Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/13358844.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      僕のヒーローアカデミア_|_Boku_no_Hero_Academia_|_My_Hero_Academia
  Relationship:
      Monoma_Neito/Shinsou_Hitoshi
  Character:
      Shinsou_Hitoshi, Monoma_Neito
  Additional Tags:
      Post-Canon, Mind_Control, Consensual_Mind_Control, kinky_use_of_quirks,
      Masturbation, Orgasm_Delay/Denial, Forced_Orgasm, Chocolate_Box_Exchange,
      Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without_Plot, Coming_Untouched, Developing
      Relationship, Training, Shinsou_Hitoshi_is_in_Class_1-B, frenemies_to
      lovers
  Collections:
      Chocolate_Box_-_Round_3
  Stats:
      Published: 2018-02-19 Words: 4244
****** Best Interests ******
by doxian
Summary
     Monoma and Shinsou practice.
"Let's practice," says Monoma to Shinsou.
They're flopped on their backs side by side on the grass in the courtyard. It's
sunny out, and peaceful, so the lawn is filled with their schoolmates studying,
chatting, throwing the odd frisbee around.
"That is why I came out here," Shinsou reminds him. Just in case Monoma
might've been under the impression that Shinsou was meeting him for the
pleasure of his company or something. "How confident are you that it'll work?"
Monoma turns on his side to face Shinsou, bends one knee and rests his chin in
his hand like he's posing for a magazine photo. He thinks for a second.
"Reasonably confident," he says. "I agree with what you said last time, that
using a quirk over and over would probably allow me to use the more difficult
parts of it."
"I'm not sure how useful doing that with my quirk will be, though," Shinsou
says.
"Don't be so quick to dismiss it," Monoma says with a smile, like he knows
better. "Besides, it'll be good for me to be able to use more of a person's
quirk in general, not just the absolute basics. This will be a good start."
Shinsou shrugs a shoulder, the closest to an agreement he'll give.
Monoma sits up and holds out a hand. Shinsou takes it.
"Ready?"
"Yeah," Shinsou says, and blacks out.
--
While Monoma is adept at putting borrowed quirks to the best possible use under
his time limit, usually he only brushes a quirk's surface. He can't access
another quirk's special attack, for instance. If he wanted to move forwards
with his quirk, he told Shinsou, that obviously had to change.
When Shinsou brought up the fact that it would probably be easier with quirks
Monoma was already more accustomed to, he hadn't necessarily meant his own,
but, well. If he had wanted to stay uninvolved he should've just kept his mouth
shut.
"It didn't work," Shinsou says from where he's lying on the grass. Monoma is
standing over him, frowning, eyes and mouth pinched like he just bit into a
lemon slice.
"If you don't remember anything of the last five minutes then, no, it didn't,"
Monoma says, holding out a hand so he can pull Shinsou to his feet.
Over the last year or so, Shinsou had learnt how to have victims retain
consciousness while they're brainwashed. He'd been in discussions with Recovery
Girl and Aizawa-sensei about using it for more therapeutic purposes or to
enhance the fighting prowess of heroes he's teamed up with, but so far he
hasn't found any direct use for it in combat. Which is why he's not too sure
why Monoma is keen to practice accessing it.
Shinsou stands, brushes the grass from his clothes.
"Once more?" Monoma asks, and Shinsou shrugs at him again.
"Sure."
--
Monoma isn't successful that afternoon, so they try again.
This time, Shinsou blacks in balancing on one foot with his arms stretched out.
He barely catches himself from falling over, flailing his arms and setting his
other foot down just in time.
"You're not making any progress," he sighs. He looks at Monoma suspiciously.
"Hey. You didn't make me do anything weird, did you?"
"Me?" Monoma says, putting a hand to his chest and affecting a wide-eyed,
guileless expression that only incriminates him further. "You know I would
never."
Shinsou squints at him, recalling another of their practice sessions where he
blacked in doing a pose that he had a distinct feeling was a dance move, but
lets it drop.
"Let me give it another shot."
"No," Shinsou says, turning Monoma around bodily and nudging him towards the
opposite end of the lawn. "We've been working on your quirk for long enough.
Get over there. I want to see if I can improve my range."
Training together had become a habit long before this project of Monoma's, so
practicing on each other is nothing unusual. For one reason or another, when
Shinsou was transferred to Class B in his second year, Monoma immediately
decided that they would be allies. Probably because he expected Shinsou to
share a similar disdain for Class A, which isn't entirely true. Or rather,
Shinsou does want to surpass them, of course he does, but his priority is to
get better, full stop. Sometimes he feels as though Monoma is more invested in
seeing Class A fail even if it means failing right along with them rather than
reach his own potential. It's a source of frustration, but then Monoma is just
a frustrating person as a whole. There's no getting around that.
However, Monoma is also one of the few people in the class who's willing to
practice with him. Class B's reaction when he'd transferred had been warmer and
less judgmental than he expected — he attributed it to them having seen worse
than the other classes, being in hero training and all — but the majority of
them are still leery of being brainwashed. Which only makes sense, Shinsou
supposes.
After their third or fourth time training together, Shinsou had asked Monoma if
he was really okay with it, if Shinsou having control over him like that wasn't
worrying to him.
"It's fine. You're too naive and straightforward to do anything truly bad,"
Monoma had answered with a smile, and Shinsou wasn't sure whether to feel
reassured or insulted.
--
The third time, Shinsou gets an idea.
"Let's go somewhere with fewer people," he says.
They end up in Shinsou's room, on Shinsou's bed. This is the first time he's
ever had Monoma over, Shinsou realizes.
"Nice cat cushion," Monoma grins.
"Shut up," Shinsou says. "Do you want to practice or not?"
He lets Monoma put his hand on his arm, replies when Monoma speaks to him. He's
fully expecting to black out again, but it never happens.
Had Monoma not taken control of him? He goes to open his mouth to ask as much,
but he finds that he can't speak.
Monoma succeeded, then.
It's the strangest feeling. Shinsou is still there, within his own body, but at
the same time he's not. His limbs don't feel like his own anymore. His
consciousness seems to be floating somewhere above him, suspended between his
body and the ceiling, but at the same time it's as if he's trapped inside of
himself.
"Put your finger on your nose," Monoma says.
Shinsou does so, watching his finger land on his face without him putting it
there.
"Put your other hand on your head."
Shinsou can feel his arm moving, his muscles working, but it's as though he's
being guided into position by invisible hands.
Monoma walks him around his room, has him sit at his desk, open his laptop. Get
up again. Shinsou thinks he should feel more panicked than he does. He is
weirded out at not being able to control his own body, but more than anything
he feels calm. Calm, and strangely excited, his heart drumming in his chest in
anticipation for-- what, he's not sure.
The five minutes run out as Monoma has him climb back onto his bed, lying down
this time, his head pillowed in his hands.
Control returns to him, running through his body all at once. Shinsou blinks,
sitting up, moving and stretching his arms out just because he can.
"Finally," he mutters, ignoring the way his heart is still beating a tattoo
against his ribcage. "Took you long enough to get it."
He notices it the same time that Monoma does — that is, not quickly enough.
That explains the thrill he'd been experiencing earlier. He's half hard.
"Don't say anything," he hisses.
Monoma isn't listening. He's looking at Shinsou with a manic glint in his eye
that isn't unlike how he looks when they've gotten one over Class A.
Fuck. Shinsou isn't going to hear the end of this.
--
As expected, Shinsou doesn't hear the end of it.
Monoma hones his control. So does Shinsou. After a few more practice sessions,
Monoma can maintain Shinsou's consciousness seamlessly across one five minute
window to the next, his control almost as consistent as Shinsou himself.
Shinsou thinks up visuals that will distract from the dizzying feeling of
Monoma pulling his body's strings. He gets the hang of it quickly, but then
being made fun of for popping boners during training is quite the stick.
Not like that's enough of a deterrent to Monoma, not when Shinsou's one or two
initial incidents were fuel enough for his jibes.
(Shinsou asks himself why he doesn't just stop the training altogether. He
tells himself that Monoma's too valuable a practice partner to lose.)
"So about you getting a hard-on while being brainwashed," Monoma begins, taking
a seat across from Shinsou in the cafeteria and setting down his breakfast tray
without asking.
Shinsou almost spits out his water, but recovers quickly.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. I think--"
Shinsou points to his dish of natto.
"Eat all of that natto in one bite."
A good amount of sputtering later — Monoma spat some out, but swallowed at
least half of it, Shinsou is pleased to note — Monoma continues.
"Disgusting," he says, dramatically gulping milk tea. "Why did you do that?!"
Shinsou looks pointedly at some of the other students sitting at nearby tables.
"Okay, fine, I'll keep it down--"
"Why do we even have to talk about it at all--"
"You like it, right?"
Shinsou gives him a withering look, like he won't hesitate to have Monoma shove
even more gross (in Monoma's opinion, anyway — Shinsou has no idea what anyone
would have against the soybean dish) food items into his mouth, but Monoma's
expression is uncharacteristically frank.
"I thought it would be interesting to try something."
He sips at his tea, trying to recover some dignity after gracelessly slurping
it down earlier. Shinsou decides not to tell him he'd splashed some on his
shirt.
"Okay?"
"I could control you while you get off," Monoma mumbles. He doesn't quite meet
Shinsou's eyes, holding his cup in front of his face. He sounds like he started
losing conviction as soon as the words came out of his mouth.
Shinsou looks at him blankly.
"What."
"I just thought it would be interesting to try it," Monoma says, defensively.
"Don't tell me you've never been curious about using your quirk on someone else
like that."
Shinsou glares at him. "No, I'm not interested in using it like that. God, you
sound like my old classmates, I thought you'd know better than to think--"
"No," Monoma clicks his tongue impatiently, "Not forcing someone — asking
first. Like I'm asking you."
Shinsou stares.
"I don't want to have sex with you."
"I didn't mean that either. I meant what I said: I control you, you get
yourself off." He laughs lightly, but it comes out a little forced. "I won't
touch you. I don't even want to! Like I said, I'm just curious, and you're the
obvious person to ask."
Shinsou regards Monoma for a long moment.
"Kendo-san was right. You really are a pervert."
"Uh, excuse me, I'm not the one who gets off on this in the first pl--"
"I'll think about it," Shinsou says, standing up and picking up his tray.
They've been speaking in low voices but he's still hyperaware of the increasing
buzz of students around them. Why'd Monoma decide now was a good time to talk
about this? "I don't know how I feel about doing something like that with you."
"Don't worry, I'll make sure it's good. You know I have your best interests at
heart," Monoma grins as Shinsou strides away.
--
"Now, it's fine if you've changed your mind," Monoma says as Shinsou opens the
door to his dorm room and lets them both in.
His tone is so cloying, so condescending, that Shinsou has to snort.
"I haven't," he says, shutting the door with a decisive click. "Come on."
They take their places on Shinsou's bed, Shinsou sitting up at the head of it.
He bends a knee and rests an arm on it, affecting casualness even though he's
never done anything like this before. He tilts his chin at Monoma.
"Well? Let's go. Or," he smirks, "are you having second thoughts about this?"
Monoma smiles one of those smiles that doesn't quite reach his eyes, cool as a
cucumber.
"No, I just thought that maybe you'd want a little bit of buildup, but if
jumping right into things is what you prefer--"
He scoots forward to take Shinsou's hand, moving to place both their hands on
top of the sheets. Shinsou feels it — the little pinch at the back of his mind
that he knows is Monoma taking his quirk.
"Okay. Are you ready?"
"For the hundredth time, y--"
Just like that, he's forced into stillness.
Monoma is still smiling at him, but the smile is morphing into something self-
satisfied and vaguely predatory.
Shinsou wants to snort at him again, sneer at him for looking so smug when he
hasn't even done anything yet, but the disparaging noise gets caught in his
nose, his face remains impassively neutral.
"Take off your jacket and unbutton your shirt," Monoma instructs, and Shinsou
immediately moves to shrug out of his blazer and undo the buttons of his school
uniform shirt, just like he does every day when he finishes class. His
movements are as utilitarian and economical as they always are — nothing
alluring about them — and he hopes that Monoma is content to allow him to
continue this way. They'd discussed things Shinsou didn't want to do
beforehand, but Shinsou hadn't thought of everything, definitely hadn't thought
to mention not wanting Monoma to make him do a goddamn striptease.
Monoma, thankfully, seems happy enough with what Shinsou is doing that he
leaves him to it, continuing to stare at him in that smug way that has Shinsou
itching to wipe the expression off his face except — of course — he can't do
anything about it right now.
He goes back to sitting there quietly after he's finished, waiting for whatever
Monoma is going to tell him to do next. Monoma looks at him consideringly,
rubbing his chin.
Shinsou wants to demand that Monoma hurry up. He's not sure why his classmate
is taking his sweet time with this.
As if he'd heard Shinsou's thoughts, Monoma sits back and gives another
command.
"Touch yourself."
That's more like it. Shinsou is almost embarrassed by how quickly his hands fly
to his crotch, fumbling with his pants zipper.
"No, no, stop," Monoma laughs, a stupid, breathless giggle that annoys Shinsou
because of how cute it is. "Wow. I didn't think you'd be quite so eager."
Shinsou's hands are frozen in place over his fly. It makes him want to scream.
He'd started getting hard ever since Monoma had begun brainwashing him, and
having his hands so close but being denied any touch is infuriating. Monoma has
to have noticed. He's doing this on purpose.
"Start at your scalp and work your way down your body. Slowly."
Shinsou's hands obey, moving to his head, combing fluidly through the hair at
the base of his neck.
What the hell.
Meanwhile, Monoma checks his watch. He puts his hand on Shinsou's waist,
underneath his shirt. Shinsou can feel the moment the five minutes run out, can
feel the release of Monoma's hold on him. But then there's that little pinch
again and his own body is back to being disconnected from his brain.
His fingers tease through his hair, come back up to rub over his ears and pinch
his earlobes. It's kind of relaxing, he reflects, as his hands start massaging
the back of his neck. But he isn't exactly in this because he wants to relax.
He could rub the tension out of his muscles whenever he wanted.
It's when Monoma's hands come back around to his front that things start to get
interesting. His hands move over his throat, fingers splayed, and then down
over his chest and stomach in a manner that's almost lascivious. Shinsou is
surprised at himself. And so is Monoma, apparently, who finally decides to
break the silence and start running his mouth thanks to Shinsou's display. How
unfortunate.
"You know, I never thought you'd be this into your own quirk. Don't you think
it's a little narcissistic? Was all your jealousy over the students with more
hero-like quirks just for show?"
You're one to talk. Shinsou doesn't know anybody who's more contradictorily
conceited about and contemptuous of his own quirk than Monoma. Shinsou wants to
glare at him, but instead a gasp gets stuck in his throat as his fingers brush
over a nipple. Even though he remains soundless, the sensation must do
something to his facial expression because Monoma's smile widens and he leans
forward a little like Shinsou had just done something extremely interesting.
"Ohh, that was nice. I think you liked that. Do that a bit more."
So Shinsou's hands return to his chest, rubbing, rolling and pinching until his
nipples are twin peaks of burning sensitivity.
"You don't have to be so quiet. You can make noise if you're enjoying it."
It's like unmuting a speaker. The next time Shinsou feels the touch of his own
fingers he lets out a moan. His breathing gets louder until the room seems
filled with his panting. Fuck. And Monoma hasn't even started having him touch
himself properly yet.
There's that rush as Shinsou regains control of himself for a split second
again, but Monoma wrests it back just as quickly, squeezing Shinsou's waist.
Just as Shinsou starts to worry about whether he's going to come in his pants
from this alone, Monoma relents.
"Alright. Keep going, keep working your way downwards. Once you get to your
dick, stay there. Oh, but only touch yourself through your pants. And don't
come! It'd be boring if this were over so quickly, and after I've gone through
so much trouble to do this for you."
Shinsou isn't sure what's worse, that he can't just reach down and relieve this
persistent ache himself, or that he can't plug his ears and block out Monoma's
prattling.
He groans. His hands skate over his abs, tickle over his sides. When they reach
his crotch they palm through his clothes, pressing down and moving with a
steady friction. Shinsou, much to his chagrin, cries out at the first touch,
but it's not enough. He wants more. Needs more.
Monoma seems content to leave him hanging for a while.
"I'm beginning to wonder if this is just an excuse for you to, I don't know,
indulge your secret exhibitionism kink? I haven't forgotten how open-ended
commands work."
Shinsou hasn't, either. For directives that aren't overly specific, the victim
usually fills in the gaps themselves, and Shinsou has definitely been filling
in those gaps in ways he wouldn't have expected.
Like he's doing now — bucking up into his own hand, desperately, like he can't
get enough. He's changed his mind about wishing he could speak. It's better
this way. He's effectively barred from saying anything embarrassing, like
begging Monoma for more.
"I can't believe you're this hard already," Monoma continues murmuring,
apparently content to just listen to himself talk. "We've barely even done
anything yet. Or are you the type to never do it, even with yourself? You're
probably pretty backed up in that case."
Shut up, Shinsou tries to say, but all that comes out is a gasp as his hand
squeezes him hard. Monoma's mouth quirks.
"I love being proven right. Okay, get your pants down."
Shinsou can't remember ever unbuckling his belt or undoing his fly this
quickly. He shoves his pants down to his knees. And then... stops. Doesn't
touch. Doesn't do anything. He almost wants to cry.
Monoma doesn't rush to give Shinsou his next command. He moves his hand from
Shinsou's side to his hand where it's resting limply on the bed. Scoots across
the mattress so that they're a tiny but closer, though there's still a
respectable distance between them.
Their agreement was that Monoma wouldn't touch Shinsou directly. Now, Shinsou
wonders if that was the best idea. Monoma's sitting so close. He's trying to be
subtle about the way he's blatantly eyeing up Shinsou's painfully hard cock,
nibbling on his lower lip in a way that makes Shinsou kind of want to kiss him
— and that's frustrating, too, wanting to kiss and not being able to. Although
perhaps this is for the better. Shinsou maintains that he isn't attracted to
Monoma that way, that this is just an experiment, but the unadulterated desire
buzzing heady under his skin is making him begin to doubt whether or not that's
still true.
Monoma takes a steadying breath that Shinsou swears he can feel on his face.
When he gives his next instruction, his voice pitches low.
"Jack yourself off."
Shinsou groans as his fingers finally, finally wrap around his dick. He's wet,
slippery with precome, and his hand slides slick and easy over his skin.
His other hand is still sitting flat on the bed. Monoma's hand is placed over
it, an overwhelming warmth emanating from the place where Shinsou's knuckles
and Monoma's palm touch. Monoma seems torn between watching Shinsou work
himself over and watching his face, looking into eyes that Shinsou knows are
blank and glassy and empty of anything that signifies Shinsou's presence within
his own mind.
Shinsou continues pulling at his cock in steady, even strokes. Monoma keeps
intently chewing on his lower lip. It's all bitten and reddened and if Shinsou
wasn't sure he wanted to kiss Monoma before, he's definitely sure about it now.
That or push Monoma down onto his crotch, feed his dick between Monoma's lips,
feel Monoma dig his nails hard into Shinsou's hips like a brand.
The scant distance between them is full of static.
"That looks painful," says Monoma, weakly. His voice breaks, like there's
something heavy sitting on his throat, like he's talking only to punctuate the
silence that sits heavy over them. "You must really need to come."
Shinsou does. He has for a while now. Every time his thumb passes over the
sensitive spots on his dick, every time he imagines licking into Monoma's
mouth, there's a surge of intensity like he's going to plunge over the edge,
but instead he simply lingers there, teetering, unable to finish.
"That's too bad. Stop moving."
Shinsou's hand freezes on the base of his cock. The sound that comes out of him
couldn't be mistaken for anything other than a whimper.
Monoma bites down on his lip again, but this time it's to bite back a laugh.
"What if I never give you permission? Would you hold out indefinitely or would
the limits of your biology kick in? Pitting your quirk against the human body —
now that would be quite the training exercise."
Oh, god. Please. Stop. Talking.
They sit there for a moment, looking at each other. Shinsou's cock twitches
against his stomach, hard and flushed and needy. For the first time, Monoma
reaches out — not to touch, like Shinsou was desperately hoping, but to gently
pull Shinsou's hand away by the wrist, so that he's no longer touching his
dick. He's leaning into Shinsou's personal space, close enough that they're
practically sharing each other's breaths, that Shinsou imagines he can feel
Monoma's body heat.
"Maybe we can test that next time. For now, you're going to come because I tell
you. Come for me, Shinsou."
And Shinsou does. He isn't touching himself — nothing is touching him — but he
comes over his stomach like it's inevitable, like Monoma had yanked it right
out of him.
And, just like that, the shock of his body spasming jerks him out of Monoma's
hold, and his mind is his own again.
As much good it does him. The only thing he can do despite being in control of
his body is melt bonelessly back against the headboard, weak and gasping.
Monoma is already on his feet and at Shinsou's door by the time Shinsou can
string words together again. He's schooled his face into an impassive mask, as
neat as a rearranged tie. All of the hunger from before is gone.
Up until a second ago, everything inside Shinsou had been yearning for him to
pull Monoma into a kiss, but now that Monoma is done with him, now that any
interest he might have displayed has vanished, Shinsou is hesitant again.
"Monoma..." he gets out. He sounds wrecked.
"Well," Monoma says, lightly. "That was fun. We should do it again sometime,
it's an interesting way to train."
He pulls the door open. Shinsou could prevent him from leaving, could tell him
to stay, but he doesn't have the energy to deal with this right now. The last
thing he wants to do is try and examine this puzzling, warm feeling that oozes
in his chest as he regards Monoma's stupid face.
So Monoma leaves, and Shinsou lets himself slide down so that he's laying on
the bed again. His come is cooling uncomfortably. Some of it had gotten on his
shirt, too, he realizes. He should shower and toss his dirty clothes in the
laundry, but for now he's content to simply lie here for a little longer.
They should do this again, Monoma said. Next time would turn out quite
differently if Shinsou had anything to say about it.
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