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Shouta thinks it’s a very bad, terrible idea to have the phone numbers of his students. Yes, maybe it’s helpful for contact and safety reasons. Yes, maybe it’s the logical decision, given he’s responsible for twenty teenagers who have a habit of doing impulsive, ill-advised things with zero regard for either themselves or the law.
But Shouta doesn’t like it.
It’s too easy to talk to them. In the personal sense, and not the professional. The other day, he and Iida had somehow ended up on a half-hour long phone call, discussing what animal would make the best class pet. Why and how they’d ended up in that situation, Shouta has no idea. The conversation itself had, in no way, been inappropriate or unpleasant, but the thought that had planted itself in Shouta’s brain — that he can talk to his students whenever he wants, about whatever he wants — was entirely unwelcome and depraved. Someone who has the attractions that he has shouldn’t have easy access to children.
As a teacher, though, he has to put his students above his own comfort and shame. They’re more important, they’re his responsibility, his duties lie with them, that’s how it’s always been. So, when Kaminari’s ten minutes late for curfew, Shouta bites the bullet and calls him.
“Sensei!” Kaminari sounds slurred and slightly giddy over the phone.
Shouta pinches the bridge of his nose. “Kaminari, are you drunk?”
Over the line, Kaminari’s quiet for a moment. Shouta can just hear someone that is not Kaminari snort and say ‘busted’, which basically confirms it. Still, Kaminari answers, still light and giggly. “M’just a lil bit drunk, not much! Being honest for Sensei, ‘cause m’nice,”
“Right.” Shouta resists the urge to slam his head into a wall. “Thank you for the honesty.”
Kaminari giggles, again, the noise around him fading away. He’s breathing a little heavier, like he’s walking somewhere. “You like me being nice, Sensei? Am I being good?”
…This feels like a trap. Shouta wouldn’t be surprised if it was. Kaminari’s been an absolute terror, lately, always saying and doing the most inappropriate things and driving Shouta mad. He thinks he knows why, too — Kaminari knows. He must. Somehow, the boy’s found out about the damning, disgusting feelings and thoughts that Shouta has for his own students, and now he’s exploiting that. Subtly blackmailing him, almost. The whole ordeal is torturous and dangerous and inappropriate and illegal… but it makes Shouta so hot and aroused every time, so maybe the threat of a trap is losing its sting.
“You’re being good,” he murmurs, indulging just this once. Kaminari’s drunk, he won’t remember. “But you need to come back to the dorms, it’s past curfew,”
Kaminari blesses him with a breathless little laugh. “Getting into a taxi righttt now, Sensei,”
Shouta bites his tongue before he lets a ‘good boy’ slip out. That’ll test his own resolve a little too much, and he can’t risk opening those particular floodgates. Still, he manages to stay on the phone with Kaminari, listening to him babble on about his night out with his cousin and some of his cousin’s friends, listening to him occasionally talk to the taxi driver when the taxi arrives, listening to him gossip about his friends — apparently, Bakugo looks like an Arcanine (and accepts that fact), Sero’s never watched Pokémon, Kirishima has an obvious crush, and Ashido wants to throw a ‘Girls + Denki’ night, which would seemingly not be the first.
Shouta only ends the call when one of the U.A. bots alerts him to a taxi pulling-up outside the school and Kaminari using his ID to get through the front gate a few moments later. Responsible teacher that he is, Shouta goes to meet him. The boy’s drunk, it’s the moral thing to do, and he’s definitely deserving of a detention for this whole situation.
At least, that’s what Shouta tells himself.
Kaminari is very obviously, very visibly drunk. It was clear over the phone, but it’s even clearer in person; he’s swaying a bit as he walks, stumbling over his own feet, flushed and heavy-eyed with ruffled hair. When he sees Shouta, he beams, and jumps at him with a happy ‘Sensei!’ before Shouta has the chance to brace or mentally prepare himself.
He stumbles a little, swallowing thickly as he gingerly holds Kaminari by his exposed waist. Kaminari’s too busy hugging him, nuzzling into his chest like a cat, to notice Shouta’s minorly-flustered awkwardness. Small mercies, though they don’t last, because Kaminari is warm and plastered against his chest, and his skin is soft, and his hair smells like orange blossom. Shouta shamefully presses his nose to Kaminari’s hair, breathing him in for a moment before he notices what he’s wearing.
The tank top he’s wearing is leopard-print and cropped, with those spaghetti straps, and he’s obviously not wearing a bra or binder underneath, because his soft cleavage is right there, tits visible from the sides, nipples poking through the fabric. His taught waist is exposed, and he’s wearing his trousers low enough for his delicate hipbones and the soft pouch of his lower abdomen to be exposed. He has a mole there, just above the waistband of his trousers. Shouta really can’t resist, fitting his large hands ‘round the smooth curve of his hips, thumbs running over the skin near his hipbones, watching him shiver under the gentle touch.
It’s Kaminari’s own fault, really.
“These are low,” Shouta mutters, subconsciously licking his lips. Obscenely low.
Kaminari just giggles, leaning back to push his hips into Shouta’s hands, head coyly tilted. “If I pull ‘em up too high, they, like… go in my pussy, and it kinda gets me horny,”
Shouta freezes, squeezing those slim hips tight. Kaminari’s drunk, he’s drunk. Intoxicated. Not in his right mind. Vulnerable. Those inappropriate, predatorythoughts and that shameful attraction rear their head once again, taking in the drunk little tease of a boy in front of him. What’s Kaminari thinking, telling him something like that when he’s dressed like this? Hips and waist out, tits practically on display, talking about his pussy… it would be so easy to pull his top down and grope those tits, both probably a handful each. It’d probably be even easier to carry the boy back to his room and slip those low-worn trousers off, to see how horny he really gets with something in his pussy. Kaminari probably wouldn’t even fight or complain, too drunk, too subpar at quirkless combat. Shouta really could have his way with him.
“Sensei,” Kaminari blinks up at him, groggily. “Feel sleepy and sicky,”
Shouta makes his choice.
“Poor thing,” he hums, almost cooing. Kaminari pouts at him, and Shouta cups his face, thumbing his plush lower lip, bitten-pink and rosy. He’s almost like a doll, or some cute little character. “Do you need Sensei to care for you?”
Kaminari nods, squishing his face into Shouta’s palms. Shouta smiles.
The walk to his little living space in the dormitories is both too fast and too slow. Kaminari clings to his arm the entire time, hugging it to his chest and pressing it between his tits. Shouta doesn’t complain, not at all. He’s sickening, he knows it, but he can’t really muster any shame about it, honestly. Not when Kaminari’s clinging to him and rambling about whatever comes to mind, completely oblivious to his trusted Sensei’s intentions. Shouta’s glad that he’s sweet on one of his less intellectually-inclined students, since a student like Iida or Yaoyorozu would’ve most-likely figured out his intentions by now, drunk or not. Besides, Shouta likes that Kaminari’s dumb (but only outside the classroom). He’s truly a dumb blonde with a pretty face, and that makes him so easy. Kaminari doesn’t even bat an eye when Shouta leads him into his personal living space, hand on the small of his back.
Too easy.
Maybe U.A. should be implementing some form of sex-ed, or some sort of course to recognise predatory behaviour, because a hero course student drunkenly wandering into a grown man’s room is both concerning and disappointing. Shouta’ll have to bring it up with Nezu, at some point — some point after he’s gotten his fill, that is. Though Kaminari’s very cute, so that day may never come…
And he throws himself onto Shouta’s bed so casually, Shouta doesn’t even have to force of coerce him. All he has to do is watch as Kaminari stretches-out in his rarely-used bed, sprawling and stretching before he melts into a soft mess of limbs and sleepy eyes that blink up at him in ways that really shouldn’t be so disgustingly seductive. He’s a tease, even without trying, and Shouta wants to pounce on him and show him what happens to careless teases. Especially careless teases in his bed.
“Like your room, Sensei,” Kaminari rolls onto his tummy, burying his face in Shouta’s pillow and inhaling obnoxiously loudly. “Sleepy…”
“You need to get undressed,” Shouta tells him, voice low and rough, silently begging.
Kaminari hums, and for a moment he just lays there. Shouta actually takes a step closer, intending to rip that slutty outfit off the boy, but he completely stops short when Kaminari lazily sits up and lifts his top over his head, carelessly throwing it on the floor, hair ruffled. His tits are just out, too; milky pale with pink little nipples, about a handful each, as Shouta suspected. He can’t take his eyes off them, staring, even as Kaminari flops back on the bed, looking debauched already. He hasn’t even gotten his trousers off, yet… and, as his teacher, it’s surely Shouta’s responsibility to help him with that. His right, even. It’s the considerate thing to do, obviously. And Kaminari’s drunk. He won’t mind if his beloved Sensei gets a bit handsy whilst helping him. He probably won’t even realise that Shouta really shouldn’t be touching him or keeping him in his bed, simple-minded as he is.
The most Kaminari does when Shouta climbs onto the bed and presses his face to his chest is make a soft little confused noise. Shouta indulges.
He mouths at those small tits, groping at them and taking one nipple into his mouth. Really, he’s just slobbering all over Kaminari, too eager to control himself, too aware that he’ll probably never get to do this again — and Kaminari basically just lets him, squirming and making those adorable little noises, like he’s not completely sure of what’s happening at all. Shouta almost laughs when Kaminari hesitantly touches his head, fingers tangling in his hair.
“Senseiiii,” he whines, slurring his words and letting his head roll against Shouta’s pillow. “What ya do-in’?”
Reluctantly, Shouta pulls away, leaving one nipple blood-flushed and wet with saliva, budding in the cool air. “Does it feel good?” he asks, instead, free hand drifting up to grope at Kaminari’s other tit, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh, thumbing over his budded nipple.
Kaminari hums, fidgeting and pouting down at his tits, heavy eyes trailing over where Shouta’s lent over him, his small legs bracketed between Shouta’s knees, his body loosely pinned to the bed. Shouta’s come too far, now, he’s put aside too many morals and suffocated all his guilt and shame; if Kaminari tries to resist, he’ll gladly take what he wants by force. And maybe Kaminari knows that, because he doesn’t struggle or object, he just turns his pout to Shouta. “Feels weird,”
“It will, sweetheart,” he soothes, the pet name slipping out. “You’re a virgin, aren’t you?”
Kaminari nods.
“That’s why it feels weird,” definitely no other reason. “Just relax and let Sensei take care of everything. I’m just trying to help you, you know, since you’re drunk, and apparently can’t undress yourself.”
Kaminari shrinks under his gaze, looking away and shutting his mouth. He doesn’t make a peep when Shouta goes back to mouthing at his tits and groping him, though he does keep fidgeting and squirming. Shouta lets him, content to keep working his nipple with his tongue. He’s so soft and plush, and his pale skin is being scratched red and raw by Shouta’s stubble. Leaving an actual mark on Kaminari, leaving proof… he drags his teeth over Kaminari’s nipple, smiling when he shivers and whines and makes another confused noise, then pulls back to look at the thick red grazes his teeth have left, unfortunately already fading.
“See?” he murmurs, taking Kaminari’s chin in hand and tilting his face down, directing his gaze. “You look so pretty with marks on you, and you want to look pretty, don’t you?”
Kaminari hesitates, then nods, fidgeting some more.
“Why so shy?” Shouta asks, sliding the hand that’s not holding his weight up down, to Kaminari’s waist, over his hips, popping the button on his trousers. Kaminari opens his mouth, but nothing comes out, even when Shouta slowly slides his hand inside his trousers, over the thin fabric of his panties, feeling the soft, hot shape of his pussy beneath it, teasing it with his fingers. He tilts his head at Kaminari, petting his clothed pussy as he does so. “You had no problem flaunting your body and your pussy earlier,”
Another silent noise, mouth opening and closing, except this time a pretty blush crawls up his cheeks and over his ears, and Shouta doesn’t think that that’s because of the alcohol, not at all. He’s seemingly gone from hesitant to flustered, proven when Kaminari whines and covers his face with his hands.
“M’sleepy, n’ Sensei’s making me feel weird,” he murmurs, thickly, dragging his hands away from his face to reveal glassy eyes.
Shouta stares, a thrill shooting right up his spine, making him shiver all over; Kaminari looks unfairly good when he’s on the verge of tears, probably overwhelmed and confused. Scared, somewhere inside, where he knows what Shouta’s doing is wrong. Shouta basks in it, just a little, all those conflicting emotions. Then, he leans down and kisses away a tear that had begun to roll down his cheek, tongue collecting it. Kaminari whimpers at the gentle contact, blinking rapidly to try and save the rest of his tears from falling.
“Would Sensei ever hurt you, sweetheart?” he asks, pressing his fingers to Kaminari’s clit through his panties. “That feels good, doesn’t it? I’m just trying to take care of you,”
“But it feels—”
“Shhh, shh,” Shouta presses his lips to Kaminari’s, silencing him with a peck. When he pulls back, wide golden eyes stare up at him, lashes wet. “You don’t need to worry about all those bad feelings, they’re too complicated for you. Sensei’ll handle it all, you just need to lie back and take it, sweetheart,”
Kaminari just stares up at him for a moment, tears beading at the corners of his pretty eyes, slowly rolling down his cheeks, his temples. Shouta mops one more tear up with his mouth, apparently jolting Kaminari out of his staring — he blinks, then sniffles, then forcibly and obviously tries to relax against Shouta’s bed. He even shyly attempts to push his pussy into Shouta’s hands, hips twitching upwards before they stutter and Kaminari bursts into hiccuping tears, squeezing his thighs closed around Shouta’s hand.
“M’sorry, Sensei, m’trying to relax,” he cries, tears soaking his cheeks, dripping all over his neck. “But my- my heads so spinny, Sensei, and I feel all weird and sicky, I- I’m sorry!”
Shouta sighs, and Kaminari wilts.
“This must be so hard for you,” Shouta pries Kaminari’s thighs back open, taking the distraction for granted as he moves down the boy’s body. “So confusing for your poor little head, it can only handle so much, can’t it? You have no idea what’s going on, all drunk and stupid… you need Sensei to make all these big, scary decisions, don’t you? Sensei knows how to protect you and treat you good,”
He presses his mouth to the mole right there on his lower abdomen, kissing it before he nuzzles the soft skin and shifts lower, to where his trousers have been unbuttoned, his panties peeking out. It’s easy to see the chubby shape of his pussy beneath the fabric, the slight wet patch that’s about the get much bigger. He barely pauses for breathe before he buries his face in Kaminari’s crotch, mouthing at his pussy through his panties, licking at it, sucking his clit, mindless of the fabric. He’s already so soft and warm, panties getting wetter by the second, thanks to both Shouta’s ministrations and the reaction that Kaminari can’t control.
He’s writhing and squirming, hands clumsy as they grab at Shouta’s hair, voice breaking as he cries and moans. It’s adorable, how sensitive he is, and Shouta’s hardly gotten his mouth on his pussy, yet. The crying and shaky breathing between moans, edged with panic, is the cherry on top. Something snarling and sadistic inside Shouta is addicted to how scared and confused Kaminari is, how helpless he is. He can’t fight Shouta, he can’t refuse, all he can do is moan and pull at his hair, inadvertently rubbing his pussy against Shouta’s face as he squirms.
“Feels weird,” he gasps around his sobs, babbling away. “N-never done this— Sensei, Sensei! Feels so weird, I- I- I can’t, I can’t, feels so— makin’ me ache, Sensei, please, please, p-please!”
Shouta huffs a laugh as Kaminari dissolves into hiccupy-cries, a wheezy gasp leaving him when Shouta pulls back, pulling his trousers fully off, depositing them on the floor, before moving to peel his panties away from his sticky pussy. His clit’s chubby and pink, actually twitching under Shouta’s gaze — and, because Shouta cares about his students, he immediately sucks Kaminari’s clit into his mouth, tongue rubbing against it, sucking away with his nose buried in Kaminari’s mons. His pussy’s leaking all over his chin and stubble, no doubt also being scratched raw and red.
Kaminari wails.
He’s sobbing like a baby, hiccuping and gasping as his legs weakly kick, hips twitching. One hand is tangled in Shouta’s hair, the other grabbing at the sheets. Shouta’s very glad that his apartment’s sound-proof. The last thing he needs is a concerned student knocking on his door to see what all the crying’s about. He’d like to say that he’s afraid of being caught face-down in his drunk student’s pussy, but he’s mostly afraid of being made to stop, honestly.
“Se-Sensei!” Kaminari shrieks when Shouta pushes a finger inside him, his loudness both potentially incriminating and fucking hot.
Shouta’s heard Kaminari cry plenty of times. In the hero course, plenty of his students end-up crying on occasion, usually from injuries, but also from stress or frustration. Occasionally from grief or shock after particularly traumatic internships. They all cry at some point, and Shouta always makes sure not to make a big deal out of it, even if he’s concerned. Usually, Kaminari cries a lot once he comes out of the absence seizures he experiences after overloading his quirk, and Shouta’s never thought anything of it.
Now, though?
Kaminari’s crying has been fully reframed for him, now, because now he knows that Kaminari cries when he’s getting his pussy eaten, and that changes everything. Every seizure aftermath, every injury, every instance of Kaminari crying — they’ve all been sullied by this, by how horny Shouta currently is, by how good Kaminari’s pussy tastes, by how cute he sounds when he cries. Shouta’s not really complaining, it’ll be nice to have something that reminds him of just how perverted and disgusting he can be, how pathetic his student can be.
Shouta groans into Kaminari’s pussy and slips another finger inside. When he thrusts both fingers inside, he curls them, hitting the sensitive little G-spot that Kaminari probably doesn’t even know exists. That’s the only explanation for his reaction; he makes a noise, somewhere between a gasp and a scream, all strangled and breathless, and his back arches off the bed, completely unrestrained now, despite the tears. He cries and jolts with every thrust of Shouta’s fingers, his pussy clamping and leaking everywhere, soaking wet. That just means that there’s more for Shouta to eat, tongue working overtime.
His age is showing, though. It’s been a minute since he’s gone down on someone, and things are starting to hurt — his jaw, his tongue, his neck, his back, his wrist. God, he feels old. Kaminari’s writhing and moaning so prettily, fingers twisting in his hair, pussy sticky and desperate… and Shouta can barely keep-up.
So, he pulls away.
Kaminari doesn’t even say anything, too busy sobbing into Shouta’s pillow, his pussy visibly throbbing and red, slick everywhere. He doesn’t react when Shouta hauls himself off of his bed, stretching a little and palming the bulge in his trousers. When Shouta walks away, though, Kaminari rolls onto his stomach, burying his face in Shouta’s pillow, sniffling and crying. Shouta just snorts, shaking his head.
First, he moves to his wardrobe, to the purple gift bag in there that’s only been opened once — a Christmastime gag-gift from Kayama, finally being put to use, though probably not in the way she’d expected.
Once he’s retrieved that, he undoes his trousers, pushing both them and his boxers down his legs, shirt coming off next. Kaminari’s too busy sobbing into Shouta’s pillow to realise that he’s no longer alone on the bed, Shouta climbing back on, knees on either side of Kaminari’s legs, hovering over him. He’s got a cute ass, almost as tempting as his pussy. It’s impossible to resist grinding his bare, leaking cock against Kaminari’s pink asshole, pushing to tease. Kaminari jolts, yelping into the pillow and trying to turn around — all he can do is crane his head ‘round, big glossy eyes staring at Shouta, face red and blotchy.
“Sen… Sensei?”
Oh, he sounds so small and confused. He’s the sweetest little thing, Shouta’s not surprised that he’s the one who finally broke Shouta’s self-control. He can’t help but coo at him, rubbing one hand over Kaminari’s ass, the other holding up the vibrator in his hand, the toy long and pink and splitting-off like rabbit ears.
“Sensei’s got a treat for you,” he says, shifting back to lift Kaminari’s hips up, prying his legs open, pressing one knee between them to keep them open. “This is only for my favourite students. Apparently it’s quirk-enhanced,”
Self-lubricating, able to pulse and fuck like a real cock, vibration that never moves from the clitoris. Kayama had very enthusiastically explained it all, despite the fact that Shouta does not have a clitoris. He’s thankful he saved it, though, because now he has a cute little boy in his bed who could really use it, even if he’s staring at the toy like it’ll bite him. Shouta doesn’t bother with his opinion, clicking the self-lubricating button on the toy, watching as lube wells-up through the pores of the toy, making it all slick and slippery, even more spurting out when he presses the tip of the toy to Kaminari’s folds, parting them.
“Sensei, S-sensei, wait—” Kaminari yelps, stuttering and trying to twist around, face scrunching up and new tears welling when Shouta pushes the tip inside. “I- I- I don’t- please, p-please, it’s- haah, stop…”
He dissolves into more crying whimpers and moans when the toy is fully sheathed inside him, the thinner ear of the toy pressed snug to his clit, not at all letting it twitch away. Shouta’s distracted by that red-flushed pussy hungrily squeezing around the toy for a moment, before he refocuses, pressing one more button.
Kaminari screams, back arching as he claws at the sheets, the toy vibrating inside him, the dildo-like arm fucking and bunching inside him. From the rapid, slick, squelching noise, it’s fucking him fast, too, pounding into his pussy. Shouta watches, ignoring the wailing and thrashing, his hand slowly working his cock — that is, until Kaminari begins to spark. He puts an end to that quick, eyes flashing, hair lifting, staring him down until Kaminari goes limp against the bed, gasping and shaking.
“No using your quirk, sweetheart,” he scolds, idly rubbing his thumb over Kaminari’s asshole. “Don’t make me restrain you, especially when I’m giving you special treatment,”
“M’sorry…” Kaminari slurs, all garbled and breathy, wet with his sobbing.
“It’s okay,” Shouta soothes, pathetically soft on the boy. “You’re so confused and overwhelmed, aren’t you? You feel so good, you can’t even process it, sweetheart, that’s why Sensei’s here, to process things for you and take care of all those decisions that are too complicated for your dumb little head,”
Another sob. “T-thank you, Sen- Sensei,”
Shouta smiles, leaning down to press a kiss to Kaminari’s tailbone, above his untouched hole. “You’re welcome,”
Then, Shouta grabs the toy and pulls it out of Kaminari’s pussy, giving him a second of reprieve before he fucks it back in, manually fucking him as the toy vibrates and undulates inside him. Kaminari seems caught between trying to crawl away and trying to take the toy deeper. His legs are shaking harder than Shouta’s ever seen, pussy blood-flushed and dripping slick onto Shouta’s sheets. He’s barely put the toy inside, and yet…
Kaminari’s body locks-up, more sparks flying off of him as he cums around the toy, pussy sucking it deeper inside. He’s barely making any noise apart from hitching little gasps. Shouta doesn’t pull the toy out, though, only pressing it deeper, listening to the moans get wrenched out of Kaminari, the cries, the whines… then, the shaking and sparking starts up again, Kaminari tossing his head back as he wails and wails and squirts.
His pussy sprays all over Shouta’s bed, soaking the sheets, his hand, and the toy. This time, Shouta does pull the toy out — but only because he doesn’t know how much Kaminari’s drunk, and he doesn’t want him pissing himself. That would be beyond attractive, and Shouta’s so tempted, but the clean-up would be excruciating. So, Shouta pulls the toy out and tosses it aside, instead fumbling to shove his cock between Kaminari’s legs.
He slides his cock between Kaminari’s sticky folds, his tip slipping over that chubby clit. Kaminari makes a weak noise, but Shouta just folds himself over Kaminari’s back, groaning into the crook of his neck as he fucks his cock against that sensitive pussy.
“God, you feel good, kid,” he mutters, gruff and guttural, Kaminari’s soft hair brushing his face as he presses kisses to Kaminari’s sweaty throat. “Not even inside you, fuck… feel like heaven,”
Kaminari makes a whimpering noise, turning his face to Shouta’s, crying and flushed and half out of it. Still, he presses his cheek to Shouta’s, shakily pushing his pussy back against Shouta’s cock, the angle shifting — enough for the tip of Shouta’s cock to squeeze inside, with nowhere to go but deeper. Shouta groans, fucking his hips forwards, shoving the rest of his cock inside, fisting his fingers in the bedsheets. He’s completely hunched over Kaminari, dwarfing him and rutting into him, fucking him into the mattress.
He distantly has the thought that he should pull-out.
Instead, he buries his face in the crook of Kaminari’s neck and cums right inside his pussy, hips twitching as he unloads inside him as deep as he can, grunting and huffing against his skin. He completely collapses on top of Kaminari, both of them sweaty and gasping for breath. Shouta’ll deal with all of this in the morning.
When Denki wakes up, he barely registers that he’s not in his bedroom before he’s scrambling up and staggering to the bathroom, barely getting to the toilet before he throws-up. Fuck, did he pee himself, too? His panties feel way too wet. Still, he focuses on throwing-up, heaving into the toilet bowl and shivering away, sweat sticking his hair to his forehead and neck.
Until someone brushes it away, into a small ponytail.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuckity-fuck. This isn’t his room, this isn’t his bathroom, he’s only wearing his panties — and things feel sore and sticky, and maybe that isn’t pee he’s feeling… oh, god, he’s so stupid. He missed curfew, too! Sensei’s gonna kill him, though he might kill whoever Denki fucked, first—
“Breathe, sweetheart,” a low, familiar voice instructs, a large, familiar hand stroking over his back, down his spine.
Sensei?
He makes a gross noise, and Sensei huffs like he found that funny. Still, he wipes Denki’s mouth with tissue, offering him a glass of water, apparently perfectly fine with Denki’s nudity and hungover-ness. Denki sits up, mouth tasting like cotton and vomit as he sips from the glass of water, glancing at Sensei, cheeks hot.
Sensei looks all ruffled from sleep, hairy chest bare, sweatpants pulled over his lower half. Well, it’s more clothes than Denki. Which— awkward? Suspicious? Confusing? Definitely confusing, what happened? Denki never remembers things when he’s drunk. His pitiful look seems enough, though, because Sensei sighs.
“When you got back to the dorms,” the word ‘drunk’ goes unsaid, but Denki still hangs his head. “I figured it would be safest to bring you back to my room. You insisted on sharing a bed and sleeping in your underwear, though, no matter how many times I protested…”
Fuck. “I’m so, so, so sorry, Sensei, I—”
Denki chokes into coughs, his throat raw and achy. Sensei pats his back, rubbing a little, soothing his sudden coughing-fit. Denki leans into his touch, even if shame’s coiling inside him. When Sensei stands up, Denki resists the urge to cling to his leg.
“Easy,” Sensei murmurs, patting his head. “Don’t strain yourself, sweetheart. I’m just going to get you your clothes,”
Denki nods, watching Sensei leave, closing the door behind him. He feels achy and sore all over, and his pussy hurts, uncomfortably slick and sticky and leaking and—
…Did Sensei just call him ‘sweetheart’?