Work Header

Lessons in Online Security

Work Text:

 In the safety of his own room, Shouta falls on his bed, opening the fly of his jumpsuit before his back hits the mattress. Distinctly, he hears the noise from the radio in the bathroom, volume turned all the way up, presumably so Shouta won't guess what's happening inside. But Shouta doesn't need to guess - he knows. Because he's exactly the same.


It had started off easy enough. Shouta isn't a particularly sexual person, but that doesn't mean that the mood doesn't strike him every once in a while. So when, a few months back, he was idly scrolling through FetLife, not quite knowing what he was looking for, only sure that he needed something to keep his mind occupied later, he saw a few strands of purple hair at the edge of a profile picture, he was sold.


Of course he knew he shouldn't. But ever since Shinsou moved in with him, it had become increasingly harder to keep his thoughts about him to himself. No one was ever going to find out, anyway. Idly, he clicked on the profile, skimmed over the introduction, down to the list of kinks the users made a game out of collecting. For just a moment he let himself imagine it had actually been Shinsou sampling the list. 


Bondage & Restriction. Shouta couldn't count the times he had imagined Shinsou tied up for him, his body covered by intricate patterns of black rope. 


Daddy Kink. Shinsou kneeling before him, voice hoarse and desperate, begging to be fucked by him, promising to be good, to do anything.


Student/Teacher Role-play . Aizawa, roughly pushing Shinsous face to his desk as the boy tried to bite back the pained moans every time Shouta's hand connected with his backside - 


Shouta didn't really expect to find anything worthwhile in the user’s gallery, so he was surprised when he saw several folders full of pictures. Some of them were standard fair. A bare, well trained chest, a few dick pics. A shot of the user's ass. He was undeniably attractive, but the well toned muscles weren't what kept Shouta looking. Neither was the frilly lingerie or the occasional display of fetish wear. It was the vain hope of seeing just a bit more, just a shadow of face, maybe enough to imagine Shinsou in the stranger's place. And, even though it was highly unlikely, eventually Shouta found what he was looking for. 


It was an amateur shot, really. Too much light and blurred on the edges, but from how the stranger held the camera, Shouta could not only see the black curves of the bralette the man was wearing, a pattern of lace stretching over his chest, but also the sharp curve of a jaw, framed by a single strand of hair. It was all Shouta needed. Not bothering to undress, he showed his hands down the boxers he was wearing, and started to jerk himself off in long strokes.


He got hard faster than he wanted to admit to himself, thinking about Shinsou, stretched on his bed, looking back at him with clouded eyes. How his back would arch under Shouta's hands, how pliant Shinsou would be. In reality, Shinsou could put up a serious fight against him, the days where Shouta overpowered him easily long gone. But here, he would beg for Shouta to hurry, to touch him where he was leaking into the see through fabric of his panties. Shouta's eyes were glued to the screen, but only half seeing. Shinsou would part his legs willingly for him, and Shouta would fit perfectly between them, just like on the picture, his knees pressing against Shouta's shoulders in a silent effort to keep him there, keep him from leaving. Shinsou would look so pretty, sprawled out on his couch like this, and it certainly helped Shouta's imagination that the sofa the stranger on the photo was sitting on almost had the same color as the one in his living room, a dark textured grey, scattered with rectangle pillows. He'd make Shinsou grip them tightly as he swallowed him down, his own hands busy with holding Shinsou's hips in place, to prevent him from thrusting up into his mouth. 


He imagined Shinsou’s hands buried in his hair, not pressing him down but desperately searching for something to hold onto. It was easy, now that Shouta had the visual aid of the picture, the user's hands seemed strong like Shinsou's thin fingers that didn't betray what they were capable of, right down to the scar on his -


Shouta stopped moving abruptly. The scar. Right where the palm met the thumb. A cooking accident, Shinsou had told him originally, and then later admitted he had acquired it when he fought with a particularly vicious foster father. It was two inches long, and curved in a very peculiar way. Shouta knew, because he had caught himself staring at it plenty of times, wishing there was a way he could protect Shinsou from the abuse he had suffered. And it was clear to see on the picture, so pink it looked almost angry, right where the anonymous user (who might not have been anonymous at all) held his phone up to take it. How could he have missed it? 


Shouta swallowed dryly, his erection now just an unpleasant throb between his legs. As he looked closer, he could make out familiar shadows, his calendar on the wall in the living room, the wine stain Hizashi had left on his couch six years years ago. Had he really been too horny to notice? Finally, his mind caught up to the circumstances. This was Shinsou. It couldn't be anyone else. If the scar wouldn't have been proof enough, everything else just fit too well to be a coincidence. 


He couldn't believe it. Dazed, Shouta closed his laptop and and settled it beside him. Usually, he was quick to think on his feet, but now, he couldn't make any sense of what he had learned.


It all went downhill from there. When Shinsou came home that evening, he pretended to be already asleep, because he couldn't deal with the fact, that while he had thought his fantasies to private, Shinsou had acted them out right here, in his very living room. 


Student/teacher role-play. The words haunted him for days, until in a weak moment, he couldn't stand it anymore and sent Shinsou a friend request on Fetlife to unlock the rest of his profile. Unlike him, Shouta had been very careful not to include any identifying information, so he was reasonably safe from suspicion. What he found after the confirmation arrived, though, exceeded his wildest dreams. Besides the pictures he had already seen. And more than that, he couldn't stop looking at them. There were text entries, paragraphs over paragraphs written about Shinsou's daily life, carefully changed to not reveal too much information. He upgraded High School to University, demoted Shouta from his legal guardian to roommate to make him less recognizable and talked in tortuous detail about the sexual adventures of his friends (something Shouta would rather have stayed oblivious too). He also posted regular updates about Jelly, Shouta's cat, and her endless capacity for mischief. Shinsou’s profile was a window into his life. 


But the worst were the posts about Shouta. Some were just the usual fantasies, reimagined by porn movies world wide for decades. Remember how I told you my roommate teaches at a very prestigious university? Shouta wished. I just can't stop thinking about catching him alone, after hours in his office, slipping under his desk and treating him for working so hard. And some were - God, guys, I just want Mr. S. to tie me up and let me dangle from the living room ceiling like I'm part of his interior design concept. Or: Sometimes, when we have dinner together, I can't help but imagine kneeling besides Mr.S at the table, only getting to eat what he feeding me.  


And then there was the one that made Shouta pause to guiltily jerk himself off in the shower, biting his lips until they bled because he couldn't stop the sounds from wanting to spill over: I wish Mr. S. was actually into me so he could shove a plug up my ass, tie my hands behind my back and when I'm finally thinking he is going to fuck me, all he does is ask me about the Hero Rights Act of 2175, whipping me every time I mess up the answer.


It was when Shouta returned home early from his patrol one night, through the window as not to wake up Shinsou, and heard the telltale click of the camera shutter through his halfway closed bedroom door, that he began to seek revenge. 


It was small things at first. He swapped his casual black T-Shirts he hung out at home in, with his black training tank tops he wore when he was heading to the gym. But once Shouta had set his mind to something, he went through with it all the way. So as spring neared, he decided to forego them entirely, stretching out on the couch in the afternoon, knowing fully well Shinsou would find him napping half naked when he got home from his extra-curricular activities. God, guys, Mr. S. is built , Shinsou wrote that night, I need him to pick me up, carry me into his room and choke me until I'm too dizzy to cry when he edges me.  


Some things were subtler and Shouta actually doubted Shinsou would notice them at first. He had never been a person - or a teacher - that praised abundantly, but now when Shinsou finished his chores or moved up a spot in the class ratings, he'd tell him how well he did. Most of the time it was just a "Good job", casually thrown into the conversation. But sometimes, when Shouta was feeling particularly frustrated, he'd make a show of it. "You're doing good," he'd tell him, trying to keep his wording just this side of respectable while he knew Shinsou could hear the innuendo seeping through his voice. "I think you should get a treat for that, don't you?" 

The first time he did it, he was halfway expecting Shinsou to catch on and call him out on it, maybe even find him weird, but all the boy did was blush, look away and demanded a movie night come weekend.


I know Mr. S is not doing it on purpose. But he's killing me here. Shinsou's Fetlife profile was a diary. A slightly perverted, entirely inappropriate diary Shouta should have no business in reading, but one nonetheless. And, he rationalized when he read the words over and over before he went to sleep at night, it was entirely too late to stop now. He was in deep. 


Today Mr. S. let me borrow his sleeping bag for movie night, because we don't have any blankets, but it was really uncomfortable on the couch, so I went and sat on the floor. And then he shifted, so that my head was almost in his lap. I need him to be my daddy. Shinsou ended the post with an uncharacteristic crying emoji. It was almost cute.


That was how they ended up here. With Aizawa, stroking himself as quickly as he can manage, before Shinsou finds out that he knows, or worse, that he wants him exactly as bad as he does.


Shouta has worked hard for his self control, but he is under no illusion anymore that if Shinsou ever lets him, he will corrupt the fickle remains of his childish innocence and give him exactly what he is asking for online. And more. The list of things he wants to do to Shinsou is endless, and knowing that Shinsou would probably be eager for every single item is almost driving him crazy. 


Even though the boy is less guarded around  Shouta than he is around the other students or teachers, he's still shy, still reluctant to accept that Shouta cares for him (and has cared for him before this irrational infatuation started taking hold). He wants to make him lose control entirely, wants to reduce Shinsou to a crying, moaning mess who has forgotten how to think, how to speak, has only three words left to use - a never ending cascade of "Daddy, please " echoing through an otherwise silent apartment while Aizawa spanks him raw, his other hand three fingers deep in his hole, and his safeword. Shouta works himself over hard, gripping himself as tightly as he can while he imagines it's Shinsou's hand instead, sneaking into his pants while they’re both watching a movie, kind of embarrassed but also too turned on to stop himself. Or his mouth, a willing hole to be fucked, while he moans around Shouta's cock, happy to be treated like the whore that he is.


Shouta is close, so close. He just needs a few more seconds. He can already feel the sensation overwhelm him, taking him over completely as he imagines Shinsou, eyes red and puffy and full of tears looking up from below him, his throat contracting violently around him as he chokes - He can't completely suppress the groan as he (already? finally?) spills over his hand, staining his costume while he fists his other hand in his hair to keep himself from being even louder. 


Absent-mindedly wiping his hands on his jumpsuit, he opens his eyes. He can barely see the movement, but it's still there, at the periphery of his vision, and his head snaps around, just barely seeing Shinsou's silhouette disappear down the hallway. In his hurry, he hasn't closed the door properly and it must have opened without him noticing. It's becoming a pattern, Shouta not catching on to important details where Shinsou is concerned. Well, fuck.


Shouta needs a few seconds to calm himself down and then a few more to struggle out of his jumpsuit and put on a pair of dirty joggers. He might not care about social norms most of the time, but he’s pretty sure this situation warrants at least clothes without cum on them to not come off as completely predatory. Even though technically, that's exactly what it is. 


He drags a hand through his hair and breathes in deeply, but before he can resolve himself to go out and apologize, his phone lights up with a Fetlife notification. Despite knowing better, Shouta opens it. When I came home today, Mr. S was in the living room working some rope , the post reads. Earlier, Shouta had cleaned his capture weapon, dragging out the process, and when Shinsou arrived, Shouta had started to leisurely practice knots on it. It was entirely for show, Shouta could do them in his sleep. But measured by how quickly Shinsou disappeared into the bathroom, it had exactly the effect on him Shouta thought it would, leading up to the mess he was currently in. And his hands - Shinsou continued, words full of typos. He had obviously typed it in a hurry. I have never been so hard in my life. But when i came out I went by his bedroom. The door was open just the tiniest bit and I saw him moving. I swear I didn't want to, but I just couldn't help myself - and he was there, jerking off, completely lost to the world. He didn't notice me. Guys, I died. I didn't even know I could come twice in half an hour, but my body is ready. I wish it was me he was thinking of, so I'm going to pretend for a bit. I wish I was brave enough to just saunter in there, drop my pants and sit on his dick. I'd make it so good for him, I promise. He wouldn't even have to do anything, just tell me how he likes it. I- gotta go. Gotta take care of this before he catches me.


Shouta throws his phone back on the bed. He is out of his room before he knows what's happening. The door to Shinsou's room is closed, but that didn't bother him earlier either, so he repays in kind, and enters without knocking. 


Shinsou is half lying, half kneeling on his twin sized bed, pants around his knees. One hand is holding his cock and he has pressed two fingers inside of him already. When he hears the noise, Shinosu turns his head and his eyes widen as he sees Shouta standing in his doorway. Shouta hasn't even bothered to put on a shirt (he hasn't worn one in weeks), and he can watch Shinsou's terrified expressions darken as his gaze drops lower, before he pulls himself together and sits up. "Sensei-," he begins, but Shouta is having none of it. He has forsaken all rationality, 


With two long strides he has reached the bed in the middle of the room. "You're really desperate," he observes and watches Shinsou blush, a deep red that almost reaches his shoulders. He scrambles for his pillow, desperate to cover himself up, but Shouta shakes his head before he succeeds. "As you were.”


For a second the words hang between them before Shinsou processes, the terror on his face melting into surprise. "Sensei?" 


"On your knees," Shouta clarifies. His body hasn't fully recovered from his orgasm a few minutes ago, but he is burning with desire. Screw this facade. It's not like Shinsou isn't begging for it, fucking himself on his fingers pretending it was him. Shinsou must sense he is serious, because he obeys as soon as Shouta has spoken, turning around again, shaking slightly as Shouta steps up to him, examines the open bottle of lube on the nightstand and Shinsou's twitching hole. "You want me to fuck you?"


Shinsou's head hangs in shame, but he nods anyway. It's not like Shouta expected something else. Shinsou has spent months spelling out his fantasies for everyone who knows where to look. So Shouta wastes no time as he gets on the bed, forcing Shinsou to pull his knees close, to put himself even more on display. Without any bravado, he shoves two of his fingers into Shinsou's still wet hole, before angling for more lube. Underneath him, the boy moans, loud and so sinful, it makes Shouta's cock twitch in response. It won't be long before he is ready to go again. 


He sets a slow rhythm, mostly to give himself time to recover, slowly thrusting his fingers into Shinsou, who is so tight and warm around him. He can't wait to spread him open on his cock, slow enough to drive Shinsou insane, until he's fucking himself on Shouta. He adds a third finger for good measure, not because it's necessary but because he wants to see if Shinsou can handle it. "Look at you," Shouta informs him. "You're not even legal yet and you take my fingers like you've never done anything else." 


Shinsou whimpers, pushing back slightly and Shouta takes it as a sign to curl his fingers, until Shinsou cries out. "Been practicing," Shinsou mumbles, too embarrassed to speak any louder. Shouta chuckles darkly. "I have read all about it.”


"Wha-" Shouta leaves Shinsou no time to ask, no time to doubt. He hits his prostate again, so the question end in a drawn out whine instead. Who'd have thought that Shinsou, who's usually quiet, would sound like a porn star just because Shouta's fingering him? 


"I'm not even touching your cock yet, and you're already so far gone. Should have known you were a needy one." Shinsou buries his face into the mattress, while Shouta increases his speed. He feels his dick getting hard again. It hasn't been long, but Shouta is desperate to get inside of Shinsou, to make him fall apart. 


"Sensei, please." Shinsou probably doesn't know what exactly he is begging for, for Shouta to stop talking, or to fuck him, or to touch him so he'll find relief. But it doesn't matter. It's all Shouta needs. He strokes himself to full hardness with punishing motions, driven by Shinsou writhing beneath his fingers. When he is ready, he uses one hand to adjust himself and one hand to hold on to Shinsou's shoulder, searching for the best angle before he enters him. He is giving Shinsou time to adjust, but he's so loose that it's barely necessary, that Shouta can slide in with one, fluid thrust of his hips.


Shinsou feels perfect around him. It's been a while since Shouta has fucked anyone, and he has to grit his teeth to keep from groaning. Shinsou sobs, one of his hands reaching behind him, searching for Shouta. He intertwines their fingers, if only to reassure him, before he pulls back and begins fucking Shinsou. At first he's careful, but it turns out to be obsolete with how Shinsou squeezes his hand and arches back against him. Shouta leans forward, shifting his weight, so his chest touches Shinsou’s back, and he can rest their hands on the sheets again. 


"You said you like it rough?" The question is rhetorical, but Shinsou whimpers a "yes" anyway. "Tell me, Shinsou," Shouta drawls, his voice no more than a growl. "You want me to fuck you like the desperate little boy you are?" 


Of course, both of them know the answer already, but Shinsou's reaction makes Shouta's gut clench with want. His breath hitches and he shivers, biting back a moan before he answers."Sensei, please, I need you-" His voice breaks halfway through the sentence, but it doesn't matter. It's all Shouta wanted to hear. Burying one hand on Shinsou’s hair for purchase, he begins thrusting in earnest, pressing down his face into the bed.


He can't believe it has taken him this long to do it when he could have had it weeks ago.


Shinsou is so responsive, reacting to Shouta's every move, presses himself up against him. When Shouta pulls his hair, he screams, loud enough to make Shouta's ears ring, but he keeps going. It's not like he can stop - Shinsou is addictive, clenching around his cock like he never wants to let him go, slowly but surely wringing another orgasm out of him. In between the gasps and cries, Shinsou grits out broken syllables, an steady stream of "Fuck, sensei, more, god" and they drown out the ragged sound of their breathing, the slap of flesh against flesh. 


Shinsou is all he can see, all he can hear, and the whole time, he doesn't let go of his hands, holds on to Shouta like he's a lifeline. He has to let go of Shinsou's hair to sneak a hand around his hips to stroke his cock and Shinsou sags to the mattress, barely able to keep himself upright anymore. He doesn't take long to come. His voice is too hoarse to scream anymore, so he finds his release with an almost silent cry and a sob that shakes his whole body. It's this what drives Shouta over the edge too. His orgasm is white and hot, almost violent as he lets go and pushes into Shinsou without restraint. It seems to go on forever, rendering him deaf, blind with the intensity of something he has denied himself for too long.


Afterwards (which might be minutes or seconds or hours), they lie next to each other, still panting. Sweat is drying slowly on their skin, and because the bed is small, there's no escaping the wet spot Shouta left when he pulled out. He can't bring himself to care, though. Shinsou lies on his side, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth, almost too hidden too notice. His eyes are unfocused, and he doesn't seem to notice when Shouta slowly pulls him closer, and wiggles out the blanket from underneath them. It's exactly what Shouta thought he would be, and he waits patiently for Shinsou's world to come into focus again as the tumble of endorphin in his body slowly dies down. He leans closer then, letting his head fall against Shouta's chest in a gesture that is so trusting it might just be sad. 


Slowly blinking, he wills himself to speak. His lashes tingle Shouta’s chest. "Sensei," he says, his voice barely more than a whisper. 


"It's okay. You did well." Shouta isn't overly affectionate, but he can't help but to run a hand through Shinsou's hair. After all of this, he has more than earned it. 


"Thank you," Shinsou responds, but he sounds far away, and only seconds later, he falls asleep against Shouta like that, exhausted and overwhelmed. Since Shouta has never been opposed to an opportunistic nap, he lets himself sink into the single pillow and follows suit, guided into sleep by the rise and fall of Shinsou's breath. Only then he notices that he hasn't let go of Shinsou's hand once.