Work Text:
Shouta’s life goes to hell on a Thursday afternoon.
He cannot help but find it unfair; with all the bullshit that has been going on, Shouta truly thinks that he deserves a break. But no, the universe sees fit to make his life as difficult as possible - in every area that matters.
Nemuri is to blame for today’s shitstorm – because if his best friend were just a bit less intuitive or caring, he would not be in this awful situation.
( “Go ‘ way, ‘Muri –”)
( “ Shouta, I ’ m bringing you to Chiyo-baachan. And this isn ’ t up for debate,” Nemuri states grimly, helping him onto his feet. “Or would you prefer for me to use my quirk to make you comply?” Shouta clamps his mouth shut, but not before letting out a defeated groan.)
( “ Urgh, I fuckin ’ hate you.”)
Seriously, so what if he is feeling a little under the weather? It’s no big deal, nothing a good night’s rest wouldn’t fix. But Nemuri has to have a case of White Knight Syndrome and drag him off to Recovery Girl against his will.
(He ignores the twist in his gut as he recalls Nemuri’s horror upon seeing him slumped over the staff toilet, forehead beading with sweat and the toilet bowl full of bile.)
(Affront is, after all, easier to stomach than guilt.)
Shouta sulks at the recollection, mood worsening with every moment that passes. The hard mattress and scratchy sheets only add to his chagrin. The life of a Hero is already rife with difficulties; can’t their administration invest in better recuperative facilities? No wonder the industry’s turnover rate is so high –
“Is he in there?”
He stiffens, complaints forgotten. This situation is like déjà vu, and Shouta half-dreads whoever is coming through the door.
But instead of being greeted by a fuming Nezu – right, Shouta remembers with relief that his boss is working on something confidential with the Hero Commission – he is met by teary viridian orbs, their owner nearly vaulting onto Shouta’s cot in his distress.
“Shouta,” Hizashi says, running a shaky thumb across Shouta’s scar, “how are you feeling, baby?”
“…Head hurts,” he says, brushing the back of his hand shakily over his eyes. His head is pulsing like it has been beaten over by a sledgehammer, before it is left out in the sun to fester for three days. Recovery Girl’s quirk really takes a lot out of people.
“But I’m fine, ‘Zashi. I’m just tired, and I’ll be better after a proper night’s rest,” he tacks on hastily, not liking the frown on Hizashi’s face.
“You scared me, Shou-chan. Did you get hit by a stray quirk, or receive an injury you did not notice?”
“No…?” he answers blearily as Chiyo comes into sight. The elderly woman looks unimpressed at Shouta, and he braces himself for yet another lecture.
“So, Aizawa Shouta,” he winces at her brusque tone, “how many times have we talked about the importance of taking care of your health?”
“It isn’t that bad –” Shouta tries to refute, but the woman isn’t having any of it.
“How many times?” She repeats, “Eating and drinking is not optional, young man. Do you know how low your sugar levels were? I have no idea how you even managed to conduct your classes.”
He bristles. To be fair, he has made a genuine effort to take care of himself, and says as such. “I just got rather busy recently, that’s all. With finals and whatnot. It’s honestly not a big deal.”
That is clearly the wrong thing to say, Shouta thinks, as he watches Chiyo try to reign in her temper.
“…You are aware that as a certified Medic, I have the authority to bench you from your duties?” She says dangerously, staring him down. “Poor physical conditioning is a valid reason, young man, and I have all of your medical reports right here to back it up. Do not test me.”
That threat – promise – is enough to kill the last of Shouta’s mood, and he turns away, huffing.
“Does everything check out, Chiyo-san? Or is there anything else that Shouta needs?” Hizashi says slowly, breaking the tense silence. Shouta notices that this is his first time speaking up since the heated exchange.
“Just some pills to replenish the nutrients he’s lacking, and he should be good to go,” she answers, before turning back to Shouta. “And you! Stay off any physical activity for the next three days, or I swear I’ll make you very sorry.”
He huffs, eye twitching in annoyance. “Whatever, hag –”
“Will do, thank you so much for the help!” Hizashi cuts in, squeezing Shouta’s hand tightly. Cut it out, he seems to say. The smile he gives Chiyo is fake. “I suppose that we should head on home, then.”
As awful as it sounds, it isn’t uncommon for Shouta to be escorted home from either the hospital or the infirmary. With Hero work comes high casualty rates, and there are many nights where Hizashi has to come pick him up because of his inability to move.
Today is no different: his husband was mindful to park nearest to the apartment’s lift lobby, before walking over to the driver’s seat to lift Shouta into a bridal-carry. He acquiesces, wrapping his arms around Hizashi’s neck to stabilize himself, and rests his head on a leather-clad shoulder.
It’s not that he can’t walk, but being carried around like a baby is a small price to pay for Hizashi’s comfort. And his husband’s arms are comfortable.
Things are pretty much routine, Shouta reflects as he is placed carefully on their plush loveseat. Except for one thing –
“Where are the kids?”
“Hitoshi is in the dorms, and Eri is staying with Nemuri-senpai for the evening. They were told that you aren’t feeling well, and that you need to recuperate in quiet. I thought that you would prefer the privacy,” Hizashi replies distractedly.
- Which is the distant way his husband is acting, a stark contrast from the anxious mother-hen he normally would be. The fretting from earlier has tapered off, leaving them in some awkward limbo.
Don’t get him wrong, Hizashi is as devoted as ever in ensuring that Shouta is comfortably situated, and that he has water and snacks within reach. However, his partner’s speech and behaviour are very stiff and constrained, as if he is actively holding something back.
It takes another stilted reply for Shouta to snap, interrupting what Hizashi is about to say.
“What is it? You’re being all weird. If you have something to say, then say it, ‘Zashi. I’m too tired for games.”
The downturned green eyes snap up to meet his for the first time since arriving home, and Shouta is disconcerted by the visible strain around them.
“Games?” The incredulity makes him recoil in surprise. “Is that what this is to you, Shouta? A game?”
Hizashi stands up, pacing along the sofa Shouta is lounging on. He holds his breath, taken aback by the rare frustration emitting from his partner.
“…Of course not,” Shouta eventually admits, gaze dropping onto sock-covered feet. However, his partner’s tirade has barely begun.
“Do you know what it does to me, every time I get a call about you landing yourself in the infirmary? Especially after everything that has happened this past year? It’s one thing if it’s unpreventable, but not from something as irresponsible as not eating. You can’t keep doing this, Shouta.”
His husband’s upset is palpable, and Shouta hates himself for putting the frown on the normally-smiling face.
“I understand, ‘Zashi. And I apologise. But what is done is done,” he answers, fiddling with his blanket. “I don’t know what else you would like me to say.”
“Well…” Shouta straightens at the sudden sombreness. “What would you have done if it was one of the little listeners who was on that bed this afternoon?”
“What would I have done…?” Shouta trails off, before realisation hits like a freight train.
Oh, hell no. He pushes himself into standing, determined to meet Hizashi straight on for this conversation.
“Are you fucking serious?” he snaps, causing his husband to recoil minutely. “Can you stop being dramatic for a second, Hizashi?”
“Answer the question, Shouta.” His idiot of a husband has the nerve to press. The fresh grip on his elbow is constricting, and he roughly wrenches it away. “Or do you admit to having double standards?”
“No, I just don’t see the point in answering a question that you already know the answer to. What are you going to do, bitch to Nezu?” Shouta mocks, although his stomach drops even as the words exit his mouth. He truly dreads his mentor’s reaction to his latest offense; the caning from the previous time was horrific enough, but Nezu has promised worse if Shouta ever disregards his health again.
The reminder of the contraption sitting in one corner of Nezu’s office nearly causes him to break out in hives.
Fortunately, Hizashi doesn’t seem to have that inclination.
“No, baby. As much as I respect Nezu-san, this does not concern him.” His husband pauses, before continuing more gently, “I’m thinking of being the one to do it.”
What now?
Shouta snorts, unable to help his disbelief. “You? Hizashi, please. There is no way you have the balls to spank me.”
“I do not want to spank you either, baby. It just isn’t fair to me when you insist in partaking in such harmful behaviour, Shou-chan. To us,” Hizashi continues, eyes full of sadness-tinged resolve. “You really need to learn to take care of yourself better.”
Shouta might have backtracked or even caved, if not for the sudden outrage spreading to every inch of his body – a natural response to his husband’s gall.
(There is also an acute sense of betrayal, but he is too tired to place that at the moment.)
As things are, he only storms off in the direction of the master bedroom, refusing to deal with this madness for even another second.
“Where are you going? Shouta!” Hizashi calls out from behind him, frustration evident.
“To sleep in peace. Now do me a favour and fuck off for the rest of the night,” he snaps, slamming and locking the door behind him.
It’s a simple matter to change into pyjamas as he ignores the calls and knocks coming from the other side of the door. Fortunately, Hizashi gives up around five minutes later.
He sighs, collapsing face-down on their bed. It is only seven in the evening – too early for dinner, even – but Shouta doesn’t care. His head aches, his husband is harbouring crazed thoughts and he still has work in the morning.
Everything else can come tomorrow, he thinks blearily, eyes closing shut. Right now, I’m just going to sleep.
Things do not improve the next morning.
Shouta admits that this is mostly his own doing, the lingering frustration from yesterday giving way to pettiness. He deliberately unlocks the bedroom door only fifteen minutes before they are set to leave, despite knowing that Hizashi spends that amount of time on his hair alone.
His partner somehow manages, but the attempts to stroke Shouta’s hair and to give him his medication are coldly rebuffed. By the time they get into the car, Hizashi is so discouraged that he merely stays quiet.
The short drive to U.A. is awkward to say the least, the air around them stale and silent when it is normally filled with Hizashi’s animated description of the day’s schedule, or the sounds of the radio. Shouta might have given in and broken the ice, if not for the texts he just received.
Two (2) messages from Rat Dad: (Shouta realises distantly that he never got around to changing the name.)
‘ Good morning, Shouta! I have heard about what happened, and I sincerely hope that you are feeling better. It is unfortunate that I am currently tied up with my other obligations, but be rest assured that we will talk when I get back 😊. ’
‘ Until then, please take care. Say hello to Hizashi-kun for me! ’
He sinks deeper into his seat, unable to suppress a low groan. There is no doubt in Shouta’s mind that the fucking hag snitched, and his mood plunges deeper into the abyss. God help his students if they choose to act out today.
However, Shouta admits that he cannot help the swell of fondness as he catches Hizashi’s concerned stare at the corner of one eye.
There is no surprise, though, not even at his husband insisting on giving him a quick peck on the forehead before they part ways, as if Shouta hasn’t made him miserable for the past twelve hours.
But then again, Hizashi has always been the understanding and patient one between the two of them.
The pair started dating two years after U.A., when Shouta was strong-armed into rooming with Hizashi as they took their first steps into full-time Hero work. Their relationship progressed naturally, the shift from best friends to lovers so minute that he never would have realised it if not for his husband’s stuttered confession one fateful evening.
“G-Go out with me, Shou-chan!” Hizashi implores, eyes startlingly clear despite the tremors running through his body, not to mention the sweat beading on his brow. The hands wrapping around Shouta’s own are warm, and he cannot resist running his thumb over the calloused palms, “I promise I’ll make you so happy, darlin’ –”
Even then, they went slow – both of them wary of accidentally hurting the other, given that their hearts had already taken enough damage to last the rest of their lives.
(Shouta often wonders what the third person of their little trio – a boy with light blue hair and the most endearing, dimpled smile – would have thought of this development, before ridding himself of any negative notions.)
(Oboro is the final piece of their (never to be completed, his traitorous mind whispers) puzzle, and he would have only wished for them to be happy.)
(And what’s left for Shouta to do is to love Hizashi to the best of his ability and beyond, on behalf of the both of them.)
He is unable to pick out the exact moment that made him glance at Hizashi and go, ‘I want to marry this man.’ It probably happened somewhere between leasing their first apartment, during their first dance lesson (with Tensei, long story) or even the time Hizashi was drunkenly telling a joke to their friends, lips stretched wide with his eyes sparkling in merriment and simply being the most wondrous thing Shouta had ever seen.
Yamada Hizashi is to Aizawa Shouta what a sea anemone is to a clownfish: his bright, all-encompassing security blanket.
Which is probably the reason why Shouta balked at the idea of his husband taking him in hand. It is one thing to have an authority figure discipline Shouta, but Hizashi is his equal; the person Shouta seeks solace from, the only one he trusts to bear witness to his tears in times of agony and strife.
The thought of having to answer to Hizashi, to live up to his expectations the same way he has to with Nezu – with the rest of the world – is what set him off.
“ It just isn ’ t fair to me that you insist on partaking in such harmful behaviour, Shou-chan.”
But that’s the thing, isn’t it? Relationships are all about give and take, and guilt pools in his gut as he considers Hizashi’s standpoint for the first time. Shouta was running amok without taking his partner’s feelings into account, and if his husband were the one in his shoes yesterday…
Shouta’s body goes cold at the conjured imagery of Hizashi collapsing, ash-faced and blond hair matted with sweat. Hell, he doesn’t think he would have been able to reign himself in the way his husband did; a shouting match would have definitely ensured in Chiyo’s office.
His appreciation towards his partner continues to grow, and so does his newfound conviction.
Relationships are all about give and take, and if allowing Hizashi to take on a more hands-on approach would grant his husband greater peace…
Well, Shouta has done more – will continue to do more – for his sake. It’s illogical, Shouta thinks wryly, but love rarely, if ever, makes sense. So long as it makes Hizashi happier, and lets him sleep better at night…
He is willing to give… whatever this is… a try.
The tension Shouta has been carrying around the whole day seems to dissipate upon making up his mind, and he cannot help his amusement at his students’ confusion at his sudden shift in mood.
(Kaminari should be especially grateful – the boy was getting on Shouta’s last nerves.)
The rest of the day flies by, and Shouta soon finds himself dismissing 2-A. He waits for the classroom to clear out – giving Hitoshi a head-ruffle as he exits – before taking out his phone.
He is not at all surprised to see the notifications.
Three (3) messages from Presentation Microphone;
>Open Cancel
‘ R u feeling better? Any headaches? ’
‘ Nezu txted to tell me that we hv the evening off, & 2 bring u home 2 rest. meet @ office now? ’
‘ & idw u 2 be upset anymore. we cn drop this, no pressure. Love u sm babe. xx ’
Shouta’s lips quirk up as he quickly packs his things. His husband really is a gem.
It takes mere minutes for him to arrive at the staff lounge, and Shouta is mildly surprised to find it near-empty. But he doesn’t think about it too much, instead opting to quietly approach the lone figure sitting at his desk.
“Hey.” Shouta snorts when his husband startles, nearly knocking his laptop onto the ground in surprise. “Calm down, it’s just me.”
“H-Heya, Shou-chan,” Hizashi greets, smile unsure but no less genuine. “I was just surprised, I wasn’t expecting anyone to return so quickly. How are you feeling, baby?”
Shouta doesn’t answer immediately, opting to take a closer look at his husband. Hizashi’s sunglasses are off, showcasing his tired lines and heavy eye bags. His body is slumped, as if he is too tired to hold himself upright.
All the signs of not having had a good night’s sleep, Shouta registers.
The last dredges of doubt fall away, leaving only determination to do the right thing. Shouta steps forward into Hizashi’s personal space, taking one gloved hand into his own.
“I’ve thought about it, ‘Zashi. Okay,” Shouta says, watching his partner’s eyes light up with cautious hope. “Let’s go home and then we can… discuss… this.”
The first thing that he notices when he emerges from the shower is the scent of vanilla wafting through their bedroom.
Shouta vaguely remembers the scented candle as being a gift from Nemuri, their friend having given it to them as a solution for better sleep. Back then, he had simply thrown it aside – his answer to all frivolous and impractical gifts – but Shouta feels reluctant appreciation fill him as he takes deep, greedy whiffs.
“Smells good, doesn’t it? We’ll need to thank Nemuri-senpai for the generous gift: Yankee Candle isn’t a cheap brand.” Hizashi asks, chuckling from his position on the bed. His husband has eased up significantly ever since Shouta gave in, the strain that was in his visage no longer present.
There is a disapproving cluck of the tongue when Hizashi’s eyes run over Shouta’s appearance, before he pats the space in front of him in a silent request.
Shouta obliges, and it doesn’t take long before Hizashi is rubbing at his still-wet hair with a newly-procured towel. “How many times have I told you to dry your hair after you shower, Shou-chan? You’re going to catch a cold one of these days.” His husband nags exasperatedly.
“Don’t care,” Shouta grouses, scrolling through news updates on his phone. The room is silent as they busy themselves with their respective tasks, although he cannot help but make a pleased noise at the sensation of the hairbrush working through his hair.
As always, his partner is careful in ensuring that they do not get caught between the bristles, or is heedful to detangle them with his fingers when it happens. It is such a cosy, familiar ritual of theirs, and Shouta nearly drifts off in contentment, almost forgetting that they have an important discussion coming up.
A gentle brush of lips upon his forehead draws him out of his almost-slumber.
“What now?”
“Shall we talk, baby?” Hizashi asks softly, fingers scratching softly at his scalp. He cannot help his mewl of pleasure, before Hizashi’s words catches up to his brain.
“Do we have to?” Shouta asks tiredly, peering at his partner through hooded eyelids. It earns him a sympathetic smile as Hizashi tucks a stray stand of hair away from his face.
“Yes, darling. We did not take the evening off to just to slack, as much as I really want us to. You’re been so overworked, baby. But that is also a reason why we are here tonight, isn’t it?”
“… Fine,” he grouses, shifting into a cross-legged position beside his partner. “Should I go over your lap now?” Shouta stares balefully at Hizashi’s lean, chicken-y legs, assessing if he can even fit.
(He definitely can; Shouta himself has wrangled many a bulky student over his own knees, but he supposes that is rational behaviour to look for a way out, in order to avoid an unpleasant outcome.)
“Let’s discuss the reasoning for your actions first. What made you think that skipping out on essential nutrients is a good idea? You have your gross jelly packets, don’t you?”
“They ran out, and I didn’t have time to replenish them. And then work got even more hectic, and eating just became… secondary. There’s no excuse, ‘Zashi; I screwed up,” Shouta admits.
“Thank you for taking responsibility, darling. I know that things have been hard, but you need to try harder. Especially when it comes to your health. All I want is for you to be happy and healthy, babe.”
“I know.”
Hizashi’s eyes soften, and he captures Shouta’s face within slender fingers. He willingly leans in, letting himself be guided into a kiss.
“…You’re being such a sap, ‘Zashi,” he complains half-heartedly, after (reluctantly) pulling away. “Stop inducing diabetes, or I’ll conveniently forget that I’m in trouble.”
“Yeah, well,” his husband chuckles, “nobody said that I can’t dote on my husband even when he’s about to get a spanking. But you have a point. Actually, I do have a question…”
The hesitance in Hizashi’s voice makes him look up.
“What is it?”
“What do you think about making this arrangement permanent?” Hizashi asks. He is shifting a little, as if nervous. “I know that this is already a lot to take in! But it’s just… I want both of us to be kept accountable, so that our self-disruptive tendencies would be minimised in the future. Keeping this as a one-time thing wouldn’t be effective in the long haul, you know?”
‘Both of us’. Shouta isn’t deaf to the deliberate word choice. But he is already worried about his upcoming spanking by Hizashi, and the thought of him spanking his partner is too much to unpack at the moment.
He says as such. “…Let’s just deal with tonight first, and we can discuss this again in the future.”
“That’s fine,” his partner assures eagerly. “There’s no rush or pressure to decide now – I only wish for you to be fully comfortable. I’m happy that you are actually considering it, Shou-chan.”
He hums in acknowledgement, allowing Hizashi to press another smooch upon his forehead.
“One more thing – we’ll need to come up with a safeword.”
“Safewords?” Shouta echoes. He frowns, not comprehending.
“You’re not my student, nor one of our kids. You’re my husband, Shouta, and as far as I am concerned, we are equals,” Hizashi says gently, although his expression is serious. “I only have as much authority as you are willing to give, babe, and I trust you to know your own limits, and to not word out just to wheedle yourself out of a punishment.”
“I suppose that makes sense,” Shouta says reluctantly, although his cheeks warms at his partner’s thoughtfulness. “What about… Sushi?”
The name of the now-elderly cat that they rescued all those years ago is the first thing that pops up in Shouta’s mind, and it sounds like a good compromise – it wouldn’t pop up in normal conversation, but it also isn’t as impersonal as random words like ‘crackers’ or ‘crabs’.
Hizashi’s approving smile expresses his understanding.
“Sushi it is, Shou-chan,” he states, as he pulls his hair into a quick side-braid. In order to keep his hair from flying to his face, Shouta’s brain supplies. He swallows, familiar with the action after six years of joint trips to the Discipline Room.
He is normally amused by how distressed their students can get at such an innocent gesture, but he understands now. There is something very intimidating about being stared down by his suddenly straight-faced husband, not to mention the awful anticipation as his partner takes his time with his desired hairstyle.
However, when Hizashi finally finishes, Shouta suddenly wishes for him to take longer.
“I suppose we can begin, then. Get over my knee, Shou-chan,” Hizashi requests, patting his sweatpants-covered thigh.
Shouta pauses, nerves weighing his body down. But the rational part of him reminds him that the night will not end until Hizashi decides that he is sufficiently punished, and it will be better for everyone involved if he cooperates.
That doesn’t stop him from twitching once he is in position, the nerves making themselves apparent. The warm palm slipping underneath his t-shirt is a welcome surprise, and Shouta sighs softly as Hizashi continues to knead soothing circles all over his back.
It is only when Shouta has relaxed significantly that Hizashi starts the session proper.
“Are you comfortable, darling?” he asks, hand pausing mid-rub.
“Yes.”
“Yes, sir,” Hizashi corrects, and Shouta shivers at the commanding lilt in his tone.
“Is that even necessary?” he complains, in an attempt to cover his momentary show of weakness. “Are you getting a power trip from this, Hiza –”
Smack!
Shouta is cut off with a yelp as his ass explodes in sudden pain, and he twists around in outrage. “What the fuck was that for?”
“Language, Shouta,” his partner scolds, laying down another sharp swat. “We do not swear at each other, baby. Or do we need to have a side lesson about respect?”
“No need. Sir,” he hastily tacks on, as Hizashi makes a disapproving sound. But his partner’s temperament instantly switches when Shouta complies, the blond bending over to brush his lips atop damp black hair.
“Thank you for listening, baby,” his husband praises. “I know that this is a huge change, Shou-chan, and all I ask is for you to try. I promise that I’ll never force you into anything that you truly believe you can’t handle, alright?”
Holy hell, his husband is unexpectedly good at this. Shouta swallows; the dread is now accompanied by this strange desire to please, the latter probably rising in response to the sincere sweetness lacing Hizashi’s assurances.
“…Yes, sir.”
“Great!” The fingers slipping into the waistband of his pyjama pants sends jolts of shock throughout his body, and Shouta is suddenly aware that he has opted to go commando that evening. “No, ‘Zashi, leave them up –”
In Shouta’s opinion, Hizashi might as well go without his hearing aids – given how useless they are in helping his husband hear his protests.
The brush of cool air over his exposed skin is unnerving, and he cannot help but reach back for his bottoms. Fingers closing around his wrist thwarts his attempt, and Shouta squawks when Hizashi gives his left cheek a warning pinch.
“Behave, Shouta,” his husband scolds, and Shouta is mortified at his resulting whine. “You know better than to reach back, baby. I don’t want to restrain you.”
He quickly pulls his hand back, cradling it protectively against his cheek. Shouta barely has time to sulk before his mouth falls open in a silent yell.
Smack! Smack! Smack!
The spanks catch him off-guard, the blistering pace made worse by Hizashi’s heavy, punishing force. Every strike is as vigorous as the one before, and it barely takes a minute before Shouta has a fire ignited in his ass. His toes curl up as he fights to remain silent; while there is never a need for appearances with Hizashi, it would hurt Shouta’s pride if he doesn’t even attempt to maintain a stoic front.
But no matter how hard he tries, it still doesn’t take long before the first whimpers exit his mouth, as his fingers tangle into the duvet in a mad scramble for purchase.
It is only when his grunting starts that Hizashi begins to speak.
“We have already talked about what you have done wrong, so I do not see the need for a prolonged lecture. But I’ll still give you a refresher, darling.” Shouta yelps as his thighs are struck twice, and he kicks out in response.
The particularly vicious smack on his offending leg makes him still.
“As I was saying,” Hizashi continues, a tinge of warning entering his voice, “I simply can’t just stand by and let you continue your self-destructive behaviour, Shou-chan. I know that yesterday’s incident wasn’t very serious, but this is about the principle of the matter. Your health is important.”
It isn’t rare for Shouta to be lectured, but it hits differently when his husband is the one doing the chastening.
And does Hizashi do a great job at it – his tone a mix of reproachful and careful softness, a perfect (fucking awful) accompaniment to the heavy ministrations of his very calloused right hand.
(A part of him distantly thinks that he finally understands why, exactly, Hizashi is titled the worst Disciplinarian of U.A.)
Shouta’s eyes prickle, and the first of his tears escapes not even a minute later. His ass is now a raging bonfire, and protests spill out in a flurry of panic when he registers what is being tapped on his backside.
“N-No, sir, not the brush,” he protests, sobs bubbling up his throat, “that’s too much, isn’t this meant to be a r-reminder?”
“Yes, baby, I’m aware. But it’s to drive the point in. You’ll survive, I promise,” Hizashi soothes, running a hand down his back. Shouta latches onto the gentle touch, but his body remains tense with anticipation.
He doesn’t have to wait for long.
The wood of the hairbrush goes from cool relief to hot iron in a single instant, as Hizashi brings it down upon his sensitive undercurve. Another spank follows, and it isn’t long before there is a steady rhythm going. Shouta cries out in agony, and grips the bedding tighter, nearly wrenching it out from the sides in his struggling.
“Crap, it h-hurts!”
“I know, Shouta, and I absolutely hate doing this. But I need to drive the lesson in. Your welfare is not optional. And it’s no longer just about us, babe. You’re a father now,” Hizashi emphasizes, voice tight, “Can you imagine Eri and Hitoshi emulating your behaviour, thinking that it is acceptable? Or you passing out or worse in front of their eyes?”
Shouta’s chest lurches at the evocative imagery, and it takes a lot to not hurl. Both of their children (yes, theirs – wardship is synonymous with adoption when his kids are concerned, fuck what the laws say) have gone through too much, but they have finally begun the process of healing after lots and lots of work.
He cannot even bear to think about the extent of the damage, should they lose their newfound security due to his own selfishness.
Some of his horror must show through in the form of his sudden broken, hitched breathing, because his partner immediately halts the spanking in favour of slipping his hand under Shouta’s shirt, the appendage a warm compress upon his tensed muscles.
“Hey, Shou-chan, I need you to take deep breaths for me. Follow my breathing, okay? Here goes…” his husband urges. The gentle instruction and physical contact serve to ground Shouta, and he greedily inhales and then exhales, repeating the action until he is more tethered.
He then slumps over weakly, tiredness catching up after the adrenaline wore off.
“Better now, baby?” Hizashi asks, not letting up on the comforting massage.
“…Yeah, I’m good. You can go on.”
To his disconcertment, the spanking doesn’t resume.
“I’m sorry for causing you to get so worked up, Shou-chan.” The apology causes him to twist around, the sight of Hizashi forlorn and guilty tugging at his heartstrings. But what sets off the warning lights is his partner’s subsequent muttering.
“God, what was I thinking? I can’t do this; I’ll fuck it up.”
“W-what? ‘Zashi, you’re fine –”
“No, baby, I’m just causing you more harm than good. I mean, I already hurt you, and like –”
Shouta heart pangs upon realising that as hesitant as he is about being spanked, Hizashi must have been just as, if not more, uncertain.
“Wait, no, Hizashi. I’m alright, see?” Shouta cuts through the frantic spiel, indicating to himself. “I got a little overwhelmed at the thought of Hitoshi and Eri losing either of us, but we got through it, see? You can continue.”
“But, Shouta –”
“You can continue,” he repeats, firmer. “You said that you trust me to know my own limits – it applies to the both of us, doesn’t it? Trust yourself, and trust me, sir. You’re doing fine.”
“…Okay.” There is a shaky exhale, and the hairbrush is once again picked up. “I trust you, baby. But let me know if it really gets too much.”
“Got it, ‘Zashi,” Shouta drawls, resting his head back upon his arms. “Now stop wasting time by being a sap, I want to sleep – Shit!”
The sudden impact takes him by surprise, the sting amplified by the short reprieve. This time, Hizashi does not verbally correct his word choice, opting to let the brush do the talking.
He thinks that he regrets not taking advantage of his husband’s temporary hesitance, but quickly halts that train of thought. Shouta would rather let his Hizashi cane him a hundred times over than to have him all unsure and mopey.
But holy fuck – the experience is downright awful.
“You’re getting ten more, Shou-chan,” said husband suddenly announces, his voice notably stabler than before. “I hope that this lesson will stick for the long haul.”
“Y-Yes, sir,” he sobs softly.
“Just a little bit more, baby. I promise it will be over quickly.”
The hairbrush might as well be firecrackers going off on his backside, the smacks sounding equally thunderous and the pain as fiery and explosive. But instead of welcoming in the New Year, each crack feels more like a farewell to Shouta’s ability to sit for the considerable future.
He has stopped holding in his reactions a while ago, openly crying into the now-damp sheets. All he can do is to accept his dues, and hope that Hizashi will finish up soon.
“Last two, Shouta. You’re being so, so good, darling. I’m so proud of you,” Hizashi encourages, his voice thick with something that Shouta can’t place. The thought exits his brain as all he registers is intense, horrifying sting – the worst ones in the entire night.
And just like that, the brush stills. However, Shouta can hardly appreciate the fact, given that he is unable to process anything aside from the still-raging inferno in his backside.
All he does is to lie limply and sob, until familiar hands reach for his underarms.
“We’re done, Shou-chan. Come on, let me help you up.” Shouta allows himself to be lifted upright, being careful to rest upon his knees to keep the pressure off. The moisture in his eyes renders his husband into blobs of yellow and beige, but Shouta is vaguely able to distinguish the upturn of his lips.
That is enough encouragement for Shouta to throw himself into the awaiting arms, his face resting in the crevice surrounding his husband’s neck. The area soon becomes damp and sticky from Shouta’s tears and nasal fluids, but Hizashi merely makes a shushing noise, running thin fingers up and down his spine as Shouta lets everything go.
“I’ll be here all the way, baby, so take all the time you need. Don’t worry about making a mess, okay? Just let it all out.”
It takes a few minutes but Shouta’s sobs eventually taper off to sniffling, and he regains his ability to form coherent thoughts. And it hits him that he just had his first spanking from Hizashi – the love of his life, and the one whose opinion matters most to him.
His insecurity rears its ugly head all of a sudden – was everything okay on Shouta’s end? He was cooperative most of the time, but there was that bit of defiance at the start…
“How was I, ‘Zashi?” Shouta finds himself asking around soft sniffles, unable to keep from voicing out his thoughts. The desire to know rivals the embers igniting his ass in terms of intensity, overriding his lingering doubts. “Was I… was I good?”
“Oh, baby,” his partner breathes, eyes glistening with joy. “You were magnificent.”
The pride in Hizashi’s voice goes a long way in calming Shouta’s nerves, and he slumps over completely, the weight of his entire body pressing onto his husband’s thigh. But it does not seem like it matters at all, given how his partner simply chuckles before cradling him closer.
“I’m serious, babe. You were so well-behaved, and I couldn’t have pushed through without your encouragement. You’re too good to me, Shou-chan. I’m so proud to be your husband.”
Shouta’s ears heat up at the praise. “It’s the same for me.” He pauses, remembering something.
“And I… I also want to apologise. I was a complete asshole to you last night and this morning, and you didn’t deserve that. I’m sorry, ‘Zashi,” he continues, finger absentmindedly tracing the design on Hizashi’s t-shirt.
“Aw, don’t worry about it – you were worried, and that’s normal. Apology accepted, though, if it makes you feel better!” his partner says, giving another sweet kiss; this time atop one swollen eye.
“Fine then –” he is cut off by a loud yawn, blinking blearily. “Crap. I’m tired.”
“It is getting pretty late,” Hizashi agrees, pushing himself onto his feet before picking Shouta up. “Let’s get you cleaned up first, Shou-chan. The tears and stuff look like they feel super gross, babe.”
It doesn’t take long before the pair is situated in bed, Shouta resting on his side with his head tucked into Hizashi’s torso. His husband trails lazy circles around his hip, and his eyes grow heavier at the soothing touch.
“Sweet dreams, baby,” his partner whispers, “I love you.”
“…Love you too.”
He closes his eyes. Although his backside is still reeling from Hizashi’s handiwork, all Shouta feels is contentment and love, thanks to the wonderful, adoring man beside him.
(He truly is privileged to be Yamada Hizashi’s husband.)
There is a stillness in the air, and Shouta is about to let unconsciousness claim him before he is rudely interrupted.
“By the way, Shou-chan?”
“…What?”
Shouta’s blinks tiredly at the dark shape beside him, making out a… grin?
“Can I just say that you truly have a lovely ass, darling? I mean, I hated causing you pain and making you cry, but I couldn’t help but appreci –” He squawks as Shouta’s foot jabs his stomach.
“Shut up and go to sleep, you idiot.”
Epilogue
Shouta sits stiffly on the hardwood chair, eyes focusing on the far-end corner of the wall. Nezu sits in front of him, his desk the only barrier protecting him from his parent-figure.
Their tea lies untouched, rapidly cooling under the air-condition unit.
“So, do you plan on sharing the reason for your infirmary visit – and more importantly, your inability to sit still, Shouta-kun, or should we continue to sit and stare at each other?” his mentor asks genially, paws leisurely clasped in front of him. He shifts unsurely, tucking his chin deeper into his capture weapon.
He is more than familiar with the tells in his mentor’s deceptively-calm countenance – Nezu is pissed. Despite the danger, Shouta remains silent.
“The machine is also an option, should you require a stronger incentive,” he smiles wanly, and Shouta can almost hear his self-preservation instincts screaming into his ears.
It takes his mentor getting onto his feet and brushing off his suit-vest before Shouta finally caves.
“Hizashi did it. He spanked me,” he blurts out, sinking lower into his seat. Shouta’s ears burn at the admittance, and he fights to not curl up defensively.
“Hizashi-kun did?” his mentor repeats, voice wondering.
Shouta cannot blame Nezu: If someone told him even a month ago that Hizashi was going to take a hairbrush to his ass, he might have burst out laughing.
“Yes. He was rather… upset, by my carelessness with my welfare.”
“I see. Hmm.”
The resulting quiet is contemplative, the gaze running over Shouta’s frame acute in its intensity.
He is about to open his mouth – anything to break the heavy silence – before Nezu cuts him off, sounding warm for the first time that morning.
“I trust that he has left a fine impression upon you?”
“…Yeah,” Shouta sighs, relaxing at his mentor’s receded displeasure. “Sitting was… extremely unpleasant.”
It isn’t an exaggeration, but Shouta honestly hasn’t minded it much. Hizashi was adamant on applying aloe gel the next day (“There’s no point letting your bottom hurt for longer than necessary, baby –”) to alleviate the sting in his ass, and the rest of the weekend was relaxing, consisting of nothing but cuddles and ordering in.
(Although, he had itched to swat the knowing smirk off of Hitoshi’s face when they sat down for dinner.)
“I see… well then, I suppose we can consider this meeting adjourned. I hope that you will have a wonderful week ahead, my boy.”
Wait, what?
“…I can leave? As in, at this moment?” Shouta asks in disbelief. He was bracing himself for a long-winded lecture at best, or more realistically, another spanking. The mercy his boss is showing is unprecedented, and he cannot help the wariness that is rapidly building.
But his mentor proves that he is still capable of surprising Shouta.
“From the looks of it, you are already sufficiently disciplined, Shouta-kun. I do not believe in double jeopardies;” Nezu says matter-of-factly, amusement apparent. “Hizashi-kun has done a stellar job; I am very impressed.”
“He really did,” Shouta admits, fingers brushing over his still-prickling thigh. Reluctant pride swells at the memory of how well Hizashi did, despite his partner’s insecurities. “He did great.”
“And I am pleased to hear that, young man,” the suddenly-ominous tone causes Shouta to straighten, alarm bells ringing. “Now, are you going to return to your duties, or should I take your hesitance as a request for more penance? Because if it is the latter, I would like to urge you to please step into the corner –”
“No sir, I shall take your offer. Have a good day.”
Shouta instantly drops into a deep bow, bolting out of Nezu’s office even before his even finishes his sentence.
Yes, it is official – Aizawa Shouta can never catch a break.
The chortles echoing down the empty hallways supports his notion.