Work Text:
The belt falls in a smooth arc, branding a fresh stripe upon already-blemished skin.
“Four. T-Thank you, sir.”
Shouta chokes out, toes curling up as he fights to keep in position. His efforts are rewarded by a hand curling around his nape, a demonstration of silent approval.
“Good boy,” Hizashi praises, warm breath brushing against Shouta’s ear and sending shudders down his spine. The submissive side of him that has emerged at the beginning secretly preens at the endearment.
“Remind me, baby. Why are we here again?”
You tell me, Hizashi. This is the third time you are asking this question.
He suppresses the snarky remark – Hizashi enjoys doling out penalty strokes for non-compliance, and Shouta isn’t keen to make things harder for himself.
“I’m here because I haven’t slept for three nights, and l… lied to you about it.” He answers instead.
“That’s right, Shou-chan.” Hizashi says simply. “Not to mention, this is the second time we are talking about this.”
The sudden lash on his left thigh elicits a cry, and Shouta might have lurched forward if not for Hizashi’s knee pressing onto his calves. Fresh tears trickle down his cheeks, and he is lost in a fog of red-hot pain.
He would have been content to wallow in his misery, if not for the firm taps on his very sore ass.
“’Z-Zashi?”
“Yes, Shouta?” Hizashi drawls, a warning in his tone.
Oh right, Shouta still has to count.
“F-Five, t-thank you sir,” he quickly corrects himself, hands fisting in the sheets. His partner is usually easy-going, but near unrelentless when it comes to anything that has to do with Shouta’s welfare.
And this translates to his strict demeanour and approach towards punishments, which has never boded – is not boding – well for Shouta’s ass.
“You’re in for a tough time, darling,” Hizashi purrs, but Shouta doesn’t miss the undertone of steel. “I intend to make sure that you understand that work does not, under any circumstances, come before your health. Even if it means having to spank your bottom raw.”
The hand around his neck tightens, and Shouta half wants to lean in, and half wants to struggle. He does neither, obediently keeping still. “Because if I have to repeat this lesson again for the third time, it will be too soon. Are we clear?”
The commanding tone draws an automatic response.
“Yes, sir.”
His partner makes a pleased sound, before moving back into position.
Shouta bites down on the duvet, bracing himself for what is to come. The air is thick with anticipation, and the room completely silent aside from the sounds of their breathing.
“Message for Aizawa Shouta! Message for Aizawa Shouta!”
He startles, instinctively turning towards the source of the interruption. Hizashi is equally alarmed, his husband dropping the belt onto the floor with a loud thud.
Shouta’s heart drops when he realises that it is coming from the 1-A dorm’s designated robot. He forcibly ejects himself from the haze of submission, slipping into his Pro mindset with an ease honed from a decade of experience.
“What’s happening?” Hizashi asks, but he ignores his husband in favour of getting to the bedside table. He swallows down a wince – even moving his legs is painful, but Shouta powers through.
“Aizawa here,” he says gruffly, “What’s going on?”
His calm tone belies his rising anxiety; Shouta and Hizashi has taken the night off, with special permission granted by Nezu. Something serious must have happened for the bots to deliberately seek *him* out.
“You have one message from Yagi Toshinori, labelled ‘urgent’. Playing the voice recording now.”
That’s right, the blond buffoon is on dorm duty today. Shouta holds the speaker face-up, glaring at it intently until it finally loads.
The first thing Shouta hears is crackling, following by muffled shrieking in the background. He thinks he can make out a few voices, but Yagi’s voice filters through before he is able to be certain.
“Aizawa-kun,” the man begins, and he can already hear the exhaustion in his tone, “I sincerely apologise for disrupting yours and Yamada-kun’s evening – I know that the both of you have something important going on. But I believe that you would want to know about this.”
Shouta taps the robot impatiently, urging voice-Yagi to hurry up. “There has been a fire in the dorms – it’s been handled, so no need to worry!” The pacifications do little in placating Shouta. “It was actually a kitchen fire, but Asui-kun and Yaoyorozu-kun had quickly notified the staff members who stepped in before any serious damage was done.”
He grinds his teeth, not relaxing at the slightest. Shouta isn’t stupid – Yagi would not have sent an urgent message just for mild property damage.
“But,” there it is; Yagi’s customary nervousness, “there are a couple of students with burns, who happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. And uh, our investigations have shown that the explosion had been rigged on purpose.”
His colleague proceeds to rattle off the names of those involved, and the events that have transpired. Shouta can sense a migraine coming up, alongside the characteristic worry that threatens to overwhelm him whenever one of his kids are sick or injured.
The transmission ends by asking if Shouta would like to record a reply. He fires off a ‘I’ll be there in ten, keep me updated,’ before tossing the device aside.
He wastes no time in pulling on his boxers and sweatpants, which has been carelessly discarded halfway into the spanking. The scrape of the rough fabric over his sore ass sends him reeling, and he is unable to hold back his yelp of pain.
But Shouta persists; he will not let himself be remiss in his duties just because of inconsequential pain.
“Shou-chan, what are you doing?” Hizashi demands, hand gripping Shouta’s forearm. His husband’s green eyes are frantic, and it is impossible to miss the panic exuding from the man.
If this is at any other time, Shouta would have sat down and patiently coaxed his partner into calming down. But right now, they have an emergency, and Shouta’s worry for his students are compounding with every passing moment.
“My kids need me. Ashido and Uraraka received second-degree burns because two idiots were unable to discern between harmless and dangerous pranks.” Shouta snaps, wrenching his arm away. But Hizashi doesn’t relent; fingers curled up tighter as he holds on with rarely-demonstrated strength.
“Think about it logically, darling. You’re currently not on shift, and didn’t Yagi-san already say that they have everything under control? How much help would you be if you were to make your way down now, especially since you are already so wound up?”
His husband is right, but unfortunately for the other man, Shouta isn’t exactly guided by rationality at the moment.
“You don’t understand, ‘Zashi. I have to be there,” he stresses, eyes turning hard. “I need to be there.”
Memories of the past semester come into mind; the invasion in the USJ, the entire saga with the Hero Killer and then Kamino Ward. Shouta has been a poor excuse of a Homeroom teacher thus far – failing to be there for his students when they needed him the most – and he is so tired of falling short.
It might be the Discipline session rendering him more emotionally vulnerable and bringing all these emotions to the forefront, but Shouta is adamant to come through this time. He wants to be there for his kids – to pass along the message that their teacher is someone worth relying on, and that they never have to face anything alone.
His feelings must have broken through, because his husband sags defeatedly in front of his eyes. The slender shoulders drop, and Hizashi sighs exasperatedly before his lips quirk up.
Some of Shouta’s stress disappears at the sight; the strain being replaced with the lightness of relief as he registers that Hizashi is no longer going to fight him.
“I can never say no to you, you giant brat,” his husband says, the taller man retrieving Shouta’s capture scarf and winding it around his shoulders. “Shall we go, then? Yagi-san called when the fire department first arrived; they should be nearly done by the time we get there.”
Shouta blinks owlishly at Hizashi, uncomprehending. “We?”
“I’m not letting you go alone, Shouta.”
“But it’s your off night too, Hizashi,” he argues, “you should be taking this time to rest up, instead of being a glorified janitor and helping to clean up my students’ messes.”
“I said, I’m coming with you.” Hizashi repeats, firmer this time.
Shouta is about to disagree once more, and cite reasons pertaining to his husband’s growing eyebags and even the ‘weaker force of his spanks’ (his ass shrieks in protest, but Shouta isn’t above white lies), but the protests die on his lips as he properly takes his husband in for the first time since the message.
Hizashi’s fists are clenched, and his grip on the capture scarf near bruising. Not to mention the tightness around his eyes…
Shouta realises with a pang that he isn’t the only one floundering from the abrupt switch in circumstances, and understanding that his partner needs to be around him right now, in order to keep himself from spiralling halfway into a drop.
“Okay, do whatever you want,” he murmurs, taking Hizashi’s stiff hand into his own. The simple gesture takes away the tension in his husband’s shoulders, and Shouta holds on even as they put on their shoes.
The door opens with a soft click, and Hizashi places a chaste kiss on his forehead. Shouta nearly melts at the softness of the silent ‘thank you’, but holds himself together as he breaks out into a run.
“Let’s go, ‘Zashi.”
Heights Alliance isn’t particularly far from the teachers’ apartment blocks. Only those on duty are required to stay in the building, as Nezu has mandated – his boss believes that it is important for the staff to have some space to themselves.
“It can be difficult to relax if you are surrounded by your students all the time. Especially for some of you, who would immediately jump in at the slightest problem; regardless of how small it is.” The rat-creature has explained, his eyes running over Shouta’s form.
Back then, Shouta has conceded; believing it to be a fair point. But as he sprints over to the building, Shouta laments that he should have seen something like this coming and fought to live in the dorms, given this batch’s tendency of getting themselves into big shit.
(He also spits out a slew of vulgarities in his head every time his trousers scrap his thighs. How can such soft fabric feel so much like sandpaper?)
His anxiety comes to a head when the dorms come into sight. The courtyard is occupied with students from the Heroics department; various shapes and colours meandering around unsurely. The fire department is also difficult to miss; the engines’ blue-red sirens casting beams over the wide expanse of space and providing some much-needed visibility.
“Looks like they are done putting the fire out,” he hears Hizashi mutter. Shouta ignores it; more intent on locating his students or Yagi in the mass of people. It doesn’t take long – the tall, gaunt figure stands out with his height and posture, and behind him are a group of familiar teenagers.
“Aizawa-sensei!”
“Aizawa-kun! You made it!”
Yagi and his students sag in relief upon seeing him, but he foregoes addressing them immediately in favour of doing a mental head-count.
Eighteen, his mind confirms, and Shouta relaxes minutely. At least everyone is accounted for.
“Are all of you alright?” He asks gruffly, although his gaze is trained upon Iida and Yagi. Tensei’s little brother and his class rep straightens, as the kid launches into a swift yet concise update of the situation.
“Everyone has been safely evacuated, Sensei!” He declares, hand jerkily indicating to his muttering classmates. A pointed stare from Shouta shuts all of them up.
Iida patiently waits for him to look back, before continuing. “With the exception of Ashido-kun and Uraraka-kun, no other 1-A student has received any injuries. However, the communal kitchen has received substantial damage, and it would likely be out of commission for the next week or so.”
Shouta knows that Nezu would likely get it fixed by tomorrow, if only because he knows that Shouta would use it as an excuse to not eat proper meals while on duty (which he has five nights a week), but he doesn’t correct the kid.
“Understood. You’ve done well in keeping calm. All of you.” Shouta praises, softening as their upset give way to glee. He then turns to the retired Hero, who is watching the scene with a nervous yet fond eye.
“Thank you for keeping me updated,” he begins brusquely, raising an eyebrow as the other teachers sweats at being spoken to. Shouta is truly unable to understand Yagi; for such a revered Hero, the man underneath truly lacks in the self-assured department.
Never mind, that can be addressed another time. Shouta is hyperaware of the absence of two of his kids, and his protective instincts are on overdrive. “How are Ashido and Uraraka? You mentioned that they have already been brought to Recovery Girl?”
“Yes, I was there with both girls; they were initially in some shock, but eventually snapped out of it. Both of them have already been healed then put to sleep by Chiyo-san’s quirk, but she says that she will not be accepting any visitors for the evening. Perhaps you could try in the morning?" Yagi placates, hands wringing.
He wants so badly to argue, but holds back in favour of a sigh. As much as the other man rubs him the wrong way, Yagi isn’t the one at fault here, and Shouta knows first-hand that Recovery Girl is impossible to negotiate with.
“Fine.” He grouses, watching as the man sags in ill-concealed relief. “You can send the other brats to bed. I’ll be dealing with these two.” Shouta glares at Kaminari and Sero, silently warning them to stay put.
The two boys freeze before nodding jerkily, their faces in varying stages of panic. Kaminari looks to be three seconds from making a run for it, and Sero is on the verge of tears.
Yagi appears both parts sympathetic and grim, which is surprising given how lenient he generally is with the students. Shouta supposes that the events have taken a toll even on the older man’s saintly patience.
“Of course, Aizawa-kun. I bid you a fine evening. Everyone, let’s make our way back upstairs!”
With the help of Iida and Yaoyorozu, Yagi is able to quickly herd the rest of his students upstairs. Shouta watches the last of them disappear into the building, before redirecting his attention to his troublemakers.
“Go use the washroom if you have to. Just be sure to meet me in Discipline Room Two within ten minutes. If I have to come and get you…”
He trails off, eyes flashing red. They pale even further, and they quickly bow before scurrying out of the room. Shouta then accesses the staff portal with the intention to reserve the room; while it is unlikely that it is currently being used, Nezu is very particular about the teachers maintaining proper logs. Even thinking back on his mentor’s lecture nearly causes Shouta to break out in hives.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Shouta startles, almost dropping the phone. He has almost forgotten that Hizashi is there with him, having been too occupied with catching up with the madness.
“Booking the Discipline Room, what else?”
His husband takes a deep breath, visibly trying to calm down.
“You are not going to be dealing with your students in your condition, Shouta. Didn’t we already talk about self-care just now? Look at you – you’re too high-strung and exhausted.” Hizashi scolds, eyes narrowing.
“It would be unfair to let them stew for the entire night, ‘Zashi.” He argues, already making his way down the corridors. His husband follows closely behind, the other man’s frustration oozing out as his arms flail around wildly.
“It’s also not fair to you to have to do this right now, especially since you aren’t in a good state of mind. Come on, babe – you know that there’s no harm letting them worry about their bottoms for the night. Some thinking might even do them good!”
Anger surges within Shouta, resembling a growing ball of flame whose intensity rivals that of his asses’. Can’t his husband see that he is also trying, and that all Shouta wants is to forego everything in favour of spending time with him?
But they are teachers – and Hizashi should already know that his students will always come first in a crisis, office hours or not.
“I’m doing this, Hizashi. I don’t care about what you have to say about it, but there will be two punished kids by the end of tonight.” Shouta spits out, anger coating his words. “You can either leave me alone, or try to stop me. And if you are going against me, things will get ugly.”
The resulting silence should have made him feel victorious, Shouta muses as he storms off.
But as he turns around the corner and catches sight of Hizashi’s retreating back, he cannot help but think that there are no winners here.
“A-Aizawa-sensei?”
“Good. You are both on time.”
Both of his students are standing beside the door, nervousness emitting in waves. Kaminari is especially high-strung; the electric user near bouncing in his slippers as he plays with the ends of his t-shirt.
“Let’s go in, then.”
Shouta doesn’t wait for a reply before jerking the door open, silently ordering them to move. It is a good thing that they listened; he isn’t at his most patient at the moment.
After his… fight with Hizashi (can something so one-sided even be called that?), Shouta has taken a few minutes to regain his bearings by washing his face in a nearby washroom.
Hell, he admits that he can really use a hug right now.
But Nezu’s office is too far away, and Hizashi isn’t here either – not that Shouta would have seek him out regardless, especially since he has been such a colossal bitch to his husband.
The reminder of how awful Shouta has acted sends him over the edge, and he found himself gripping the sides of the sink, head down as he runs through some of his breathing exercises.
Four seconds in, hold for seven, exhale for eight.
After what felt like hours, Shouta finally calms down enough to move, although trembles continue to wreck his body. He wants so badly to go back and apologise – even getting more of the belt would be a relief compared to what he is currently going through – but duty calls.
Just a bit more, Shouta mentally chants as he outwardly glares at his brats, just a bit more before you can go back to Hizashi.
That’s right. Shouta is capable of doing this.
“The both of you are going to explain to me – how, exactly, did you set your dorm’s kitchen on fire?”
It is Kaminari that speaks first; for all of his tendencies in avoiding punishment, Shouta has to grudgingly admit that he admires his student’s readiness to defend his classmate.
“It’s not Sero’s fault, Sensei! I was the one who wanted to rig the microwave. We learned that Bakugou had slept through dinner, so we thought it would be fun to pull a prank on him when he comes down for supper; just to make the thing spark and scare him a little, y’know?”
“We didn’t expect the girls to use the microwave after dinner, or the alterations to fail. When Mina switched it on, the whole thing just went boom and the fire started, I guess…” Sero finishes, appearing explicitly guilty.
Shouta sighs deeply, rubbing his head to ward off the incoming headache.
“First of all, I am deeply disappointed with the both of you. As Heroes-in-training, or even teenagers – you know better than to tamper with electrical circuits, especially for something as childish as a prank.”
“Kaminari, regardless of the fact that it was your idea, Sero was the one who chose to go along with it. And that leaves you both equally culpable. If it makes you feel better, neither of you will be getting off easy.” Shouta says seriously, moving to the implement cabinet.
It only takes a moment to decide his corrective tool of choice – a simple wooden paddle of average thickness and girth. His students’ paling faces are met with an unimpressed stare.
“What are you two waiting for? Take your pants and underwear down, and over the backrest.”
“B-Both of us?” Sero squeaks and curls into himself, almost retreating into the collar of his sweatshirt.
“It’s past curfew, and I am sure that the both of you are exhausted. I do not want to drag this out, so you both will be punished together. Now, take your bottoms down,” Shouta repeats, hair rising momentarily.
Another pause. Kaminari shakes his head pleadingly. “I can take them off for you, but you will also be getting ten with the strap for insubordination.”
It is almost amusing; how quickly the brats wrench their bottoms down, before throwing themselves over the back of the sofa. Shouta takes his time to walk over, while testing the swing of the paddle in the process.
He positions himself between the boys, making sure to put enough distance in-between in order to give himself space to swing.
The nervous bobbing of Kaminari’s Adam apple nearly spurs a grin. Serves the brat right – as much as Shouta likes the kid, there is a limit to the nonsense the boy chooses to pull.
“You will be getting ten strokes each, with the paddle. And I expect a five-hundred-word essay on responsible behaviour to be on my desk by Monday morning.”
“F-five hundred?” Kaminari squawks, his anxiety momentarily giving way to dismay.
“I can assign them in English instead, if you like?” Shouta drawls.
“Kami, shush!” Sero speaks out, weakly punching his friend’s shoulder. “Stop making it worse! I’m sorry, Sensei.” The kid adds, directing his gaze to Shouta who nods approvingly.
“Listen to Sero, Kaminari. At least your friend possesses a mediocrum of self-preservation.”
“Fine…” The kid pouts, before yelping as Shouta swats him for his cheek. “Okay, okay!”
“You do not have to count, but I expect the both of you to stay in position. Hold on tight.”
He then places a hand on the small of the blond’s back, tapping the paddle on the naughty backside in warning. The first strike elicits a gasp and a stomp of Kaminari’s foot, and Shouta repeats the process with a whimpering Sero.
The room is silent, with the exception of his students’ muffled cries. At any other time, he would have accompanied his swats with a blistering lecture to drive the point in, but Shouta is off-kilter.
Even the smacks aren’t as harsh as usual, but judging from the tears running down Sero’s face, Shouta thinks his reduced vigour would go unnoticed. His body goes on autopilot; alternating left and right, the paddle slowly but surely painting the pale behinds a darkening red.
“A-Aizawa-sensei, p-please!” Kaminari sobs, twisting around to face him. “I don’t wanna be s-spanked anymore!”
The teary, red face tugs at Shouta’s heartstrings, and he nearly drops the paddle in shock; unprepared for the sudden distress that threatens to take over.
Fuck, normal Shouta would have turned Kaminari back over and gave him additional incentive to obey by now. But all he does is to rub his thumb soothingly over a damp cheek, coaxing the boy to look up.
“I do not enjoy disciplining you, Kaminari,” he says softly, eyes sincere. “But you know full well that you and Sero deserve every single smack. Wouldn’t you find it unfair if Sero is taking his punishment in stride, but you are getting off with next to nothing?”
“B-But it hurts!” The electric user sniffles. Beside him, Sero mumbles his agreement.
“Trust me, I know.” His own bottom twinges in agreement. “It’s supposed to. But it won’t kill you”
Shouta then turns the kid back around, squeezing his shoulder in comfort. To his relief, Kaminari quietly gives in; hiding his face in his sleeves.
“Four more, kids. They will be done before you know it, alright?”
“Y-Yes, Sir.”
“Okay, ‘Zawa-sensei.”
He readjusts his grip on the paddle, before bringing it down for the last eight strokes. They land squarely upon each cheek, and Shouta takes special care to land the final two on each boys’ thighs.
The resulting red blotches and fretful cries are a clear indication that sitting comfortably would be an impossibility for the near future. He does a quick, routine check on their behinds, only relaxing when there are no signs of accidental bruising.
“We’re done, both of you,” Shouta says gently, taking their biceps and helping them up. “Get yourselves dressed, alright?”
They acquiesce with much wincing, before directing equally forlorn looks at Shouta. Sero is still sobbing hard. He can no longer contain his desires, wrapping his arm around each boy to pull them warmly against each side.
“Your slates are wiped clean, brats. Take all the time you need to calm down.”
It takes another minute and more encouragement, but Shouta is able to wrangle both boys to sit on the couch. From there, he is finally able to hug them close; rubbing their backs as they continue to sniffle into his neck, Kaminari even climbing halfway into his lap.
The kid’s hand pressing upon his thigh nearly causes him to buck off his seat in agony, but he merely stiffens before making space. Shouta tries to distract himself by running his fingers through Kaminari’s hair, his other hand doing the same for Sero.
“I trust that you two will behave from now on? Good.”
His kids and him rest in silence, before Shouta shifts to find a more comfortable position. Fresh ache blooms at the movement, and unfortunately, it doesn’t go unnoticed.
“S-Sensei, are you okay?” Sero asks softly, wide brown eyes peeking out from his messy fringe. The sweet show of concern earns the boy a gentle pat of the head, as Shouta reassures the tape-user that his teacher is fine, and to just focus on himself.
(He also broods that he really is off, if his students can notice his discomfort even when they themselves are so worked up.)
Kaminari doesn’t let it go, though. “’Zawa-sensei, why do you look like you’re in so much pain?” The kid asks, golden eyes both playful and curious.
“I’m just a little sore from the day’s activities,” he explains vaguely. Hey, he isn’t lying – merely avoiding specifics. “But enough about me, let’s get you two upstairs. I am not carrying you if you fall asleep on your feet.”
“Aww, but I’m tired.” Kaminari whines, but thankfully shuts up when his bottom is patted. “K-Kidding, Sensei. L-Let’s just go.”
The trio slowly traipses back to Kaminari’s room, Shouta making quick work in tucking the kid under the covers. He then does the same to Sero, who wastes no time in burying his face into his pillow.
“Good night, Sensei…” Sero says sleepily, his voice muffled by a mouthful of fabric. Shouta pats his back fondly, before straightening up.
“Sleep well, kid. I’ll see you in class.”
Shouta leaves the kid’s room after he falls asleep, making sure to turn off the lights and place a glass of water on the nightstand. It is only until he is at the end of the corridor that he shakes apart; putting aside the moniker of Aizawa-sensei in favour of just being Shouta.
The latter who has royally fucked up with his husband. He groans out loud, rubbing at his temple with the base of one hand.
His duties have served as a decent distraction, but since they are already over and done with, he is once again left alone with his thoughts. The memory of Hizashi walking off keeps repeating like a broken machine, and he desperately yearns to make amends.
Shouta would volunteer his ass as tribute, if it meant having his partner’s forgiveness.
His phone then rings, cutting off his train of thought. A look at the caller I.D. causes more dread to pool at his gut.
Yup, he would much rather deal with Hizashi. But avoidance is not an option; best to get this over and done with.
“Good evening, Shouta-kun!” The familiar, cheerful voice greets. Shouta isn’t dumb; he has already caught on the undertone of steel. “I apologise for calling at such a late hour, but I had to check in.”
He must have already heard about Shouta’s involvement.
“Principal,” He greets, body taut with tension, “is there anything I can help you with?”
The tinkle of porcelain and splashes of liquid are audible in the background, and he concludes that his mentor is brewing a fresh pot. Which is at least encouraging; a Nezu with tea is a relatively calm Nezu.
“I’m simply curious, young man. Which part of ‘taking the evening off’ did you not understand?” The scolding tone causes his gut to lurch, and Shouta curls slightly into himself.
“I couldn’t help it,” he explains weakly, “when I received the message, I had to see with my own two eyes that my students are alright.”
“I have already talked to Toshinori-kun about the appropriate use of emergency protocols,” Shouta feels an inkling of sympathy for his co-worker, Nezu’s lectures really are not for the faint of heart, “and I know that this isn’t fully on you. However, you know better than to risk your emotional state.”
“I… sorry,” Shouta apologises softly, feeling his throat close up at the disappointment in Nezu’s tone. Tears form at the back of his eyes, and he quickly blinks them away.
However, nothing ever misses Nezu’s notice. “Shouta-kun?” His mentor asks. The hardness in his tone has receded, leaving only concern. “Are you alright, my boy?”
No, of course not. Everything has gone to utter shit.
The evening – getting punished, dealing with his kids and fighting with Hizashi – has taken its toll on Shouta, and his mentor’s displeasure is the last straw. Shouta is moments away from a breakdown, and he can no longer hold himself together.
“Shouta, you need to calm yourself down, my boy. You’re on the verge of choking.” His boss’s voice crackles through the speaker, and he shakily obliges. “Please tell me what is going on.”
It takes a few tries and patience on Nezu’s part, but Shouta manages to get the full story out.
“Hizashi’s pissed,” he whispers, feeling completely and totally wretched. “And it’s all my fault – I’ve ruined things.”
Nezu makes a disagreeing sound. “None of that,” he says, tone both genial yet serious. “Hizashi-kun might be upset, but you did not ruin anything. He clearly loves you, and I highly doubt that your relationship would suffer because of one incident.”
“What you need to do is to apologise and clear things up with him young man. Wallowing in self-blame would not help.”
Shouta cannot deny that having Nezu’s assurance helps, the tightness in his chest and throat already receding.
“Yes, you’re right. I’ll do that. Thank you, sir.”
“You’re welcome. Oh, and Shouta-kun?” There is a warning edge to Nezu’s voice. “If something like this happens again, you’ll be answering to me as well. Are we clear, young man?”
“Yes, Principal.” Shouta winces, knowing full well that Nezu means it. “Good night.”
“Good night, and go be with your husband, my boy.” The man greets. “And trust me when I say that things are nowhere near as grim as you are making them out to be.”
“I’m back.”
The door swings open as he is about to twist the handle, and Shouta is met face-to-face with his husband. His heart drops at the closed-off expression, and horror strikes; what if Nezu is wrong, and Hizashi is still angry with him for leaving?
But it turns out that he shouldn’t have worried.
It takes scant movements for the tightness to disappear from his husband’s features, the lovable man holding Shouta by his shoulders.
“Hello, Shou-chan,” Hizashi greets, eyes misting over with tears. “Welcome home, my love. That must have been so hard on you.”
“Are you crying?” He asks, dismayed.
“I suppose that I am,” his partner says, chuckling weakly. “It has been a rough couple of hours, baby. Come here.”
His husband then pulls Shouta into wiry arms, and the fragile strings that has been holding him together snaps, enabling him to fall apart. The tears that he has been holding in for the sake of his students finally spill over, and he buries his wet face into the crook of Hizashi’s neck.
“But I mean it, darling. Keeping your kids calm, and punishing two of them – even when you yourself were in so much pain. You did so well.”
He breathes in deeply, the familiar smell of their softener on Hizashi’s pyjamas and the heartfelt praise soothing him even further. But the suppressed doubts soon resurface, and Shouta finds himself mumbling.
“Are you still angry with me?”
He tries to keep his tone even, but the underlying uncertainty slips through.
Shouta blinks as he is immediately held at arms-length. “What? No!” Hizashi exclaims, sounding horrified. “I wasn’t angry at all, baby – frustrated, yes, but I was mainly worried. I understand why you had to do what you did.”
“You know that I have dealt with worse pain, ‘Zashi.” Shouta reminds him.
“No, that’s not it. Having your spanking interrupted already felt like shit on my end,” his partner admits softly, wet green eyes meeting his. “I cannot imagine how much worse it was for you, Shou-chan.”
The knowing glint tells Shouta that his partner already knows, so there is no point in denying things. Damn Hizashi for being so attuned to his needs, he thinks fondly.
“Same here. I apologise for leaving you alone, even though I already knew that you would have a hard time with your drop,” he says instead, waving his arm vaguely, “It must have been awful, being here without company.”
“It wasn’t pleasant, but listening to music and scrolling through social media helped.” His husband admits sheepishly, “and I know that you would have returned eventually.”
There is a moment of peaceful silence where Hizashi wipes at Shouta’s stained face with the sleeve of his shirt, when he sees something at the doorway of their bedroom that makes him swallow.
“So… are we going to continue the… session?” He extends a hand out to the discarded belt, which has been forgotten in the excitement of the evening’s events.
Shouta isn’t sure which answer he would prefer, but he trusts Hizashi – always has – to make the best decision for them.
His husband’s eyes soften even more, if such a thing is even possible. “Not tonight, Shou-chan. Both of us are too tired, and the only thing that we will be doing now is sleep,” Hizashi says firmly, as he starts to undress Shouta. He willingly obliges; holding his arms out so that his husband can put a fresh shirt on him, and stepping out of his pants after they are taken down. “There will be time tomorrow morning.”
Shouta thinks that he should feel trepidation, but all he is experiencing is the light buzz of contentment.
“Alright.” He acquiesces. Shouta allows his body to go slack as he is lifted, trusting his partner to hold him up.
Hizashi slides in leg-first, before placing Shouta down on his stomach; half of him on the sheets and half draping on Hizashi’s torso.
The sudden smacks on Shouta’s ass causes him to kick out in alarm. “What the fuck, ‘Zashi? Stop it!” His language earns him another slew, before he collapses back onto his husband’s chest; disgruntled at the revived burn in his ass. “That was completely uncalled for.”
“It’s just a prelude to what you will be getting, Shou-chan. And you know full well that you deserve penance for your actions.” His partner says matter-of-factly. “Using rude language and stomping off? What are you, a teenager?” Any potential sting from the jibe is lost by the warm hand caressing his freshly-warmed backside, and the sweet kiss on his brow.
“Please do not compare my behaviour to those belonging to the idiots in my class.”
“That is true, it would be unfair. You make your kids look like angels,” his asshole of a husband corrects. “You are such a brat, Aizawa Shouta.”
“Mmm, whatever you say.” Shouta hooks his calf over his husband’s legs and presses closer, soaking in the other man’s warmth. His backside burns more vividly in anticipation for the morning, but he is too exhausted to care. “Sleep now?”
“Sleep now,” his husband agrees, voice gentle. The fingers scratching at his scalp makes his eyelids drop, and Shouta leans in, content. “I love you so much, Shouta. You are the best thing to have happened to me.”
“L’ve you too, ‘Zashi. Tha’ks for ev’ryth’ng.” He murmurs, lips brushing against thin collarbones.
The steady beating of Hizashi’s heart and the warmth of his partner’s love are the last things Shouta remembers before he drifts off into a pleasant sleep.