AjaxTheGreat
@ajax_great
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🔞 // appalachia ➡️ rva ➡️ pnw // queer horror enthusiast // they/she // FREE PALESTINE 🇵🇸
Puget Sound
Joined October 2018
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once my vaccination takes full effect y’all better watch out because I will ABSOLUTELY still be cancelling plans just with different excuses
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watching ofmd makes you want to embrace queer joy and love and acceptance and self care
watching black sails makes you want to seize the means of production and take part in the coming proletariat uprising and this ends when homophobes beg for MY forgiveness
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so i guess we're doin this, idk how to do a thread so ... if its messed up idk what to tell you
uh cw for: shinzawa, sex pollen but like the least dubcon sex pollen imaginable, *gasp* THEY USED TO BE STUDENT/TEACHER???
set 10 yrs in the future. we're all horny here, right?
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this is so real. “it’s queer” okay and????? that cannot possibly be all. I am queer and boring. we have queer and boring at home.
unfortunately I do in fact watch media for compelling narrative and good writing
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still thinking about the woman I met in a coffee shop 3 years ago who sat down across from me, announced that we were soulmates and lovers in our last five lives, engaged me in 3 hours of conversation about her adventures sailing the Aegean, and then disappeared forever
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Shinsou’s so far beyond coherency by the time Sensei sets his teeth on Shinsou’s shoulder and comes in him that he he just keeps making these high, overwhelmed whimpers when he feels it, and both of them pass out before the quirk even runs out.
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Sensei’s burrowed in Shinsou’s blankets. Just his face is sticking out.
“Come on then, Sensei,” Shinsou says, chest oddly light, “I’ll teach you.”
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Okay but GUYS - Shouto gets hit with a quirk that fucking separates his fire side from his ice side, confusing and hornily devastating everyone in a ten mile radius
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Shinsou squeezes his eyes shut, says, “I meant how - long does this quirk last.” His brain is too hot, keeps hyperfocusing on Sensei’s voice through the phone, so what he’s actually /said takes a second to really sink in. “Wait, what did you think I was asking?”
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He’s talking out loud, and Sensei makes a pained hissing noise into the phone and curses viciously under his breath.
Sensei whispers, with an astounding amount of urgency, “/Stop it.”
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landlord sent a guy to cut down a tree, I talked to him last week. today my husband answers the door and:
guy: oh, oh, shit man, shit sorry
husband: ????
guy: sorry my man it’s just like the last time I was here a lesbian answered the door
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hello I return to twitter bearing gifts: the jealous Ed fic
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i choose to believe instead that xxc is in fact profoundly stupid
aqing straight up dropping lines like this and xxc being the angel he is still lets her tag along even tho he knows she isnt blind 😔
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BUZZFEED VIDEO: PRO HEROES READ THIRST TWEETS ABOUT THEMSELVES
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woke up to this in my camera roll with no memory of saving it last night
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Shinsou isn’t exactly sure how he gets home after the fight, only that he does.
He stumbles through his front door, tears off his mask and collapses against the wall, panting and itchy and hot. He feels like he just ran a fucking marathon. He’s covered in sweat.
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It’s so hard to think like this.
Sensei says absolutely nothing in response. He’s completely silent.
Shinsou kind of .... loses himself.
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Sensei gets it, of course. He always gets it. He winds his fingers into Shinsou’s hair and pulls at the roots, murmurs in that shockingly possessive voice, “Knew you’d like that, knew you’d like bein my baby, you are, you fuckin are, you know you’re my fuckin favorite, Toshi.”
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i do like fantasy but why is it always about the rich and noble houses doing political intrigue
want a peasant comedy that’s like so our village got burned by dragon fire again, me and my 6 friends are going out in our burlap sacks to stage a heist of the crown jewels or whatever
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He stops very suddenly, voice cutting off so abruptly that Shinsou thinks for a second that he’s hung up.
The realization hits him at the same time it seems to hit Sensei.
He remembers himself stupidly, fucking recklessly saying /Feels worse since I started talkin’ to you/.
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Shit on a motherfucking stick.
Fuck.
Like an idiot, Shinsou hears himself say, “Shit.”
Sensei is very, very quiet on the other end of the phone, but he doesn’t hang up.
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this woman was a living myth I swear to god. she touched my hand one time and I was suddenly like unbearably destructively horny and it lasted for weeks
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After another long stretch of silence, Sensei’s voice is exhausted and darker than Shinsou’s ever heard it when he says, “I can’t talk about this, Shinsou.”
Wait. What?
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His brain plays the little hitch in Sensei’s breath over and over and /over again, until he feels like he’s insane, like he’s delirious, like if he doesn’t come he’s going to /die.
His voice is slurred and quiet when he says, “Sensei, it - it’s worse.”
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It feels - close. Shinsou feels a bead of sweat roll down the back of his neck.
Why is he so fucking /hot -
“So, look, about the quirk -”
“Feels worse since I started talkin’ to you, Sensei.”
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He wrenches Shinsou up by the hair and reaches around to shove two fingers in his mouth, whispering on a harsh exhale and a hard thrust inside, “I wanna hear you, lemme hear you scream, come on, baby, my baby, you can do it, I know you can-”
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Sensei’s lips are right at his ear now, hand going from the back of his neck around to the front, pressing gently Shinsou’s throat in a gesture that feels equal parts reassuring and possessive as fuck.
“Good, god, good boy, fuck, /fucking hell.”
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“It - fuck.”
Shinsou’s eyes snap open. He’s never heard Sensei curse like that. Something about the tone of his voice has Shinsou taking a deep, shaking breath, scrubbing a hand over his burning face. God, he’s so hot. His hands are shaking.
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wait wait wait but imagine a cryptic and vaguely criminal “putting the crew back together” sequence with 1A
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taking /advantage of him, the thought makes his fucking vision go dark. He wants Sensei to fuck him to the edge of consciousness. He wants Sensei to do anything he wants to him.
Anything. God, please, /anything.
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Sensei’s voice is very quiet when he speaks next.
“It’s uh, it’s a - she hit you with a lust quirk, Shinsou.”
Oh. Yeah, that would explain the burning fever. And the exceptionally hard dick which somehow Shinsou’s just noticing, how did he not notice that before?
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Shinsou feels it like a slap to the face. He comes /immediately, the force of it fucking shocking him. It ruins him. It’s so /much, so overwhelming, that it hardly even registers as pleasure. He has no idea what sort of noise he makes.
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Sensei misinterprets his tone of voice and says in a halting, awkward sort of voice, “Look, Shin, she’s registered and we know how her quirk works, it’s not gonna make you hurt anyone, alright? It’s more like an amplifier, you gotta want - someone first, it just -”
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every time I see “senior wei” I read “señior wei” and it turns everything into a lighthearted but dramatic telenovela
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I swear to god if the main characters don’t finally get to have an emotional threesome in season 4 of castlevania i will fully lose it
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He wants Sensei to pick him up off the floor and put him exactly how he wants him and fuck him until he blacks out. He wants Sensei’s hands on him when he’s insane with it like this, covered in tears and sweat and come and fucking delirious with pleasure, taking -
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The sound of Sensei’s voice has Shinsou physically /shuddering in relief.
“Sorry, Sensei.”
“I wa- we were worried about you.”
Shinsou lays his head back against the side of the bed.
“Sorry, Sensei.”
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Nothing helps: he downs half a gallon of ice water, he tears off all his clothes, takes a cold shower. The water makes him feel sick, his clothes are stuck to his body with sweat and taking them off leaves him feeling sticky and exposed and awful.
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Sensei makes that fucking sound again, cut-off like he’s trying to stop, and then in a voice that sounds completely devastated and so low it actually rattles the phone against Shinsou’s ear, Sensei says, “/Hitoshi.”
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.
.
.
.
that’s all folks. thanks for bein the best. here’s a link to a playlist I made for Shinsou because he deserves cool vibes.
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“You wanna know it’s /just me, fucking you cause I can’t stop myself.”
Shinsou bites his lip so hard it starts to bleed. He barely notices. Hearing Sensei say /fucking you/ is literal fucking ecstasy in his veins. He feels high as shit. He might really burn up from the inside.
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Not to mention that Sensei hasn’t mentioned Denki to him in months, maybe years, since Shinsou and Denki moved in together and Sensei got all weird about it -
/Jealous, says the voice Shinsou always ignores, /He’s jealous -
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“I trust you,” Shinsou says, and somehow it feels like the filthiest thing he’s ever said to anyone. A sort of rush goes through him when he says it, like a high hitting him. His hand on his cock feels like it gets several degrees hotter.
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Sensei shoves all the way inside and just sort of stays there, makes little motions with his hips without ever pulling out and drops his head to bite Shinsou’s shoulder, whispers feverishly, “My favorite, my baby, my baby,” over and over.
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Then Sensei says, “Kaminari?”
God, Denki.
Shinsou thinks briefly of Denki and his long blonde eyelashes, flashing him that smile, that /fucking smile, thinks of the way he can get Shinsou’s cock so far down his throat that Shinsou can /see it in there,
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“You shouldn’t,” Sensei says, and there’s something in it that Shinsou doesn’t recognize; he identifies it as /violence at the same time Sensei speaks again.
“You really shouldn’t, Hitoshi.”
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They stay like that for some amount of time, and every second Shinsou feels himself getting worse, and then he hears Sensei take a long, shaking breath and he suddenly feels like he is on /fire. It burns. He can’t stand it.
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so the systemic struggle of queer marginalization and seeking revenge for the consequences of that marginalization - the driving force of the main characters entire narrative arc - isn’t gay because there aren’t enough boys kissing. and girls don’t count. smooth brain take
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“8 hours, kiddo.”
Shinsou, horribly and painfully, comes /again at the easy, almost condescending affection in the name. So soon after the first one it’s more of a convulsion than an orgasm. It feels so good it hurts. Or it hurts so much it feels good, it’s hard to tell which.
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Just the memory, just the /thought of Sensei saying his name is enough to make him whine into the receiver again. God, he sounds like Denki. He sounds like a goddamn whore.
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“/Fuck, fuck. Jesus fuck, he’s out of town. God, that made it worse.”
Sensei fucking laughs at him, a soft short little huff under his breath, and for some reason /that makes it worse too. Shinsou feels like he’s teetering on the edge of a cliff.
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I know this sounds like I was living a lesbian period romance but it’s because I was
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There it is.
Ten years and he’s never said that. He can feel the words in his chest, after he says them. Burning him.
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“Shinsou, /calm down/.”
He can’t really help it: it’s the panic, and the fever, and Sensei’s voice is so solid - and - that other thing Shinsou tries really hard not to think about -
He sighs.
He /sighs into the phone, slides onto the floor again with his back to the wall.
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Everything’s all just - a sticky, too-hot jumble of sensation. The only thing Shinsou can isolate is Sensei’s voice, and the acute, /searing pleasure it gives him.
He hardly recognizes his own voice when he whispers, “I -I need you, Sensei.”
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“Oh.”
“Happened when you touched her skin, kiddo.”
Shinsou inexplicably shudders again, and it’s - not unpleasant. “Oh.”
“It’s - these things aren’t - they aren’t all that uncommon, it’s, it’s part of the work, you know.”
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Sensei curses under his breath and it’s really all Shinsou can do in the world to keep his hands off his fucking cock. It still feels - like a line he can’t cross.
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/Touch me fucking touch me fuck fucking touch me touch me -
Shinsou’s mind is on fire. He feels like a fucking animal. He doesn’t know he’s whispering until Sensei makes a low, soft whining sound. Like a dog.
Shinsou hears himself saying, “Touch me, touch me, fucking -”
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“Am I gonna - hurt someone? What do I do?”
Everything suddenly gets thrown into sharp, terrifying focus for a second: what if he hurts someone, what if this gets worse and he can’t control himself, why the fuck didn’t he get checked out by the medic before he came home and
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Sensei takes another breath, the same kind he taught Shinsou to take to endure enormous pain.
Then:
“I know.”
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There’s an exhausted, put-upon sigh on the other end that has Shinsou sitting up straight, and then a low, tired voice says, “Kid, you can’t just /leave an active crime scene, shit.”
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Sensei fucks him slow after that, in shallow gentle little motions like the sea, whispering into Shinsou’s sweat-soaked hair things about what he still wants to do to him, how perfect he is, how good he feels to fuck.
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The second he says /my baby/ Shinsou’s coming again, in the same fucking breath. It’s searing. He does scream. His voice cracks.
Sensei doesn’t fucking /stop.
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Apropos of nothing Shinsou mutters, “I don’t feel so hot, Sensei.”
“Shit.”
Shinsou hears himself huff a hysterical little laugh. “Actually, I do. Feel hot. Think I got a fever or somethin’.”
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ok but shinkami Cinderella au where they have a one night stand and it’s so good that Denki can’t come with anyone else afterwards, spends weeks searching for the magic dick that ruined his life
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This time the concern seems to override whatever battle Sensei had clearly been fighting with himself, because he says immediately, voice so soft Shinsou can almost feel it like a touch, “It’s okay, it’s okay. You don’t have to stop.”
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thinks of the specific little noise he makes when Shinsou eats his ass, like he’s going to cry, thinks of his fucking eyes and his lips and his -
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He hears Sensei speak to someone else, away from the phone: “Yeah, no, I got it, thanks.”
Then, after another beat, “Kid?”
Again, Shinsou shudders. He feels like it’s getting worse.
“Yeah, I’m uh. I’m still here, Sensei. You gotta stop callin’ me that.”
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On the other end of the line, Sensei says nothing. Shinsou realizes he’s shaking.
“I’m, uh. How. Long,” he manages, voice hoarse. He feels half an inch from insanity.
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He makes an awful, wrenched-out-of-him sound when he does it. It sounds like a whine and a sob and a moan all at once.
There are tears on his face, but they’re indistinguishable from the sweat. He feels fucking delirious.
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Sensei either doesn’t hear, or pretends not to. His voice is still very deliberately steady, like it used to get back in school when he was teaching Shinsou how to control his breathing.
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Sensei leans forward over him, hand still on the back of his neck, and guides his cock the rest of the way in when he murmurs, “I got you, sweetheart.”
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He whispers, “Sensei?”
No response.
Shinsou licks his lips. He wonders if Sensei can hear him do it. “Why haven’t you hung up the phone?”
Nothing, and then a halting, quiet breath, and Sensei’s low, low voice saying, “I don’t know.”
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There’s the low murmur of voices on the other end, like Sensei’s talking to someone, and then another long sigh that for some reason makes Shinsou smile, and Sensei says, “Shit.”
Shinsou closes his eyes. It’ll be fine, Sensei will take care of it.
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“Listen, you.... you might have got uh. Hit with a quirk, tonight.”
“Yeah, gathered that.”
There’s a shuffling sound, and then Sensei’s voice is much softer and his surroundings are very quiet, like he’s in his car or his office.
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Fucking chaos breaks out, Ochako sees Izuku fucking making out with some tall redheaded dude with the door wide open but she can’t see anything else because like there’s hands everywhere and Izuku’s trying to fucking climb him like a tree and their shirts are already half off
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Shinsou runs a hand through his wet hair. It’s feeezing, it’s actually stiff with ice. He hadn’t even noticed - he’d already forgotten he opened the windows. He’s still so fucking hot.
He struggles to think about this rationally, to look at the whole situation.
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Then he remembers the fucking villain’s /face at the end of the fight, when Shinsou had put the cuffs on her and even through his brainwashing she had given him this tiny little smirk when his fingers had touched her bare skin.
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He thinks about what Sensei would do with him if he walked into Shinsou’s house and found him like this, and a jolt of pleasure like an electric shock grabs him by the base of his spine.
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Jesus suffering Christ.
Shinsou didn’t realize what it would /do to him: hearing Sensei actually admit that he knew Shinsou was sitting there fucking his own fist and listening to him breathe into the phone was bad enough, but god, hearing him fucking /encouraging it/ –
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fuck, he’s going to make himself /sick with the windows open like this, it’s in the single digits outside, his hair is fucking icing over -
He scrambles up and closes the windows, panic leaking into his voice when he says, “Sensei. What do I - what do I do.”
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It’s been nearly seven /years and he hasn’t been able to forget a single detail of that dream.
Shinsou starts jerking himself off without really realizing it, like an involuntary reflex, one he is powerless to stop. Like a heartbeat.
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This time Sensei sounds like his hand is over his mouth when he says, “Oh my god.”
Is he still talking out loud?
“Y-” Sensei clears his throat, but his voice is still hoarse when he continues, “Yeah, you’re. Yeah.”
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There’s maybe four or five seconds when Shinsou has his mind back, and then that suffocating haze of sensation and heat smothers it again.
“Fuck,” Shinsou hears himself whining. He starts to /cry. If he had the capacity to feel shame it would be crushing him now. “It’s- still-”
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He’s sitting on the floor of his bedroom in nothing but a towel, propped up against his bed because everything is spinning and he can’t lay down, still sweating even with all the windows thrown open in January, hair dripping freezing cold water onto his shoulders and neck.
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so this afternoon it started snowing at acadia national park and we got engaged on a big dramatic rock by the ocean
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“Nineteenth birthday,” Shinsou murmurs. His voice is slower, now. Hoarse and quiet.
It’s hard to speak, but also hard not to. He feels compelled to, like he’s too tired not to tell Sensei everything. “Just a dream, woke up all covered in-”
“/Don’t.”
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His chest is pressed against Shinsou’s back and his fucking shirt is still on, his /pants are still mostly on, and he keeps pulling Shinsou’s hair and grinding his hips into him and fucking him so good it makes Shinsou /wail into the pillow.
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Shinsou squeezes his fingers around his cock and hisses, “/Sensei-”
“Kid,” Sensei says, voice almost - desperate. Warning.
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When his voice drops and he says, “Come on, good boy, come for me,” Shinsou does it with shout that makes his voice crack.
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“It’s gonna be fine. You’re gonna be fine, you’re not gonna hurt anyone.”
Shinsou’s voice is sort of breathless when he says, “Okay.”
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“Jesus /Christ, kid, do you always talk like this?”
Whoops.
Shinsou huffs a hysterical laugh, feels the way it makes his body jerk, feels it in the finger currently circling his hole all covered in come –
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Shinsou has just enough time to register that /good boy/ makes him blush all the way to his fucking asshole before he’s getting fucked within an inch of his life.
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The shower is so cold it /hurts, and still when he gets out there’s a feverish pink flush on his skin.
Maybe he’s just getting sick.
Really sick. He should call his agency.
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He remembers the dream with an awful, crushing clarity, his fevered mind showing him things that ruin him: Sensei’s hand on Shinsou's jaw, his eyes dark and intent on Shinsou’s mouth. Sensei’s neck, his fingers, his incongruously delicate wrists. His eyes. God, his fucking eyes.
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- and hearing Sensei say Denki’s name in that voice sends a sweeping, all-over shiver through him, so hard he hears his own breath hitch with it.
Shinsou’s stupid cock jerks so hard it actually starts to /hurt. He balls his free hand into a fist so tight his knuckles creak.
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“Cause you wanna know it’s me, don’t you?” Sensei says, voice soft and - something. “Just me.”
Shinsou has never heard /anyone’s voice sound like this. It’s barely audible and yet it’s - it’s the only thing he can fucking hear.
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Shinsou ignores him and asks the question he hadn’t meant to ask earlier. This time he means to.
/Touch me, touch me fucking touch me -
“How long, Aizawa-Sensei?”
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