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Shinsou feels the weight change in his bed but stays quiet, curious about his father’s intentions.
Warmth settles on his back as Aizawa spoons him with a soft, content groan. It’s breathy right next to Shinsou’s ear and he has to suppress a shiver. Muscles he wasn’t aware that he was clenching relaxes in Aizawa’s arms, safety washing over him like a blanket. Annoyance bubbles in him as well but he continues his faux sleeping.
The father starts with a gentle caress on his son’s thigh, innocuous circles drawn into skin softly, gently.
But Shinsou knows better; keeps a quiet breath as he waits, patiently, silently.
He came home around 7AM this morning, and he has another night shift waiting for him after dinner; this is the needed sleep he should have before you get home after school.
The hand is almost hypnotizing, sweet.
Addicting.
And then the hand drifts. It’s so slow that he almost doesn’t notice it at first, but it makes him let out a small groan, swatting away Aizawa’s hand.
The hand returns without much fight. Shinsou lifts his head to the side so that Aizawa can see his face, “let me sleep, I have a shift tonight.”
A sly smile curls upon Aizawa’s lips, his beard a little longer than usual. Shinsou mindlessly thinks he should shave soon.
“I know.”
With more power, more strength, the father grabs the son’s thigh and lifts it over his own, effectively spreading his legs. Shinsou’s face falls back onto the pillow when Aizawa roughly palms his crotch, waking up his cock with minimal effort, hoping the wet spot of precum isn’t as obvious as it feels.
“She’ll be home soon.” Shinsou tries, biting his lower lip to keep back any whimpers or tells that he craves this, wants his father to continue. Even if his body wants this, he doesn’t want it in front of you.
Aizawa noses into Shinsou’s hair, hand slipping underneath the boxers unceremoniously, palming the fat of his cheeks before he runs his fingers through the crack. He circles the hole teasingly as he starts kissing at his neck, letting out a breathy exhale right next to his ear, “I know.”
Shinsou rolls his eyes; is that all the man’s able to say? Shinsou swats at his arm, trying to push him away again, “dad, I’m serious. Leave me alone, she’ll be home in less than an hour.”
Aizawa lets out a small chuckle, huffing out a breath at the choice of name. When Shinsou tries to crawl out of his grasp and get up from the bed, Aizawa wraps an arm around his torso, “you’re staying here, baby. I need to speak with you.”
The words are harsher than Shinsou expected, more serious than lustful. He gulps and lies back down.
Still, though, he doesn’t stop fighting about it. “You need to talk to me with a finger in my ass or what?”
Aizawa laughs and pulls down Shinsou’s underwear, “as a matter of fact, I do. ‘s that a problem?”
Shinsou groans as Aizawa hovers over him to reach the lube on his son’s nightstand. He doesn’t want to admit that the weight on him feels nice, “I told you; she’ll be home soon.”
Wordlessly, he pops open the cap and wets two fingers. Shinsou gasps when he pushes one in directly to the knuckle, giving him little chance to adjust. Aizawa can feel how his body flutters as it tries to fit him, how Shinsou’s hands start to grip the sheets tightly, knuckles turning white.
“Y’know, last night she crawled underneath my Goddamn shirt, wanted to be real close,” Aizawa explains in a monotone voice, pushing his finger in and out, letting the middle finger tease the entrance just slightly with every push. “Yeah? You fucked her brains out, then?”
Aizawa clicks his tongue, “she was busy crying. Convinced that you didn’t love her anymore, you know.”
Huh? Shinsou’s upper body whirls to face his father, confused about his words and convinced that this is a weird joke. But Aizawa looks dead serious…
And disappointed.
Shinsou bites back a whine as Aizawa pushes another finger inside him, as if the subject matter isn’t more important than foreplay. His mind is reeling trying to make sense of it. It’d be easier if his father stopped toying with him like this and just talked straight to him.
Aizawa leans in close, lips ghosting over his cheekbone, beard scratching at his skin, “she may be dumb, but she’s not stupid, Hitoshi.”
Shinsou moans at the way he says his name, shouldn’t become aroused from a subject that clearly weighs in on you, his beloved little sister. He ruts back onto his father’s hand, almost too horny to be concerned. He licks his teeth and smacks his lips together a few times before he finds his words, “the fuck are you talking about? She hasn’t said anything to me.”
Aizawa tuts at him, bending his fingers to push at that delicious, spongy spot that makes Shinsou play in his tune.
“Says you didn’t listen. ‘Cos you didn’t care.”
Shinsou groans, confused. He’s about to ask for clarification when Aizawa continues, the squelch of his lubed fingers fucking his ass a nice background symphony.
“Y’know,” he drawls lazily, nuzzling his face into Shinsou’s hairline, “she says she can smell whenever she comes home and I’ve fucked you stupid. Says the house smells of you; but you never let her see you take me…”
Ah, Shinsou gets it now.
He wasn’t aware that this was such an issue for you, though. Not until now. His dick twitches when he imagines you smelling him.
Aizawa’s been wanting to fuck you both for weeks now, has expressed explicit desire to, and so have you. But he’s your Onii-san.
A big brother who loses his mind to cock, submits and becomes such a bitch isn’t who he’s been in front of you; his toes curl in embarrassment whenever he thinks of you seeing him like that, drooling and begging. Your Onii-san is confident, dominating, controlling. He’s the one fucking you out of your mind.
“The pills you give her, from Recovery Girl…” Aizawa licks at his ear, eats up the shaky breath his son exhales, “…they’re just melatonin. Supposed to help with inducing sleep; it’s not a hardcore sleeping pill that’ll keep her passed out for long. You should know this, shouldn’t you? Having taken them for years.”
Shinsou closes his eyes, tries to control his breathing, but his father is casually adding a third finger while explaining all this in the same lazy drawl that he teaches in at school, the undertone of calling him stupid making him shiver. Changes up the tempo of his fingers to reel him in, mess with his head, “she’s woken up a few times, y’know. She explained to me, in great detail…” Aizawa’s voice lowers, almost a husky whisper as he relays the next part like it’s a secret, “how she came untouched last week, watching you through a crack in the door. Said that watching you ride me made her unable to sleep at all. That she had a wet dream at school the day after when she fell asleep during class; couldn’t stop thinking about you moaning.”
Shinsou moans at the last word like it’s a command, the image alone enough to make him spurt precum, a messy string of it spilling onto his sheets. With his eyes rolled back, he turns to face his father again, “Papa, please, she’ll be home soon. I don’t want this.”
Aizawa fucks him harder at that, like his rejection deserves punishment.
“You will want this. For her.”
Shinsou’s about to protest, about to talk boundaries or consent or something akin that he knows will only sound hypocritical when Aizawa breaks his heart with the next words, “she thought you love me more because we’re blood related. That you don’t really like her because she’s adopted; that she isn’t real family to you.”
Shinsou sees red for a moment, groaning onto the pillow in frustration before he grits out, “that’s not true.”
Aizawa grunts at Shinsou, pushing all three fingers in past the knuckle as if to say too bad, “show her, then.”
But he doesn’t want to. He groans and thrashes in Aizawa’s hold, annoyed that his father tries to decide what course of action is best for him. You’re his sister, of course he can sit down and fucking talk to you.
Can’t he?
“You’re not gonna get away with acting like this and let my baby think she isn’t part of the fuckin’ family, you hear?”
Aizawa doesn’t let up, and Shinsou’s sparred with him one too many times growing up knowing that the dark-haired man currently has the upper hand; being behind him with a grip like this, there’s no way Shinsou’s worming his way out. He curses out loud before he tries to wiggle again, opening his mouth to ask a question, any question.
Instead, the air is pulled out of his lungs as his father repositions him up on his knees, flush against his back and suddenly his arms, legs and torso are wrapped tightly, pushing a surprised gasp out of him.
“Wha—mmmfg!” whatever he wanted to ask, his father wraps the lower half of his face in the binding cloth that he so skillfully masters to stop the dirty trick that he knows his son uses. Too many students, too many villains and random drunks have been his training for Shinsou to break out now. All he can do is whimper and let the man behind him has his way.
Aizawa laughs cruelly, “c’mon Hitoshi, behave.”
His dick twitches and aches. His brain is turning fuzzy at the edges, Aizawa roughly taking control letting a buzz overtake his cognitive functions; being in his father’s grasp, letting the man do what he wants as he tries – and fails – to spit venom is his favorite game.
He swallows spit that feels thicker than it’s supposed to be, straining to breathe; only his nostrils are free of that shitty fucking cloth and Shinsou curses that he didn’t look at his father before letting him settle behind him. If he’d realized the man was clothed in his hero suit, he would’ve never let him get the upper hand.
Shinsou doesn’t hear the front door open and close, doesn’t register your voice announcing that you’re home. His father yells something, but the words are incomprehensible; it could’ve been anything. His eyes can’t lock onto anything, head hanging low as his father fucks him from behind, arms wrapped on his back with Aizawa holding the cloth like reigns, forcing him back and forth as he impales him.
He doesn’t understand that you’re home before the sound of your bag hitting the floor makes him suddenly look up, whimpering and tightening in surprise and embarrassment, thighs quaking as his eyes rake up your socked feet, your exposed knees, the hem of your skirt, the shirt tucked in neatly and the ugly blue blazer that’s part of your school uniform. As he watches your uncovered collarbone his breath hitches and his face falls back down, unable to face you.
He groans before he pushes against Aizawa’s grip, thrashes in his hold and manages to get his upper body down flat onto the bed, hiding from your gaze.
Your judgement.
Aizawa laughs breathlessly, still fucking into him without mercy, “hi baby, did you have a good day?”
Shinsou thinks he might hear you hum, barely audible, small and light. You might be nodding to your father who can actually see you but he doesn’t dare to check. He smushes his face onto the sheets and squeezes his eyes shut, ignoring the way his cock drools and spit gathers in his mouth, wetting the binding.
He can’t hear you enter the room at all.
He can’t stop the squeal that escapes his throat when Aizawa pulls harshly at his reigns, forces his figure upright and flush against his chest, the warmth trickling down his spine in tingling waves. He tries to control his breathing but fails miserably.
“Look at this nasty little slut,” Aizawa grits out, arms wrapping around his son’s torso.
And oh, you’re looking. Staring. Eyes wide, throat constricting, chest heaving. Your brother is naked, scantily covered by the type of cloth that both of the men use for work, that makes your thighs rub together. It’s pulling his arms back, arching his back and puffing up his chest that is partly covered, tightly wrapped. It makes his right peck peek out, squished together to seem fatter than it is, pink nipple hard and pointy.
You gulp as you watch how it’s wrapped around his neck, obscuring his hair and covering his mouth. All you hear are muffled moans, screeches and whines. You’ve never seen anything as beautiful as him, wrapped like a present.
“Doesn’t he look pathetic like this, hm? Whining and drooling and whimpering over Papa’s cock.”
In slow motion you shake your head, eyes lowering to Shinsou’s cock. It’s angry red, wet and shiny from the leftover lube that Papa used to fuck him, spluttering out precum like a Goddamn faucet.
Subconsciously, you reach out an arm but stop yourself halfway, letting your arm fall back. You’re afraid to look directly into his eyes, afraid that he’ll look disgusted that you’re here, that your presence could be entirely unwanted.
The rejection would hurt far too much.
Aizawa coos at you, “darling, c’mon, want to help Papa fuck your brother?”
You perk up at his words, jaw slack and mouth hanging open. Behind Shinsou, you look at your father as he smiles at you, jerking his head in Shinsou’s direction, “you see here?”
Aizawa lets go of the binding cloth to grab Shinsou around his throat, tightening his grip with one hand as the other grabs at his jaw, forcing him to look at his little sister, “your brother’s nervous about your opinion; afraid that you don’t like that he’s a whore.”
A gasp leaves you as you stare into his eyes now; the purple drawing you in, mixing with violent violets. He looks desperate, pupils blown wide, heaving in desperate breaths whenever his father lets up on his grip. He looks afraid.
But he doesn’t look away from you.
Your toes curl in uneasiness and anxiety. Aizawa’s breathless behind him, mercilessly fucking into him, but laughs anyway as he pushes his son a little further over onto the bed, “was he right then, baby? Do you not like that your brother is just as much of a cockslut as you? That you siblings are so alike?”
Your mouth draws into a thin line, your mind already blanking from the display in front of you. Aizawa smirks, “so you’re jealous, huh? That my cock’s going inside of him, not you?”
This pulls you out of your trance as you clench your fists and reply firmly, offended that your father even had to ask, “no.”
Both men’s eyes light up as they widen, looking at you with great interest, “oh? Come onto the bed then baby, explain yourself.”
You lift one foot to pass the threshold of your brother’s bedroom but hesitate, lip worried between your teeth. You’re not sure you have the needed words to explain yourself. Aizawa pushes harder into Shinsou, the slap of their skin a constant in your ears. It’s not until Shinsou moans that you manage to push yourself past your imaginary wall and you manage to move your legs in tandem get you to the bed that you’re so familiar with already.
Shinsou clenches and whine as you get closer to the bed, thighs quaking. You barely have to crawl on your knees for long on the mattress to be face to face with him; your eyes are big and innocent, yet he knows your mind is not. When you reach a gentle hand out to his cheek he can’t help but lean into it with a whimper, the touch feeling like a declaration that you still like him. Still want him.
Aizawa groans behind Shinsou, leaning forward so that his warm chest is up against Shinsou’s slick back, talking into his ear, “told you.”
Shinsou rolls his eyes but then Aizawa’s hand sneaks forward to his cock, tucking at it harshly and making Shinsou buck in his grip. If it hadn’t been for Aizawa’s grip on him, he would’ve fallen on top of you.
You lean forward to kiss your brother on the lips through the cloth, whining when you can’t align your mouth properly because Shinsou’s is open behind it. He pushes against you still, enjoying the sensation nonetheless. When you lick the cloth, he groans, watching you with a keen eye. He wants to reach forward and touch you so badly, but his father still has him wrapped up.
“Onii-san,” you whine as you go lower, kissing and licking at his neck, collarbone, whining at the strange fabric of the cloth and finally wrapping your lips around the exposed nipple, sucking on it. Aizawa coos behind Shinsou, “look at her, she looks like she’s fucking nursing on you.”
Shinsou arches his backs and clenches around his father at the words, because it’s true. His breath hitches as he pushes his upper body harder against you, shuddering when Aizawa lets him, enjoying the display in front of him, reaping the rewards as Shinsou tightens up. Your hands grab at his waist, travel up towards his face, loosening the cloth around his lips so that you can kiss him directly. Aizawa is the one who loosens the cloth but lets you believe that you did it.
You don’t account for the gasp that he lets out the second that his mouth is free, the sound half a moan, sexy and slutty and making you clench around nothing with a suppressed whine. Before you kiss him, you whisper his title like a prayer, loving the way that his eyes roll to the back of his head.
Shinsou feels bad that you worship him like this, that despite him being a half-cooked big brother, you still look at him like he hung the fucking stars. He licks at your mouth, your teeth, plays with your tongue with his own, desperate for any and all attention that you can give him.
You giggle, holding open your mouth for him, happiness setting root from your curled toes up over your legs and through your torso. Your Papa had tried to tell you that Shinsou loved you, that he did see you as his little sister but he’d closed you off so ruthlessly, shut down any conversation about the subject that it’d made you shake and cry in his bed while he was at work at night, hugging his pillow and unwilling to speak to your Papa about it.
“C’mon you two, let’s change positions,” your father says from behind Shinsou, groaning when he pulls out of his son’s tight hole, watching it clench around air as he starts to unwrap Shinsou. Not a second after he’s free passes before he grabs at you, pulls at your blazer, rips impatiently at the buttons of your white shirt while you unclasp your pleated skirt and let it fall to the bed.
You’re about to lie down on your back, spread your legs for him, for them, when your father shakes his head and tuts at you, “let Hitoshi be on his back, baby. Didn’t you wanna fuck him with me?”
Your eyes sparkle at the question, nodding like a dumb doll, moving so that your big brother can get comfortable. Your father wraps one of his big hands around your waist and pulls you in for a kiss, playing with the waistband of your mint panties. Your knees feel weak as he pulls away millimeters to greet you with a purr and a curled smile on his lips. His voice is low and heady as he nods his head towards his son, “I told you, didn’t I?”
You whine in embarrassment as you hide in your father’s neck, your cheeks heating up as you feel silly for being so sad, so lonely. He was just afraid.
Just like your Papa said.
You pull away from your father to face your brother, the man using the tender moment between the two of you to catch his breath, knowing he’s about to thoroughly lose his mind.
And right before work, too.
“Fuck, Hitoshi, ‘bet you could go in all at once.”
You whine and arch your back when your father spreads your pussy lips to expose your drenched cunt from behind you, situated nicely on top of your brother, hands on his chest. Shinsou lets out a wheeze of a laugh thinking of the tight ring of resistance if he went into you without prepping you first; he’d never dared to even try, knowing the lies he told you to weasel himself inside of you in the first place.
The wet sound of your cunt fills the room for the shortest of moments before Aizawa grabs onto his son’s cock, helps aligning him with your pussy. He pushes Shinsou’s cock over your folds, back and forth, catching on the hole for only the shortest of seconds before he drags the sensitive head back up to kiss your clit, making both of you bite your lips and groan from the teasing pleasure.
It’s not enough.
Aizawa rests the head against your hole and leans forward, plastering his chest to your back, “baby, are you ready? You gotta do the work this time,” he explains, eyes on Shinsou. You turn your head to nuzzle into his neck, “mhm, ‘course I am.”
“Yeah? Look at him.”
Shinsou’s breath catches when you both look down at him. It’s intoxicating how much lust he can see in both his little sister and his father’s faces, pupils blown wide from watching him. He tries his best not to squirm.
“Look how badly he wants us both, yeah? You gonna be a good girl, right? Gonna fuck him until he loses it?”
With your eyes locked onto your brother’s, you nod and hum out a reply, hips wiggling in impatience.
“Yeah, I bet you are. Sit.”
And you do; he holds his son’s cock still so that you can take it in one fell swoop, mouth falling open at the immediate stretch, air being pushed out of your lungs harshly.
Shinsou throws his head back too, the soft covers of his pillow tangling his hair, the sweaty strands sticking to his forehead as he watches you catch your breath, tits going up and down with the movement.
Your breathing is loud as your thighs tremble, pussy clenching and spasming at the sudden stretch. Shinsou’s holding his breath waiting for a complaint that it hurts, anything.
But then you just grind back and forth with a giggle and Shinsou’s hypnotized. The way that the fat of your stomach ripples as you grind your clit into the dark patch of hair underneath you, soaking him in your juices as you make sure the head of his cock his pushing at that spot, smiling at him so confidently that he almost cums then and there.
Aizawa plays with your hair, lets his hands roam around your shoulders, your chest, whispering good girls and mindless praise onto your skin, eyes locked onto his son’s face all the while.
He barely gives Shinsou any time to adjust to his sister’s tight cunt sucking him in like a vacuum, barely lets you get used to the stretch before he repositions his own cock against Shinsou’s hole, already missing the warmth of being enveloped in there.
“C’mon, Papa,” you moan as you wait for him to penetrate his son, egging him on. You turn your face to look at him, “’m not jealous of you fucking him, Papa, ‘m jealous that you made him feel good without me.”
You punctuate your statement by sitting down roughly, punching the air out of your brother’s lungs. Shinsou’s eyes clench shut with a curse slipping past his lips as a what the fuck is all that goes through him from your explanation.
Aizawa lets out a low whistle before he pushes in, gently, slowly. He’s not a complete monster to his son, after all.
He won’t get any more reprieve than that, though.
“Yeah? You felt left out?” he asks as he noses at your neck, holding back his own reaction from how tight his son got, as if he hadn’t stretched him open at all.
Shinsou’s fighting to catch his breath and he knows that Aizawa isn’t even halfway inside of him. He pushes his arm over his face to try and block out something, anything, everything entirely too much.
He never thought—
He never imagined—
He can’t stop the pathetic, high-pitched whine that leaves him as you both start fucking him in earnest, the feeling entirely too overwhelming. The stretch of his father’s fat cock and the wet warmth of your tight pussy drowning him.
You click your tongue at him as you lean down and remove his arm from his face, “Onii-san, Onii-san,” you moan, but Aizawa is holding onto your hips as he fucks your brother and you can feel the tremors of how hard he’s going, making your own mind frazzled.
You kiss him instead, drooling into his mouth as you try to find your words, “love you, love you, love you,” is all you let out as you move your hips in uncoordinated jumps, making Shinsou’s mind reel with the unpredictability.
His father is fucking him hard, long strokes as he makes sure that his balls slap onto him, too whereas you do whatever you please, whatever feels good, clit catching onto his pubes, grinding him onto your cervix whenever you feel like it.
He’ll lose his mind today.
Shinsou doesn’t know how long this lasts, mind completely lost in the sensations and not on the time. You sit back up and reach for your father’s neck, grab onto his loose hair, “Papa, Papa, my thighs are tired.”
It’s just like you to complain with a pout, bottom lip jutting out and sweat making your chest glisten, brows furrow as you stare at your father, waiting for him to fix it. Aizawa laughs, a low rumble as he slows down his thrusts, big hands dragging themselves down from your hips to your thighs.
It’s intoxicating, watching the big, veiny hands full of scars, rough from the tough work with chipped nails dragging over your soft, jiggly thighs. You tense and wiggle, the fat spilling between your father’s fingers. Shinsou gulps loudly, eyes wide and locked onto the display.
He tuts at you, “that can’t be right, can it? Don’t you train in P.E?”
He nuzzles into your neck and you lean to the side to give him more space, a petulant sigh leaving you, “the other girls don’t really do it, so I don’t either.”
Both men shake their heads; they hate your school. It’s stupid to have such negative feelings about the place, but none of them would have a nice thing to say even if they got paid. Aizawa plays with your tits, pinches your nipples.
“Why not?” Aizawa asks calmly, slowly fucking into his son again, softly and gently, biting at your neck at the same time. You clench around your brother, but otherwise remain still on his lap, still catching your breath.
“They say Nakamura-sensei is a pervert who likes to watch us sweat.”
“And is he?”
You shrug, “don’t think so.”
Both men hold back laughs; you wouldn’t recognize a pervert even if you had your holes full of them.
Case in point, Aizawa’s hard thrust into his son makes him jerk up into your cunt, making you let out a surprised yelp.
Aizawa sighs, like it really is a corundom worth big thoughts before he pinches your nipples again but this time harder, “well, I thought you’d be a good girl and fuck him with me. Look at him, baby, look,” he grabs onto your jaw to make you look down, “he’s not even half fucked out of his mind. Papa’s disappointed.”
Aizawa’s lying; you’ve been unintentionally edging him with your pace; you fucked down onto him with vigor and power, pushing him closer and closer to the edge – every time he thought he was genuinely close to being pushed over, you slowed down to catch your breath, to rest your legs; you’ve been stalling his orgasm and it’s making him so disoriented that he barely picks up on any of the words being said.
You whine, long and high-pitched, grinding down onto him lazily, “but Papa, ‘m tired.”
“You can’t be,” Aizawa states matter of factly before he thrusts harder into his son. You groan in protest, “I am.”
“Hasn’t even been that long,” your father plainly says, nibbling at your shoulder, “’m not tired.”
You huff out an annoyed breath and pull at his hair, “yeah Papa, you’re a Pro Hero, ’m not.”
Aizawa tuts, “didn’t you wanna make him feel good, hm? Make him remember how much you like him like this? Don’t you want his milk?”
Shinsou watches in real time as you pupils widen at your father’s words, hypnotized as the light catches your wet tongue as it peeks out to lick your lips, cunt spasming around him, “c’mon baby, give him a little more,” he leans in close to your ear and whispers, “I’ll show you a way to make him cum faster.”
That seems to empower you, and you lean forward again, arms on your brother’s chest as you start to move your hips in earnest, your moans turning louder as you work harder. Aizawa matches your pace, knowing what he’s doing to Shinsou; you’re a drooling mess when your eyes catch on to your brother’s, “love you Onii-san, wanna be closer, wanna be the closest siblings, wanna share everything.”
You’re rambling now, the forced workout from your father spurring you on as you try to go past the limits of your exhausted legs; maybe you really should work out during P.E.
It might be worth it if you get to see your brother like this more often.
Aizawa’s hands roam over your body before he lets them run over your arms. When Shinsou sees them bend your elbows and guide you towards him, he knows what’s coming and shakes his head, eyes already rolling to the back of his head at the mere thought.
“Papa no, I’ll just—if she does it—hng, I’ll lose it.”
Aizawa lets out a big smile behind you; one of the big, scary ones that everyone found disconcerting at school. Shinsou clenches around him at the view.
Aizawa threads his fingers with your owns as he places them on top of Shinsou’s throat, the touch featherlight. Shinsou’s still begging for him to stop, that he doesn’t have to do it, that it’s enough already.
He whimpers when the soft skin of your fingers applies the smallest amount of pressure. “You ready?” he whispers. You gulp before you give the smallest of nods. Shinsou shakes his head.
“Follow my lead, then.”
It’s pure cruelty to have his little sister choke him like this. Your cunt is spasming around him as you watch him trash underneath you, lungs choking and throat sputtering. Your jaw is slack as your father reminds you to keep fucking him, keep making him feel good with your pussy too as his mouth spits out foamy drool at your actions. You cum around him with a drawn-out moan, clit throbbing painfully.
“That’s it, c’mon” Aizawa says, knowing that Shinsou’s at his limit. He gives a particularly well-timed thrust and Shinsou arches off the bed, hands on top of your arms as he shoots his cum into you, your throbbing cunt milking him for all he’s worth, eyes rolling to the back of your head at being filled.
Aizawa pulls his hands away but you’re clenching every muscle in your body with the force of your orgasm, and it makes Shinsou spurt out leftover precum pathetically, balls clenching painfully as your greedy pussy tries to massage his dick for more, more, more, more.
It’s a mean, low laugh that leaves your father as he pries your hands away from your brother’s neck, tells you that he does actually need to breathe in a mocking tone. You fall forward, exhausted from your exertion, satisfied with the pleasure that you gave your brother, overwhelmed by cumming twice in quick succession.
Your brother wraps his arms around you, whispers adorations of love in between the breaths that he’s trying to catch, hands playing with your hair, pinching the fat of your skin. You spasm in his grip and it isn’t long before his soft cock leaves your pussy, making you squirm and whine from the emptiness. You hide your head in the column of his neck.
He can feel his own cum spilling down himself. He groans.
When his father pulls out of him, he feels goosebumps rise on his skin, suddenly empty and spent all at once, yet the warmth and weight of your body on top of him a comfort he doesn’t ever want to lose.
Everyone catches their breath for a second; most of all you, so badly in shape that Aizawa can do nothing but shake his head disapprovingly. Your head flies up as you squeak when your father suddenly forces the fat head of his cock inside of you; even if your brother opened up your pliant, hungry pussy, you still struggle to take him without resistance.
But your cunt is greedy; despite the struggle it welcomes him with fanfare, soaking him with your juices and taking him like a good girl. Your father’s grip on your hips is bruising as he fucks into you harder than he fucked your brother.
“I’m moving you baby.”
Both son and daughter prepare for you to be physically moved, but he just keeps fucking you in the same position. It’s only when he elaborates that it starts to make sense to you; “I’m moving you from that fucking school. They don’t take care of you at all.”
You start to protest, weakly trying to lift your upper body but your father’s hand grabs the back of your head and forces you back down, “you do not have a say in this. You’re coming to the general department of U.A and that’s final.”
You want to complain, to protest. You have friends in your class, nice teachers.
You don’t realize that you’re talking out loud before Shinsou hushes you, wraps his arms protectively around your head even though Aizawa would never hit you and it isn’t his implication; it’s emotional support.
He’s realized the play at work here; Aizawa used you to get Shinsou to submit fully while he’s using Shinsou to get you to finally change schools.
He’s been grumbling about that stupid school ever since Sero found you at that party; been overprotective and barely letting you walk to and from the classes alone. He’s been stalking and filing complaints about that girl – the one who brought you to the party – to both the school board and her parents. He’s been looking for every excuse imaginable to get you out of there, but you’d dug in your heels and said you wanted to stay, that you liked being there.
You have no idea of the strings he had to pull to get you into U.A.
He hates that school for making you more independent, that it gives you reasons to not be by his side 24/7.
Aizawa lies down on top of you, crushing Shinsou under the weight of both of you. Breathlessly, he continues, “you’re going to U.A.”
You whine and bite onto Shinsou’s shoulder in frustration. He lets you. Aizawa drones on about your health, about the importance of P.E but the arguments are without much heart; he doesn’t really care about P.E. “There won’t be any pervert teachers.”
There will be. Shinsou almost laughs, his cock twitching in pathetic interest. “Uncle ‘Zashi will be there, too. He’ll be your English teacher.”
It makes you clench around him, but you otherwise don’t react.
“Didn’t you wanna be closer with Onii-san, hm? And Papa?”
Aizawa’s argument makes you cum around him against your will as a whine escapes you, hands grabbing the sheets so hard your knuckles are turning white.
You want nothing more.
Your father kisses at your shoulder, “we both went to U.A, yeah? It’s what this family does, and we’re family, aren’t we?”
You nod and nod and nod. You are family. You can’t help the fat tears that spill from your eyes, wets the pillow and your brother’s hair.
“That’s it baby, yeah, that’s it.” He coos now that you agree with him, big hand playing with your hair, scratching your scalp, “c’mon, clamp down on me real nice, show Papa how much you want to be as close as possible.”
You wail. You want to yell at him, say that he’s being unfair, unreasonable. But the prospect of being even closer, of being even more family has you completely blinded to the rational part of your brain; you love your father so much, he just wants to be your real father. He just wants you to do what’s right. You lick and kiss at your brother’s jaw, happy to follow in his footsteps as well, now that your father made you realize why you have to move.
“Fuck, yeah like that,” Aizawa moans above you as he fucks you in earnest, cunt sucking him in so hard that it clearly tells him you never want him to leave. He’ll stay there; always.
“Here’s my milk, baby, can you take it? Can you be a good girl and take all of it?”
Your brother kisses you as your father fills you up with cum, moaning and gripping at your hair harshly, fucking his milk so far into you it can’t ever leave you, mixing it with his son’s.
Praise spills from his lips like cum spills from his cock, thick and warm and so full of love that you feel so grateful that he adopted you.
Shinsou’s bleary as Aizawa pulls out and lifts himself up. When his eyes catch onto his father’s, Aizawa smiles triumphantly, knowing that he won over your newly acquired independence and stubbornness.
You whine as the cum trickle out of you, and Shinsou thinks he won’t get much rest before he has to work; he’s just grateful that it’s a patrol in the quiet end of town tonight.