Chiaki/Izuru smut v.1

“Hinata-kun...” rang in his ears. Over and over.

“That is not who I am. I am Izuru Kamukura.” He told the girl in front of him, though he knew it didn't matter to Chiaki. To her, he was her precious Hinata. Her friend- No, more than that. But he was not that man. Not anymore. Unlike Chiaki, Izuru saw naught a friend in front of him, but an object, hollow of spirit and meaning. Even so, there was still something stirring within him. A foreign feel, something he'd knew nothing about. Something he couldn't dismiss.

Her cries continued, but he wasn't listening, only watching. Observing, both her and himself. The more she tried(and failed) to call out to him, the more her pained breathing and expressions hit him, the stronger that feeling was. Izuru was excited, in more ways than one. He analyzed the situation, trying to figure out why he was so elated, but nothing came to mind.

Why? He questioned, why? He shouldn't be feeling like this. He was the SHSL everything! He should be able to keep himself in check! And yet, there he was, reveling in her suffering. He wanted to smile. Something that he had never considered before that moment.

“I want to live, please...” Chiaki's chants continued. He wanted to hear more. More than that, he wanted to hear her cries. He walked over to her, crying and mangled, his facade holding strong. Chiaki looked up to Izuru, unable to do anything but call for mercy.

"Hinata-kun... Please..." She continued. He knelt down, the foreign hunger building up, almost unbearable. Unbeknownst to him, he cracked into a smile, as he looked upon his prey. Wounded, unsuspecting.... Helpless. Izuru didn't know what was consuming him, but he knew that it interested him, and he wanted to feed the beast.

He cupped Chiaki's face, and stared into her eye. She cried in pain as he tightly gripped her arm where she had been impaled. She looked up to him, greeted by a wicked grin, and responded with a gasp. Why was Hinata hurting her? What was done to him to make him this way, what did she do? Was it her fault? He stood up, and  She didn't have much time to ponder it before he yanked her up as well, the sudden motion plus her blood loss making her head spin.

She only came to his waist, but that was as high as she needed to be. Izuru held her their by her hair, and with his other hand unzipped his pants. His manhood sprang forth, surprising her. “Hi-hinata-kun wh- AAH!” He cut her off by gripping her shoulder mid-plea, sticking a finger in one of her many wounds.

As she recovered, mouth hanging slightly lose, Izuru took the opportunity to enter. She pushed against him, trying to break free, but it was no use. He forced his way inside, savoring her resistance.  It felt amazing, it was warm and wet and divine. He pressed forward, until she was eating him to the base. Izuru kept himself there for a few seconds, savoring her futile resistance and the look of betrayal on her face. Eventually he pulled back, Chiaki after taking a deep breath, coughed manicly. Before she could finish, he pushed forward again, going as deep as he could.

In and out. In and out. This kept going, his pleasure only increasing with the sound and reverberations of Chiaki's pained coughs and sobs. Her look of sorrow was replaced with defeat, as she gave in to her assault and slowly lost her consciousness. Izuru sped up, his pleasure building more and more. He was almost finished, and wanted to make it count. After all, he could only do this once.

He pushed as deeper and deeper as he prepared, before he finally came. He kept thrusting has he did, trying to get as much as he could out of the situation, before pushing as deep as he could down her throat and releasing the rest. Izuru released her head and Chiaki fell back. It took him a second to recover from his climax and adopt his deadpan demeanor, before looking down.

He saw her expressionless face, coughing and choking, his seed spilling out of her mouth as the fit slowed. She turned to look at him, her rugged breathing coming to an end, eventually stopping completely. Watching her suffer, bent to his will... He had never felt like that before. He wanted more. He needed more.