#shinaibaku | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

puppyguppy · 8 months

Text

"Okay everyone, in your seats and settle down."

They weren't particularly rambunctious today. They, as in the class. It was the middle of the week, and thus far, nothing notably catastrophic or dramatic had happened. Not that Hitoshi often added to the noise in the classroom or anything; not outside of the occasional, quiet quip when a conversation was just too hard to resist. Today however, he sat silently in his seat, ready for whatever fresh sort of hell their sensei had planned for them. It was always something.

He considered this class his special class, therefore, treated them as such. Which...wasn't always a good thing.

"Shinsou."

Hitoshi blinked and lifted his gaze up from where it'd drifting, somewhere between his desk and the floor. Caught off guard from being called out, he subconsciously sat up a little straighter.

"Sir?"

"You know the rules," Aizawa sighed, with the weight of a thousand lives and previously uttered reprimands. "No support gear or costumes in the classroom."

Fuck.

Hitoshi glanced down at the capture weapon weaved snuggly around his neck. "But sir, isn't part of being a hero always being prepared?" He hoped he sounded innocent enough, and not too suspicious. Or catty. Or sarcastic, like was often his default.

At the front of the classroom, Aizawa shifted his weight in a way that somehow translated perfectly into 'unimpressed'.

"Though correct," He started, tone strained and clipped. "None of you are heroes yet. And there's no reason, nor enough space, for costumes and support gear in this room. Could you imagine if Bakugou had to take notes with his gauntlets on?" Some of his classmates laughed, and Hitoshi heard Bakugou click his tongue off to the side of him. "So, if you'd please, take it off."

Fuck, fuck.

"You're wearing yours, Sensei."

Oh, fuck.

The air between them snapped like a pencil.

"Yes. Because I am a hero. And it is my duty to protect all of you if something were to happen. And in no way is my own capture weapon impeding my ability to learn. I already know everything that I am teaching. So. I won't ask again."

Hitoshi was starting to sweat. And not because it was hot in the classroom, or because he was wearing layers or anything, but between the glare his teacher was giving him, and the eyes he could feel on him from all around the room, and the eyes he could feel on him from right beside him, challenging him --

"Mr. Aizawa, please. Don't you and I have training after class? Can't I just keep it on for -"

"Won't have to worry about training if I send you to the principal's office."

Hitoshi winced. Flinched.

Closed his eyes and sucked in a breath. Well...this sucked.

This was embarrassing.

But, it wasn't worth risking expulsion.

So, with his eyes still closed, he reached his hands up under his capture weapon and quickly shoved it over his head, only opening his eyes to make sure he didn't miss when shucking it down into his bag.

There was about two beats of silence before the classroom exploded.

There were hoots from one end of the room, and hollers from the other. A wolf whistle here and there, amidst various forms of laughter and raunchy comments, questions. Hitoshi wanted to brainwash the whole room. He wanted to run.

He wanted to turn around and flip off the smug bastard sitting beside him -- the smug bastard that'd caused this. The state of the classroom. The state of his neck.

Bakugou fucking Katsuki.

Sure, maybe things wouldn't be so bad if it was just a hickey. Or maybe even two. Hell, even a single handprint could be explained as a sparring session gone too far. But his neck looked like a fucking nebula. Bruised and burned and swollen all around, in a way that Hitoshi had maybe asked for, because he'd been dumb enough to think he at least had his capture weapon to hide it.

"Enough."

Aizawa had a hand on his face, fingers switching between rubbing his eyes and pinching his nose. Gods, he was screwed. At least everyone seemed to listen to him well....enough. As well as they could, considering the scene that'd just unfolded in front of them. Hell, Hitoshi couldn't blame any of them. It wasn't like he'd be able to keep his mouth shut over something like that.

He just hoped Aizawa wouldn't bring it back up again later during training. He could handle his classmates, just barely. But sensei?

"Shinsou, a moment, please."

For the second time during today's lesson, Hitoshi flinched.

No dice.

Everyone else had more or less left, just a couple of stragglers still stuffing their bags and waiting around for friends. Bakugou hadn't even bothered to wait for him, the bastard.

Aizawa didn't bother saying anything more until they were completely alone, and when he did, he leaned heavily back into his chair with a sigh.

"He's got a mouth on him, doesn't he?"

Hitoshi blinked.

There was no way he knew who -- they weren't even really a thing -- they couldn't be that obvious --

"Sir?"

Aizawa chuckled and then smirked; the expression tired and lopsided and full of things Hitoshi didn't yet know. It was the kind of expression he wished he could brainwash himself into forgetting every time.

Aizawa then reached up to his own capture weapon, where he weaved a few fingers between the lengths of the cloth, separated the folds, and then tugged down. The action exposed his neck, a few inches of what should have been fairly pale skin; but instead, the skin there pink. Pink, and purple, and a little yellow around the edges, and almost black in spots that looked like perfectly straight, perfectly placed teeth and -- oh fuck.

Oh fuck.

What the fuck.

A hundred questions flew though his mind. A hundred images, a hundred fantasies. But, he shook them from his head as best he could, and swallowed them down with saliva suddenly thick with want. He wanted to know. Wanted to see. Wanted to feel. Wanted to taste.

"You --" He started, swallowed again, then stopped. "He --" Again, he stopped, because he could no longer control whatever the fuck came out of his mouth. Jealousy was taking over his cognitive skills, while curiosity was taking over his motor controls.

"Mm," Aizawa hummed, as if he understood any of Hitoshi's aborted accusations. "Sometimes, when he earns it."

How do I earn it?

Aizawa then stood up and made to leave the classroom, but stopped to rest a hot, hot hand on Hitoshi's shoulder.

"I'll see you later for training, Shinsou."

#shinbaku #bakushin #aibaku #shinzawa #shinaibaku #aibakushin #bakushinzawa #blame this on the new covid booster #gonna get punched by the bestie for this one #right in the covid arm

57 notes · View notes