Archive of Our Own

Being a good teacher meant knowing the things nobody else did about his students. He had access to their files and Yuuei wasn’t the top hero school in the nation for nothing. Each prospective student was vetted for behavior issues, criminal records, and any other background red flags. Yuuei subtly but surely made sure its students weren’t suffering in abusive home situations, languishing with untreated trauma, or otherwise needed something they weren’t receiving.

The last thing they needed was for a kid to be blackmailed into something because villains noticed what the staff didn’t.

Because of that, Aizawa knew some very personal things about his students.

One of those ‘personal things’ was, of course, their Stigma. Everyone had a curling mark of Anima energy around a certain body part, the not-tattoo which determined their animal nature. It was rare for anyone to have starkly obvious traits like Miruko’s bunny ears or Hawks’ wings, but managing the traits—both subtle and blatant– was important for upcoming heroes.

The students especially didn’t have a lot of training, if any, on handling their animal characteristics.

For example: Aizawa’s stylized cat mark sat around his left bicep, always covered by his hero costume. He slept more than the average person by a lot and was always more awake during the midnight hours, whether he wanted to be or not. Managing that without knowing it was due to his specific Stigma presentation had been a nightmare as a teenager.

Therefore, even if it wasn’t literally part of his job description, Aizawa would have done his best to help his students out, and manage the unavoidable parts of their animal natures without shame or ignorance.

As he watched their practicals—with a teacher who wasn’t him for once, thankfully—he reflected on those traits and what, if anything, he’d have to do about any of them. Some of them were being managed on their own.

He watched as Bakugou grew increasingly more irate as the lesson progressed, shunning his teammates and as the class period wound down, even snapping at their teacher.

Aizawa sighed.

And some of them clearly were not.

Stigmata and their respective traits came in many different variants. Some manifested outwardly in conjunction with mutant quirks—Asui’s was a textbook example. Some manifested outwardly in conjunction with emitter quirks, like Aoyoma with his Peacock Stigma. They without fail reflected in personalities as well; again, Aoyama craved attention in a way that would have to be addressed sooner or later, though currently he seemed to be getting by well enough from the attention he received in class and in the dorms.

Some had him raising an eyebrow as he read the paperwork because they were more subtle, but all made sense upon consideration. Iida’s Swift and Uraraka’s Bear, for example.

Occasionally, he saw students with similar Stigmata.

Take Shinsou’s: his Black-Footed Cat was in the same general direction as Aizawa’s. Iida and Aoyoma both had birds.

Rarely, he encountered students with identical animals.

Never, however, did the traits present the same way.

Just as Anima energy was unique to each soul, the Stigma for one animal meant something else to each person, and affected them differently.

Midoriya was a Rabbit. Aizawa watched him finish off the exercise by bounding high into the air on strong legs, finish with a shy smile at his friend-group, and manage his anxiety with steadily-increasing skill.

Bakugou was also a Rabbit, technically.

They could not have been more different if they tried.

“Get your pussy out.” Aizawa said, unamused, after they’d all left except for Bakugou. He could have been the first to storm off, when they were released, but he had been too strongly gripped by his own frustration to move, standing right where he was, glaring at nothing.

At Aizawa’s approach he bristled.

“What do you fucking—” The snarl left his mouth reflexively. Aizawa cupped a hand on the back of his neck, shook him a little.

His eyes widened. His mouth closed shut.

Aizawa backed them up until Bakugou’s back hit the waist-high concrete platform Cementoss had been using for some purpose or another—similar and larger ones were littered throughout the outside training grounds.

He abandoned his grip to get another around both thighs and lifted, placing Bakugou up on the concrete like an altar, or perhaps a kitchen counter. Bakugou went with a grunt, catching himself on his hands in a sprawl.

Aizawa moved between his spread legs and already the boy was panting, wild-eyed, from proximity alone.

Aizawa sighed again.

He touched Bakugou’s knees.

They started a faint trembling. The boy swallowed.

If he had a third hand, he’d pinch the bridge of his nose with it, though he knew from experience that didn’t really help a building headache.

“Get your pussy out, Bakugou.” Aizawa repeated tiredly. He drew one of Bakugou’s hands to his crotch and dropped it there, his fingers falling limp over the fabric. The blonde didn’t look away from Aizawa, though he was breathing faster.

“Now.” Aizawa hissed, eyes flashing red briefly, and Bakugou scrambled to obey. He broke eye contact as he manipulated the waistband of his pants, sliding them and his underwear down with a little wince.

Aizawa spread his legs a little more and bent his head to look.

Sure enough, Bakugou’s normally chubby pussy was absolutely flushed, his lips and clit so engorged it looked like he’d taken a pump to himself. Aizawa knew he hadn’t, of course.

“Did you think no one would notice?” He asked, sternly, drawing a thumb slowly up the wet slit. All of it was wet, enough so that he’d absolutely soaked through his underwear.

Bakugou looked away mulishly.

Aizawa removed his hand and aligned his fingers, delivering a soft slap to his mound. Bakugou arched off the concrete with a cry, eyes screwed shut; at even that level of force, he was absurdly sensitive.

“Your labia are so puffy I can’t even see your hole.” Aizawa admonished with a huff. He rubbed the clit very lightly and Bakugou’s arms started shaking where he was holding himself up.

So pink it was almost purple, his pussy quivered from the meager attention.

It was not only his hole that was wet but his inner and outer lips, his clit, and the space between his cheeks from where it had moved downward and against the wet fabric of his underwear.

Aizawa slid a single finger into him slowly, achingly slow. He had to move aside the lips that covered it like doors. Bakugou’s head fell back as he whined, throat a bared, tense line.

Aizawa felt around with his finger, almost perfunctorily, spreading the slick around and pressing against his g-spot just to watch his legs spasm. His feet tapped the concrete and rose up again, little thumps he couldn’t contain.

He pulled the finger out. A strand of slick followed and Bakugou clenched hard around it, trying to keep him in. Aizawa looked to his face and found a hint of blush there.

“You might as well take your tits out, too.” He said.

Bakugou didn’t bother protesting this time, merely sitting up—blushing a little harder when Aizawa didn’t step away to give him space, their torsos only a few inches away—and struggled the front of his button-up open. Aizawa resisted the urge to reach out and help him. He had to remain a stern figure of discipline, or these kinds of problems would keep happening.

The shirt fell away and without the built-in support, his breasts fell against his chest. With every breath they rose up, begging for hands to cup them, begging to be petted. Bakugou didn’t make eye contact but Aizawa sighed and brought his hands up to indulge him.

Bakugou pressed his back up into the touch with a gasp.

“Mmh!” He said, mouth falling open on pure noise.

Aizawa cupped his pert tits and rolled them around a little, thumbing across the dark pink nipples. Bakugou gasped again, biting his lip. His hips thrust forward off the concrete, an aborted unconscious motion.

“Look how sensitive you are.” Aizawa admonished. He rubbed his thumbs in slow, soft circles around each areola and Bakugou squirmed before he could catch himself. He glared back.

“I was managing just fine.” The boy insisted, like he wasn’t still pushing up into Aizawa’s hands eagerly.

Aizawa tugged on his pretty tits, massaging with all four fingers. His thumbs caressed the sensitive undersides. Bakugou’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment, mouth open but no noise escaping. His exhale was shaky.

“I’m going to assign one of your classmates to help you if you can’t do this on your own.” Aizawa warned. Bakugou flushed with anger and something else as Aizawa played with his chest, drawing each breast close and away again, pushing them together.

“No, you can’t!” Bakugou growled, furious at the suggestion. “I’m fine.”

“Your neglected pussy disagrees.” Aizawa looked down pointedly. A wet spot was starting to form on the concrete, giving the grey a darker tint. He pinched both nipples between thumb and forefinger when Bakugou started to hotly protest.

“AhH!” His body jerked. He came down panting. He glared full of fire at Aizawa.

“I was watching your lesson.” Aizawa informs him, unamused, and Bakugou’s ears burn red. “You were argumentative, short-tempered, and rude.”

“I’m always like that.” Bakugou protested, looking down mulishly. His shoulders were tense with the effort of holding himself up, tits and collar and chest brandished from the position.

“Not to this extent.” Aizawa corrected, sternly. He used his callouses on sensitive, soft skin. Bakugou’s lips parted.

“You were frustrated enough to mouth off to Cementoss. You were.” He tugged slowly, trapping nipples between thumbs and hand, and pulling out to either side of Bakugou’s body, until his breasts were as far apart as they would go. Bakugou panted, breathing heavily for it. His feet twitched but didn’t move.

“Unwilling to learn.” He let the tits spring back, open-palmed, and settled his hands on Bakugou’s ribs instead.

The webbing between thumb and forefinger cupped them like a breastless corsage, wrapped around his ribcage, highlighting his soft, flushed tits that moved with each gasping breath.

“It’s unacceptable, Bakugou.” Aizawa said sternly, as he recovered. “You cannot and you will not allow yourself to get to this point. The very fact that I have to take care of you myself is a testament to how unreasonable you’re being. I should just leave you to manage your own levels as a lesson.”

Bakugou’s eyes shot wide with panic.

“You can’t!” He protested, moving harshly. He adjusted his weight as if to sit forward, to illustrate his point with his hands, and Aizawa shoved him back roughly. He had to catch himself again, regain balance. He fell to his elbows and Aizawa kept him there with a heavy hand against his sternum.

“I probably should.” Aizawa threatened. “You failed for the third time this semester to take care of your own needs in a timely fashion.”

Bakugou’s lower lip trembled. His face went tight with tension.

Aizawa sighed for the umpteenth time.

“The only reason I’m not is because you let it get this far. But this is the last time, do you hear me? I’m not going to lecture you now because I know you’re not able to process it.” He drew his hand down between Bakugou’s tits and across his flat little tummy, trailing through soft hair until his fingertips just brushed his swollen clit.

Bakugou’s eyes widened like a star’s birth in reverse—red-orange shrinking into a purely dark nebula.

“You don’t have the mental acuity to consider your actions at this point and that is the problem, Bakugou.” He settled his entire hand lightly, covering Bakugou’s whole mound. The boy trembled with eagerness.

Seeing how far gone he was, Aizawa gentled his voice slightly.

“Little bunnies have to take care of their needs.” He said, petting feather-light. “I know you aren’t able to think past how much you need your pussy stretched open, but try to understand. A villain could have walked right up to you.”

He rubbed his thumb over the sensitive area between labia majora and thigh. Even that area was damp.

“You resisted me at first but it only took one touch before you complied, my hand on your neck. Anybody could just cup your pussy from the outside of your clothes and you’d melt into their hands. They won’t start as gentle as me. A firm touch here could wipe every thought out of your head, when you let it get this far. You’re vulnerable like this, Bakugou, and only regular maintenance can keep your levels down. You know this.”

He fought to keep the irritation out of his voice.

His voice—that of a trusted mentor—penetrated the fog of lust. He hoped some of it was sinking in. Regardless of Bakugou’s personality his body was eager for the touch and if he’d waited any longer it would be for anyone’s touch. The boy could have been on the train home for the weekend and jostled wrong, and beg to be someone’s pet.

You’d think someone as proud as Bakugou would avoid that at all costs, but no—here he was, shaking apart under the lightest petting Aizawa could manage. His hand was wet from even this much.

Aizawa himself hadn’t escaped some of the physicality of his Stigma animal. His cock was catlike but not exactly, longer than average and blush-red across the entire length. Most notably it tapered to a dark red point, faint raised bumps accumulating on the glans. It wasn’t unlike some ‘ribbed’ dildos, or so he’d been told.

Mic had once gone off on an entire special-interest spiel about how some people got subdermal piercings to achieve the same effect, one that Aizawa developed at puberty with no work whatsoever.

He hadn’t been much phased by the red-tipped, suddenly pointy cock, but it had raised some concerns. With his students at that same age, Aizawa had a 50-page informative powerpoint planned that he was going to hand off to Nemuri with zero hesitation or shame, later this year.

Bakugou’s only physical trait was hidden between his legs, as well. His pussy was durable and more sensitive than it should be; even when he’s not worked up from irresponsible self-denial, he was able to orgasm much easier than other people. His vagina could stretch further with more ease, as well. The hair above his glistening vulva was soft, silkily so, almost more akin to fur.

Mentally, of course, he wanted to be filled up, all the time. He was a bunny; a glimpse of muscle or a sexy advertisement was enough to distract him, pink-cheeked and wet, but normally he could power through such distractions without issue. Right now, having gone so long without something hard and thick plugging his hole, he was literally not able to think of anything else.

Going to class like this was stupid and reckless. It put him under incredible mental strain to focus on something other than his own body, at this point, and the need had been driving him to dangerous distraction. Aizawa would lecture him properly about how he could have been hurt, or killed a classmate by the wrong moment of inattention—but that would come later, when the bunny could focus on something other than the desperate emptiness between his trembling thighs.

Somehow still there was a stubborn set to his mouth.

Aizawa sighed.

“Out with it.” He ordered, and Bakugou complied, the words bursting out of him.

“Deku doesn’t!” He whined. “Deku doesn’t have to do any of this. I’m not fucking weak.”

“Okay, first of all.” Aizawa kept up a light petting, not wanting to go far enough that his student would be incapable of speech. “Midoriya is a different person than you. His Stigma manifests in stronger leg muscles like Miruko's, a requirement for social cuddling, and—yes—he needs to fuck just as much as you do. The difference is he takes care of the urge so it doesn’t drive him to distraction.”

Bakugou’s foot tapped angrily against the concrete before he got it under control. Seeing his agitation, Aizawa rubbed firmly along his mound, pressing fingers against his clit, and the tight line of his body relaxed with a little groan.

“Deku doesn’t get fucked.” Bakugou insisted, still pouting. “He just doesn’t.”

“No.” Aizawa allowed. “Midoriya—and I can’t believe we’re talking about this, but at least it’s educational—fucks like an energizer bunny, fast and hard. He can use personal toys while you just can’t, but he still regularly attends to his animal needs with his classmates.”

While their Stigmata were identical visually and the exact same animal, Anima scientists had made the distinction a long time ago. Midoriya, who did not have the urge to be held down and filled up, was a Rabbit Aspect Stigma. Bakugou, who did have that urge, was given the Bunny Aspect in order to differentiate between them.

“It’s bullshit that I can’t use a toy.” Bakugou said, and Aizawa was amazed he could still speak with how blown his pupils were. He took the time to address these concerns anyway because if Bakugou didn’t get over whatever issues he had, the problem behavior would continue.

Aizawa had to get to the root of his unwillingness.

“You know that’s too dangerous.” Aizawa reminded, sternly. “You’d fuck yourself on it until you were a sobbing mess and then keep going. A bunny can’t have a hard cock in them and not fuck onto it. Your mind would turn off and you’d ride it long past the point of exhaustion, until hours had passed and you were a drooled-out wreck and late for class. Do you want to put your pussy through that? Even little bunny cunts have a limit.”

Bakugou scowled but the literature was crystal clear on that point. Those with Bunny Stigmata could not be allowed to have a toy unsupervised no matter how much they needed and ached to be stuffed full.

“Well? Do you want to wreck this pussy on some fake cock that will never satisfy you?” Aizawa stilled his hand pointedly.

“No.” Bakugou muttered, moving his hips instantly—he rubbed his mound against Aizawa’s hand to keep the sensation of petting, too far gone to go without stimulation. Really this was just taking the edge off. The barest edge.

Bakugou had let things go far too far. Aizawa could see with terrifying ease his student being passed around on the train, tongue hanging out of his mouth and moaning, insensate, as he was passed around from lap to lap, strangers fucking into him with reckless abandon.

He’d hate it later of course, which would do wonders for his already significant issues, but at the time he’d be overjoyed and relieved to have something big deep inside him. He needed it.

Aizawa was going to go over the roster and see who has the free time and the willingness to let the little bunny bounce on their cock, let him get it all out of his system.

Perhaps Iida. With a Swift Stigma, he had trouble sitting still; swifts in the wild were almost constantly in motion. Fucking Bakugou would let him embrace that physicality without running until his legs gave out.

Hmm.

Aizawa sank to his knees and spread Bakugou’s legs at the thigh, parting them to make room. The bunny quivered as soon as Aizawa’s breath touched him, hips still jerking up a little after the hand that was no longer petting him. Aizawa’s own cock stirred in his pants to see the chubby, swollen pussy twitch upwards to him.

Begging.

He brought his mouth directly to Bakugou’s hole and started working his tongue in past the lips hiding it. Bakugou screamed almost immediately, stubble too much against the heightened sensitivity of his mound. His bunny feet kicked uselessly over Aizawa’s shoulders. He wanted to scrabble closer but couldn’t, stuck keeping himself upright on his elbows.

Aizawa buried his face in and pressed his tongue deep, working it even deeper until Bakugou was sucking in sobs of air from the stubble, too close. He still rocked his hips up into Aizawa’s tongue, desperate to have it deeper, hole fluttering around it, he was clenching so hard.

His mouth was wet. He adjusted his grip on the blonde’s legs and gave him mercy, lifting his face away so his rugged cheeks no longer had contact. He moved up instead, licking Bakugou’s clit into his mouth.

He sealed his lips around it and didn’t suck, flicking his tongue on either side of the hood. With how engorged it was, it was almost like a little cock in his mouth. Aizawa suckled at it and Bakugou keened, thrashing his head back and forth.

“Too much, too much!” He cried, abs flexing hard. His uniform shirt was barely holding on at the shoulders, revealing his entire middle and plump tits, heavy and still rosy from Aizawa’s touch.

It’s impossible for bunnies to reach orgasm from external stimulation alone.

Aizawa wiggled a finger into his hole just as he brushed his teeth over Bakugou’s clit and the blonde’s eyes snapped open, orgasm crashing through him in a brutal wave. He sobbed, pussy clenching down hard on Aizawa’s finger.

A bunny could clamp down so hard you were stuck in them whether or not you had a knot. The swell could take several minutes to relax. Bakugou was so worked up that although his hole sucked him in greedily—obviously, since he’d gone without for so long and was so wet—the inner walls themselves were, like his lips, so swollen it had to hurt him to do so.

Aizawa huffed.

“You’re almost too swollen to fuck.” He chastised. It would always be a painful need when a bunny waited too long, but Bakugou had pushed it so far his body was almost feverish with need.

Maybe those words would get through to the bunny.

“No!” Bakugou yelled, immediately. His voice was ruined from his orgasm, shaky, but the panic rang clear. “No, please. I need it. It won’t hurt me, I’m—”

“Shh.” Aizawa calmed. It would be beyond cruel to deny him this. It was almost a medical issue at this point. Certainly Aizawa would be taking him to Recovery Girl after this so she could kiss his pretty pussy all better.

If he didn’t like it then he knew exactly how to avoid that kind of treatment in the future.

Aizawa dipped his head and licked broadly up Bakugou’s slit, cleaning up most of the mess from his orgasm. The bunny relaxed thoroughly.

“There you go. Don’t worry, Bakugou. I’ll make sure you’re all filled up.” Bakugou shivered weakly, reassured by the promise. Poor bunny, and they weren’t even properly started yet. It was hard not to feel sympathy for him, even knowing he got himself into this mess.

The noon sun fell down on them. They were in the middle of the training ground. Bakugou was beyond caring.

If he wasn’t trying to instill some personal responsibility in the kid, Aizawa would bounce him on his cock each morning in homeroom, just to make sure he was getting a daily stretching. It wouldn’t satisfy the bunny, not with only ten minutes, but he wouldn’t be driven to such mindless lust due to going without, either. He might even be revved up enough to seek out a proper fuck among his peers.

No. He dismissed the notion. Bakugou had to get over this. His need for cock wasn’t going to just go away and Aizawa wouldn’t be his teacher forever.

Aizawa licked one of his fat lips into his mouth and sucked on it. He moved to the other. Between them, barely uncovered, his hole clenched on nothing. Bakugou’s one foot twitched weakly in the air.

“Please. ‘m so empty.” Bakugou mumbled.

Aizawa slipped his tongue back inside and Bakugou groaned loudly.

The fit was so tight he had to really work to press the tip in. Bakugou shimmied his hips, impatient. He wiggled like it was ticklish.

“Sensei, please. I need bigger.”

Aizawa pulled his mouth away and hooked Bakugou’s thighs over his elbows so he could reach. He used both thumbs to part his thick outer lips.

“You’re too tight for bigger, honey.” He huffed when Bakugou whined with distress. “You should have done something sooner, then. Don’t cry about how it is.”

Bakugou whined louder.

Holding him open with both thumbs, Aizawa watched his face as he pressed his tongue against the opening, broadly. Bakugou’s shoulder’s jerked and Aizawa pointed the tip, dragging it around the edges of his hole.

“Hnn!” Bakugou thrashed. “In, in!”

Aizawa lapped at his entrance, gradually going deeper each time until the tip slipped in. He still pulled back for each lick, drawing it out. Bakugou’s hips canted up desperately, riding his tongue, clenching so hard he almost pushed it back out.

Finally, the breadth of it was worked fully inside and Aizawa shifted and pointed it at intervals, working his chin and jaw for maximum friction, rubbing what he could against the roof of his walls.

“Fuck!” A small puff of air sounded from one of Bakugou’s palms, nowhere near a true explosion, and he blushed hotly. Aizawa looked at him.

“Sorry.” He said, flushing under the scrutiny. He shivered, sweating all over.

Knowing he wouldn’t be able to use his quirk at all once Aizawa really started fucking him, the pro hero shrugged it off. Being fucked filled a bunny with such brain-melting pleasure hormones that their quirk factor basically shut off completely for a while.

Aizawa pressed his first finger in slowly next to his tongue. Bakugou’s legs tried to spread even wider, falling open in encouragement, but Aizawa had him in a strong grip.

He was so wet but so tight. It might be easier to fuck his ass.

The thought of an armful of crying bunny stopped him. Bunnies loved to have both holes stuffed of course but Bakugou was too far gone to tolerate the slow fingering it would take to stretch him open that way. Moreover, if his pussy was this tight, his ass would be like a vice grip—even tighter than normal.

He pushed in with the second finger and met resistance. He pulled his mouth away to watch. Retreating his first finger entirely he pressed both fingertips to the hole and slowly inched forward.

It felt like pushing in with his dick, widening space that wasn’t quite ready to fit him—or in this case, he’d been so desperate for so long that his poor pussy had been clenching on nothing, and then clenching harder when that didn’t work, for so long that it had forgotten what cock felt like.

Sad circumstances for any cunt but almost obscene for a bunny’s.

He fingered open Bakugou’s pussy slowly, thrusting with his whole arm behind it. Eventually the vice grip eased a little, Bakugou breathing out little moans as he clenched down with every thrust, and Aizawa was able to give it to him properly, give it to him right.

“Take this.” He said, angling his fingers to brush up against every spot, against the sensitive places he knew from experience drove the bunny wild. He looked dazed, barely up on his elbows, pussy facing the whole world and ass not much more hidden, with one leg splayed wide and the other caught around Aizawa’s shoulder.

“Fuck, yes, please.” Bakugou begged, throat tight, like it was an effort to get the words out. He clamped down on Aizawa’s fingers painfully.

“Open.” Aizawa barked and Bakugou sobbed but forcibly relaxed, muscles fluttering with the effort of staying pliant for him, staying soft and sweet. It made the fuck smooth, made it glide, and he quirked his fingers so the knuckles pressed down on the out-stroke, so the fingertips pressed bold against his g-spot on the way back in.

He canted his hips up, riding the length of Aizawa’s fingers, and in Aizawa’s mind those long arms weren’t holding him up but gripping Aizawa’s shoulders tight, hanging on for the ride, crying as he dug his fingers in and fought for leverage.

Aizawa wouldn’t let him.

“Roll over.” Aizawa demanded, and Bakugou jerked, staring at him with dark eyes, no trace of understanding. He moved his knee experimentally and Aizawa made no move to help him, didn’t stop fingering his cunt, nailing him now to the very webbing of his fingers.

“Now.” Aizawa said. Bakugou yelled, struggling to get his leg off Aizawa’s shoulder. Every new thrust into him jerked his whole body, stopping his progress, and his eyes screwed up with the pleasure of it, or maybe with the struggle, grunts falling from his parted lips.

Those lips looked amazing, looked right at home, when wrapped around someone’s hard cock. Sometimes it was Aizawa’s. Sometimes the little bunny wasn’t paying attention in class so Aizawa ordered him onto his knees, red-faced and embarrassed, had him crawl under the desk and put his mouth to good use.

It calmed him right down, spoke to the little bunny part of him that needed to be filled, always, the part that started to get louder and louder the longer he went with all his holes empty, without one of them getting filled by something big and warm and perfect.

Bakugou drooled brainlessly around his cock, his little bunny brain totally shut off, and then Aizawa tended not to hear any more complaints about the boy being too wet to pay attention and vicious with frustration.

It wasn’t every day.

Fuck, it wasn’t even every week. But you didn’t forget that kind of experience.

Aizawa drilled his fingers into Bakugou’s sweet pussy, gave him no mercy, and he finally was able to tug his leg off Aizawa’s shoulder. It left him, for a moment, with his legs spread wide, spread out with his knees back, so pretty and open, so exposed.

He didn’t let up and Bakugou cried out, yelling, gasping as he twisted his hips—momentarily distracting himself, he would move one way to try to shift his weight and end up going cross-eyed for it, canting his hips up to get Aizawa’s fingers deeper, to ride the rough and dirty fuck of them.

Tears were building in his eyes by the time he finally got his weight shifted onto one thigh, then his knee as he rolled, Aizawa moving easily with him to keep pounding into him, and several times his knees collapsed out from under him.

He pushed back up each time, so obedient, and Aizawa kept it up in reward, kept sliding deep and hard, and slick coated his hand. When Bakugou got both knees under him and finally made it up onto his forearms, settled onto his hands and knees despite his shaking frame, Aizawa said:

“Good.” And thrust back in with three.

It was tight, too tight—Bakugou’s pussy allowed it but it was a stretch. Aizawa could feel the struggle of it, the hot pulsing warmth, and Bakugou screamed immediately, screamed for him so gorgeous.

His arms buckled and he barely was able to catch himself on his elbows again, crossed under his face. His cheek pressed into his arms and he moaned, little “Nn, Nn, Nnn”s of noise as Aizawa slowly pushed all the way in.

When he got to the widest part, the third joint, he held his breath, clenching tight. Aizawa stopped inching forward and watched the bunny move his pussy back to cover the last inch, pink stretched lips getting closer to him, split wide in the middle.

His ass was two perfect globes, his other pink hole hidden between them just barely visible when he moved right. It was almost hiding the view.

Bakugou had sunk back onto his fingers beautiful so Aizawa rewarded him by screwing them to the side, drilling them in, and Bakugou jerked hard but not away, not able to move anywhere with Aizawa’s fingers in him like this, too big, too rough. He was wet but the stretch was too much, his walls to swollen to allow any movement. Bakugou panted harshly, struggling to raise himself up on his arms. His whole body was hung from Aizawa’s fingers, it felt like, struggling to take in their width.

Like he was struggling to even breathe around them.

He was too swollen to fuck on them, but he tried anyway, in little jerking flexes that Aizawa knew would feel amazing on his cock. He didn’t get anywhere. He didn’t get anywhere and it was still hot like fire.

The bunny whined, wanting to get fucked, then he caught himself. Bakugou scowled. Even now he was so stubborn.

His breathing was coming out like a bellows and he couldn’t stop his lower body from tugging and pulling against Aizawa’s fingers, trying so hard to fuck back against them, but too swollen and stuffed full to go anywhere.

Aizawa kept his hand still and watched, waiting. Finally the clenching slowed to a small rhythmic amount, like the contented pace Bakugou used while suckling on Aizawa’s cock, and Aizawa watched the hormones flow over Bakugou in waves.

Trapped, tied, full. Stuffed, stuck, stretched wide. His back shuddered and he rubbed his cheeks against his forearm, groaning low. Aizawa couldn’t see his face but he’d bet the bunny looked absolutely drugged right now.

Bunnies couldn’t have toys unless someone was there with them, controlling when they stopped. Bunnies couldn’t have toys to fuck on because they’d shove it in and out of their dripping little cunts until their legs gave out, until they were weak from dehydration and tears, and even then they’d twitch against it.

There was no end, though—the cock wouldn’t soften, spent. The cock wouldn’t spurt inside them, giving them a smug sense of a job well done. They’d keep trying to fuck it to completion, growing even more anxious about failing to perform.

Strangely, the same wasn’t true of plugs. Without the thrusting and fucking motions, the bunny was just full. Stretched and full and dazed. They slipped into that happy-content space where Bakugou tended to go when he warmed Aizawa’s cock: satisfied with their place in life, totally zoned out, and body pumping them full of feel-good hormones.

You could plug a bunny up safely, just don’t expect them to think with anything filling them like that. If Bakugou didn’t have precious few hours of free time in the dorms to do homework, study and visit with his friends, plugging him up there might be a solution.

But Aizawa was honestly leery of trusting teenagers—even his teenagers; or was that “especially?” his teenagers—with that much. A bunny all stuffed full of cock was not able to protest much. They could take advantage of him, embarrass him, or generally somehow damage his standing amongst his peers—something that was important for all growing teenagers, but especially for heroes in training.

Maybe on the weekend. He could call up Bakugou’s parents and see how they felt about pressing a wide plug into his pink pussy until his feet thumped erratically, laid on his back until he drooled, insensate. Aizawa couldn’t do it; if he sent Bakugou home like that, the bunny would no doubt miss his stop on the train, if not wander directly into traffic.

Bakugou shifted, face down, ass up, stretched tight around Aizawa’s fingers, and Aizawa got a glimpse of the boy’s other hole when his cheeks moved for half a breath.

God, he wanted to take Bakugou back to the classroom and teach him a lesson. He was too far gone right now to be embarrassed—much—and so out of it that it would be cruel and inhumane to leave his pussy untouched, but if he were just a little less over his limit, if Aizawa had caught him a few days ago as the need was still building up—

Aizawa resolved to keep an even closer eye on Bakugou for just this reason—

Then Aizawa would be completely justified in a preventative lesson. He could take Bakugou’s levels right down to something healthy again, and let the lesson sink home.

He pictured it as Bakugou clenched softly around his fingers, moaning under his breath with contentment.

In the classroom, showing Bakugou how disruptive he was being; unable to pay attention, unable to focus on anything but his mounting frustration, and how that made him angrier, bitter. His unwillingness to take care of it before it became Aizawa’s problem—or perhaps everyone’s problem—was deserving of correction.

Aizawa could spend some time showing him the error of his ways.

“Get your pussy out.” He’d say, as he always said, and Bakugou would flush hotly, mutinous. But he’d do it, shivering and shaking at being on display for their entire class. Aizawa would order silence, of course, and make it into an educational opportunity.

His fantasy slipped a little off the rail, then, because obviously he’d need lube, maybe some stretching—less careful than for a non-Bunny student, obviously, because his ass was made to be fucked, too, and required only a bit of lubricant to be ready—

But in his head he didn’t take any of those steps. Bakugou stepped out of his pants and—

No, suddenly Bakugou was wearing a skirt. Aizawa’s breath hitched. Bakugou was wearing a skirt and little lace panties and he lifted the front hem mulishly.

“There, sensei. It’s out.” He’d say, referring to the fact that you could see through the lace perfectly, his chubby pussy poking against the fabric.

“Mm, is it?” Aizawa would ask, tugging him closer, his back to Aizawa’s chest. He’d press his cock between Bakugou’s creamy thighs, so that the tapered crimson head was jutting out at the front, facing the class, red against the pink lace of the panties.

He’d rub up, dragging his length along Bakugou’s slit.

“Is it out, Bakugou? Could I fuck you like this?”

“No, Sensei.” Bakugou gasped, breathless. He shimmied, shifting from one foot to another at the tease against his lips, his clit.

“So get your pussy out, and rub it for me.” He turned away, pulling his dick out and leaving Bakugou cold, gasping. The boy pulled his panties down and left the skirt. He stepped out of them, struggling to get them over his shoes—the scrap of lace was less material than his sock, and bunched accordingly—as Aizawa brought a chair around.

“Sensei, Sensei, I’m ready for you.” Said the blushing bunny of his fantasy, and that was—wrong.

Aizawa realized it was wrong and the bunny transformed into his proper state, eager but bristling.

“Look, I did it. What more do you want from me?”

That was better. His voice still shook. The uniform skirt hid his pert ass and wet cunt from his classmates, but he had to be feeling vulnerable with nothing on underneath.

Aizawa wanted to bend him over the desk just so he could flip that skirt up—skirts always looked best flipped up from behind, thrown over someone’s back to bare their ass.

“Skirt too, Bakugou.” Aizawa said and Bakugou’s mouth dropped open indignantly. “This is to teach you a lesson. Let everyone see what a bunny looks like when they need to be fucked. Maybe they’ll get tired of waiting for you, or tired of your mouth, and take care of you whether you ask for it or not.”

Bakugou flushed and unzipped his skirt, letting it fall to the floor. Aizawa eyed his chest pointedly and the boy huffed, unbuttoning that too. Aizawa stepped closer and pulled first one tit, then the other, out of the trappings of fabric even as Bakugou continued unbuttoning beneath them.

“Stop.” Aizawa said. He did up a few of those buttons. Bakugou glared at him. It lost some of its heat because his shirt was buttoned up under his breasts, which spilled out of the top, excess fabric tucked under them.

The shirt was now all was wearing. Good.

Aizawa stroked his cock, entirely red rather than anything that matched his skin tone—from base to tip it was more like the color of his lips or tongue. Or maybe like the color of Bakugou’s pussy, even now peaking out from between his thighs—held tightly together out of embarrassment—or his puffy nipples.

Just because it was tapered didn’t make it slim by any means and Bakugou’s eyes widened as he looked at it. He’d seen it before, of course. He’d had it in him before.

But it was always exciting watching the bunny hindbrain take over his prideful student, tongue darting out to wet his lips. He wanted it in him. He wanted to be stuffed full.

He needed it. His thighs trembled. He took a step closer.

Aizawa sat in the chair. He pulled Bakugou into his lap, facing the class. He wrapped both arms under Bakugou’s knees, pulled back until those knees were flush with the bunny’s shoulders, revealing everything to the class.

He felt the bunny tremble, with anticipation or excitement or embarrassment—Aizawa thought it might be some of each, and he groaned, unable to help himself. He couldn’t see Bakugou but the class could, could see his eyes widened as he realized, as Aizawa’s ribbed cockhead slid between not his lips but his cheeks, the entire class getting to see that realization on his face, painted in tones of surprise and acceptance, as he squirmed, blushing, as his expression turned to eagerness.

It didn’t matter to the bunny which hole got filled—not much at least. He twitched his bunny feet, tummy clenching, pussy clenching—all glistening and pink to those who could see it—

Embarrassed for how much he wanted it, embarrassed for how wide his eyes flew, for the feel of those warm ribs sliding across his furled hole—

Bakugou groaned as Aizawa held his legs spread and lowered him onto Aizawa’s cock, trembling all over as it first breached his asshole, stretching it. A little wet from where he’d dripped down and back, lubricating the way but not enough. It didn’t hurt him because he was made for taking cock like this but his eyes still crossed, moaning out with fluttery gasps, and sinking down, down, down, his walls so tight and clamped onto him—

Much like Bakugou was currently.

His soft sounds penetrated the fog of Aizawa’s fantasy. The boy’s moans had steadily increased in tempo until he was rocking back on Aizawa’s fingers. Unlike when he’d tried to at first, now he was actually getting somewhere. Only a very tiny amount but it was enough for some friction, enough to rock himself forward and backward on his knees, drooling.

Aizawa shuffled forward and shifted his fingers—Bakugou’s moans jumped up a cadence in surprise—so that his thumb could brush the side of Bakugou’s clit. His pussy tightened involuntarily on Aizawa’s hand as he came with a startled gasp.

It took several long moments before Bakugou unclenched enough to let Aizawa’s fingers free, and when he pulled them out the boy whined unhappily.

“’m so empty.” He complained.

“And who’s fault is that?” Aizawa asked, but he let his voice be gentle. Now wasn’t the time to lecture Bakugou. He thumbed between his cheeks and breathed out shakily.

“Reach back and hold yourself open for me.”

Bakugou jumped, startled for the order. For a second Aizawa thought he wouldn’t do it, pride bubbling up at last, but he gulped and let his cheek rest on the concrete. Both hands came back to grab his cheeks and spread.

Aizawa looked at those fingers digging into plush skin and stood abruptly. Now he could see Bakugou’s pussy easily from this angle. He pulled his cock and balls through the zip of his tracksuit without bothering to take anything off.

Bakugou on his elbows had been a treat, but his face all the way down as he held himself wide, held himself open for Aizawa, was a vision.

Aizawa took himself in hand and slid his cock broadside through those spread cheeks, rubbing up against his hole.

His vaginal entrance quivered with slick.

“I almost want to jerk off on your ass.” Aizawa murmured and Bakugou hissed with protest.

“Sensei, no! I need it in me. Fill me up, please.” The back of his neck flushed red at having to ask for it.

“See, now was that so hard?” Aizawa asked as he leaned his wait into the slide, fucking Bakugou’s cheeks a little. “Do that with your classmates. Ask them to fuck you and they will.”

Bakugou’s jaw clamped shut.

“So stubborn.” Aizawa rolled his eyes.

An idea occurred to him.

“Midoriya is like your opposite, isn’t he? He has the urge to fuck. I could pair you up and take care of both problems.” But then neither of them would ever get anything done again.

They’d be too busy—heh—fucking like rabbits.

Bakugou bristled like he had the Cat Stigma.

Aizawa petted him reassuringly.

“Don’t worry about it just yet. I can see what we’ve been doing isn’t working. We’ll find a cock for you to bounce on more regularly.”

“Yours is fine.” Bakugou muttered rebelliously into the concrete. “’m not begging for anything from those extras.”

“You’ve got to learn to ask for help, Bakugou.” Aizawa sighed, reaching forward to run his hand all the way down the boy’s spine.

“I don’t need help.” He insisted, breath coming faster now as Aizawa shifted, rubbing his red cock between Bakugou’s legs now. It rubbed up against his hot pussy from the underside.

“You do. You can’t fuck yourself. Someone’s got to press into you, split you open. The bunny in you needs it.”

Bakugou’s feet twitched unhappily.

He shivered from the stimulation, the tease. Aizawa pressed a little harder, dragging his cock against wet folds.

“Need it.” Bakugou repeated. “C’mon, Sensei. Need it so bad.”

Aizawa hummed.

“You’re still so swollen, bunny. Your lips are all puffy. They’re so much bigger than normal, too. Why don’t you hold your pussy open for me, hmm?”

Hesitantly Bakugou’s hands came down as he worked out how to do just that. He couldn’t reach from the back so he pushed both arms between his legs—still up on his knees—and for a moment Aizawa went blind from lust.

The pose was far too innocent. He didn’t need to look any younger than he physically was. Aizawa looked up at the clouds and counted to ten.

He looked back down.

Bakugou’s hands were still gripping his oversized, pink labia, pulling them away from his opening. When Aizawa pushed in, his cock would brush Bakugou’s knuckles.

Aizawa pressed the ribbed head of his cock against Bakugou’s opening, rubbing there for a moment. Just rubbing. The pointed tip slipped in just a bit and he kept that up, pulling it in and out until the part of his cock pressing in was the width of the hole.

Then he kept pressing. The sides of his cock brushed against Bakugou’s knuckles as he gingerly spread his lips.

The little hole began to stretch.

Bakugou moaned, loud and insensate. It was a shameless noise, a bunny noise, and Aizawa abruptly wanted to get him to where he’s had him before—no tease, no prep, just a happy bunny bouncing eagerly on Aizawa’s cock.

The first few times it hadn’t gotten this dire, Bakugou hadn’t quite been in danger with his own stubbornness. Aizawa hadn’t tried to lecture him very much. His student had been able to focus on how good cock felt, how perfect, how happy it made his inner bunny to bounce, bounce, bounce without a care in the world.

Aizawa watched his cock sink in dizzily, inch by inch. Slow, of course—the walls let him in grudgingly, Bakugou’s pussy stretched around him, yielding to him, getting bigger because he was putting something big inside it.

“Please, please.” Bakugou begged, voice muffled by his face being half-pressed into concrete. He pressed his cheek to the ground and pushed up with his ass, trying to meet Aizawa faster, trying to get their hips flushed together.

His greedy hole sucked Aizawa right in but it was slow going. Through it all Bakugou held his lips apart, unnecessary after the head slipped in but mesmerizing to see.

“Touch your breasts, Bakugou.” Aizawa ordered roughly.

He moaned and complied instantly.

A bunny impaled on cock was almost suggestible. Bakugou would fight you if he didn’t want to do something but any bunny could be convinced of certain things through sheer pleasure.

Aizawa could whisper in his ear that he was made for this, that he should spend every waking moment sheathing Aizawa’s cock, and it would sink into his little bunny hindbrain until Bakugou thought of nothing else when he walked into Homeroom. The urge to bend over the desk would be irresistible.

Bakugou fondled his exposed tits, cupping the heavy weight of them. He had to brace his elbows to manage but his face remained pressed into the stone.

“Does it feel good, bunny?” Aizawa asked. He didn’t wait for an answer as the last inch slipped in, his furry balls smacking gently against Bakugou’s sensitive folds.

“Nnng!” His eyes were closed tight, lips parted. He didn’t stop playing with his gorgeous tits, pleasuring himself the only way he could. Bunnies didn’t really get much out of fingering themselves– their fingers were so small and it had the same problem as the dildos– so he probably masturbated like this, a pillow between his legs to ride, and all sensation coming from his abused nipples like two little clits.

He had probably wished he had something, anything, inside him, even if it was still and unmoving, as Aizawa’s cock currently was. Soft, desperate sounds were panting out of him with each breath; he wanted Aizawa to move, needed it. You couldn’t just plug up a bunny indefinitely; it was a stopgap measure in place of the real solution.

Aizawa rocked forward without thrusting, simply moving his body to move Bakugou’s. His balls rubbed gently against his labia and his clit; Bakugou clenched down around his cock without thinking about it, screamed, and did it again and again.

Aizawa slapped his ass harshly, the sound ringing out.

“Stop that, Bakugou. You’re already so tight. It has to hurt to squeeze around something so big.”

“Hurts.” Bakugou said. “Hurts good. So good, Sensei…”

Aizawa sucked in air.

“You’re so wet.” He breathed. “How are you so wet and so tight at the same time.”

Bakugou tremored around the cock splitting him open. He looked wrecked, devastated. His hands kept massaging his tits and stimulating his nipples because Aizawa had instructed him too.

Good bunny, good—

“That’s right, you’re doing so well.” Aizawa said, and Bakugou laughed, dazed. He squirmed around Aizawa’s cock, struggling to move, to rock back onto it.

Aizawa slowly drew back an inch and slammed in. Bakugou squeezed his tits harshly, the skin standing out white around his knuckles. He grunted, surprised. His pussy jerked inside, twitching madly.

Grabbing hold of his hips with both hands—which made the bunny drool out a moan—Aizawa repeated the process. Bakugou yelped, high and surprised, and his voice morphed into sweet little “Oh!”s as Aizawa continued to fuck him with short, sharp thrusts.

The first time he pulled almost all the way out, Bakugou’s opening clenching hard on his ribbed glans, the blonde made a garbled noise like he was choking on cock.

“Sensei!” He screamed, when Aizawa slid back in, a smooth, long stroke. Aizawa gave it to him, everything he asked for. He fucked into him with ruthless precision, cock pistoning in and out at speed.

He worked his tits frantically, squeezing like he would the edge of the desk. Many times, he’d scrabbled for the edges of that desk, grabbing the edges, hands flexing and clenching in time with the way Aizawa railed him.

Now he roughly kneaded his own tits, so rough on them, so fucking—

He didn’t have any mercy on his tortured nubs, pink and straining.

Aizawa yanked one hand off his perfect hips as if burned, shoving it around front. He positioned as carefully as he was able, to avoid interfering with where they joined, and slapped Bakugou’s swollen clit.

“AGHN!!” The bunny screamed, whole body jerking. Aizawa repeated the movement, loving and hating and thrilling in the way his pussy clamped down so hard, fucking milking Aizawa’s cock, how it hurt a little—

He laughed, smacking again. Bakugou arched up the concrete, back bent, yelling his way through another orgasm. His pussy slammed down, walls clenching so tight Aizawa hissed. Slick gushed around his cock, a liquid rush, and he pulled out with all the strength he dared use.

It was hard but his cock came, the way slicked by the squirted fluids, and forcing himself in again was like parting someone’s lips when they had their jaw clenched tight, there was hardly any give.

The second thrust was easier. By three he’d picked up a rhythm again, fucking Bakugou brutally through the aftershocks. He came again on Aizawa’s cock, breathless, a high and shocked noise leaving his mouth. He squeezed his eyes together like it hurt.

“Are you ready to bounce on my cock, Bakugou?” He asked, out of breath himself. Bakugou fell over himself to nod, head jerking the affirmative over and over again, mouth babbling nonsense. His hands working his pretty tits moved to a frantic pace in his eagerness.

Aizawa lifted him up wholescale by the hips, still deep in his pussy, and could just barely see the way Bakugou’s mouth fell open in shock, eyes alight with lust. Pure lust. He shifted in a deft maneuver until his elbows were hooked behind Bakugou’s knees, pussy out—now stuffed with cock, of course—and gave a few experimental thrusts to hear Bakugou moan prettily for each one, unable to so much as push into it. He was truly at Aizawa’s mercy.

But that wasn’t the goal, as worked up as it got the bunny.

He gently took them to the ground and laid back, glad he hadn’t taken anything else off. The suit had cushioned him from far worse than a grassy field in his career.

Aizawa eased back and watched the bunny appraise the new position, sitting up straight. His abs were tight, legs bent from how he was now squatting over Aizawa, cock pressed deep into him.

He adjusted his legs, relaxing them against the earth, and moaned high and sweet when it dropped him even more flush against Aizawa’s hips, cock pressing just that much further in.

Aizawa could physically see the bunny instincts begin to take over.

He got back into a squat, raising lewdly off a few inches of Aizawa’s cock to position himself. The red length of him still sat securely within—the bunny wouldn’t jeopardize his seating.

Bakugou attempted a single, tentative push up with his bent leg muscles, and without even turning around—as he clearly should have, so that his clit could rub firmly against Aizawa’s own mons—he promptly launched into a speedy bounce.

No build up, no trial-and-error. He did a half-bounce and then his brain kicked off entirely, insisting that he do it again, fast. Bakugou fucked himself on Aizawa’s cock as fast as he could, grunting-moaning sounds falling from his lips just as fast.

“Uhn, unh, mmh, mmh!” He abandoned all trace of shame and threw his head back, hands braced on Aizawa’s knees.

He came twice before he even thought about stopping, feet planted in the dirt. His legs quivered, bare. He fell sideways off Aizawa’s cock, dizzy with how hard he came the second time, and Aizawa took the opportunity to manhandle him a little.

“No!” Bakugou protested, unhappy, as Aizawa prevented him from climbing right back on his cock where he’d left off, but Aizawa was only turning him around.

He had to half-stand to reposition himself and Aizawa took in the sight of his abused, red pussy and his swinging tits. His face was ruddy with pleasure, tear-tracks trailing down his cheeks both old and fresh.

He looked wrecked.

He looked like he couldn’t wait for more.

Aizawa let him go and the bunny sank gratefully onto his cock, sighing with relief despite the way his body shook.

Bakugou’s hands hesitated a little as he found a place to brace them—Aizawa’s chest. He bit his lip and then gained confidence when Aizawa didn’t stop him. He had only so much attention to spare, most of his brain wrapped around the physical sensation of the cock parting his vaginal canal.

“Ohhh.” Bakugou sounded almost surprised as he sank down all the way again, eyes wide, like the jolt of pleasure and rightness wasn’t expected. He struggled to balance his knees and feet again, to get a good position to start bouncing.

He tried three times before he found a good rhythm, visibly frustrated with how long it was taking—new tears built up in his eyes and spilled over—and then he shouted, overjoyed, when he managed it.

Like before he started bouncing right away, fast and short rises and falls of his hips, only this time Aizawa could see his tits bounce, too; the way his eyes glazed over immediately.

He didn’t even try to press his mound against Aizawa’s, not bothered with his clit or his own orgasm. He simply chased the pleasure of a cock in him, spreading him open, the bunny in him fucking ecstatic to get to bounce and nothing else. Nothing to focus on, no thought in his head. He was capable of speech as Aizawa fucked into him, but like this he was all bunny.

Words were beyond him.

If Aizawa’s cock were a toy instead of flesh and blood, he would keep going until he fell over, twitching and spent. As soon as he recovered even a little bit, he’d have determinedly climbed right back on and started bouncing again.

Aizawa, however, was no toy.

He felt closer and closer but the pace was too fast, the strokes too short to provide adequate anything. It got him to the edge but couldn’t tip him over. He reached out and grabbed Bakugou’s hips, the bunny’s hands immediately flying off Aizawa’s torso to grab onto them.

Aizawa had to stop to drink in the sight, Bakugou with his tits out and his face twisted up in pleasure, his hands covering Aizawa’s own on the bunny’s hips.

“Nnngh!” The blonde whined in protest as Aizawa interfered in his pace, forcing him into a gentler bounce. The protests stopped when Aizawa fucked up off the ground and into him, meeting him thrust for thrust. These were long, rough strokes. His balls slapped against Bakugou’s ass with a lewd smacking sound.

Bakugou cooed, toes curling on the ground—he’d settled more on his knees and shins, feet facing the sky.

“Fucking—yes.” Aizawa hissed, thrusting into that tight heat, that perfect heat. Bakugou’s hands squeezed his writsts, encouraging, so encouraging, the bunny’s mouth open, his pretty lips parted so he could gasp and moan and writhe on the cock, on Aizawa’s cock, he held the bunny down on his cock—

Bakugou whined in protest, kicking his feet dramatically at nothing—

The bunny squirmed, he clenched, and Aizawa forced cock up into him, he was still so swollen, so—fucking perfect, so—

He made it three more thrusts before he came hard, balls drawing up all at once. Aizawa leaned up without thought, arching inward in pleasure, pressing his face between those soft mounds of tits and moaning as he fucked the bunny through it.

Bakugou vibrated, thrilling through a silent orgasm—his mouth was open, eyes wide and blank, and no sound came out, no sound. He held himself so tense, back arching with it—forcing his pretty tits close, up into invisible hands—

A bunny will always come when you come, twisting and shaking through an orgasm at the mere feel of a cock painting their insides—

And then he slumped, like a puppet with his strings cut. Aizawa caught him in a soft hug, leading them both back softly to the ground, the bunny cradled against his chest. He held him like that even as he pistoned his hips leisurely up in slow, lingering thrusts.

Aizawa was not a toy. He came and then he fucked Bakugou leisurely through the aftershocks, the bunny shuddering with pleasure and encouragement as he cuddled sweetly into Aizawa’s chest, pussy still milking the last drops of spend from his cock, feet thumping happily against the grass.

Aizawa was not a toy, so when Aizawa was done, the bunny was done. Well, he’d cockwarm until Aizawa got too soft to stay inside, and then he’d cry about the lack of cock, but the urge to bounce until he fainted from exhaustion was gone.

Bakugou hummed, pleased.

He was so happy.

Fucked-stupid and grinning. He’d be smiling for the next day, his inner bunny all satisfied and stretched. He’d be sore for days, plural, even if he wasn’t truly hurt. It was satisfying to bunnies that their bodies let them feel the effects of a good fuck for as long as possible.

For the next few days, Bakugou would be shifting in his seat, pressing his abused pussy against the chair just to feel the soreness. He’d gasp and his bunny would hum, pleased, in the back of his mind, releasing feel-good hormones. He might even reach down and rub himself—well.

Nobody expected great self-control from a bunny.

Aizawa would have to work on his plans to prevent this from happening again—or to ensure it.