't a large apartment, but it wasn't cramped either. It looked like a model of what an average apartment should look like, like a showcase house, but with all of the decorations taken out. As far as you could see from the entrance, there was hardly any evidence that the apartment was ready to be lived in at a moment's notice. Soulless and not a single item of sentimental value in sight. Nothing to spruce up the place. You shivered. It seemed almost too spacious inside without any decor, but you didn't say anything.

You took off your jacket but quickly hugged your arms in the chill of winter in his apartment. The cold temperatures must've been getting in through the windows.

The first area you were met with from the front door was the living room. You'd figure that would be the room to have the most personality, but all there was was a couch with a folded plaid blanket and a small table next to it.

Shouta began to lead you inside, first to the kitchen. The counters were clean in the sense that there was no dirt but there was also nothing else on them. Nothing. No decorative vases by the sink or unique towels. You wanted to think it was so bland because he didn't stay in his apartment anymore but you knew his dorm at U.A. was no different. For a moment you dared to wonder if his bedroom was any different, but knowing him, you knew better. Shouta kept most of his lifestyle simple to a fault. 

No matter how empty or lifeless though, the faded scent in his apartment was one that eased you with comfort. After all, it was Shouta's place so there was no way it wouldn't smell good. His pheromones trailed the walls, soaked in the air like petrichor. That made your tail sway.

He was about to lead you out of the kitchen to the next room when he froze in his steps so abruptly that you nearly ran into his back. "Shit," he cursed under his breath. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"About what?" Your ears tilted to the side, full of confusion.

"Food," he said like it was obvious. Neither of you had eaten since the previous day, it was his fault for only just realizing. Alone, he was used to accidentally missing a meal now and then, but you needed to eat. "Aren't you hungry?" His eyes darted between yours for any sign of discomfort, then trailed when he didn't find any.

Likewise, your only response was, "Not really."

He shook his head, unconvinced. "There's not much here, but I can order something. What are you in the mood for?"

"I'm good. If you want something, you should," you nodded encouragingly.

He sighed, knowing you weren't going to budge and it wasn't like he was going to force-feed you. "You're sure you don't want anything?"

"My body adapts so I don't really get hungry during my heats. Don't worry about it."

"At least take this," he said, undoing one of the attachments on his belt and tossing you a strawberry pineapple smoothie pouch.

You caught it, admiring it fondly in your hands. Organic, you noted, not that it mattered much to him or you. The cartoon pineapple on the front of the pouch had black sunglasses, the strawberry wore a baseball hat. You smiled imagining notoriously serious pro hero Eraserhead casually carrying around something so cutesy.

"There's more in the fridge."

"It's the same flavor," you whispered to yourself happily, unscrewing the white plastic top with a snap. "I like it."

"That's why I got it," he said nonchalantly, voice low.

You paused, taking a sip and getting the sweet fruit flavor on your tongue before registering what he said. "Huh?"

He rubbed the back of his neck when you turned to him, reticent when you didn't let the comment slide by. "We come across each other during patrol often enough," he explained, "I figured it was best that we could both stomach the flavor of the emergency food."

Your e/c eyes widened. "I thought you got it because you liked it." He shrugged. "What's your favorite flavor then?"

"I don't have one."

"Or you're just not telling me."

"Don't be suspicious," he said, opening the fridge to replace the pouch he had taken out. A few seconds after he opened the door, you started snickering behind him so he turned around. "What's so funny?"

"Sorry. It's like a broke college student lives here." You shook with quiet laughter, looking at his fridge. "It's not even empty, there's just condiments."

"I'm glad you find this funny," he muttered, stuffing the cold pouch in his belt.

You smiled behind your hand as you peeked at what little was inside. "How do you have more shelves than food?" He had to shut the door after that.

"Ha, ha," his monotone voice flooded with sarcasm. Your giggles died down eventually as he turned you around by your shoulders to usher you away from his kitchen.

You looked up at him curiously and asked,  "How often do you stay here?"

"Occasionally," he said, closing the belt pocket holding the smoothie pouch. "I prefer staying on campus."

"How come?"

"In case the kids need me," he said, acting blasé as he did. Without saying anything else on the matter, he kept leading you around his apartment.

"Being a father of twenty-something teenagers must be exhausting," you said with a slight smile as you followed.

"Quit it," he rolled his eyes heavy with dark circles. "Did you wake up in the mood to annoy me?"

You shrugged with a smirk as your tail swayed happily. "Must be something in the air."

"Breathe something else. Don't you have a nest to make?"

"Yes," you rolled your eyes just like him after a speechless pause.

"Mhm," he hummed. "Thought so." You even caught a glimpse of a small smirk playing on his lips. One point: Shouta.

"I'll get groceries later," he said, petting your hair gently as he walked past you. "I'll finish showing you around so you can get settled."

After he opened all the doors and showed you where everything was, the last stop was his bedroom. Sensing your nerves, he took it more slowly, letting you walk in first to adjust as he opened the closet door for you. He set down the work bag he brought with him by his desk and watched you look around his room.

At face value, it was the same as anywhere else Shouta lived in—bland.

The closet on the right side of his room was half-empty. Inside, most of his clothes were black, or any other dark color that didn't draw too much attention. On the other side of his room were the windows, but the curtains shielded out most of the sunlight, not that you minded. Dim light was easier on your feline eyes. By the door was a wooden desk with a desktop to do work at, and next to the bed was a nightstand, empty except for the lamp.

Your ears twitched as your attention was drawn to his bed, the sheets midnight black. His bed was the source of most of the scent you were attracted to, pheromones wafting like fresh baked goods. Something in your instincts knew that was where your nest belonged, a sense of security that rang right with every fiber of your being.

There was something that smelled better though, more alluring.

"The closet and the bed are yours. Have at it," he said as he pulled out the chair at his desk. "Let me know if you need something."

You glanced over at his open closet, inviting you to tear it apart for your nest. "You're sure?" You held onto your tail nervously.

"It's just clothes," his monotonous voice conveyed how little value he placed on it. "I'm going to get paperwork done while you do whatever you have to do."

"Okay," you started hesitantly, he only looked back at you once before focusing on the work in front of him. With his back turned to you, it felt like he was saying he trusted you, you didn't need permission. Like the space was yours as well.

So, you got to work, pulling his hung-up shirts off the hangers and placing them on the mattress in a loose circular shape. You placed everything where it was meant to be, getting lost in the process as you gently kneaded the fabrics with your palms and nails.

You were careful not to ruin his clothes or anything, but you also knew you had to make everything right. It was your safe space for the week, it had to be perfect. With free access to Shouta's closet, it was pretty hard to go wrong.

A couple of hours later, you felt like you could breathe as you sat in the middle of your work. It smelled like hints of his cologne, his laundry detergent, him. You fell deeper into it, letting your cat instincts have a little more control when your mouth started to water. You purred before reminding yourself to focus on completing your nest because once it was done you could invite Shouta.

Lastly, you transformed to make sure the bed was pleasing to your cat form as well, you quickly realized it was as you curled up amongst his sweatshirts with your tail thumping and curling unapologetically.

Then you transformed back and sat a little longer without anything to do really except stare at the back of his head as he worked on the computer. You were done, but he wasn't.

Still, you were hoping he would join you in the nest you worked so hard on. You sat on your knees as you kneaded the shirts on the outside of the nest a little harder, breathing in the scent of him mindfully. Impatience was getting to you like frostbite, with boredom being the first warning sign.

When Shouta first said he was going to focus on work you didn't think much of it, but now you wished he was focused... not on that. He was obviously welcome to step in bed at any time and make the space seem less large, less empty. If only—

"Y/n," he said, and that was when you realized for the first time that your name rolled off his tongue, melted like honey as he said it.

Okay, maybe your heat was getting to you badly, but the way he said your name always felt different. You wanted to hear it again, having him say it once more just like that.

"Are you listening?" he asked.

"Mhm," you mumbled lethargically.

He breathed out a humored sigh at your response. "Get over here," he lazily waved for you to come closer with his pointer finger before returning his hand to the paperwork. "I can feel you staring at me," he said without so much as looking back.

Your velvety ears stood to attention before turning in embarrassment. Of course he could, your face burned. You were ready to accept your heat was coming back in another wave, behavior symptoms as evidence.

You shuffled to the outside of the bed and stood up slowly with tired legs before waiting behind his chair. Waiting for some kind of acknowledgment or task—something. He flipped one of the papers on his desk over as you stood in his shadow, still not looking back as he wrote something down.

Your eyes focused on the vein on the back of his hand, then the grip he had on his pen. Slowly, e/c irises traveled up to rolled sleeves before you reminded yourself to control your heat-brain.

"What's wrong?" he asked nonchalantly, catching your intense eye contact briefly.

"You called me over, you tell me," you matched his quiet tone, voice hardly above a whisper as you looked away stubbornly.

"I felt somebody burning holes into the back of my skull. Your turn."

"I'm good."

He turned around, his elbow resting over the chair so he could see you, and raised a brow.

"Nothing's wrong," you added.

"Yeah?" You nodded. "You weren't just staring at me?"

"Staring is an overstatement," you answered as you crossed your arms over your recently tender chest.

"So, you were."

"Not staring," you maintained. "You got eyes on the back of your head, Shouta?"

"That's what I tell my students."

You dropped your defense to laugh quietly behind your hand. "They're not five years old."

He scoffed with a faint smile playing on his lips. "Sometimes." He shrugged before adding smugly, "It worked, didn't it?"

"It was a lucky guess," you told him, tail swaying behind you.

"Did anyone tell you it's rude to stare?" he added dryly.

"Funny coming from the guy who stares for a living."

"At least I do it for a reason."

"I had a reason," you defended.

"Oh, really?" his dry tone lilted slightly. "I thought nothing was wrong."

"I—" At that you went wide-eyed before you smiled, realizing that he had schemed to catch you in your own words and you fell for it.

"Right," he hummed. Almost like getting caught in his scarf, amusement danced in his dark eyes in a similar way.

"You're clever," you admitted.

"Yeah, part of my job." He gave you a quick 'come here' motion. You obliged, walking over next to the chair he sat in. "Well, what is it? Do you want half of my sandwich?"

You looked at the thin sandwich next to his keyboard. When did he even leave the room? You might've been too focused on nesting to notice. Eventually, you shook your head no.

"What do you need? I can't know if you don't talk to me."

You glanced at his hand for half a second before whispering that it was nothing, but not having the will to walk away.

"Is it always going to be this hard to get answers out of you?" His hand cupped your jaw gently before he reached up and petted between your ears. His eye contact made you nervous with his unrelenting piercing dark irises.

"No," you tripped over the first letter, ears twitching beneath his hand. Your expression was one he hadn't seen on you before, a content look as you leaned into his hand. You whispered his name and he stopped.

"Sorry," he mumbled, then pulled away.

"No, it's fine," you said, you hadn't meant for him to stop in the first place, but he seemed unconvinced.

He looked behind at the bed. "You finished your nest. It looks nice," he said. It was clear he was trying to be tasteful, unsure how else to describe it without saying anything in bad taste.

You nodded, something deep in you warming at the compliment. You took slow breaths trying to get the heat off your cheeks and  the oncoming haze to go away. "You should come back to bed," you whispered eventually, putting a hand on his shoulder and dragging your finger over the fabric of his shirt. He swallowed thickly, adam's apple bobbing.

"Think so?" he asked, voice deep. It was like he was teasing you more than anything. He put his hand on top of yours, scanning your e/c eyes for a minute, not missing the way you shifted under his gaze.

It only took one day for Shouta to become an expert at knowing when you were in the middle of your heat and when you were lucid. When your actions were driven by instincts and when you were more in control. He would slow down and study first your expression then the look in your eyes and he knew.

This time, he knew it was starting again. It was glaringly obvious, even your voice sounded different, but he wasn't going to just give in to your every whim. If he did that every time during your heat, he was going to run himself dry. (Ignore that part where he seemed tempted for a minute, he was totally in control.)

"Not yet," he tapped your hand, turning his attention back to the paper on his desk.

"Then when?" you tried getting back in his line of vision.

"When you're patient."

"You don't think I'm patient?" you leaned in closer. He turned to face you and the second he glanced at your lips you knew you caught him in your trap. A satisfied smirk on your plump lips that he couldn't ignore.

"You aren't." He grabbed you by the chin. "Especially not now," he said, running the tip of his finger against the soft skin of your cheek. "What am I gonna do with you?"

You were the one to close the gap between your lips and his, kissing him like you needed it to exist. Like there was nothing you wanted more than to be lost in the feeling of his soft and pink lips kissing yours. So much for him being in control when his hands went down your neck, merely a sensual touch until you moaned in his mouth when his hand was around your throat. There was no pressure, none at all when he was processing how quickly things were escalating. It wasn't the way he would usually do it, but the circumstances were what they were. He wasn't going to complain when your kiss melted into him, fading the rest of his world. The only thing bringing him back to earth was the moan escaping you when his fingers massaged into your neck.

Before he could explore what he could only assume was a choking kink, you got on your knees after being certain that you could see a bulge in his pants. His eyes flew open, wide at the position you made yourself at home in.

You got closer, once faced with it you knew it was warm and prominent at the thought of having you. Jolting beneath his pants when you tentatively put your hand on his thigh.

"Is this what you were staring at me for?" he sighed, playing off the pink on his cheeks as he looked away seemingly unfazed. The slight bounce to his left leg proved otherwise.

"Want it so bad." Your eyes darted between his and the tent hitching itself in his pants. "Can I suck it? Just a little?" your fingers played on his pants sending shivers up his spine. You purred, his weakness, before asking, "Do you want me to? Is this alright, Shouta?"

He took in a ragged breath after you said his name like that.

"You realize you're being impulsive, right?" His hand reached down, your ears instinctively moved out of the way for him to pet you.

"Mhm," you hummed absently, licking your bottom lip as you got closer to his crotch.

"Wait." He stopped you with his hand instead of petting your head. You froze at the firm command. His brows furrowed when he spoke. "I haven't... It's been a while." Pink spread to his ears as he admitted it.

"I don't mind," you batted your lashes then swallowed. "I'll make you feel good."

"So fuckin' greedy," he growled, undoing his belt with a shakey hand. "I have to teach you manners next." He took a second to push his hair back before lowering the waistband of his boxers at the base of his erection.

He looked away from the scene with his fist slightly covering his mouth. Meanwhile, your eyes widened at the sight because holy shit. It was big, like seriously big.

More long than thick, but the girth wasn't anything to scoff at. Rosey pink at the top and glistening with precum. Your eyes trailed down along the many inches of his shaft where eventually there was his trimmed black hair leading a happy trail.

You wrapped your hand around his dick and your fingers didn't meet. You weren't even sure it would all fit in your mouth, let alone your pussy.  Seeing the size alone was almost enough to sober your heat-driven mindset. That was until your mouth started to water when you felt it twitch in your hand.

"Y/n," he warned aimlessly, without saying anything else.

His jaw was tight as you looked up at him. He was anxious about cumming too fast, it finally made sense as you stared at his dick messy with precum smeared over the blushed tip and another milky bead collecting already.

"Is this okay?" you got closer, your hot breath falling on his throbbing erection.

"Yeah," he breathed, finally looking down at you when a drop of precum started rolling down. He grabbed your chin and tilted your head up at him. His thumb ran over your lip before pushing up to see your canines. You opened your mouth for him and he stuck his thumb over your tongue, licking his bottom lip at the sight as his pulse raced in his ears. "You have pretty fangs but no teeth, okay?"

You felt warmth spread over your face, first because no guy had ever called your fangs pretty before but secondly because, "I know how to suck dick," you spat out his finger.

"I didn't want to assume."

"How chivalrous," you rolled your eyes, tightening your thighs with impatience like the clenching of your core. "Watch me."

You started with a spur of confidence, pumping it before enveloping just the tip with your mouth when you could feel phantom aches from your jaw, a warning for later. You kitten-licked the tip, he groaned at your slightly textured tongue, a sensation he had never felt before. You savored his flavor on your tastebuds, mouth watered ready for more.

He closed his eyes as you dragged your tongue along the sides, getting ready to take the whole thing in your mouth. But, the closer you got the more you started to hesitate. There was no way you were going to be able to escape gagging, but you weren't even sure you could go all the way in the first place.

Instead, you focused on sucking his tip, swirling your tongue around that spot that made him groan softly. You felt yourself get wet at his sighs, you did it again. Right under the ridge of his tip on the underside, his thigh trembled the second time you ran your tongue along it.

You took him in your mouth again, a tight fit as you started getting his inches down your throat. Your gag reflex activated when it hit the back of your throat but you swallowed and kept going, clenching your fist as a distraction. He was so fucking big, it was going to take more than once to get used to. You stroked the inches you couldn't yet fit as you sucked what you could. His breathing was uneven and strained like he was focusing on not cumming already, and for some reason that made you want to keep going faster.

Shouta swore under his breath, throwing his head back as your throat clenched around him. His large hand found its place on the back of your head, fingers in your hair as you tried taking in more.

"You're doing good," he whispered after a choked sigh.

"Mm!" Your surprised noise was muffled on his dick as he thrust it down your throat, hips bucking up slightly.

You got a rhythm going up and down his length, not thinking about the tears running down the bridge of your nose. Your jaw ached, but it was when you purred and sent the vibrations through him that he knew he wasn't going to last much longer. He couldn't.

Not when your head bobbed up and down his shaft, not when the sound of you sucking him off was that loud and erotic. Fuck, not when the same lips that had kissed him minutes earlier were wrapped right around his dick and stretched same as your throat. Definitely not when you went faster like that and when he pictured himself cumming down your throat.

"Slow down," his tone was weak. "I'm gonna cum."

You gave him the reins, stopped going up and down, and stayed in place with his hand on the back of your head. Respite was short when you started sucking slowly again to get him to cum and he couldn't help lifting his hips for more, white-hot lust making him shut his eyes.

'Want it, need it inside me—' was all you could think as you kept going, planting yourself with his length down your convulsing throat. You felt his tip twitch and you knew you wanted it so you sucked a little harder, repeating the motion again and again.

He hissed when you stopped what you were doing to play your tongue on his dick. He couldn't take it anymore when you focused on his sensitive tip, not when he was so close.

You swallowed half his length down again in a swift moment without giving him a break and his eyes rolled back. "Fuck, it's—" he stammered uncharacteristically as you gagged on his length once more. "Y/n," he choked out a broken moan.

With a sudden twitch, his cum shot down your throat. He shakily pulled you halfway off his dick as he came, eyes screwed shut and groaning quietly. Groans that turned louder when you pressed your tongue against his tip. More thick white ropes of cum spurted into your mouth as his hand tightened in your hair.

You pulled away to catch your breath for a second before lapping at his tip for any drops remaining. Dragging your tongue from the shaft all the way to the slit at the top. 

His cock twitched in response but he grit his teeth, pushing your head up to look at him while he tucked his dick in his pants with his other hand.

"Are you trying to kill me?" he asked, body gone sensitive all over. He couldn't recall getting sucked off like that ever. Damnit, he was pretty sure you ruined his enjoyment of having it any other way.

"Get on the bed," he instructed.

He didn't have to tell you twice, so as he stood up from his chair, you sat on the edge of the bed, tail in the air with anticipation.

Your legs spread when he neared, letting him stand in between when he first cupped your cheek for a kiss that traveled south to your neck then to your collarbone. His palms traveled down to caress your inner thigh while the other ran through your hair.

"Do you want me to touch you?" he whispered.

"Please."

He went under your clothes, teasing a finger at your entrance over the soaked spot on your panties. Even through fabric, he could feel how wet you were. Then he focused a few circles on your clit until he couldn't take the cute noises that slipped past your lips. He took off your shorts and your panties until they were hung off your ankle.

"Shouta, please..." The smirk he wore told you that he wanted to keep you on edge for as long as he deemed it necessary. Nevertheless, you begged sweet as possible for more.

"Like this?" He pushed two fingers inside, slowly and pumping them in a couple of times before pulling out to play with your swollen clit. He soaked in every noise you made and every reaction you gave.

"Need it," you whined, voice unbelievably pretty.

It felt like for once even he didn't have it in him to tell you to wait or be patient. He let your needy cunt suck his fingers in, your walls tight and warm, entrance dripping. He thrust to his knuckles, curling his fingers at the end and massaging your g-spot.

You mewled, catching a glimpse of his determined expression as he fucked you on his fingers. Your legs widened further for him, moaning his name amongst curses as your hips met his hand, tits bouncing up and down with the motion. Then he brought his other hand down to stimulate your clit, rubbing it with his calloused fingers until you were left gasping. He kissed along your neck, hearing you struggle to hold it in.

You babbled a hardly coherent warning that you were close when he told you, "Cum on my fingers."

Your legs quivered and he started going faster.

"I know you want to."

As if on command, you cried out as you came undone, your pussy convulsed around his fingers like aftershocks. You squirmed at the last thrusts he did before pulling out. Your lashes fluttered feeling the undone knot in your stomach, bliss unreal. Your thighs trembled.

He licked his fingers, your core clenched at the sight of that. For some reason, you hadn't expected that, you needed another minute to catch your breath.

"How's your heat?" he asked after you both sat up.

"Better," you said, after clearing your scratchy throat. It wasn't a lie but you also felt that 'better' was an overstatement. Your instincts were still eating you alive, you just felt a little more conscious of your surroundings. Conscious of how much trust you were putting in him and how right it felt. You wiped the tears that collected in the corners of your eyes.

He straightened as if to do something else but you stopped him. "Stay here for a while," you demanded more than asked. You took him by the hand and led him to the center of the nest, showing him how to get in without disturbing anything by example. He watched without following, instead noting the quick yawn behind your hand.

"You're tired."

"Just a little," you pulled his arm so you could muzzle against it as you leaned back, comfortable in the nest you made.

"If you need a nap, that's fine."

"I don't," you argued lazily. "It was one orgasm," you downplayed like it wasn't one of the best you had in a while.

He could still see the heat behind your eyes but you were too drained to do much more. Shouta figured you tired yourself out just then with your little performance but also with building your nest all day on an empty stomach. So what if you claimed could go longer without nutrients, that didn't mean you couldn't go without anything. Your body was making up for it with sleep.

"I'll go get food while you rest. Is there anything you want in particular?"

You purred a familiar sound and he knew you were already out. "Yeah, sounds good," he replied to himself before heading out, turning the light off and shutting the curtain a little more. "Rest up."

Shouta opened his bedroom door to find you curled up tightly on his bed, ears pinned back but sitting up the moment he stepped in the door. Immediately, he knew something was off, part of it was the shaken look in your eyes, and the other part was a feeling in the air he couldn't quite describe.

While he wanted to think that the towel in the hamper was a good sign, noting that you had the energy to wash up, but your broken expression was too much to write off.

"You left," you mumbled, voice sounding more like an echo. "Why'd you leave?"

"Only to get food," he said calmly, knowing it was your heat stirring your emotions. He remembered what you told him about being delirious sometimes.

"But... you left me," you made sure he heard the growl in your voice, trying to make him think you were mad. The tears and avoidant eye contact told him everything.

"I'm staying until the end," he promised after sitting on the edge of the bed. "I know it seems confusing right now, but I'm here. Okay?"

"Okay," you hummed, blinking slowly and getting closer slowly like a stray learning to trust.

"I brought you some food. I already ate so eat however much you want."

You reached your hands out, he thought for one of the plastic bags he held but instead you grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him into the nest.

"You smell good," you said, blind to him reorganizing the food he brought you.

"Thank you," he said dryly and pulled out two bottles. One was water and the other was some electrolyte nutrient sports drink. He wasn't sure what flavor it was supposed to be but it was a blue color and he hoped you liked it.

Your mind had no priority on the food, a different starvation needed to be satisfied, his touch and warmth. "Wanna fu—"

"Focus on eating first. See, it's good," he said, taking a small bite out of one of the snacks he bought you to prove it. You seemed more receptive to it after that, opening wide when he hand-fed small bite-sized pieces as your arms were wrapped around him. Spoiled, he thought, with no plans of stopping what he was doing.

Finally, you grabbed the bottle and drank, realizing how thirsty you were after a couple of sips.

"Better?"

You nodded briefly before responding with kisses along his neck and he knew where it was going to lead. With newfound energy, he was expecting as much, and his body was highly receptive to your every kiss.

« ——— ⋅. ᓚᘏᗢ .⋅ ——— »

It was the second time you had woken up in the middle of the night and Shouta was willing to accept it as routine. He probably wouldn't know what to do with himself with the entire night sans interruption anyway.

First of all, he wasn't used to having that long to sleep, and he wasn't used to it being so peaceful. So, when you rustled awake past midnight frantically slapping your hand over the piles of clothes you arranged, the innocent chaos was more comfortable.

After he announced that he was awake with a grumble, you sat up continuing your panicked search after apologizing just as quickly for waking him up. "What are you looking for?" his voice was thick with exhaustion.

"Don't make fun of me. I had one of your shirts," you muttered, "I made sure to sleep next to it but it's gone."

He rubbed his dry eyes. "I'm flattered that you think so highly of my clothes."

"Shut up," you spat, quieting before you added, "I'm not myself."

"I know. It's alright," he assured. "Which one is it that you're looking for?" he groaned after turning on the bedside lamp, his eyes fluttered shut at the intrusion of light.

"It's hard to describe when you practically buy copies of the same outfit," you said, he knew you were right. "There it is!" you exclaimed, snatching it from the other side of the nest. "How'd it get over there?"

"You toss and turn like a toddler."

"I do not."

He turned the light off, you got quiet as you shifted to be closer to him. "You also purr when you sleep," he said, wrapping his arm over your midsection, half asleep.

"Really?" you asked.

He breathed out a silent chuckle. "You didn't know?"

"Nobody told me, I guess."

"It's calming," he said. "Good now?"

"Yeah."

Day three, Sunday.

Going from seeing you every day or every other day to living with you should've been a large adjustment for the Erasure hero. In actuality, it was a smooth transition, living with you felt natural.

Sure, Shouta wasn't used to having to take care of another person all the time, but it wasn't too difficult. You rarely left the bed for anything that wasn't the bathroom, shower, or asking him for sex, so it wasn't like he really had to keep an eye on you. His only job was to make sure you were healthy and okay, which was reminiscent of his day job.

Thinking of that, he remembered he had to ask Nezu for time off, not related to hero work. That was something he never, or very rarely, did. Knowing the principal, he would be suspicious at the very least but that wasn't Shouta's concern.

For breakfast, Shouta cut up apple slices in the shape of bunnies and made little cuts in the strawberries so they looked like flowers. Ignoring the fact that he was acting like a househusband, he defended himself in his head saying that the fun shapes he made were just because he was bored. You needed the sugar from the fruit to keep your energy up.

"Here." He handed you the plate and you rested it on your lap.

"Did you make apple bunnies?" you looked up at him and smiled to which he immediately deadpanned.

Pretending like you mentioned nothing of it, he said, "You should eat them before they go brown."

"Apple bunnies!" you laughed. "I haven't seen these since I was a kid. You do surprisingly cute stuff sometimes:"

"You're losing one of your apple slices for that," he huffed, picking one of the bunnies up and holding it above your head.

"It's not a bad thing!" You reached for it and he put it back on your plate after a second of struggle. He patted your head, told you to stop fussing and eat before you starved.

"Where are you going?" you asked as he turned and walked away.

"Relax. I'm staying here," he said, resting his hand on his desk chair. "I just need to make some emails."

"Can't you do that from your phone?" you purred, ready to get started with him already. You patted the spot on the bed next to you like he was a dog waiting on your beck and call.

"No."

"Shouta~" you pouted, sliding your breakfast to the side without a bite.

"You won't beg, or whine like a brat. If you behave for an hour, I'll even give you licorice."

You retracted backward slightly. "The salty kind?" He nodded before you shuddered. "That's more of a threat than a bribe."

He sucked his teeth, finally sitting down behind his desk and turning away from you. "Eat your apples."

"It's okay to have bad taste," you smiled, holding back a laugh.

"Keep telling yourself that."

After realizing he really wasn't going to give in, you sighed. With ears turned to the side you picked at the plate of fruit he brought you, unable to stop the small smile from forming when you noticed how delicately he laid everything out. The apple bunnies were around the outside, each little slice about an inch apart, and then all the strawberries in the center.

Carefully, you flattened a section of the nest so you could rest the plate on it. After taking your time eating most of it, you got up to take care of the dish when you felt light-headed, your hands gripping the plate to fight the sudden numbness traveling through you.

"Shit," you peeped, resting against the bed but refusing to sit down and give up. All you did was stand up. My muscles are so weak, you thought to yourself.

Your symptoms must've worsened since the previous day, you concluded. Best case scenario, you would get better the next couple of days but you knew that was a bit too hopeful.

You opened your eyes after a few meditative seconds, your heart jumping when you were met with Shouta's chest right in front of you.

"I'll take it," he said, having noticed the situation and sitting you back down. You sighed.

For a moment you looked at him hopefully but it was like he read your mind when he added, "No, I'm not done with work yet. It hasn't even been an hour."

Part of you thought that couldn't be true, time was going so slow he should've been done already. Disappointment seeped into your skin. An hour passing was more than likely, wasn't it? Knowing Shouta's logical deception history, you started to doubt it but as you checked the time you realized he was right. Less than half an hour, even. You shifted your thighs, growing warm with impatience and building frustration you could weakly push away for the time being.

As a distraction, you checked your phone. Curled up the side, hugging some blankets when you realized you got a message from All Might an hour earlier that you hadn't yet noticed.

ALL MIGHT
Y/n! I have (good 👍) news that can't wait!
Detective Tsukauchi said that he would be handing over the Ferine related case to the HPSC. They should be contacting you very soon so don't be alarmed. You have a mission on your hands!

Excitement hardly lasted before another cramp shot through you. You shifted in an attempt to get any stimulation, you'd take anything, tossing your phone to the side. It was moments like that when you hated your heat, when you couldn't stay in control for long. You knew you were gone when you couldn't think about what All Might texted for longer than a few seconds.

You took a piece from his notepad on his bedside table and the black ballpoint pen next to it. You needed a plan, something to present to the Commission so they wouldn't think of handing your mission off to somebody else. The pen scratched against the paper as you loosely planned an outline, your eyes closed every time you were stopped by another cramp.

I want to get back to hero work, you sulked silently, but spending time with Shouta as you were definitely wasn't torture. You put your sketch to the side.

You needed more of him, sooner rather than later. He was your medicine, and fuck he was good at being that for you. It had been a long time since somebody had cared for you like he did. Taking into consideration that he was just learning about your quirk side effects recently, he was doing a good job.

That was an understatement.

You got butterflies by the way he was treating you. You didn't sense any pity coming from him but that didn't mean you weren't disrupting his life. You knew that you were. As much as your heat was disrupting you, it was for him as well. That thought was frustrating.

I don't want to bother him... but I need him right now. He smells so good.

You covered yourself in some of his clothes and some blankets to diminish the feeling and the overthinking but you couldn't help sighing. You started to think he'd get upset if you interrupted his work, he'd get annoyed and bored with you, wouldn't he?

You bit your bottom lip at another sharp cramp, tears lined your bottom lashes. You squeezed your thighs in a last-ditch effort as you lay on your side. Trying to control your heat was worse than an uphill battle.

He called out your name after turning around to a pile of clothes, a small lump where you were, and only the slight movement of breathing as proof of life. "You alright?"

"...It hurts."

"Come over here." He waited until you made it the few steps to the desk. "Are you okay?"

"Obviously, I'm fantastic."

"You're catching my sarcasm," he noted plainly.

"Like a disease."

He swept his dark gaze over the melancholic expression you still wore. "What's wrong?"

You bit the inside of your cheek before saying, "I hate bothering you." Your nails dug into your palm.

"You actually think this is a bother to me?" he asked, waving his forefinger between himself and you.

"It is."

He shut off his computer without a second thought. "I'll show you it's not," he said as he held your wrist gently.

"Couldn't do an hour," you pitied yourself.

"You tried your best."

"I did," your voice strained, ears tilted to the sides submissively. "Need this," you whispered, "so bad."

He stood up from the chair to hover over you, your heart picked up pace. "Turn around," he demanded.

After you did, he pulled you closer by your waist, before returning one hand to your wrist and pulling it back so you were pressed against him. You backed up on him harder while your tail brushed against his abdomen. He hadn't started and you were already soaked through your panties.

With his right hand, he touched your midsection, his hand getting close to your breasts but falling just shy. "They're sore," you whispered, voice almost at a whine. "Please," you added, relaxing your head back on his chest to show him that in the moment you were his to touch.

You gasped as his hands traveled up and cupped your breasts. Shouta massaged your chest in his hand, taking his time. He thought earlier that they looked swollen, slightly larger than usual. He couldn't help thinking that was hot. They must've been tender by the way you mewled into his gentle touch.

"Feel good?"

You nodded, barely about to breathe from the anticipation. His hands were so large, fingers nimble when he went under your shirt then stopped and you knew exactly what he was after. Teasing you as you trembled, you had been waiting for hours. It felt like days.

"I want to hear you say it," his voice was deep, reverberating through you. "Can you do that for me?"

"Shou—Want you," you breathed out, finding his hard bulge straining against his pants to grind on. You pressed against him, your chest against his groping hands, and your tail against his crotch. But, he still didn't give in.

"Soon," he whispered, breath hot against the shell of your ear. "Is this okay?" he asked, hovering his hand over the waistband of your shorts.

"Do it."

"Don't get too excited," he whispered into your ear. "You're not getting it yet."

But his thumb ran over your skin, he hummed at how smooth it was to the touch. Soft, delicate. He let them fall to your ankles, both your drenched panties and your shorts, but he kept you close. You heard the jingle of him unbuckling his belt so you bent over, arching your back and waiting for him to put it in with your tail curled.

He reached around with his right hand, pressing his thumb against your clit, circling slowly before he reached his fingers to your entrance. You could hear the wet sounds as he coated his fingers in your essence, so wet and ready to be fucked. Waiting for him to ravish you without a care for how primal it was.

"Your body is honest," he chuckled before adding quietly, "Cute."

You gasped when you felt it.

He hadn't put it in, but you could feel his tip pressing against your pussy, sliding past glistening lips and skin lubed with your own wetness. His left hand held tight onto your wrist as he coated his length with your slick, guiding the tip.

"Move your legs a little closer. Like that," he tapped the outside of your hip so you closed your thighs tighter. "Good."

He let out a quiet but deep sigh when he thrust slowly, skin slapping when his waist met your form. Your stomach tightened and flipped at the thick anticipation and the surprise you were instead met with.

He wasn't inside you, he was fucking your thighs, sliding his length against your clit as he thrust between your folds. It rubbed against the sensitive nerves so teasingly sweet with each slam of his hips. He went harder, faster, tugging on your left wrist as he fucked your thighs.

You held back moans as he continued, he knew it felt good by the way you mewled breathlessly. The way you got wetter when he didn't think that was even possible.

"S-Shouta!" You squeezed your eyes shut as the pace grew faster. The lewd sound of it all got loud.

"Good?" he asked. The rumble in his voice made your walls tighten involuntarily, you only whimpered with an accompanied nod to reply. "Good," he hummed, putting his right hand on your hip to aid in the motion. The unforgiving thrusting, his dick sliding past your lips and teasing your swollen clit.

Finally, you opened your eyes and you could see his tip poking out when he pushed against you. Another reminder of how big he was, lengthy and all.

"You're so wet," he whispered, pulling you so you were nearly flush against him instead of bent over. He let go of his hold on your wrist to cup your chest as he continued unrelenting stimulating your clit and leaving you empty.

You heard the mewling noise you made, hardly recognizing it as your own. It felt so good, better than any casual sex you ever had, and he wasn't even fucking you yet. Just your thighs, but still the fire in your burned.

Somehow, knowing that it was him just made the throbbing needier, your entrance quivering for anything while the knot in your stomach tightened impossibly. The friction got faster, moans pushed past your throat.

"I-I'm gonna cum—!"

"I know you're close," he smirked, you could hear it in his voice over the growing white noise as he touched your clit with his rough fingertips. "I know."

He pulled out from between your thighs, his tip slid past your clit as he did.

"Wait," your voice pitched when he stopped everything, pulling his hand away from your need. He stepped back, taking his warmth and intoxicating scent with him. "I didn't..." your voice wavered as tears welled in your eyes, pools in front of massively dilated pupils. Your legs were shaking, your face was flushed and fixed with a fucked-out expression. He was driving you crazy and he knew it.

"I'm not done yet. Take off your clothes," he told you, you didn't hesitate. After you took off your bottoms last, he sat back in the chair at his desk, dick still hard when he motioned for you to come over. "You really want it?" he asked when you were close.

"Need it."

"Come here," he invited you to sit on it. "I'll help you."

Finally, you thought. He guided your hips with his big hands until you were hovered over his length, not anxious until you felt his tip brush against your entrance.

"It's big," you whispered.

"It'll fit, I know you can do it. Slowly, okay?"

You spread your thighs more and sank down on his length, agonizingly slow with a blend somewhere between pain and pleasure. Your brain craved more, wanted him deeper while your body screamed that it was too much.

"Fuck, Shouta, I-" your words melted into desperation.

"Use your words," he whispered. "Does it hurt?"

"Don't stop, please," you whined his name softly. "So big," your words slurred as you struggled to take all of his huge cock.

You started panting at about halfway, desperate to take all of him in, to fuck yourself stupid on his perfectly big dick. But at the same time, the stretch was overwhelming. Painful, you started to doubt you could actually make it fit. He took a deep breath with you, praising you as he raised his hips slowly.

"You're doing good, Y/n," he whispered, petting your hair as you took in the last of his length with a thrust.

All of him was in you. Your ass seated on his muscular thighs, strong and sturdy, while he penetrated you. Every inch stretched your elastic walls to the point that it hurt, but he was throbbing in you and that made your arousal deepen. You moaned as you felt him hard-pressed against your cervix, knocking the breath out of you when he rolled his hips up experimentally. Everything went fuzzy when he did that, your vision clouding with silver at the corners and you felt like you could almost cum right there.

"Relax," his voice strained like it was taking all of him to keep composure. His jaw tight, eyes closed as he tried to focus on anything that wasn't the throbbing of his cock sunk into you.

"I-I am."

He held you closer as you acclimated but he wasn't going to last if you kept that up, practically strangling him. "You're so fucking tight."

You moaned, feeling yourself pulse around him at the sound of his voice.

It was a miracle he could fit. He stuffed you to the brim, his tip bullied against your cervix when you stayed like that, his length pressed against your g-spot achingly good. The curve you noticed earlier felt perfect inside you, and god, you were already feeling greedy enough for more.

You adjusted your legs over the chair as they dangled behind him and moaned when it seemed to go deeper.

Just when you thought you were going to break, "Needy girl. How's that?" he reached down and rolled your clit between his fingers. Your back arched but your cunt relaxed, sinking further on his dick and taking it better. Breath moans slipped past your lips, a silent whine when you felt an all too familiar simmer in your core that pushed past the pain of his size.

"F-Fuck," you mewled feeling it approaching when he stopped. His breath shuttered when your cunt tightened around his cock but he stayed there, resisting the urge to buck his hips into you until you screamed his name.

God, it was hard when you were so deplorably wet and fit around him like a glove. Moaning into his ear and driving him crazy, imagining to lose patience and burying his dick in you. God, it was so tempting when you both knew you were close to being sent over the edge, but so was he. If he would just start fucking you and memorizing all the things that made you moan and scream.

You adjusted to his size comfortably, enough where you wanted to start already. You put your hands on his shoulders to start riding him but he stopped you.

No, he closed his eyes and planted his hands on your hips making sure you were still. He mumbled a curse, finding the strength to control himself when you started to squirm, seducing him to rush all his sinful desires.

You waited in anticipation for him to start thrusting into you, but he didn't.

"Shouta, please!" you cried, needing him so bad you could feel it in your chest. He was making you wait on purpose, that only fueled your arousal.

He stayed there, keeping you in place, only swirling his hips to tease you, keeping you on edge. Needing more, you met him with a similar motion but he stopped you, holding you in place with those perfect hands you had grown to resent. "Don't move," he commanded.

And for hardly moving, you were surprisingly close. Trembling legs and tear-filled lashes when the pressure against your insides heightened. He was grinding into you slowly but careful not to properly fuck you. Not to stimulate you like you needed or give in to your insatiable arousal.

"You get it now? I'm not gonna fuck you," he whispered, dark lust throbbing from you to him. "Not yet," he added through grit teeth.

You groaned and wrapped your arms around his neck like you were hugging him and curled your tail sweetly behind you. "Please, Shouta, I want more."

"You can try begging," he mocked.

"Why won't you just fuck me?" you whispered to him, nuzzling against him. Your cunt was sopping wet, dripping at his every dominant word.

"I know how to take my time. You remember the safe word?" he asked. You nodded and repeated it to him before promising that you didn't need to use it.

"I'm going to grade some papers." He held onto you as he moved the chair so he was facing his desk. Like you weren't impaled on his cock, trembling above him more where he maintained the same maddened lack of urgency. "You'll get to finish when I'm done," he promised.

"You're so cruel."

"I know," he said. "And I can also feel how much you're enjoying being treated like this."

It really is the quiet ones, you thought, trying anything and everything to ignore the annoying ebbing of your pussy. The masochist in you was unable to quiet at seeing this new side to him.

"How long?" you asked meekly after a minute.

He chuckled in response, patting your back before he brushed his bangs out of his face. "Make yourself comfortable," he said.

"You're serious," your voice squeaked when you heard his pen scratch across the paper.

"I always am."

You whined, nuzzling against his neck and his long black hair. You tried not to think about his length prodding at your insides, the minutes that passed before he bounced his knee just to tease you. Then, he comforted you with soft and sweet nothings before you could get the idea that he was going to fuck you yet.

After a few more minutes, you thought you were going to beg him or think that it was odd that he decided to use you to keep warm. But you didn't. It was almost pathetic how much pleasure you were getting out of it. Being his personal hole while he did his work. You shuddered, biting your lip to silence hopeless pleads for him to take you.

You liked that he was taking his time, that he was patient but achingly hard like he was waiting for the right minute to ravish you. Honestly, you liked what he was doing to you, how strangely comforting it was to stay like that. How much control he was taking, but how you trusted him to take it. Not to get ahead of yourself, but if he asked you to do it again, you would. Just having him inside you like that... it was intoxicating. Anticipation, desire, sensuality. The thought of him asking you to keep his cock inside you all day made you wet.

Your instincts soothed by and cunt stuffed full of him, twitching with anticipation but that was secondary to the stretch of accommodating his size in the first place. It felt so good and not enough at the same time, that balance in itself was tantalizing.

Tranquil cockwarming, if he wasn't so goddamn big. If every time he twitched inside you, you hoped he would fill you to the brim with his cum or decide that it was time to fuck you until you could only babble broken versions of his name. What would be a soft pleasure if he hadn't been delaying your needed orgasm for what felt like hours. Edging you like it was a punishment.

How long had it been that you'd been sitting there? Fuck, you didn't care it'd just been too long and he was too tempting. Pricks of lust stabbed at your sides, your face was burning with a blush that refused to go down.

You shifted, trying to fool yourself that it was an innocent motion and not because all you could think about was him slamming you down on his length. You clenched around him then muffled a moan that you tried to choke back but couldn't in time. Then a soft breath when you clung onto him tighter, hoping he wouldn't notice how restless you were getting thinking about how full your cunt was. How bad you wanted him to fill you even more with his cum.

"Sit still, I'm not done," he rubbed your back before adding quietly, "I can't think when you do that."

You couldn't take it anymore, you felt like you were going to explode if you had to wait any longer. "Shouta," you squirmed until he groaned. "I need you," you whispered into his ear before looking at him with eyes wild with want. Pleading but hungry to take what was yours and that was the last straw.

You heard his pen drop against the desk.

"Is this what you want?" his voice harsh but his hand now on your hips contrastingly gentle.

He started with a slow grind before pulling you almost all the way off and then pounding it back into you. "Remember, you begged for this."

"Y-Yes!" you moaned, tightening your legs as he thrust, knocking at your cervix from the angle. The position perfect for fucking his cock into you deep enough to feel like he was bruising your insides.

His hips bucked up, pumping his dick in and out of you. Just when you thought you were ready for his girth, his pace and intensity proved otherwise. Your whole existence was suddenly filled with pleasure unimaginable, pain fleeting where feverish lust took over. What you quickly learned was that sex with him wasn't just a means to an end, it was meant to be addicting.

Your cunt quivered as he filled you to the brim with his length, pulling out only to thrust back in. Fucking you with need matching yours, practically breeding you the second he got the chance.

But there was a gentleness contrasting his nails digging into your smooth skin. His every thrust hit your sweet spot, small praises between his thrusts. "Please, Shouta, more!"

His hips bucked at hearing your name among the other pleads of you falling piece by piece. "I like hearing you beg," he wiped away a tear from your cheek, feeling pride swell his small confidence at knowing it was from pleasure—from him. He didn't want to rush, but the patience to have you cum on his dick was thin. He was fucking you until your moans were incoherent.

You tried keeping up with his pace, meeting his hips with your own and getting pulled by the rhythm of his skin slapping against yours. He was too fast to match, but that didn't stop you from begging him for more. Harder, faster, never mind the tears or expression you wore that made his breath grow ragged.

"Needy little brat," he caught his breath to say when he felt you tighten at his words. More so than usual. "You like that? God, you feel so good."

You mewled as he fucked his heavy dick into you ruthlessly, feeling yourself grow delirious with desire but not caring to do a thing about it other than soak in the moment. Why would you want to do anything other than let yourself be fucked with each unrelenting thrust? And all you could think about was him ruining you, ruining the chance of anything feeling that good ever again.

"Right there, huh?" he manhandled you changing the angle he fucked you as if you weighed nothing. He didn't stop until he found the spot that made your face screw with pleasure, the one that turned your moans hoarse and had you squeezing him. He slowed down to ask in your ear, "Desperate to cum, aren't you? You needed this?"

"Yes, yes, please," you begged. "Wanna cum so bad!" You bounced on his dick until he resumed his pace, going harder as the warmth in your lower belly grew and ached for release.

He fucked you like you were worth everything to do it right like he had your euphoric climax in mind the whole time. After hearing his groan with each thrust grow deeper and carnal you knew you couldn't last.

Nothing could keep you from it, the tingling sensation that was threads from snapping. The sounds of everything deafened and your nails scratched his back like he was going to be the one thing keeping you on earth.

"Need it, so fucking bad," you begged, not sure if your words even came out coherently.

"Let me hear you finish," he pulled you down with his hands dug into your hips. "Now."

Your legs shook as you came with a loud cry that egged him to finish with you. Soon, you both knew it by the airy groans escaping him and the way he rutted into you. Desperate, urgent, each thrust quicker than the last and hitting your deepest spot with every one.

"C-Cum in me," you begged, stuttering when he rolled your clit between two fingers coaxing out another climax so soon after your last.

"Y/n—"

"I'm on birth control," you rushed to say before a string of shameless pleading.

He couldn't resist. He held himself inside you as he came hard, locking himself so deep it had your eyes nearly rolling back. All your muscles tightened at the overwhelming intrusion until you were shaking and tears welled in your eyes. His cum spilled inside you, sensation warm and full coating your walls, but you could hardly focus on it when he played with your clit.

He rolled his hips, fucking your overstimulated pussy when you came again, trembling around him, holding onto him like he was your only anchor to reality. Some of his cum gushed out as you climaxed, more dropped down his length with the aftershocks.

He stayed in your cunt for another minute or so before separating. The mess of cum spilled out onto his dick when he pulled out. "Fuck," he groaned, cock twitching at the sight. Your moan was weak as his release dribbled out of you. "You okay?" He brushed his fingers through your hair to get your attention.

"Mhm," you mumbled, hugging onto him tighter, brushing your tail against him. "So good."

"Don't fall asleep yet. I know I put you through a lot." He rubbed circles on your back, holding you tighter when you latched onto him like a koala. You were always like that after sex, he noticed, and he was willing to guess you were like that without your heat as a factor.

"I'm awake," you promised.

"I'll get the bath ready for you," he carried you to the bed and set you down.

It didn't exactly take a genius to tell that you were one that needed quality aftercare. Honestly, he didn't have a clear-cut idea of what to do, he never had a formula for in the past the women he spent the night with left by morning. So, he was going with his gut.

"I can do it," you insisted, sitting up and rushing to stand up when your legs shook breath you. You sat back down to catch yourself.

He cocked a brow at you, giving you another second to give it your best shot. With trembling legs and not making it a single step as you were busy staring down at your treacherous thighs, he snorted. "About as good as a fawn could."

"Jerk."

"Here," he looked away as you walked back to the room in only a towel. "Don't ask," he said, handing you an outfit with a pair of men's sweatpants on top. They were in a loud hot pink color you wouldn't imagine he would ever wear, let alone own.

"I don't think I will."

"Your clothes are still drying."

"Thanks for washing them," you smiled, looking down at the horribly mismatched outfit he picked out for you. After leaving to put it on you came back, unable to stop staring at the color clash you wore. Shouta didn't seem to notice it at all.

You got settled back in the nest, all your senses clear of irrational instincts.

"What do you want for dinner?" he asked as he put away the paperwork on his desk. You cocked your head at him thinking it was too early to be thinking about dinner already.

At your silence, he looked back to catch onto your confused expression. "It's almost five," he explained.

"Shit," your eyes widened. "Are you going on night patrol?"

"Wasn't planning on it."

"You should," you grabbed the half-done sketch you left on the table. "It's already been a few days."

He wasn't sure what you meant. "If you need some time to yourself you can always ask," he said, leaning against the doorway and rolling his sleeves up to his elbows.

"It's not that," you shook your head.

"I don't think leaving you here alone for an extended period of time is a good idea," he said honestly.

You looked down, knowing he was right but biting your tongue on the topic for the time being. "Dinner," you went back to. "You can choose."

"I can pick up the ingredients to make stew."

"Can I help make it when you get back?" Your ears perked up.

He tightened his jaw as he considered before giving in. "Fine. Only if you're still feeling well by then."

A couple of knocks at the door before you heard him ask, "Did you still want to help?"

"Coming," you got up and followed him to the kitchen. He had all the ingredients laid out and the vegetables on the other side of the counter.

"Do you want to cut up the vegetables?"

"Yeah," you nodded enthusiastically.

He grabbed a shiny knife from his drawers and handed it to you properly. "Careful," he said when you didn't match his cautious pace.

"I know how to use a knife," you gestured with it once before it nearly slipped out of your hand and you fumbled to get a good hold on it again.

Damn your stupid heat for giving you weak and clumsy muscles.

For a few seconds, both of you just stared blankly until you reacted with a turn of your ears and a nervous smile.

"Handle the spices, please," he patted your shoulder and walked past you to pluck it out of your hand.

"That was a one in a hundred chance accident."

"Not good enough odds for me," he brushed down the stray hairs from his ponytail.

You worked together, the stew done before the white rice. You kept the stew warm while Shouta finished on the rice, with him eventually inviting you to take a seat at the counter. You watched him as he continued, your eyes mapped his face and the stubble that had grown back despite him shaving in the morning.

"Here." He served you first a small bowl of rice and a separate bowl of stew before sitting down himself. "There's extra if you want more when you're done."

Naturally, everything tasted good, it was hard to go wrong with stew anyway, but it tasted like home. Shouta ate a normal amount by his standards, which was probably not enough, but enough to get by. You looked half asleep after your first spoonful, more exhausted as your stomach argued back the more you ate. It tasted good so you wanted to have more, but you felt full already.

Tired, and you could tell about halfway through your portion that you weren't going to finish. The flavor wasn't the problem, because the food was genuinely good. You already knew Shouta had a talent for cooking but it never failed to impress. No, the problem was that stress was budging into space in your stomach that wasn't already occupied by your heat-suppressed appetite.

The result was you leaned over the table picking at the side of white rice until you were practically playing with it with your spoon. "I want to go back to hero work," you said, looking down at your half-eaten meal.

His eyes flickered down to you. "It's only been a couple of days."

You stabbed your spoon into the rice, letting it stick out as you rested your head in your hands and elbows on the cold countertop. "I'm not made for the stay-at-home life. If I were you, I would go on night patrol. I can't for physical reasons but there's nothing really stopping you."

"Unless it's an emergency, I'm needed here," he ate another spoonful, not grasping your sudden urgency.

"All Might texted and it just reminded me of how badly I want to go back to doing that." Your ears turned back, you sank into your right hand. "And I realized that you're stuck here too when you don't need to be."

"Do you want me here?"

"Yeah," you put your hands in your lap. "Of course I do," you blurted when he met your gaze with small uncertainty.

"Then stop trying to push me away." The sound of his spoon set down in the almost empty ceramic bowl rang in the air. "If being here was unimportant or a waste of my time, I wouldn't be doing this. Got it?"

You looked over at him as he went back to finishing his food so you went back to scooping yours around the bowl. "Yeah," you said so quietly he could hardly hear it. Feeling a yawn come on, you rested your head in your hands.

"I'm guessing you're not going to finish?" he asked, standing up tall with his dirty dishes in hand. You shook your head, getting up slowly to put your dishes away when both bowls disappeared from view.

"Too slow," he smirked with long strands of black hair in front of his face. It was as if he knew that would crack some spirit out of you.

You scoffed, "I can do my own dishes."

"Not if I get them first. Sit back down," he told you, you wanted to argue but your legs were still weaker than usual. "I don't need you dropping any of my dishes," he said.

"Bet you don't, considering you only own like two plates," you teased.

"Two is plenty."

You set your head down on the counter. The hum of running water lulled until he patted your back and you heard him say, "Let's get back to your nest."

As he reached down to his bedside table, instead of landing on the book he had been reading recently, he touched a loose piece of paper. He examined it, recognizing it as your handwriting instead of his. "What's this?"

You looked up from the cat toy you played with with pointed ears. "Planning for my mission. I  made it earlier while you were working. It's not much and it still took me all day to come up with thanks to my quirk." You waved off its insignificance, bitterness bubbling up as you mentioned your heat.

The bed sank on his side as he sat down while looking down at the paper before he asked, "What's the idea?"

You took the paper, ready to start at the beginning. Before you opened your mouth to explain, you stopped and watched him put on his thin square-framed black glasses. "You have glasses?"

He took them off.

"No."

"Okay," you said, almost cracking a smile before you focused again. "So this is the recruit, right?" you recircled the start point in blue ink to contrast everything you did earlier in black ink. "So this is where I come in, there's two factors I need to go after," you tapped your pen on the two circles branching off the start point. One circle labeled 'mutant criminals' and the other labeled 'drug production' but with a small star next to it.

"That's too vague," he critiqued.

"The idea is that by getting recruited to the heteromorph group, even if they're not a direct tie to either of these factors on a large scale," you pointed to the two circles, "there's gotta be somebody there who is. The chances are too high for it not to. Then the chances of the rising mutant gangs and the mutant drugs correlating is almost out of question. I find a lead to one, then I've probably got the other in arm's reach."

He thought for a second, silent, but you could feel how much he was considering it. He was an experienced hero, so you did want to hear him out. Finally, he said, "Okay."

"Just okay?" you raised a brow, feeling underwhelmed.

"It's not a bad idea." He looked over the paper once more quickly, saying nothing else.

He was holding back and you knew it. "But..."

"But it might take a long time to come to fruition."

You shrugged, folding the paper before you set it to the side. "That's okay. I have time."

"What's your assigned role?"

"Undercover investigating," you said, playing with your cat toy before you added, "Probably. Still waiting to have a meeting with the Commission."

You could feel his gaze burning into you before he said, "I thought you hated that sort of thing."

"This is different. It's my mission, and if it goes well then I'll probably get a lot more assignments," you justified, because he wasn't wrong and both of you knew it.

"Okay," his response curt.

You rolled your eyes. "Say something other than that."

He turned to you, thousands of ways to warn you or say something heeding caution burned behind his ribs. Say something positive, he kicked him, but on the fly, he really didn't have anything special to say. It felt like a big deal so he should've said something good but all he managed was, "Good luck," before deflating, disappointed in himself.

But you smiled.

Your tail wagged behind you slowly as you muttered a quick 'thank you' and sank into bed. In the newfound quiet, you mentioned, "The stew was good," before sinking deeper against the mattress.

"If you're tired, go to sleep early," he offered.

You started to sit up but he put his hand on your shoulder. "I'll end up waking you up in the middle of the night," you warned.

"That's fine," he assured you, crossing his arms.

"Are you a masochist?"

"Y/n," he huffed, unamused.

You threw your palms up defensively. "Sometimes I wonder."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm not," he scoffed. "You're one to talk."

"Wait," you said before he turned off the lamp.

"What?"

In the soft glow of early night coming through his window, the near silent whistling of cold wind seeping through, you pushed through the nervousness. You had wondered the past couple of nights. "Can you read your book?" you asked, heat rushed to your ears. "Aloud."

He looked at you, squinting his black lashes like he couldn't decide if he wasn't going to tease you. You covered yourself in the blanket, wanting to forget even asking when he shrugged, "If you want."

Your breath almost hitched. With that, you transformed into your cat form and snuggled up by his ribs. He put on his reading glasses, they fit perfectly on his sharp nose, before he opened up to his bookmarked spot and spoke softly as he read, voice low and soothing. There you fell asleep to the sound of his voice and the vibrations of his chest as he spoke.

« ——— ⋅. ᓚᘏᗢ .⋅ ——— »

Day four, Monday. Early morning.

Statistically, it was bound to happen. He knew it, there was hardly anything he could do to prevent it either. If he usually got nightmares two times a week on average and he was spending a week with you, the odds were against him.

A nightmare so bad he woke up with sweat clung to his hair, wet strands then sticking to his face. Hands gripping hard enough to tremble but holding onto nothing as his nails dug into the flesh of his palm. He caught his breath and sat up with his heart racing.

Half the time it was the same shitty nightmare or some bad variation of it. This time he couldn't remember, since his first conscious priority was that he hadn't disturbed you. Or that you hadn't noticed at all. 

Sure, nightmares happened all the time but he wasn't used to it happening in front of another person—in front of you.

"Shouta?" your voice called out to him with uncertainty, your eyes tired. "What's wrong?" you asked.

"I'm sorry. Nothing," he rubbed his right eye. He hardly got any sleep before that woke him up, his heart was still pounding uncomfortably fast. He slowed his breaths, grinding his teeth.

"Nightmare?"

His jaw tensed before he snapped to look back at you, wondering if he said it out loud without noticing. You were looking at him with hesitation, which he wasn't used to and he didn't really like. The center of attention was on him at a weak moment, as much of a joy as it was, he was ready for it to be over.

"I get them too sometimes," you tried assuring him. "Are you okay?"

He could feel his guards going up. While he understood that you were caring for him, and he did appreciate that, all he could say was, "I'm fine."

From his peripheral, he watched your ears tilt to the sides. Eventually, you told him, "Go back to sleep. I'll wake you up if it happens again."

He looked at the red crescents in his palm, knowing that sleeping again was a near-impossible task. He sighed. "Stay on that side. I don't want to hurt you by accident."

You looked at him curiously, like you wanted to say something more, before listening without argument. A few minutes before you were able to sleep again. He couldn't and didn't blame you for not fighting with the barriers he put up. But as he stared at the ceiling, he wondered for a second about if he had let you in.

You didn't mention anything about his nightmare in the actual morning and he was thankful for it. Pretending like it never happened was what he preferred when it came to that.

After getting out of bed, he slid his shirt off shaking it off to loosen some of the grey fur buried in the fibers. He had also sweated in it throughout the night because of the nightmare, he needed to shower.

"Holy shit!" you cursed, fur frizzed up from shock.

"What is it?" He balled his shirt in his hand as he looked at you over his shoulder.

You motioned, he moved awkwardly until you said, "Turn around."

"What?" he asked again after doing so.

"Don't you feel it? I scratched the hell out of your back," you stumbled out of bed until you nearly crashed into him, your delicate hands on his skin, inches from outlining the red marks on his pale shoulder blades. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to."

"It's fine, really," he said after letting out a quiet grunt as you got closer to touching one.

"And you're sure you're not a masochist," you joked but still looked apologetic when he turned to face you.

"Scratches on my back were expected. They hardly hurt anyway," he mumbled, more focused on his shirt as he pinched the fur sticking out of the sleeves. Moving on from the mangled skin on his back, he asked, "You wanted me to help you brush your tail, right? You're shedding."

"Yeah," you blinked to catch up with his change of pace. "Yeah, I have a brush with me—But do you want me to, like, clean your back or anything?"

"Don't worry about it," he said, tossing his shirt into the hamper. "I'll help brush your tail when I'm done in the shower," he threw a towel over his shoulder and walked out.

"O-Okay."

You put the pet brush on the table and laid in your nest waiting for him to come back, texting Rumi with your phone in the air until she said she had to get back to work.

It was all a distraction to the fact that nobody had ever offered to brush your tail for you before. It just seemed like a thing in your head, but you played it off the best you could, not reacting to the way your heart jumped when you heard the water shut off.

He came back with joggers on and a towel in his hand as he loosely dried his hair, wavy after washing. He slipped a black shirt on and tried the towel on his hair one more time before throwing his hair in a low ponytail. "Are you ready?" he asked, taking a seat on the bed.

You sat crisscrossed with your back to him. He reached over and grabbed the brush with your tail in his other hand. You laughed nervously, "It's like you've done this before."

"It's not exactly rocket science."

"Just be gentle," you said, playing with your hands in your lap.

"I will," he promised, starting by running his hand along the underside of your tail. Your breath stuttered but you controlled it. He started with the tip of your tail, stroking underneath as he ran the brush along the end slowly before moving up.

"How do you take care of it?" he asked, you could feel the warmth of his breath on the back of your neck.

"What do you mean?" you said after he stopped for a moment and you got to register that he asked you a question.

He petted the base of your tail to the tip, you shivered until the fur was sticking up. He brushed it down without second thought. "It's shiny and soft."

By that point, you were gritting your teeth to avoid a reaction and he was only halfway done. It was the closer he got to the base that was giving you goosebumps, more sensitive than you remembered. Sure, during sex some guys would stroke it like that or even teasingly pull it, but you figured you'd be fine since the scenario was different and Shouta was only gently brushing. The gentle touch was driving you mad though, you could barely keep still and he was starting to notice.

"Soap," you shrugged, taking a deep breath to try and relax your tail but the air stuttered in your chest.

"Do you mind if I test my quirk on you?"

"Right now?" you turned to look at him then mumbled for him to go ahead. As soon as he activated his Erasure, you felt your tail fall into his hands, limp even when you tried to move it. "Woah," you raised your hands to your head. "I can't even move my ears."

"Can you try transforming?" he asked, continuing with his brushing before pausing for you.

"Can't do it," you said, trying again. It felt like waiting for a hiccup that wouldn't come. Your tail rose back up after he blinked, and you felt relief wash over you.

"I thought so," he said. He grabbed your tail at the end as he was nearing completion and your eyes grew wide at the sudden sensation.

"Slow down," you squeaked.

"Sorry," he let it slide through his fingers, feeling your silky fur against his fingertips. He started with the brush again, your cheeks ablaze.

You thought of all the times he had brushed against your tail or briefly touched it by accident, never had it been anything like this. His fingers through the fur and brushing carefully, he was always careful. To say it wasn't sensual or intimate would be an obvious lie, but still, you were trying to keep the sexual way it made you feel undercover. You stayed facing away from him as heat ran to your face.

"Almost done," he whispered, making you anticipate as he emptied the brush of shed fur before starting again, first by petting the underside of your tail.

Shivers ran up your spine, he did it again. You covered your mouth with your hand, biting the skin until a purr finally came out.

He froze, putting down the brush and watching little grey hairs float as he tried to think of what to say. "Did you just—"

"No." You straightened your tail.

"You did," he realized.

"I'm gonna get some water," you brushed your clothes suddenly feeling hot.

He crossed his arms over his chest, making only glances at the tail he held seconds earlier. "You could've said something."

"I didn't think you'd take so long to brush it all!" you hissed, pulling your tail back into your hands.

"Was I too rough?"

"No," you admitted. You thought your heartbeat would've slowed already but it didn't quit. "No," you repeated softer.

He reached out to you, asking for permission to try again and you let go to give it to him. He petted it from the base, your tail arched and he followed it. "I-It's sensitive."

"Is that right?" he murmured, touching it as if it were delicate as tissue paper before stroking it from the base to the tip. "I don't think you ever told me that." His dark eyes admired as though it were gold. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No," your ears turned to the side at the suggestion. "Please don't stop now," you turned around, almost fully in heat again when you crawled to straddle him from where he was sitting.

Taken by surprise, he held your hips in his hands but caved as you squirmed on his crotch. He kissed along your neck as he brushed his fingers through your tail, stroking that spot toward the base that made your bottom lip quiver. You grinded against him with your clothes on, desperate and hot for anything, wet through your panties he could feel it. Your neck fully exposed to him, handing yourself completely over.

Doing all the motions, getting pleasure out of the friction as he guided you. He was hard, and as soon as you felt that you started grinding against it, fast and primal. He groaned at the friction despite his pink cheeks, embarrassed by how much he was turned on by dry humping you.

Anything and everything you did to seduce him made him weak. Made him willing and pathetic to feel good and make you feel better.

Your moans grew whinier, his ears were trained to spot the difference. His one hand on your tail continued the same motion that turned you to putty in his grasp while his other hand squeezed the flesh of your thigh to feel closer to you as he rutted into the friction.

"Cum for me," he whispered into your ear, arousal pierced through your control.

He grasped your tail for a gentle tug as you came, tail arched into his palm with your head thrown back for a loud moan. Shouta held you there as you came down from the high, letting go of your tail and rubbing your back.

"Fuck," you caught your breath, dazed by your own spontaneity and the sudden soberness. You got off him, blushing and bashful. "Shower," you mumbled.

He laid back, trying to think of things to get soft as you ran (stumbled) off to clean up. He jerked at the unexpected buzzing, he thought was his phone but he checked his pocket and it wasn't. That meant it must've been your phone, which he didn't think much of until it buzzed again, then again in less than thirty seconds. He dug through the nest until he found it under one of his clothes and it was still blowing up with messages.

"You left your phone," he called out after you without reply as more buzzing continued. "It's that urgent?" he mumbled sarcastically before looking at the screen.

A curse pushed back his lips before he even thought of what to say, or what to think. He didn't even read the whole thing before looking away. Shouta wasn't the type to jump to conclusions but he also wasn't stupid.

His face heated, for different reasons than earlier, but he forced his internal dialogue to go silent. God, he should've just ignored it when your phone went off. It was just a glance, but now the room was uncomfortably quiet in your absence.

It felt like a lifetime before you came back, towel around your neck and new clothes on, the shirt his. "You got a few messages," he said, standing up to go to his desk like your entrance excused him.

"From who? Mirko?" you asked innocently before picking it up from the bedside table.

"It's from Hawks."

You groaned before shock electrocuted your chest, sparks running through your blood.

HAWKS
hey
you left your bracelet with me and
i've been meaning to give it back
kept forgetting :\ sorry

HAWKS
maybe you could come pick it up
from my place? tonight if you're not busy
lmk

You skimmed over the message, getting the gist in less than five seconds before you asked, "Did you read it?"

"By mistake." He was neglecting to even turn his head for response.

"I feel like you have the wrong idea."

"It's none of my business," he insisted, saying it like he wanted to mean it. "But I don't care to be in the middle of something. You never mentioned anything involving him before."

"He's my ex," you blurted. "Not messy, not a thing. Clean-cut."

Shouta stopped for a moment. Now it wasn't like he could just slip away from the conversation, now he was sort of surprised and unsure what it was supposed to mean to him. Nothing, right?

"He's your ex-boyfriend," he reiterated plainly.

"Yeah. It's not public knowledge so..."

"So don't tell anyone," he finished your sentence.

"Yeah," you nodded, fiddling with your hands as you realized how many times you had told him that. A couple of a few times too many perhaps. How were you supposed to know how to handle the situation?

He sighed. "I have to make lunch," he stood up from his chair, you felt your chest tighten worse. "We'll talk about this after."

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if you're here for the plot (do you exist?) sorry this chapter was so smut heavy, prob needs editing and wasnt favorite to write, but next chapter will get more plot dense