i will write everything. original work, fan fictions, fan art, advice, whatever. | 22 | Sky/Oak/Echo | he/they | 18+ Only author of And It Starts Again
458 posts
Latest Posts by echo-oaks - Page 2
Can someone send me a short prompt to get my brain back into the writing?
Also, I'm 100% going through my likes and reposting everything. Prepare for an influx.
NSFW. Aizawa x reader (reader has breasts and a pussy but no gendered pronouns used for reader). Oral (reader recieving.) Missionary p in v. Established relationship. Just loving on your sleepy man and tiring each other out. Approx 1500 words
Nightcap
It's late and Shouta is exhausted when he gets home. That shouldn't be remarkable; you've often joked together that he's the sleepiest man alive, but this is different. This isn't just high school teacher weariness. It's deeper than bone-deep; the kind of exhaustion caused by constant battle and life or death worry.
"I can't tell you what's going on," he sighs, his gravelly voice soft as he sits on the edge of the bed and brushes your sleep-tousled hair back from your face. "The more you know, the greater the danger I put you in. I won't let that happen."
It worries you. Of course it does. It's clear this is bigger than anything he's faced before. But all you can do is offer him comfort and a place to just be. Not Eraser Head, not Aizawa Sensei. Just Shouta.
"Come to bed?" you say, tracing the scar on his elbow. "I need to hold you."
"I- later. I have papers to grade–"
"I'm sure the kids won't mind."
His throat flexes as he looks away, fighting a different kind of battle; the war between his dedication to his students, and his desire to crawl into your arms and let you make him forget his worries for a while.
“Shouta… please?”
“Alright.” His lips slant into a weary half-smile. “Give me a minute to shower and I’ll join you in bed until you fall ah–” He falters as you wrap your arms around his chest and pull him down beside you, throwing your thigh across his and holding him in place. “-sleep. Good tackle.”
“Thanks.”
“Not a good idea though. I stink,” he mutters as you guide his arm around you, nuzzle into him and inhale; that fresh, earthy scent of being outside in the cold, the tang of sweat, and the unmistakable muskiness of Shouta that tickles the primal part of your brain.
“You smell so good.”
“Weirdo.”
That's about all the protest you get out of him. He closes his eyes, his chest rising and falling slowly, and falls completely silent.
Minutes tick by as you lay in each other's arms, wondering if he dozed off. It's likely. Shouta has always been able to fall asleep instantly, anywhere, and in any position. And you will have to wake him eventually so he can wash up, but for the time being you simply watch him, appreciating his beauty and–
“You're staring at me, aren't you?”
You hide your smile, pressing your face into his chest. “No…”
He peeks, his momentary glance conveying amusement and despair in equal measure. “You're supposed to be going back to sleep. You have work tomorrow.”
He's right, but hell, you've gone to work on less sleep for worse reasons. And he smells so fucking good. “I'm not tired.”
“Not tired, huh?” he hums, the slight taunt in his tone letting you know he fully knows what's up. “Fine. Guess I'd better tire you out.”
Exhaustion be damned, Shouta always has at least a little energy in reserve for fighting or fucking. He sits up, grabbing a hair tie from the nightstand and holds it between his teeth while he pulls his long black hair up into a ponytail.
Butterflies surge in the pit of your belly at the sight, not just because of the flex of his biceps or that look in his eye that tells you he's going to make damn sure you sleep heavily tonight, but because whenever he pulls his hair up like that, you know exactly what he plans to do. And no sooner is his hair up and out of his face, than his face is between your legs, wrapping his arms around your thighs while you squirm out of your underwear.
Rough hands slide down your thighs, his palms warm and broad, strong fingers squeezing the fat and muscle and causing your skin to dimple beneath their ravenous touch.
Every caress you tingle, the warmth of his breath, the hunger in his eyes, the tip of his nose teasing your clit.
“See,” he says, his voice so low you barely catch it, “you're the one who smells good.”
And then he licks a fat stripe between your pussy lips before slowly, deeply, hungrily making out with your clit.
The sudden intensity of it leaves you breathless, your hands darting down to grasp at his messily pulled-back hair. He groans, eyes closing, savoring your taste, his tongue hot, wet and so fucking greedy.
“Fuck, Shouta…There… Don't stop. You're… perfect.”
Any other time he shrugs off praise like the weight of it sits uncomfortably on his shoulders, but not with this. He loves to know he's doing well for you, loves to hear how good he's making you feel. He pauses just for a moment to grin to himself before he flattens his tongue and drags it over your clit. Over and over and over until you buck up against his mouth, demanding more of those deep, hungry kisses he can never deny you.
As he devours you, he can't help but grind his hips against the mattress, deep rumbling moans vibrating through your core and driving you closer to the edge. He licks you relentlessly, insatiably, pressing his thumb into the wet heat of your pussy just so he can feel the way he makes you throb.
And the moment you gasp that you're close, he latches on, licking, sucking, breathing hard and heavy through his nose, unable to tear himself away from your pussy even for air. He isn't satisfied until your essence is coating his throat inside and out. The wet suckling sound of his lips and tongue accompany your cries and shaking breaths, and the unmistakable moans of pleasure that rumble out of him as you cum against his mouth.
He only stops when you tell him, pushing his torso up off the bed and crawling on top of you. In the post-orgasmic haze, the weight and warmth of his body is intoxicating. His hips slot so perfectly between your thighs, his lips coating yours with your slick as he kisses you and grinds his aching cock against you.
“Keep going?” he asks, a groan vibrating in his throat when you nod. “Mm… Need you so bad.”
His hand slides beneath the hem of your shirt, skimming over your belly to the plush of your breast, lifting his hips for you as you inch down his trousers, taking his boxers down with them. His cock is thick and wet, surrounded by a dense black thatch of hair that thins ever so slightly to trail up over his abdomen and chest.
It doesn't matter how long you and Shouta have been together, the moment he pushes his cock into you and arches back with a bitten off moan, your fingers are trailing through the hair on his belly, feeling his muscles twitch and shudder beneath your palm. Every damn time.
The feeling of him inside you makes you breathless, but for him it's heaven. He raises his face to the ceiling, murmuring something incoherent about how wet you are, how good you feel, how much he fucking loves you. His throat leaps as he fights the urge not to cum right then and there.
You roll your hips for him, trying to drive him over the edge. “Come for me, Shouta. Just let go.”
His jaw clenches as a breathless whisper of a laugh escapes him. It takes him a moment to ground himself before he can rock forward so he's practically laying on top of you. He needs that; the closeness, the intimacy, the reassurance. His lips seek yours, pulling you into a slow and lazy kiss to accompany the languid roll of his hips.
“Wanna make you feel good first,” he murmurs against your lips between lazy kisses.
“You already did. You always do. I want you to cum.”
“Mm…”
A stray strand of jet black hair falls from his sloppy ponytail, tickling your cheek until you put it back behind his ear. He leans into that gentle touch, stubble rasping against your palm, followed by a quick and desperate kiss.
He won't last much longer, not tonight. He can hardly keep his eyes open as he tucks his face into the crook of your neck, hot breath tickling your skin. “Sure?”
“Yeah,” you say, wrapping your arms around him and stroking his back as muscles flex beneath your palms. Slowly, deliberately, you undulate beneath him, lazily fucking him from below.
Shouta's quiet moans are muffled against your shoulder, his hands seeking yours and fingers interlocking when he comes undone. He bares his teeth, gasping your name as his dick pulses inside you.
Your combined slick leaks onto the mattress beneath your ass, and he'll insist you sleep with him on his side later on. But right now Shouta is completely spent; a dead weight on top of you. If not for the tickle of his breath against your neck or the occasional twitch of his cock as it softens inside you, he'd be totally still.
“Tired us both out, huh?” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his temple.
And he simply snores in agreement.
imagine top surgery in the fallout universe
your options are like
a guy named sawbones jones living in a tent outside a radiation spill, claims he has performed the surgery once and that in general most of his patients survive
a robot named SURGBOT1778-C that hasn’t been turned on in 167 years at a medical research facility that had seventeen different scandals for inhumane treatment of staff and clients
omg someone reblogged my deacon post and said he’s a horrible liar and i could not agree more!!!
especially i think after he gets comfortable with someone truly and deeply, and he lies about something and because the SoleSurvivor is like his closest companion (the love of his life perhaps) they know he’s lying. and they stare at him, and he stares back blankly, then his mouth starts to twitch, forcing back a smile. his eyes will flick away from theirs and he’ll quickly turn around and walk away as he tries to pull it together and Sole is left laughing at how ridiculous he is.
i also imagine that’s why he’s so paranoid about giving you his “reset code” bc he set up a great lie (not really lol) and now he’s scared that Sole is gonna think he’s a complete ass for lying about that when it’s meant to be a test and a joke. I personally haven’t read it in my play though so he’s always coming up to me asking frantically if i’ve read it and my Sole just looks at him with the most amused look bc he KNOWS deacon is full of shit, so he doesn’t even bother to read the code.
He’s also a bad liar because he just goes too hard on the details and everyone can tell when he’s starting to make things up. it’s less lying and more, embellishments, at least that’s how he likes to look at it. When he talks about Sole though, oh my god the other members of the railroad can’t tell if he’s being funny or if he’s truly in love with this person. the way he tells tales of their heroism, saving his life and wiping out thousands of synths and raiders, just sweeping him out of harms way.
this is of course only when Sole is not around. and if anyone slips out word about deacon’s damsel in distress stories, he’d deny it until his last breath. red in the face and unable to meet their eyes when they ask with a teasing tone, a flat “No.” drops out of him before he scatters to find who the hell told Sole about that.
so yeah, deacon truly is more himself than he ever means to be and i love that loser so much <3
aizawa thee pussy eater.. he folds your body like a pretzel with so much ease that it's impossible to not feel lightheaded. he holds your lower body up against his chest while you try to bury your head into the pillows in order to hide the wanton moans that keep ripping out of you.
he's so serious though, determined – his eyes are glued to your face, observing every sharp breath you take and every quiver of your lip because he needs to know that you're feeling good. you're the only thing on his mind at this very moment, you and your pleasure. the way his cock throbs is irrelevant, the way it leaks pre-cum all over his happy trail a mere secondary thought in the back of his head as he eyes the sheen of sweat covering your body and the way your chest keeps rising and falling. he knows you're close, he can feel it.
he won't stop when you cum, though. he'll push you through that, no matter how much you paw at his hands and no matter how much you try to push his head away. this is his stress relief.
Let me guess… you’ll never forgive me. Tenko, you must hate me so very much…
lunchtime with the senpais 🍱
here's the piece i did last october for the digital side zine of @akamatsuzine, overture!
It's a post-game "it was all a simulation and now we're stuck in a hospital" kind of a situation.
well, that was close! it would be awkward if there suddenly was a third body as well. yes I remember he only kills girls but I don't care, whatever.
Whole ass comic unfortunately
August 26: O (Overwhelm, outpour, overjoyed) hey did u guys know they make me actually sick to my stomach
He got snot n shit all over mondo's tank top and coat btw
Neck!!! (MHA 430)
Not a fan of his new haircut but I had to draw it
♨️ their schedules overlapped for 1 day off all together
“Sitting in this room playing Russian Roulette. Finger on the trigger to my dear Juliet.”
Parallel Lines
---
I do wonder sometimes, if neither of them had become 'Brothers', how they might have fared better. . .
Taka, obviously, would not have been as vulnerable to Celeste's machinations had he not been mourning his Kyoudai. . .
But Mondo? Perhaps without the boon of his new hard won friendship with Taka, he might not have had the confidence to agree so soon to help with Chihiro's training. Deeply unsettled and antsy, newly preoccupied that his worst secret will be revealed, he may have stalled just long enough to have avoided that tragedy.
Did their bond become their millstone?
Another art dump (B/W edition, I had too many to post so I divided them, next post will have the other doodles that I have with colors) …. of mostly Present Mic doodles…. also the pieces I made for the @erasermicweek but sadly never finished…I still want to tho…. time is just a tricky thing hahaha
The days I made were: Memories, pining, surprise/revelation and risk!
A quick doodle of my mans because I just love drawing his dumb face
Some more fanart doodles of the fic The Master and The Hound by @yamiheart and @peachylixir
An out of context doodle of an AU! civilian!Mic, he is the owner of a record store and sometimes he gets into trouble because he is a loudmouth and other times because he tries to play hero when he sees someone in trouble (Peachy and I came up with it for fun!)
Lastly, a doodle of my BNHA Herosona bullying Mic, because that’s what they do lmao
Yes please write more about Mic and Aizawa being foils to one another! I enjoy reading your in-depth posts!
OH BOY
okay, let’s talk a little about foil character in writing. foil characters are characters who commonly display opposite traits to another character they are closely tied with. it’s a common misconception that foil characters are always the rival to the character they foil and that they have to be opposite in every way–neither of these are true. it’s actually fairly common for a foil character to be set up as the character’s best friend and contrast only the traits the author wants to highlight in that character. i like talking about foil characters a lot because i feel as though they are very good in narratives when written correctly.
like i said in that one ask, mic and aizawa read like foils to each other to me. or more, mic is a foil to aizawa, since aizawa is far more of a main character than he is.
let’s start here–there was a post going around about how hizashi and aizawa’s hero names are pretty much opposites of each other, with erasing something being the opposite of presenting something and a headphone being the opposite of a microphone. that’s a good place to start, because those names are:
1. something that defines them, their careers, an who they are as people
2. fundamental to their relationship and their interconnectedness as characters, given that mic gave aizawa the hero name that he’s kept for 15 years and counting and the name that he operates his entire career under. mic essentially gave him part of his identity, and the name itself is pretty much the opposite of mic’s.
going a bit further, aizawa is characterized as not caring about appearances, introverted, and relying far more on technique than words when fighting/acting. mic is the opposite in every way, with his characterization being primarily very extroverted, obviously putting care in his appearance (i will never forgive him for That Hair), spending most of his career in the public eye, and literally using words to speak. mic is characterized as a person who pretty much never stops talking, while aizawa is much quieter and seems to pick and choose more when to speak. similarly, mic is much more visible about his emotions, whereas i think aizawa would rather die than admit he actually has feelings. mic is always moving, whereas aizawa relies a lot on stealth and being still. mic has neverending energy, aizawa can often be seen in the background asleep or just generally very lethargic. i could go on, but you get the point here for the most part.
also, their designs are opposite of each other, too. i realize that both mic and aizawa wear all black, but you cannot tell me that the thing that sticks out with mic’s design isn’t his hair. it is literally the first thing people notice. the fucking cockatoo hair. and it’s bright fucking yellow. the closest to the opposite of black you can get without going for white. because of this, people assign bright yellow and bright colors as mic’s coloring, whereas with aizawa, everything is just black. dude literally does not wear any color (unless you count his goggles, in which case, bright yellow. literally the same color as mic.). going a step forward, mic obviously puts care into his appearance and has that weird 80′s aesthetic where all he wears is tight leather. meanwhile, we have aizawa, who wears a baggy enough jumpsuit that he could probably just wear a garbage bag instead and no one would be able to tell the difference. mic, who seems to meticulously care for his appearance, if that hair and weird mustache says anything, and aizawa, who looks like he hasn’t had a haircut or seen a razor in 14 years.
then we get to the whole style thing. mic lives his life in the spotlight. dude is a radio (and also television, maybe?) star who is well known, the head of a department, and a well-known pro hero. aizawa, on the other hand, very specifically stays out of the spotlight and works in the underground and acts like he is in actual, physical pain every time he has to talk to the press. with their fighting styles, aizawa is far more passive and would be categorized as either a support or a defense hero, since his quirk is purely non-physical. his gimmick is stealth. however, mic is completely offensive. even in the final exams, mic didn’t even chase the kids down. he literally just stood at the entrance and screamed, while aizawa has to get the drop on his opponents to attack them and usually has to be the first to attack.
speaking of quirks, i made a post a while ago about this, but mic’s quirk absolutely does not have many counters. the best thing mic has to a counter is aizawa’s erasure. mic is insanely powerful and knows how to control his quirk and would’ve easily won the final exam battle had it not been for his fear of bugs. i mean, when aizawa got hurt at usj, he easily leveled a bunch of villains with a single attack. countering mic’s quirk is very hard since he has so much control over it, and really the only counter he has in canon is aizawa right now. which, is pretty significant when you consider that these two are pretty interconnected.
so yeah, i do really think mic is a foil to aizawa. mic usually doesn’t show up by himself in the manga or the anime–aizawa is usually somewhere to be found either directly or indirectly in the scenes he’s in. mic is used to highlight a lot of aizawa’s quiet nature, especially since these are the first two veteran teachers we see in the series–aizawa, who’s quiet and strict, and mic, who’s loud and pretty friendly. i think mic is set up to be his foil and i hope their relationship is expanded upon more in the future, since i personally think it’s one that’s important to aizawa’s character.
Present Mic: Aizawa’s emotional crutch
I’m sure some of those who don’t really think too hard about Mic wonder why he acts the way he does in the face of traumatic events involving his childhood friends; there are several moments when Aizawa is seen faltering, struggling or deflecting the moment Shirakumo is involved, but Mic seems unchanged, or… it’s like he doesn’t take it seriously.
We’re gonna talk about that.
Keep reading
Canon EraserMic
Okay, so it’s gonna be interesting to see how people react to this, but with this being one of the most popular ships in BNHA, I decided to go back and look at the canon relationship between these two.
No images as I’ve heard they mess with mobile users, however, if my followers prefer it, let me know, and I’ll add them in future posts.
Keep reading
So, I noticed something interesting in the manga! Except for three times, Hizashi always tends to follow Aizawa or stand behind them.
Note:
*BNHA Spoilers
*Manga images
Keep reading
....someone volunteering to be the first one to eat your pussy...
may i have aizawa or todoroki where they're in a meeting and the reader is controlling the vibrator in their hole 👉👈 (also can I be 🍦 anon as well?)
Of course you may! Aizawa’s came to mind first, but I’ll be sure to also post Todoroki’s later this week, so your sin is multiplied. And yes, you can! 𝖂𝖊𝖑𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖓𝖙, 🍦 anon (๑˘︶˘๑)
𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔯; aizawa shouta
𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱; 2.0k,
𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰; sex toy (vibrating butt plug), public sex, slight exhibitionism, implied humiliation kink, implied degradation kink, implied bondage, implied edging, cursing, dom!reader, sub!character
𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔰; gender-neutral reader, Aizawa wanted to impress you, sidekick is a voyeur, Aizawa suffering to not show he’s actually a bottom is beautiful.
𝖁𝖎𝖇𝖗𝖆𝖙𝖔𝖗 𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖍𝖔𝖑𝖊.
“Don’t you dare think about it.”
He shakily grumbles to you, closing his eyes momentarily as he tries to compose himself again, crossing his arms to make himself seem unbothered. After all, it’s not every day he’s wearing a vibrating buttplug in public.
“Dare think about what, Eraserhead?” The CEO of some hero agency’s voice asked curiously.
Shit. Now everyone is looking at him. Why is he even wearing this thing?
Oh right.
Before the impromptu meeting about some tip of the whereabouts of another underground drug trafficking ring, he was in the middle of preparing a… surprise for you, when you came back home from wherever you went. But you somehow found out beforehand, because you showed him how the control was in your possession after you caught up with him in the hallway on your way to the same meeting.
So here he is, wearing a promised ‘super intense’ vibrations, black silicone with a matching ‘diamond’ butt plug under his luckily loose hero outfit.
Grunting to subtly clear his voice and keep it steady, he looks back at the addressing man.
“You want to simply use us to continue patrolling the same areas everyone else seemed to map out already. That-”
You interrupt his answer by turning up the intensity a bit, knowing it’s most definitely poking at his sensitive spot by now. You’ve seen his sly attempts of shifting and adjustment. You’re humming, looking over at him to see how his mouth has clamped shut but his lips are trembling. His body’s rigid, tense, and his back has straightened up considerably. You’re pretty sure you heard him moan lowly.
“Eraserhead?” The man asked again, raising an eyebrow at the sudden loss of words while the room falls silent- shit, they can’t know about the vibrator! Aizawa doesn’t even know how loud it is, he only cleaned it and skipped the trial part.
Swallowing harshly, he hopes his voice isn’t going to betray him and is loud enough to cover up the mysterious buzzing. You aren’t going to be nice with this apparently.
“Th-that we should begin the next s-step…” Never mind, guess his voice fucking hates him and his train of thought.
“I’ll, uh, take that into consideration, and I suppose it could lessen…” and whatever is said after that leaves Aizawa´s focus as you increase the vibrations again, making his thighs want to match the speed and his mind suddenly scream at him to ‘keep yourself composed.’
A vibrator is nothing new.
A butt plug is nothing new.
A vibrating butt plug is new, and doing it in public during an important fucking meeting is making him feel a lot that it’s overwhelming him.
You aren’t even going to let him think or compose himself as you move a little closer to his side, acting like you’re paying attention to what the others are saying, before pinching his inner thigh.
No one’s paying attention to you two anymore and are starting to get loud, and you wanted him to see that before you murmur.
“Thank you for the gift. I’ll make sure to use it to its full potential.” Now that has him suddenly praying for whichever higher celestial being is there to hear him to please, please, please not let anyone catch on to what’s going to happen.
So, you turn the vibration up a few more settings, holding back a laugh of amusement as he jerks violently in his chair and your hand finds itself trapped between his quivering, muscular thighs, that soon enough begin bouncing as he tries to find purchase on something, anything. His hands gripping the fabric covering his arms isn’t helping. Leaning forward to rest an elbow on the table and resting his forehead on his palm, he uses his other free hand to wrap around your wrist near him because the feeling of your skin touching him always keeps him grounded. Surely this doesn’t look suspicious.
To anyone who would be looking, it just looks like you’re trying to not let the unnecessary noise get to him, but really he’s desperately whispering “slow down, s-slow down!” as he tries swallowing any other embarrassing noise that should only be heard in the bedroom, and soon enough gripping your wrist harder, trying to make your trapped hand touch his aching bulge, twitching for attention.
A strangled whine escapes his dried throat, and that catches the attention of some random sidekick nearby. And when you turn the toy off, Aizawa huffs in disappointment before glaring over at the younger male. It’s enough to have the sidekick smile awkwardly before turning away, feigning ignorance to whatever he might’ve heard.
Now that the coast is quickly cleared, you lean in to swiftly ‘fix’ his weapon and with a hush tell him not to “let anyone know” before turning up the intensity again, this time making sure it’s at the highest the small machine can offer.
Remember when he said he was promised it to be ‘super intense’? He regrets it. He really, really regrets it.
He quickly tries grabbing whatever part of his binding cloth is closest with his mouth to help gag, at least muffle, his sharp cry of your name, gritting his teeth as he tries not to be louder than the debate happening. But with the tip of the butt plug pressing really hard onto his prostate, he can’t help jerking his hips forward and back while letting out airy whines of anything yet nothing.
You’re just watching his reactions, drinking in every slip of noise he makes. You know he’s going to slip up sooner or later, with the way his hips are slowly losing control and his legs are twitching too much to not pass off as suspicious.
Even his cute whines are becoming wanton moans of your name, the binding cloth being forgotten as he loses concentration. He can feel how wet his boxers are, how sticky they feel against his hardened member that twitches on tempo with his thighs. He needs you to touch him there. Please, please, please.
“Pl-please?” He exhales shakily, choking on a small groan as your right hand wiggles around to free itself from his weakening grip.
Before you could answer, you hear someone call his name. Quickly turning off the toy, your left hand lets go of the control in your pocket as you place it on his forehead.
“Eraserhead, are you alright?” The same man from earlier asked. You wonder why he’s so attentive.
“No, sir. He seems to be picking up a fever.” You finish with a worried expression morphing onto your face.
“Oh, then he should go home-”
“I don’t mean to interrupt, but it’s best if he stays. He wouldn’t have come if you’re just gonna send him home.”
You’re so clever, knowing how to justify his loose composure and charm the head prohero behind this mission. He would’ve continued mentally praising it, but he was rudely interrupted since you decided to turn the toy back on to the highest setting.
“O-Oh shiiiiit.” He hisses, opening his legs as he just accepts and welcomes this sensation. This is definitely out of his usual character, but having this butt plug thing tease him for hours, even when off, it was enough to keep him horny and just be ready to satisfy the ache in his dick and the burning desire running throughout his body.
Hell, he’ll even call you whatever you want if it means you’ll let him cum sometime soon so he can pay attention to what’s going on.
Who cares if he’ll walk around with sticky cum on his thighs or leaking through to his pants. That’s the good thing about wearing black.
You eventually decreased the speed so that it’s at a somewhat safe setting, not wanting to overwhelm him so soon after covering his ass, but also to see how long this could drag. He did say it was your gift, so let’s take it to its fullest potential.
Hours passed since you’ve had this toy buzzing inside of him, and even if he’s supposed to feel grateful, he feels more frustration than gratitude. Sure, you’re being considerate, that way he was able to properly take part and become a little more attentive with the meeting, but his painful erection and oversensitive prostate would love to oppose.
Luckily, the meeting looks like it's coming to an end, and even with his occasional hiccupped whines and hushed moans, you’ve grown bored of such constant reactions and you’re missing his outstanding earlier performance. Surely nothing bad is going to happen; he’s put off his ‘fever’ for so long.
It’s time to help him. Pity he’s talking right now.
“So, we’ll send these g-guys... fuck.” Aizawa whispered the last part, twitching with the sudden increase of the speed.
“What was that?”
Just as he was going to reply, you finished increasing up to the last setting once more, humming curiously while the same ‘worried’ expression from before appeared on your face.
His face is completely red, whether in shame, embarrassment, in flushed pleasure, who knows. His eyes are quivering as his brain tries to register the overwhelming intensity of the vibrations, and he thinks he can even feel it in his brain.
He quickly dismisses whatever he was going to say with a singular hand motion, sliding his notes towards you so that you can finish sharing his idea to the others before they turn their eyes on someone else.
Even if the attention isn’t on him anymore, he can’t help but like the idea that they already know what’s going on, with the way the same sidekick from before is also blushing and seems fidgety. He’s trying so hard not to rub himself against your pliant hand, which you never finished slipping away, but he’s so, so sure if he does feel you, he’ll just sob.
It’s too much.
“T-too mu-uch. T-turn i-it down- augh.” He’s trying his best to whisper, but really he’s so overwhelmed he dumbly moans it out into your ear.
You shake your head, ‘accidentally’ brushing your fingertips over his bulge. If only this toy had another setting, maybe that would help make him shameless.
His eyes and throat are burning, shame eating away at his stomach before being overcome slowly by the need to cum. Has he always been this dirty? This easy to let defile? No, god no, but with you he can’t help it. Why else would he have bought a ‘super intense’ black silicone with a matching ‘diamond’ butt plug? It’s obvious he wanted to show it off, be a good boy for you, to treat you right.
So, seeing how you don’t want to turn it down and kind of going against your words of not letting anyone know, this is what you truly want, right? Him not-so-quietly and not-so-nonchalantly lose control over everything going on, with the slight exception of his breathing, while you continue to expose him like this to an uninterested crowd. Maybe he would like a crowd to watch him and mock him? Maybe call him a slut while giggling about how disgusting he is? Being tied up and strapped with a bunch of more vibrators all over his body? Being covered in so much cum he’s too dirty to be touched by anyone?
His grip with himself is loosening and his hips are trying to chase after your fingers or try to grind down some more onto the butt plug. Combining his growing need with his shameless fantasy, he couldn’t warn you properly, or himself, before he abruptly cums hard in his pants, a sob of “please” muffled by your quick right hand and the one with the remote lowers the speed so it helps ride out his unexpected high and not hurt him.
The only thing is, that you forget just how long his orgasms can last with just butt play. It’s a toe curling, leg shaking, dick exploding orgasm. It’s enough to suddenly make you wonder if he’ll be able to walk on stable legs.
The meeting ends with everyone confirming all conclusions while you’re whispering sweet affirmations and praises into his ear, pressing your palm harder onto his mouth with every other sob of your name, shameless dumb moaning and the occasional hiccups of gratitude.
Now, how to bribe the poor horny sidekick who has been not-so-secretly watching this whole ordeal into staying quiet?
Ugh... been thinking about Aizawa crying during sex. Sucking on your fingers? Tears. Cockwarming? A river has been cried. Pegging him? Fucking waterfalls. Idk, man. Got any headcanons or add-ons about this? Maybe a short little blurb? — 🐬
Oh my-
I actually have this draft somewhere in my files about Aizawa crying during sex and cockwarming him (and I’ve been tempting myself to release sometime soon). But him crying a river because he’s cockwarming you? That sounds incredibly sexy, even better, dear 🐬 anon (*˘︶˘*).｡.:*♡
𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔯; aizawa shota
𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱; 1.2k
𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰; implied female reader, cockwarming, pegging, overstimulation (?), crying, cursing, mostly shameless smut, dom!reader, sub!character
𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔰; crying Aizawa, sobbing Aizawa, slut Aizawa, mating press, couch sex, loud sex, lots of cum
𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢; yes, horrible title, terrible joke, but it’s kind of funny, right? I got carried away, as you see... will I ever be able to write a blurb? Probably not. It’s not proofread!
𝕴𝖙'𝖘 𝖌𝖊𝖙𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖍𝖔𝖙 𝖎𝖓 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 (𝖘𝖔 𝖑𝖊𝖙 𝖒𝖊 𝖗𝖎𝖉𝖊 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖉𝖎𝖈𝖐.)
He thought it was going to be a romantic date night at your place.
You promised some delicious food, some strong liquor, some nice massages, maybe throw in some soft cuddles as you lull him to sleep.
You did mention before that you had a little surprise for him to reward him for his good work this week, for saving more lives, contributing to keeping the city safe, teaching the kids at UA everything they need to know to excel in the hero world.
And what a surprise it was when you took out his favorite strap on he gifted you. But maybe he shouldn’t have gotten so excited at the idea of you fucking him until he forgets past pains and sufferings, maybe even today’s disappointment with how Kaminari seemed to forget how electricity could very much be well conducted in water…
Because for the past hour or two, maybe three, you’ve had him sitting on your lap with your silicon dick in him, slapping his thighs even if he were to shift, making him leak more tears each and every time the stinging becomes more intense.
You’re tempted in gagging him to see if with the lack of words he’d cry more.
“Stop moving so much, babe. We’re supposed to be relaxing.”
Your mocking purr makes him shudder as he flinched at another slap. Looking down, he can somehow make out, through his tear-covered vision, how his skin is turning red, a blurred handprint noticeable at the edge of the growing redness. He can also see how sticky his thighs are with how badly his dick is weeping in thick blobs of precum. God, has he always been such a slut?
Well, his shameless moan at the appearance below him and the lasting sting on his skin is enough to answer his own question.
“C-can’t he-elp it.” He groans out, trying his best to ignore how much hotter his body keeps getting the more he’s forced to sit still, the more you keep ‘accidentally’ teasing his nipples and play around with his precum covered thighs. Don’t you feel disgusted? Aren’t you?
Because if you are, that’s too bad. He hasn’t felt so proud of himself since-
“Auugh! M-mistress!” Aizawa sobs, feet trying to plant themselves onto the ground to keep himself stable as you slam up into him again, and again, and again.
No signs of mercy ever-present as you drag out of him so, so painfully slow before you go ahead and hit his sweet spot straight on.
Even with his feet on the ground and his back pressed onto your chest to keep him still, his hips still pitifully chase your thrusts, desperation present in every way he twitches and sobs.
He’s not even moaning, or even if he is, it’s just a garbled strain of your name fucked out of him as you coo praises and compliments into his ear, your hands grabbing onto his thighs to keep them spread so that he doesn’t shy away from your cock.
Turning your head a bit to see his face, you grin at how red he is, just like his wet, slick covered dick, his cheeks decorated with trails of hot tears coming from his closed eyes. And once he opens them, he looks into your eyes, eyebrows furrowed upwards as he wonders why you’re smiling like that, as if he were something so magical, so beautiful.
But this isn’t a time for something so romantic, not with how much he’s burning from deep inside his core up to his skin, flushing everywhere that’s possible as he manages to whimper out.
“H-hard, hard! N-need- nngh, ri-ide you!” And a please is whispered so, so sweetly, so softly, so unlike how society sees him as.
“Go ahead.”
And he rides you like there’s no tomorrow, even if you’re still slamming into him at an even faster pace. He can ride you, but you’re still in control of how fast everything goes.
He doesn’t complain, and not like he can even give his usual sarcastic remark with how his mouth's currently occupied letting out a waterfall of cries, moans and sobs, getting louder and bolder with every fast change of speed.
He’s gripping onto the couch cushion below you with such strength, you swore you heard a rip- but that’s alright, it was old anyways. Right now, feeling the way he can’t even control himself to at least act anything but a porn star is rewarding and forgiving enough.
His tears from earlier? You’re sure there’s enough water to bathe in, feeling how it touches your shoulders, seeing how it trails down to his chest, some lucky ones even going to his neglected dick. Poor thing, weeping just as much as the man who’s feared by so many criminals and past students.
This delicious fucking is going animalistic with how he’s bouncing on you, skin slapping polluting the air as much as the smell of sex. You hope neither filter outside into the neighboring apartments, although you’re positive you’ll be receiving some unhappy calls from the landlord.
Aizawa feels so, so hot and so, so close. It’s so painful, too painful, he’s never felt this way before. Maybe it’s how deprived he was for weeks, how starved he was for you, how desperate he was to be able to cum after so many failed attempts.
But he’s becoming so, so, so loud, with his sobs echoing around the apartment, his cries of your name and ‘mistress, mistress, mistress!’ ringing in your ears that maybe you should’ve gagged him. Your fingers will do-
And they did, with how greedily he’s sucking them, as if they offer the finest water to help quench his growing thirst to cum, cum-
“Cu-umming!”
And you let him, not retorting anything, not depriving him anymore as you send the most powerful thrusts you could muster into him to hear him wheeze so, so pathetically, reminding you how old he is, even if just 31.
And his eyes? His beautiful onyx eyes are glowing red, his sweaty, tangled mess of black hair floating in the air giving you the view of how he didn’t only lose control of his quirk, but also how he lost control of his thighs, his quivering, trembling, now cum covered thighs.
He’s babbling anything that comes to mind, it’s difficult to know if he’s praying for mercy or praying in gratitude, his hips still sliding up and down your cock as every hit to his prostate milks out more and more cum, the hot substance spurting onto the floor, onto the coffee table, onto his thighs, legs, feet, everywhere.
It’s so pornographic, so unbelievably out of this fucking world that you just need to see him do it again, even if you’ll have to stay inside of him to keep him horny and hot and bothered.
“Ag- augh- gain?”
Aizawa doesn’t wait for you to answer, and to damn your answer, not with how he still feels his dick burn with more need, still so hard because you wouldn't give it our attention.
But you do this time, switching your position to fuck him deep into the couch, mate pressing him as you flick your wrist furiously as wet sounds join in the symphony of his wails, his pleas of mercy which you’ll never, ever give to him unless he says the safe word or you’re feeling romantic.