#a gentle dom to eat me out until i cry PUH LEASE

[ms0milk]

dog tired and destined to drown

shinsou hitoshi x (fem)reader

cw MDNI, established fwb, thoroughly whipped shinsou, reader is exhausted and in need of some assistance. pent up tears, not quite dacryphilia, fingering + oral (reader receiving), soft dom!shinsou, praise + reassurance, "my girl," and "pretty girl" used throughout. not sure how to tag -> "reader bursts into tears and gives shinsou a heart attack." two dopes lie to themselves about having casual feelings. 3.7k

He doesn’t stumble so much as melt into the dorms, after wrapping up a midnight patrol that’s made him contemplate eating his hero license. It’s fucking finals season.

Shinsou drags himself through the second round of glass safety doors and into the common room, empty, save for you. Hunched over a splay of books and colored pens on the round center table. Your head perks up at his entrance. His fingers tighten around the strap of his bag.

You’re sitting sleepy and so goddamned pretty in your favorite sweater and the ridiculous headband you never remember to take off after washing your face, a pretzel in your chair. One knee up (a round red imprint of it on your cheek) and both arms laden with paperwork too complicated for a sidekick. Shinsou imagines dropping his equipment on the common room floor and filling his hands with you. Kissing your forehead and stumbling stupidly off to bed hand in hand.

He doesn’t do any of that but does smile the way you both know is always only for you and rumbles with a quirk-worn voice, “Why are you awake?”

Nonchalance is attempted but as always it comes out cloying.

When Shinsou approaches your sticky note-highlighter-spiral bound workbench, you still haven’t answered the question and he realizes that your dark circles might actually be competing with his.

“Hitoshi,” you sag– and the exhaustion is so unlike you it's worrying– and crawl out of your seat, abandoning both slippers, to meet him. Before you can thud against his chest, Shinsou catches you with a palm to the forehead and drops his bag to the floor. 

“Hey– hey, Y/n?”

If you weren’t dead on your feet you might’ve clicked both heels at the sound of your first name tumbling, finally so comfortably, from Shinsou’s lips. It took you getting knocked unconscious on a mission two months ago for him to even dare speak the word and while today was significantly less life threatening, it didn’t feel much better. As it stands, an IV drip might even do you some good.

“Bad day?”

Instead of answering, you slip your face from the worried hero’s hold and bury it into the shoulder of his sweatshirt.

You agreed, you both agreed to keep your relationship a secret from your friends. You both agreed it was just casual, a way to let out stress in the unrelenting chaos of third-year sidekick work. Nothing special, zero stakes. Although casual certainly does not mean crumbling into your fuckbuddy’s chest after a horrible day and you feel ridiculous before any words even manage to leave your mouth.

Shinsou practices saying your name, testing it over tongue and tooth under his breath, everyday, all day long. He considers inflection and emphasis, your foreign accent, and the way his own accent might fuck up the beautiful shapes. He’s a civilian in love, he doesn’t think you’re ridiculous.

“Are you hurt?” He asks, uninterested in who might walk into the common room and see you both like this. You shake your head, the last shake landing your face against the warm skin of his neck to nuzzle the pulse there, irregular, and take in the smell of his post-patrol shower. He holds back chills when you exhale against him.

He tries again, “Then what’s wrong?” and pushes your thick headband back far enough to pull it from your hair. He smooths down the frizz he caused with two big hands along the sides of your head, keeping up the slow and heavy strokes long after he’s tamed your flyaways.

“Y/n?”

“Civilian got hurt on patrol today.”

You don’t need to explain. Hero work doesn’t always feel triumphant.

“And I bombed my practice exam, and, and I just can’t fucking focus.”

Shinsou, worn-out in his own ways, wilts as he realizes how much deeper your exhaustion is than a failed test or injured civilian. It's been weeks for both of you, of mismatched patrol schedules and shitty sidekick busywork. Agencies across town, overnight shifts, and class in the morning. Worse than all that, your shoulders start to tremble from where he’s tucked you inside of him.

“Are they safe? The civilian.”

“Yeah,” you murmur, mostly muffled by his own collar, “just a short hospital stay.”

“Have you eaten?”

“Itsuka made dinner.”

“Is that a yes?”

You clutch at the sides of his jacket and nod again, accompanied by more chills and he simultaneously can’t watch and (more importantly) cannot stand just letting you cry silently against his shoulder. Shinsou brings his hands from your hair to your cheeks and pulls your face up to look at him from where you’ve hidden it.

No tears drip from your lashes. You just stare through him, more exhausted than anyone he’s ever seen save for Aizawa or a trip to any mirror. The usually aggressive twinkle in your eyes has dulled and suffice it to stay, Shinsou’s heart breaks a little bit more. You’re so pretty so close to him even under unflattering dorm lighting and the gutwrenching bite of your lip, holding back everything he’s sure overwhelms you inside.

He brushes both thumbs under your eyes and hopes that the very not-casual and actually quite unrelenting love that threatens to spill from him like honey, doesn’t seep into your skin from his touch and give him away.

“I’ll help you with work in the morning.. I think you should call it a night.”

For a second you continue to look at, through, and over him and then you lean forward for a kiss.

It’s warm and minty and Shinsou’s endlessly embarrassed by how easy it would be for your lips to kill him, but you’re needier than you should be considering the burden of your dark circles. He struggles to lean away and succumbs to the hungry tilt of your chin and the cloy of your tongue three more times before managing a staccato, “I don’t think–”

“I can’t sleep,” you breathe. You’ve dipped back far enough to speak and Shinsou knows he shouldn’t, but he cups your jaw– cradles your neck in either hand and sinks forward to press your lips together again. He’s so, so tired, and his head bobs lazily, but you cling to his sleeve and tuck your nose under his to follow where his mouth guides you.

In just a few seconds the pair of you are lost, Shinsou with his forehead pressed to yours and you with the unshakable urge to pull his stupid jacket off. Any classmate studying late or in need of a midnight snack might not have the strength to do anything but crawl back up the staircase at the sight of you.

You lean away earnestly this time and press your thumb into his swollen lip. It slides easily over saliva your tongue left behind and the hero watches every flicker of your eyes so sincerely it makes your ears hot.

“m sorry your day was so terrible.”

“Honestly, I’m so tired I can’t even cry. Toshi I’m–”  This close, your eyes can’t focus well enough to see each other clearly but you still get butterflies under his gaze, “Can you help me fall asleep tonight?”

He slips his palms back up to your cheeks and tilts your head slowly, side to side to study you. In a bustling school morning or family dinner with class 3-B, Shinsou treats you as he would any other teammate. No touching save for a spar, no gifts or surprises, and certainly no sweet words. He does watch you though, from his desk beside yours. And says yes too quickly when you ask for help. He smiles every time he sees you, just slightly, and no one, none of your classmates and least of all you, has the heart to point it out in case he stops self-consciously.

Privacy is what makes Shinsou so touchy and if you could have seen the glaze over his eyes from this close, you would know there isn’t a thought in his head except for you.

He takes his time quietly tracing your jaw with his fingers and tucking your hair behind your ears. You know he’s worried about you, and you can feel in the lightness of his touch the way he’s sorting out how to tell you that you’re just gonna have to go to bed. For your health and safety and all those sappy things.

But Shinsou just watches you quietly for a few more seconds. He drinks in the sight of you after so many days apart and whispers, “Yes. Yeah, okay.” Processing your request in real time. He blinks back down to you, “My room?”

Practiced hands remember every cleft of your body even in dim lamplight. Shinsou’s chest is bare, warm– hot even and soft when you steady yourself against it. He’s real, there’s give in his skin when you squeeze him and a heartbeat in every vein under your fingers. You’re on your knees straddling his lap in an equally warm bed and trying your hardest not to make a single sound.

“Can I take this off?” He murmurs through hair in his spot behind your ear. Shinsou bites kisses up your shoulder while one hand flits at the clasp of your bra. Patient, steady. The other presses up each dip of your spine in the chill left behind by your long abandoned sweater. You nod. A flick, then two and your own chest is finally bare against his, nipples pert and pressed from how close Shinsou holds you.

It’s agonizing how gentle he is.

“You’re warm,” he whispers as you pull away to cup his face and roll your clothed hips over his own.

“Use me hero, I'm yours tonight just–”

He silences you in dim light with a kiss, more of a touch of lips, and leans his forehead against yours, “Slow down.” 

He can’t trick you though, your words always send him to the brink. The tent of his briefs is a bulge between your legs now, easy to slide against and hot enough to warm you through your underwear. Faces pressed close Shinsou kisses you again, resting one hand on your ass and drawing the other up your back so lightly it sends chills feathering out in every direction.

“Not treating you rough when you’re so tired,” he breathes, “‘s not safe.”

You consider headbutting the man and decide against it, opting instead to pull his lips back to you with your teeth. You’re allowed a few rough kisses before Shinsou presses one of his hands flat to your stomach with fingertips so cold that your gasp breaks the seal between you.

He hums as your body trembles, cursing and shivering all while the sleepy hero takes his time warming himself up against you, in the dips of your cleavage and thighs. Shinsou, as always, wants to eat you alive.

“You work so hard Y/n, it’s my turn. My turn to make you feel good, yeah?” He drags a knuckle down your stomach, further and further until he grazes a spot too sensitive for you to keep still. Cute, he agonizes when you buck against his fingers and he smiles into your cheek when he finds the pooled wet waiting for him through your underwear.

Nodding wildly, you catch his lips again and grind your hips deeper into his, only relenting when Shinsou slips his hand under your waistband and truly gives you what you want. You gasp with his feathertouch at that sensitive bud, just the circle of two fingers before he presses deeper into your folds.

As your body pours into his too gentle touches Shinsou keeps you close, “C’mon, tell me.” A heavy hand slides up your spine, one notch at a time until his palm cradles the back of your neck. He’s wrapped around you, he’s supporting you at every angle and it’s allconsuming.

Shinsou doesn’t ask, he instructs; he doesn’t want to hurt you. The days he uses his quirk on you are rare and no matter how hot you think it is or how much effort you put into begging, he still makes you explain to him, with every detail you can imagine, what you want. You’re in love with him. You hope he can’t tell.

“Tell me.”

“You Toshi– inside of me, please ‘can’t wait–”

You must be blind if you can’t see how quickly he gives you everything you ask for.

With you straddling his lap, Shinsou presses two fingers at your quivering entrance and sinks, knuckles deep, finally inside of you. 

It’s the deepest, hungriest ache. The hero’s digits drag wet with the slightest hint of a curve. Smooth and steady, Shinsou begins to pump his wrist, keeping those fingers you know so well hooked against the spot that fills your head with static.

You think you’ve said something– made some kind of sound in your haze because Shinsou’s chest rumbles with laughter as you melt so pretty for him. Finally unable to form a single exhausted thought.

“My sweet girl.”

Wet drips from his wrist and pools in his palm as he holds you steady over his thighs, rolling and suckling and pulling the fear and the fight from your body with his thick fingers. It’s all a dream. Spreading you open and kissing you better– his dream. He draws you tight against him with a hand at the back of your neck as he fucks you gentle, pressing your cheek to his shoulder and smiling when your fingers shake and tremble at his biceps, failing to clutch any part of him. There’s nothing but the sound of your gasping breaths, a hiccup and shaking whimper, but still he knows you’re sensitive tonight.

“Still with me?” He cooes with a voice rasped from patrol work, and when you whine, press a palm flat to his chest for some semblance of response he leans forward to tip you over his knees and flat onto the bed.

You gasp and he thinks you’re going to ask him why, but he can only look at you like this– laid out bare, warm exhaustion and half lidded eyes begging up at him– before pressing forward to kiss you. As you reach up to run fingers through his hair, he rocks his messy fingers against the ache inside of you he knows so well, huge flat palm hooking you there and grinding in circles over your clit.

It’s too much and not enough, Shinsou Hitoshi. Don’t get closer, don’t read my mind.

God, tongues folding, teeth clicking, Shinsou always falls apart when you kiss him. Dies a little in fact. He wants to taste more of you before he goes, before you kill him.

“Toshi, don’t–” you choke when the hero pulls away but as he slips farther between your legs, you have to bite your own hand to keep from making any sound someone might hear. Shinsou, with a cheek at your thigh, licks a fat wet strip from the dripping hole his fingers never stop pumping, all the way to a tiny aching bundle of livewires.

“Don’t what?” He breathes into you, freezing every movement. But you can only manage, – don’t stop– from between your fingers before he melts and starts back up again.

It’s a gentle lap first, kitten kisses meant to taste the wettest parts of you, before he hooks his free hand around your thigh and presses heavy under your stomach. The happy dull warmth of his working fingers becomes lighting again as he fucks into the pressure and your hands fly to his hair.

It’s not even a noise you make so much as a broken song. Ragged shallow breaths to stay quiet. Even with your thighs quivering tight against his ears, Shinsou hears your lopsided gasps and knows he should remind you to breathe– but when his fingers pull gently back on the hood of your pulsing bud he can’t do anything but cling to you. Jaw rolling, tongue lapping like a starving man.

You can’t help it. Shinsou hums with joy and tears flood your eyes immediately. Pleasure and exhaustion are going to tip you over the edge too quickly– embarrassingly, flatteringly, fast. Your heart is a comet filled with too many things. It’s impossible to stay still. You press the balls of your feet to his wide shoulders and try not to buck so hard, grinding your hips into a hero that won’t let you go.

Wet rolls down your cheeks and over the bridge of your nose when you tilt your head to muffle the cries that come with a shudder. He can taste how close you are; he’s almost drowning in it. He won’t change a thing. Shinso’s bicep flexes with every curl of his fingers inside of you and he moans with his mouth full, growling subconsciously, at the friction between his clothed cock and the lip of the mattress where he’s sunk inside of you hundreds of times.

“H-Hitoshi–”

Your chest shudders and heaves and there’s not stopping it now. You want to hear him say your name, praise you, pretty girl, but if his tongue stopped now you might burst into tears. You’re halfway there already.

One more hum from him and your weary composure snaps. Heat burst from your chest and melts fuzzy into your fingers, broken vowels off your lips try to form the shapes of his name as you tumble from consciousness and into panting lilting whimpers. He lets you. Usually he’ll kiss you quiet or cover your mouth with his too-big hands and smile as your fucked-out saliva drips between his fingers. Today he only holds you tighter.

Hero work, homework, hospital stays, fear and isolation, love– blurr together in your tears as Shinsou works you down from your high. His grip gives way to something softer like a cradle, and he slowly rises to all fours so he can kiss a sticky path up your stomach.

It’s unspoken but expected, the few minutes you get when one of you is too sensitive, where you’re allowed to pretend you’re in love. This is the best part. Stroking his jaw, kissing his cheeks, twirling his curls with your fingers. Laughing about the state of the bed, falling deadly silent and giggling into each other's eyes when footsteps creak past the door. Stopping just short of I love yous. Not today.

Today you don’t want him to look at you.

“Y/n,” He whispers into your breast when he kisses the valley there, half distracted by his own exhaustion and the fluttering of your pulse under his fingers, “Y/n?”

You’ve brought both arms up to cover your face but no one would be stupid enough to mistake your shudders for pleasure.

Shinsou’s heart plummets, “What’s wrong?” You’re laid out beneath him still catching your breath but the tremble of your lips isn’t fooling him. No more questions, he demands it now just to be safe, “Let me see.”

You’re in no mood to fight, You’re in no state to work, or think, or be in love with him, and when you lower your arms, fat tears roll wellwetted tracks down your cheeks. Shinsou pounces. He’s quick to sit you up but slower to touch you. What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Why wouldn’t you say anything? “Y/n–”

“Felt so good Toshi,” you stutter and after a night of trying to be so quiet you finally let a sob take you. Blood returns to Shinsou’s body and the adrenaline melts into his sheets. He reaches forward to cup your teary cheek with wet fingers as you blubber and whimper and try to curl back in on yourself, not paying much mind to the cum still sticky in his palm.

“Pretty girl,” he smiles wry.

Shinsou tugs your waist gently to guide you into his arms and it doesn’t take much strength. You melt into him.

“so tired, Toshi–”

“I know baby”

“– hands felt so good– I’m– I–” you can’t quite finish the thought as another bout of tears takes over and both you and your hero smile against each other. You, albeit fitfully. You love him. He loves you more. There’s too much to be filled with at all times, and sometimes when you start to cry you just keep finding reasons not to stop.

You want to keep him forever. Only yours, not a national hero, not a symbol of peace, not even the fucking class president. Graduation is coming too quickly– the day you have to wish him luck as a hero and not a sidekick makes you sick. The thought of him getting hurt–

“You’re thinking too hard, I can feel it,” he rumbles, “Thought you were tired?” He wants you to know and hopes you can’t tell, that he can only hear his smile when he talks to you, “Or d'you need me to make you cum again?”

For some reason this makes you moan with heartbreak and Shinsou’s hands shoot up– his eyes go wide with worry, before you groan, “..there’s cum on my face,” and the sobbing starts earnestly again.

The hero’s head falls back in laughter, no longer afraid of disturbing the dorms as you let yourself go against him. Let them find you, let them find him perfectly happy. His sticky fingers draw adoring circles up and down your back.

“m sorry pretty girl,”

“should be,” you cry and whimper and laugh along with him.

How long were you holding it in? How much longer can he?

Shinsou leans back on his hips a bit to rock you gently through your trembling. He knows how much you like his hand on the back of your neck and so he uses his other to pull the blankets up over your shoulders. Warm and rhythmic and perfectly dark in your little piece of the world tonight.

At the edge of tearful sleep his voice rumbles through his chest where your cheek is pressed so soundly, “Can I clean you up?”

You nod, breath coming a bit easier now.

#shinsou x reader #feeling needy let me eat your thoughts #hitoshi shinsou #bnha x reader #mha x reader #hitoshi shinsou x reader #a gentle dom to eat me out until i cry PUH LEASE