Private Lessons

Hey could you do a mha smut with aizawa x female reader x shinso please. Thank you l also love you work

Private Lessons

Summary: Even as a Pro Hero Shinso Hitoshi goes to his sensei for advice on everything...even you.

Warnings: NSFW. 18+ only. Minors DNI. Aged-up Characters, use of (Y/N)—SORRY, threesome (mmf), fingering, oral (f and m receiving), inexperienced!reader, sexually ignorant!reader, slightlyinexperienced!Shinso, experienced!Aizawa, talks about safe sex and consent (very sexy, very necessary), talks about mental health and sex, safe words, lessons on sex, insecurity, talks of issues in the bedroom, issues with completion (it happens ladies, it's normal), unprotected sex (wrap it up people!), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, past ShinKami, pet names (princess, babygirl, whore), sir kink, slight daddy kink, power play, double penetration, light choking (?). Please let me know if I forgot anything! Hope you enjoy and remember to show some love by liking, commenting, and reblogging!

Word Count: 5.6k

Shinso looks like absolute shit. Sleep has been evading him lately, not that this was anything new, but the problem had worsened recently. And apparently, Aizawa had noticed. Shota watches him drain the nausea-inducing Irish coffee, the drink loaded with an indeterminable amount of sugar supplements. Aizawa is a caffeine lover and an advent alcohol drinker—way to sound like a fellow sleep-deprived alcoholic—but the sight before him just seemed too pitiful for a late-night patrol. He couldn't keep quiet anymore.

"Y'know, it's the shit-ton of sugar in your coffee there that give you the mind-numbing headaches, not the alcohol."

Hitoshi isn't even phased by the obvious callout to his drinking while on duty. The twenty-two-year-old just lets out a soft huff before taking another swig of his nearly depleted beverage. "Gonna let the Hero Commission know, partner?"

"Not my style, kid," Shota says, ignoring the pang of anger and hurt at the questioning of his loyalties.

"Not a kid anymore, old man," Hitoshi reminds, swirling the nonexistent remains of his drink.

"Really?" Aizawa questions, arms crossing and voice dropping into that teacher tone of his. "Then why are you throwing a tantrum like one?" Shinso, at least, has the decency to look ashamed then. He digests the words, a hand pressing into his forehead and then dragging down his sullen face. "The hell is going on with you, Hitoshi?"

The young man hesitates, weighing how much he wishes to divulge to his mentor, hero partner, and friend. "It's...it's (Y/N)." Aizawa raises an eyebrow at that.

"I thought everything was fine?" Shota muses thoughtfully. "You seemed to really like her."

"I do," Hitoshi snaps desperately before lulling into a softer, measured tone. "I do. I really like her—love her, actually. It's just..."

Aizawa has some impressive tolerance from his years of teaching, but this moment, the suspense of waiting, could dismantle the reputation that he had acquired as a patient man. "Just what, Hitoshi?"

"We're having some issues in the bedroom," he finally blurts out. He says it so quickly that Shota nearly misses what is uttered by the younger man. When the words connect to their meanings in his mind his head shakes as if he'd been slapped with the sentence.

"What?" The question leaves his lips unnecessarily; he already knows what was said.

Hitoshi groans in place of an answer. "Please don’t make me repeat it." Shota only rolls his eyes at the immaturity of it all. How can this boy give you the pleasure you need if he can’t even convey his problem without a tinge of embarrassment on his cheeks?

"So what are you doing wrong then?" The older man asks plainly.

"Why do you assume I’m doing something wrong?" Aizawa’s brow raises. "Okay, yeah, it’s me." Too easy.

"So what are you lacking in the bedroom?"

"Woah, hey," Hitoshi defends. "I’m not ‘lacking’ anything, okay? Everything works and is in great shape. So get that out of your head."

"Wasn’t thinking that until just now." Shinso only rolls his eyes, but his blush and the grumble bubbling in his throat betray him. “Kid, you’re not gonna fix the issue unless you talk about it and I’m not gonna play this guessing again for both of our sakes. So just tell me."

"I can’t make her cum." Oh. Not what Shota was expecting but not a completely unexpected answer. "And now she thinks she’s broken or some shit 'cause she can’t and I didn’t really help with that…I’m just a big fucking mess really."

Aizawa nods thoughtfully, taking a moment to think about this carefully before offering any advice. He can work with this. It’s easier than trying to retrain Hitoshi if his issue was more of a premature one. "It may just be a mental thing for both of you. How responsive is she usually? Is it just that she’s struggling during penetrative sex or can she not cum when you go down on her too?" Aizawa is in total teacher mode, uncaring about the awkwardness of the conversation and ignoring that he’s encouraging locker room discussion with a former student and aiding in the affairs of his closest mentee. Maybe some would consider this to be unethical, but Shota thought that once you’ve dodged death alongside a person, regardless of age or a former student-teacher relationship, the perception of professionalism goes out the window and is replaced with something slightly more concrete: friendship. And his friend needed help. How could Shota say no to that?

However, Hitoshi shouldn’t be looking so sheepish. His eyes avoid Shota’s and his face retreats into the capture weapon around his neck. "Ah, well…I haven’t really gone down on her…"

The older man stops, looking at his mentee with an air of bewilderment. "Excuse me?"

"I—look, I’m just not sure—"

"You’ve been with her for months now," he interrupts. "You haven’t gone down on the poor girl once?"

"Isn’t it obvious that I’m not sure what I’m doing?" He exasperated. "I was only with Denki before, so the anatomy is a bit different." His arms cross and a scowl takes over his features and suddenly Aizawa sees the lost and confused kid he first met in the hallowed halls of U.A. The kid he swore to help in any way he needed.

"Look, maybe I could help you," his gruff voice offers before common sense can catch up to him.

"Help me how exactly?"

"Hey, Hito, I’m home!" You call out to your boyfriend as you enter your shared apartment, armfuls of groceries in hand. "Hope you’re hungry," you say as you slip out of your shoes and into the house slippers, the bags juggling precariously in your grasp. "I’m making my specialty honey walnut shrimp! There should be plenty for you to pack for tomorrow." You make your way through your home, plopping the groceries on the kitchen counter as you start unloading the food. You notice the bedroom light on and assume he’s in there as you continue talking. "And I can pack extra if ‘Zawa wants some too. He eats just about as much as you do so both of your bentos better be empty, got it?"

"I’m flattered that you think of me," a gruff voice interrupts the one-way conversation, your shoulders jumping up with the sound. Turning you find just the devil leaning against the doorframe, dark eyes staring at you through darker locks.

"Geez, Mr. Aizawa, you scared me!" You pant dramatically, a hand pressed over your heart. His eyes glance down at the motion before chuckling softly.

"How many times have I told you, kid?" He asks nonchalantly, pushing off the frame and walking towards you leisurely, hands buried in his pockets. "Call me Shota."

You respond with a mock salute and a sarcastic "Yes, sir." Shota decidedly ignores the hint of sass you throw his way and only acknowledges your words with a slight hmph. "So, where is my sleepless beauty?"

"Bedroom," he answers shortly and nods in the direction of the room's entrance. "He needs to talk to you. I’ll deal with the groceries."

"Shota, I can’t let you put the groceries away," you wave him off. "You’re a guest."

"Hmm…just go talk to your boy, okay?" He not-so-subtly urges you away from the bags of food on your kitchen counter in favor of shoving you in the direction of your shared bedroom. You relent and invite yourself into the room, curiosity overtaking your hostess skills.

"Hito?" Your lavender-haired boyfriend pokes his head out of your bathroom, towel-dried hair sticking up at odd angles and skin still prickled in beads of his evident shower. In lieu of a simple greeting, you're met with a set of arms wrapping around your torso, your body lifts into the air and is spun while you’re being smothered with kisses. You’re sent into a fit of giggles until he reluctantly pulls away, his face hovering mere millimeters away from yours. "Hi to you too."

He offers a barely there smile before his lips quirk down again, a serious expression overtaking his features. "Hey, can I talk to you about something?"

"Does it have to do with ‘Zawa being in our kitchen?" You guess. He shrugs.

"Sorta." He pulls you toward the bed and takes a seat on the edge, dragging you down to sit next to him. "We need to talk about…our sex life."

"Oh." You breathe in deeply through your nose. "What does that have to do with—"

"I’ll get to that part," he assures softly, grasping your hands in his. You take the opportunity to stare down at your joined hands, watching the way his thumbs circle into the joints of your smaller hands. "Look, I know that our sex life hasn’t been the best." Your head snaps up to him at that, your mouth ready to conjure up a thousand excuses but he holds his hand up to silence all of them. "No, it’s okay. We need to air that out so we can work on getting better," he whispers gently. The hand he had raised comes down to gently cup your cheek and bring your forehead to rest against his. "I know that you haven’t been finishing and that’s not fair. We gotta fix that."

"I’m sor—"

"Nope," he interrupts, shaking his head and pulling you into his lap. You allow yourself to be cradled in his arms, tucking your head into the crook of his neck. "Nope. Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault."

"But it's not about you, really!" you sigh. "I don't know what's wrong with me...I can’t finish with or without your help…and I don't understand why."

"Hey," he softly soothes, those slender fingers carding through your locks and gently scratching your scalp. "It’s okay. Listen, do you trust me?" You nod softly into him, cuddling further into his embrace until he gingerly pulls you apart from him to look into your eyes. "We gotta sort this out…and I think we need help from someone more experienced than us." Your brow furrows in thought and then you remember that Aizawa is in your apartment at this moment, and your brows shoot up and your eyes widen.

"You mean…"

"Yeah," he breathes out, a callused palm pressing to your jaw and a rough thumb softly brushing over your cheek. "He kinda noticed my mood drop lately…and we got to talking…I think he could help. He’s definitely wiser than we are." He chuckles in an attempt to lighten the mood but you only stare on, expression not giving anything away to the roaring thoughts thundering through your head. "We don’t have to. One word from you and we stop this. Pretend it never even happened."

"But…you want to do this?" You ask cautiously, studying the purple of his irises.

"Yes," he answers. There’s no wavering, no hesitation. "This and whatever else it takes to make you happy." His hand curls on the back of your neck and pulls you in for a slow kiss, one that sends a bolt of shivers down your spine. When he pulls away a breath's width apart your eyes remain closed momentarily. Your head feels fuzzy already, but you still allow your lashes to flutter apart. You look into fields of lavender as you grant an affirming nod. His lips quirk up and he starts towards the door. You run cool fingers over your flushed face and knead tense muscles on your neck as Hitoshi offers your guest entry. And when you look up a set of dark eyes accompany the familiar lilac.

Shota enters cautiously but plays it off as nonchalant, eyes drifting around the bedroom. When his gaze falls on you once again, your breath catches and the rouge of your cheeks darkens, your own eyes averting. You barely catch Aizawa turning towards Shinso, asking, "You've both talked about this?" Hitoshi nods. At the confirmation, Shota glides towards you, dropping to his knees and looking up at your shy face when he reaches the edge of the bed. "You both agree?" His dark eyes study you as you give a timid nod. A calloused hand cups your chin gently, the pad of his thumb swiping over your bottom lip, coaxing your lips to part. His pupils dance between your fluttering lashes and your plush lips, his voice dropping to a low, honeyed tone. "You understand what this all entails?" You nod. "Words, princess."

"Yes," you breathily say. The way the word leaves your lips drips with a sense of pure need. Your eyes follow the man at your feet as he stands, towering over you with a firm grip on your jaw.

"Then we should discuss a few rules," he says as his fingers trace over the buttons of his shirt, popping the fastenings slowly.

"Rules?" Hitoshi asks as he kicks off the wall and strolls to the bed; another imposing figure looming over you now. But you don't mind feeling so small among these men.

"Yeah," the older man murmurs, dark eyes never leaving your frame resting atop the duvet. "Rules. Gotta have them for what we're about to do here." Lilac irises meet the onyx orbs of their former teacher, a message clear in the gaze. "These rules are designed to establish trust, make sure everyone is comfortable, and to keep constant communication. That way we won't risk...overstepping boundaries. Understood?"

Hitoshi gives a tiny nod and your mouth moves before you even realize it, a small, "Yes, sir," escaping your lips. You miss the smirk curling Aizawa's lips but your boyfriend certainly doesn't. And he starts to wonder if his mentor's offer was as selfless as he originally thought.

"Rule one. Safe words. We’ll start easy. Have either of used the traffic light system?"

"No."

"Yes." You turn a shocked gaze over to your boyfriend, intrigue tickling your mind at his confirmation. "With...Kaminari. We’d use the traffic light system. Green for continue, that everything is good. Yellow for slow down. Red for full stop." Your mouth subtly drops into an ‘O’ at the acknowledgment. Your mind momentarily races with the imagined images of what your boyfriend and his ex could’ve used such a system for in the bedroom. That familiar insecurity itched at the back of your mind with the thought.

"Red." You look up at Aizawa, confused. He kneels down then, meeting your eye carefully. "I know what you're thinking, so stop it. That insecurity shit is useless. I can see it all over your face." You blush at the light scolding and catch a glimpse of Hitoshi and the hint of guilt falling upon his features. You knew he had more experience than you, and you didn't hold that against him, of course. But the pang of your own lack of experience and the reminder did sting. Rough fingertips grip your chin gingerly, keeping your gaze focused on your former teacher. "Sex is not just physical. It’s mental, emotional. Maybe the reason that you’re having problems is because you’re letting your insecurities get in the way. We’ll fix that."

The button-up that has been draped precariously over the older man's frame finally falls from his shoulders. You shuffle back against the bed as Hitoshi steps forward, your boyfriend chasing and crawling over you. His hands softly push you back, your back meeting the mattress as his lips hover over yours. That is until calloused fingers tangle into lavender locks and tug back, sending his back into an arch against his mentor. "Rule number two," the thick lilt of his voice breathes against Hitoshi's ear. "I'm in charge. You both listen to me. Whatever I say, you do. Understand?"

You and Hitoshi let out a collective, "Yes, sir."

Shota smirks at both of your immediate compliance. "Good. Then the last rule: honesty. No matter what, we have to be honest. That means stopping this if anyone is uncomfortable. I don't care how far we go." You both agree again. "Let's get started then." He turns to Hitoshi, a new form of excitement clear in his gaze. "Strip." You don't miss the glint in Hitoshi's eyes as he tugs the black tee over his head, but you only get a glimpse as a calloused hand gently coaxes you to lay back on the bed. Long fingers scrape past the hem of your pants, the fabric dragging over your skin. You hear the plop of fabric as his hands trace your figure underneath your shirt. Goosebumps are left in the wake of his touch and you nearly jump out of your skin with the introduction of a second set of cool fingers dipping under your panties. You'll have to get used to the feeling of four hands on your body. It didn't take long for you to be completely bare before the two men, the both of them following suit shortly after. You keep your gaze glued to the cream-colored ceiling above you, enjoying the feeling of the hands and lips pressing and digging into your skin, drowning out any of your other senses.

"Touch yourself." The voice is so soft, muffled by his mouth pressed into your thigh, that you almost miss it. You giggle softly, the breathless sound bubbling from your throat in surprise.

"What?" You ask as you bring yourself up on your elbows. You meet those onyx eyes that are positioned between your legs, shivering at the sight of the men worshiping your body.

"Did I stutter?" His voice rumbles, pulling away from pressing sloppy kisses into your thigh. His fingers curl into the lilac locks at the base of Hitoshi’s neck, tugging your boyfriend from trailing nips and sucking over your hipbone. "Show us what you like. How else do you expect your boy to learn?"

Your mouth drops into that ‘O’ again, nodding your head in understanding. That bliss from before wearing off with the pressure to perform. Hesitantly, you nod and lay back down. Your fingers find their way between your thighs, circling your clit in quick succession.

"Woah, holy shit, easy tiger," he says, the edge of surprise and shocked amusement in his voice tickling that familiar insecurity again. "Honey, it’s a marathon, not a sprint. No wonder you can’t get to the finish line."

"Am-am I not doing it right…?" His gaze softens at your soft, shy voice, the insecurities rolling off you in waves.

"Aww, you poor thing," he sighs gently, a hint of mirth skirting his tone. "You gotta slow down, princess. Here." His callous fingers grip Hitoshi’s slender digits, his hands used to touch between your folds. The pace starts slow, casually circling your button before slowly dragging over your slit, collecting your slick and spreading the juices. Your eyes flutter closed as a feeling slowly grows at the bottom of your stomach. Hands are moving over your body, a soft caress of feather-like touches over your thighs, trailing down your calves, back over your hips, the gentle brushes rivaling the intensity you feel building in your core. You barely know which hands belong to whom by the time the first finger breaches your entrance, the small intrusion nearly taking your breath away.

You wonder why it’s never felt like this before. How is your former teacher, your boyfriend’s current mentor, so skilled at bringing you to your limits with the simplest touches? Your throat gurgles with the neediest, whiniest moans you’ve ever conjured, but you can’t bring yourself to feel embarrassment over the pure desperation in your voice. All you know at that moment is hands, fingers, lips, sweet touches, soft caresses, the scratch of scruff; all of it accumulating to the hum of an orgasm slowly building deep in your being. Once the pace picks up you realize that you’re truly a goner. And your mouth drops into a silent version of that familiar ‘O’ shape once again.

"See that?" Shota’s gruff voice softly lures you down from your high. You look up to see your release coating Aizawa’s hand, stringing between his fingers. Then your eyes drift down to see your boyfriend as he stares hungrily, mesmerized by the sticky mess pooling between your legs. Then your hazy gaze meets a proud smirk. Shota crawls up the bed to lean down at your side, offering a sweet smile before gently tapping your temple. "You got out of your head and got exactly what you needed. Feel better, princess?"

"Yeah," you breathe out, a small grin dancing at the edge of your lips.

"You just clear your mind," he murmurs, his breath tickling your skin, "and let us take care of you, okay, princess?"

You nod. "Yes, sir—ahh!" You’re cut off by the feeling of a mouth latching to your sopping sex. Your back arches and the moan that leaves your lips nearly drowns the laugh Aizawa lets slip.

"That’s it, Hitoshi," he chuckles. A hand cups the back of his head and tangles into the lavender locks, pushing his head further into your cunt. "Remember, it’s the best fucking feeling when you can’t breathe while eating pussy."

Hitoshi hums out a short snicker, the vibrations shaking your core. His tongue swirls your entrance before repeating a figure-eight motion over your clit. It isn’t long before a finger breaches your entrance.

"Atta boy, ‘Toshi," he encourages, the hand not twisted into purple hair wanders to his own awaiting dick twitching with anticipation. A second finger soon joins the first. "Now don’t just poke the poor girl's insides. Turn your wrist. Palm up. Tap that anterior wall."

"Nghh!"

"Yep. Just like that~"

Your back repels the mattress, your jaw drops and your heart beats outside your chest. Your fingers grip alongside Shota’s in Hitoshi’s hair. A third finger is added, the digits delivering a steady pace of tap, tap, tap on your insides. Your chest heaves with the intensity of your boyfriend’s touch and the oversensitivity of a second finish rearing itself so soon. And your vision goes white, your release rips from your body as your voice goes mute with the winded shock.

"—so good. That’s it, princess. That’s a good girl…"

You blink up at the two men staring down at you, both of them petting and whispering words of encouragement.

"C’mon, sweet girl," Hitoshi whispers, nose nuzzling into the side of your face. You can feel your slick coating his chin, your juices transferring into your skin. You can’t help the breathless giggle that bubbles out of your throat. A shaky hand grips at his chin, drawing him into a gentle kiss. You can taste yourself on his lips. When you both pull away, you turn to the older man by your side. A hesitant hand skims up his thigh while your other cups the back of Shota’s neck, urging him to lean down toward you. When your foreheads meet you press a deep kiss into his lips as a silent thanks. When you pull away, he gives a gentle hum, his eyes remaining closed and enjoying the moment.

"Thank you, sensei," Hitoshi vocalizes. Onyx eyes meet violet, and Shota decides that he prefers the same sort of appreciation that you offered him. So, his hand closes around the other man’s throat, dragging him into a sweet kiss of their own that quickly turns heated.

"Wanna show me how grateful you are, 'Toshi?" He murmurs against his lips. When they separate a minuscule amount of space from one another, you notice your boyfriend's half-lidded eyes and the way his teeth dig into his bottom lip. They stare into one another's eyes for a moment, each weighing their next action. When they dive back into each other in a sloppy kiss, you take the opportunity to make good on Shota’s request for gratitude. The hand resting on his thigh ventures along the taut muscle over the definition of his protruding v-line and continues to trail along the plains of his solid torso. You relish in the shudder that overtakes his body, the breathy gasps that leave his lungs while your boyfriend’s lips journey over the column of his throat. Your delicate touch follows back downward, your nails teasingly scraping down his hairy abdomen as your hand takes his happy trail to find the monster bobbing between his legs. You grip the base, giving an experimental squeeze before stroking his hard cock. You're so emboldened by the hum of satisfaction that escapes him that you don't hesitate to pull yourself onto shaky knees and wrap your lips around the dark red head of his dick. His hips buck into your mouth of their own volition at the suddenness of your hot, wet cavity encompassing him. A meaty hand laces into the hair at the back of your head, nails softly scratching your scalp and encouraging you to keep your place as he gently thrusts back and forth into your welcoming warmth. You stay still like the good girl you are for him until Hitoshi’s finger creep to the back of your neck, and he suddenly pushes you to take every inch down your throat. You sputter around the thick intrusion, your hands grasping at Shota’s thighs as you stare up at him with a watery gaze. Despite the blurry vision and the sound of your gurgling drown everything else out, you don’t miss the way both men chuckle at your surprise. You blink away the tears, the salty substance streaking down your face in the prettiest way, and you don’t move. You refuse to disappoint either of them so instead you take a deep, difficult breath through your nose and start sucking. You’d smirk at the sight of Shota throwing his head back with a broken moan if it weren’t for your lips being stretched by his thick cock.

"Fuck!" He groans, grip tightening. "Good girl! Good fucking girl, princess." Your body lights up at the praise and it seems that you’re not the only one. Your boyfriend presses his throbbing need into your lower back as he leans behind you, his chin resting on your shoulder.

"Never know you were such a praise whore, baby," he whispers huskily. "You like being Shota’s good girl?" You shiver at the mention. He chuckles softly. "I like this look on you. Never knew I’d get off so much to you taking another man’s cock so well. You were fucking made for this. Doing so well that we might have to invite Daddy ‘Zawa back again. You want that, baby?" You nod to the best of your abilities, looking up into Shota’s eyes as you do so. "Then earn it, babygirl." With that final piece of encouragement, Hitoshi’s fingers curl onto the front of your throat, pressing into Shota’s cock through your skin. You swallow around his member, causing the man in your mouth to tremble at the feeling. His dick pulses in your mouth, so close to his finish line, but before you can taste his release, the fingers laced in your hair pull you off of him.

"Easy, princess, don’t wanna finish just yet" he sighs, voice winded. "Hitoshi, on your back." Hitoshi follows directions easily, situating himself to lay down behind you.

"C’mon, babygirl," Hitoshi whispers to you, his hands landing on your hips and pulling you towards him. "Climb on." You swing a leg over his lap, settling into a comfortable position.

"Hi," you breathe out softly. Hitoshi smiles at you gently, the moment wholesome in the midst of your current debauchery.

"Hi," he murmurs back, leaning forward to tenderly tap the tip of his nose to yours. "You okay?" You nod lightly. It seems that the silent affirmation wasn't very effective as he cups your cheek, steering your gaze to look into his eyes. "Words, babygirl. Give me a color." You playfully roll your eyes.

"Green," you answer. He nods as the hand caressing your cheeks drags through your hair, directing your head to rest in the crook of his neck as his other hand maneuvers your hips up. You feel the second pair of hands on you, one on the other hip and one pressing between your shoulder blades, arching your back beautifully. Your breath catches at the first nudge of Hitoshi's cock swiping through your folds. He swirls the mushroom head over your clit before passing it through your slit, punching the oxygen out of your lungs completely when the red head of his prick penetrates your entrance. Your arms wrap tightly around his neck, your nose pressing into the side of his throat, and inhaling the jasmine and sea salt scent from your body wash—you knew he was stealing it! The smell, however, was calming as you grew used to the intrusion. The hands gripping your hips help you bounce on Hitoshi's cock, setting a slow pace, the speed gradually picking up as you begin to find your rhythm. It doesn't take long for the two of you to become a tangled heap of breathy pants and whiny moans, sweat coating your bodies as you move together. Shota's hands just add to the experience. The movement of his touch keeps you on the edge. They explore your body, trailing a feather-like touch down your spine, his calloused hands cupping the globes of your ass. His fingers knead into the muscles, his thumbs slipping between your cheeks and prodding at your other entrance.

"Color, princess?" He mutters as the tip of his thumb circles your puckered hole delicately.

"Green, sir," you mumble into your boyfriend's chest. The last syllable barely leaves your lips before you feel the pressure of a digit slipping in. The finger pumping into your backside matches the pace that you ride Hitoshi before adding a second, then a third finger. Shota stretches your entrance, his hand on your hip flexing to keep you still as he leans down to lick at your asshole. It was as if Shota and Hitoshi were of one mind. Instead of urging you to bounce on his cock, Hitoshi plants his feet into the matress and pistons his hips into yours, keeping you in place for saliva to spill out of Shota's mouth and slide between your cheeks. The make-shift lube eases the movement of three fingers scissoring your hole before they are gone too soon and replaced by the bulbus head of a leaking cock pressing pass the tight entrance. He starts slowly, glacierly pumping shallow thrust into your body as it gets used to the overwhelming power of two huge cocks penetrating your tiny holes.

You can't help the wanton moan that's punched from your throat. You can't help the way your eyes cross with the building pressure in your core. You can't help the way your nails peel down Hitoshi's shoulder, leaving raised treks and bleeds of blood over his skin. You are merely at the mercy of the men you lie pliant between. The both of them make their own noises and gruff responses but you can’t hear a word, only acknowledging the blood pumping through your ears and your own mewls that drown out any others. You’re close. So fucking close…

Their hips piston in and out of your tight body, their own orgasms pooling in their bellies. But Shota wants to see it, want to watch the fruits of his labors unfold before him. He wraps firm but gentle grasp against your throat, dragging you to sit up and rest against his chest. Your body molds into his as your hands scramble to find purchase on anything. Hitoshi kindly offers his hands to intertwine with your own as he watches his hero partner spear you with both of their cocks, moving your body with his. A calloused hand sneaks down to toy with the bundle of nerves between your folds, circles the pleasure button in quick succession.

"Cum," he commands between gritted teeth. "C’mon, princess, be our good fucking girl and cum all over our cocks." Those onyx eyes meet lavender again and there’s something unspoken in the contact. Something that fans the flame burn in his gut. He’s close. So fucking close…

With a shouting cry of both of their names you burst, hot wetness squirting from between your legs and soaking the body and the sheets beneath you. Hitoshi’s load soon follows, filling your weeping cunt to the brim and leaking around the sides. Your mixed spend froths out as he continues pounding your pillow princess pussy.

Shota’s hand lets go of his grip on your throat, easing your exhausted form down to cuddle with your breathless boyfriend. He gently pulls himself from the suffocating grip your asshole has on him, working his cock to completion, his release shooting on where you and Hitoshi are still joined, his milky cum mixing with the rest. He heaves a relieved sigh as he tumbles onto the bed at your side, scooping the two of you to cuddle closer as the three of you catch your breath.

Hitoshi is the first to break the silence with a winded, "I didn’t know you could squirt." You sigh out a giggle at the astonishment in his voice.

"I didn’t either," you breathe out. You turn your head on Hitoshi’s chest to look at the older man snuggling into both of your bodies. "Thank you."

Those dark eyes fall onto you, a lazy smile peeking out from the corners of his lips. His voice is raw as he whispers out, "My pleasure, princess."

Hitoshi yawns beneath you, the rumble in his chest tickling your skin as he speaks softly, "Can’t wait for our next private lesson."