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bonkwrites · 2 years ago

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like a princess

Shouta Aizawa x afab!reader

Warnings: dirty talk, afab!reader, PIV sex, fluffy smut, bondage, like two spanks, begging, pleading, crying, name calling (Sir and baby),

Aizawa is a respectful man. He's never treated you poorly, raised a hand at you (even jokingly), and has always treated you like a princess. He's all gentle touch.. calm, tired voice.. and warm, soft skin..

But sometimes, you want more. Don't get it twisted, Aizawa fills the role of husband better than any man ever could and you're not thinking about cheating! All you want is for him to get a little… rough in bed. You were both virgins when you met and you've explored sex together as partners ever since. You've both discovered the things you like, the things you don't like, together.

All of it changed with a book. A stupid, erotic romance novel involving a dominant man and a submissive woman. It was a throw-away, there was barely any plot, but the sex scenes were graphic, detailed, and you were engrossed in the book because of them. You’d never really thought about.. anything like that. Shouta had read the book over your shoulder one night, plucked it out of your hands, and pulled you right along to the bedroom.

He made you tell him everything that you read, everything that you liked, and when you were done he bent you over the edge of the bed and made you scream. It was the only time he was ever rough with you since you’ve been together and you’re addicted.

That's how you ended up where you are now, the end of Aizawa's scarf in his hand, the remaining length of it wrapped around your arms behind your back. You're kneeling on the bed, naked, chest pushed forward, skin prickling with desire. You'd give anything to have his hands, his mouth, any party of him, on you right now.

"T-Touch me?" You ask, eyes flicking from his hand gripping the scarf to his face. His eyes are sharp, dark, and the lust in them makes you squirm.

"When you earn it." He's got this horribly smug smirk on his face that makes you wetter. Your husband is so hot, you don't have to be reminded of that, but this scenario, giving him control of your body like this, has made him impossibly hotter.

"Please," you beg, thighs squirming, "Sh-Shouta, I need you."

"Do you?" He asks. He flicks his wrist and you spin, thrown off balance and falling. Your chest hits the bed and you throw your head to the side to avoid breaking your nose at the last second with a gasp.

The control he has over that scarf is impressive. You struggle, hands and arms pushing against the fabric. You're turned around and when you shuffle up on your knees you realize you've given him the best view of your pussy you could ever imagine. Shouta groans, his free hand reaching out to grope your ass and thighs.

"This is so much hotter than I thought it would be," he admits, voice low with arousal. You nod and agree in a whimper consumed by the sheets.

The soft, silk sheets of the bed you share with him. You're gonna have to replace them, you'll never be able to look at them the same. Shouta's hand leaves your skin and then comes back down with a crack of skin on skin. You gasp, body shaking forward, and then press your hips back again. He brings his hand down again and the sting makes your head spin. You whimper please, please, into the sheets when he brings down the third. The fourth has you moaning and attempting to grind your hips back.

“Please what, sweetheart? Hmm?” he soothes his handprints with soft, kneading fingers. You feel the mattress dip and it’s only when you feel the skin of his thighs against yours that you realize he’s behind you. He twists his wrist, the slack of the scarf tightened.

“W-Want you,” you beg, “need you, baby,”

You push your hips back and the tension leaves your skin when you grind against his bulge in his boxers. You keep going, thinking that if he wanted you to stop he’d tell you, and you think that you could cum like this. You’ve been thinking about this for so long, had this little fantasy tucked away for so long, and now you’re about to cum like a horny teenager by humping him like a fucking dog.

It feels dirty, especially when his hand finds your hips and pulls you back against him. You try to spread your legs wider, arch your back deeper, but the hold the scarf has on your arms is misleadingly tight. It gives you barely any room to move. You might be getting yourself off on him but he’s got all the control.

“That feel good, baby?” Shouta asks. You whimper, nodding, hips moving faster.

“P-Please, I just, I c-can’t take it-” you feel like you’re going to explode, like your heart is going to give out.

“You’ll take what I give you,” he commands it of you, he stops your rutting hips with one hand. You sob, clenching around nothing, losing all thought process fast.

“Please!” you cry out, “Sh-Shouta-”

“Sir.” he corrects and oh, oh my god, how are you going to survive this? He wants you to call him Sir.

“Sir,” you beg, “Please fuck me, please, I need it, sir, I can’t-” Shouta’s thumb touches your clit and you moan, eyes rolling back, shaking all over. He’s got you so pent up you can barely breath, can barely think.

“Can’t what?” your reply is muffled by the sheets. Shouta’s thumb leaves your clit to allow him to wind back and give you another handprint. You cry out, the sudden pain unexpected.

“What can’t you do, baby? Answer me.”

“I can’t take this," your voice shakes, "Please, sir,"

He leans over you and releases your hip with a warning of stay still growled into your ear. You nod, whimpering, and Aizawa lets go of the fabric to get off the bed. You try to take deep breaths, try to calm your heartbeat and your racing mind. It doesn’t work. You’re aching for him, no amount of deep breathing is going to change that.

You shiver when you feel his hands touch your shoulders. There's barely a tug on the scarf before it comes undone. You feel it slide over your skin, off of your wrists and arms. Confused, you shift your weight to look up at him. God, what a sight. He’s holding the scarf, his boxers are gone, and you have the urge to put your mouth on his cock.

"Wh-What-" you stutter as his hands trail over your skin.

"I want to see you while I fuck you," he cuts you off quickly, already knowing what your about to ask, and a shock of arousal strikes through you at the image your brain conjures up.

"M-kay," you mumble as you turn over. He leans down to kiss you when you get to your back. You’re lost in him in seconds, his lips are soft, his hands are rough, and his hair is falling over your cheek.

Those rough hands wander over your cheeks, your shoulders, and they play with your nipples, twisting and tugging. You jolt, back arching, whimpering into his mouth. He pulls back, breathing hard and smirking. He loves this, loves every second of having you under his control.

"Hands above your head, baby." You blink stupidly at him for a second before you do as he says.

"Y-Yes, sir," you lift your arms above your head and shuffle your shoulders to get comfortable. He secures your wrists to the headboard, tied together, and then he’s back between your legs. He adjusts you, big hands moving your thighs and your hips around.

You can feel him, hard and heavy and pressing against your thigh. He puts one leg on his shoulder and you squirm, body thumping with your heartbeat. His eyes are heavy lidded, clouded, and you have to look away to save yourself from the fire it ignites in you. He takes himself in hand and guides himself until his head is pushed up against your hole. You shiver and gasp.

“S-Sir,” you sob, whining, “Please, puh-”

You’re cut off by your own moans when he pushes his hips forward and slides himself in. He takes it slow, so slow, savoring the way you feel around him with his head tilted back. You struggle against the fabric, wanting to touch him, grab him, pull him down over you and rake your nails down his back. His eyes open, looking down at you, devastatingly handsome.

“Struggling already, sweetheart?” he asks, hands curving up your sides to tug and pinch your nipples. You cry out, clenching around him.

He grips the bottoms of your ribcage for leverage as he pulls his hips back and snaps them forward. You can’t stop the sounds that come out of your mouth as he fucks you, you never could. Shouta knows how to make you scream for him, how to fuck you so good you forget your own name.

“That’s it, baby, fucking take it,” he growls, one hand leaving your side to grip your thigh, “it’s all you’re good for, isn’t it?”

You nod frantically, trying desperately to fuck yourself down on him. You want to cum like this, tied down and pinned under your husband, being used by him.

“Sh-Shouta-” you’re cut off when he goes still inside you, confusion taking hold of you for a second as he leans over you and reaches for your bedside table. Did the condom break? Your head is spinning.

“Close your eyes,” he commands, you follow his order quickly and feel him start to fuck you again, one hand gripping your hip to pin you down. Something cold, hard, plastic presses against your hip and you whine.

“W-What are you- Sir!” you sob out his name among a string of incoherent syllables as he turns your vibrator on and presses it right to your clit. Shouta moans too, fucking you harder.

“F-Fuck, sweetheart, I can feel you twitching,” he moans. His fingers dig into your thighs, his hips rough. You tug on the binds, struggling, wanting more or wanting to stop you aren’t sure.

“I-I-” you want to tell him it’s too much, you can’t take it, you’re gonna shatter into a million pieces if he keeps fucking you like this. Shouta fucks you right into your orgasm, watching you shake and fall apart beneath him with that smirk still on his face.

“Fuuuck, baby,” he groans, pulling you down onto his cock roughly and burying himself inside of you. He pants, the same as you, as he comes down. You take deep breaths, trying to calm your beating heart.

He pulls out, discards the condom, and then he comes back to you. He pulls the scarf free, throws it to the floor, and lays down with you to rub your wrists and kiss your hands. You’re sore, boneless, and you let yourself fall to a calm in his arms. He runs a hand over your hair, whispers praise, and you can’t help the way your eyes drift close. He takes such good care of you all the time, respects you and loves you, how did you get so lucky?

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blondieeu · 6 months ago

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london. aizawa s.

in the real world, shouta works as an maths professor at an advanced high school with a 0.2% acceptance rate and he feels super weird when his co-workers call him his first name since he’s still getting used to american culture.

his students love him, and in his own way he loves that back and will never tell anybody it makes him sad to see them move up a grade.

shouta doesn’t care for the news really, apart from amber alerts and weather reports—that he doesn’t listen to anyway.

and regardless of the incredibly affordable and nice housing near his job he chooses to live on the other side of town just so nobody knows where he lives.

unbeknownst to everyone’s eyes but yours, shouta really enjoys everything in his life, even the little things.

he enjoys when the birds that spend time with him on his window sill every morning before he leaves for work.

—or even when you wake up at the same time as him so you can wash his hair in the shower just because you know he likes that.

in the real world, shouta owns 3 cats—two black one ginger.

he’s also gaining smile lines in the corner of his eyes because of how much you make him laugh when it’s just the two of you. nobody notices them though, they just take it as a sign that he’s getting old.

you live in a quiet place in london. he moved there to be with you, but he does miss his mother from time to time. he also likes the martinis they serve down the street from the house.

shouta refuses to have sex with you unless he’s doing all the work, says “it’s his job to make you feel good.” he also refuses to let you give him head.

and he will never get rough with you in bed because he said it takes away from the aspect of making love, says that he’s sharing his soul with you.

vienna, satoru g.

blondieeu xx

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