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cosmicdog · 9 months

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Boys who...

Boys who you tie up, use multiple sex toys on, and are overstimulated until they're crying and begging.

🔞 NSFW 🔞 MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 🔞 AGELESS BLOGS DNI 🔞 18+ 🔞 SMUT 🔞 ADULT CONTENT 🔞

Warnings: nsfw, gender neutral reader, dom reader, multifandom, multicharacter, sub characters, bondage, anal play & fingering, sex toys, prostate massager, wand vibrator, crying, dacryphilia, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, fucked dumb, precum, slight spit/drool, they cum in your mouth, this could possibly be considered dubcon.

Boys who let you tie them tight to te bed frame, not worried in the slightest because they're sure you'll be nice.

Boys who are just a little hesitant when you lube up a finger and circle it around the rim of his hole because he's still getting used to the sensation, but are quickly squirming and crying for you to please just put it in already.

Boys who try to stay quiet but can't help but whimper and whine as your fingers continually prob and rub at his prostate as you thrust them in and out.

Boys who were oh so confident at first and are now pathetically and uncontrollably bucking and swivelling their hips into nothing.

Boys who thought having something stuffed into his hole wouldn't affect him too much, but are proven wrong when you push a prostate massager into him and he feels a pleasure like an electric currently buzz through his body.

Boys who have never used toys before realising what they were missing out on.

Boys whose cocks leak a steady drool of precum onto their bellies when you graze a wand style vibrator over his balls and down his taint.

Boys who can't help but unsuccessfully try to thrash around when you turn on another wand vibrator, this time, one that has an attached sleeve to go around his pretty cock that you use to jerk him off to add to the sensation of the vibration, the rumbles of which he can feel in his tummy like butterflies.

Boys who are close to cumming within only a few minutes of having three toys used on him at the same time, but who can blame him?

Boys who are close but not quite at the edge yet suddenly thrown off it when you lean down to lick and suckle at the wet tip of his cock.

Boys who can't fathom the fact that even with his cum on your tongue and dripping down your chin, you haven't moved to turn a single toy off.

Boys who whine that it's too much and beg you to please turn it off, it hurts even if his cock is still hard, the tip still flushed red, his balls somehow still full.

Boys who have tears running down their face and drool dripping down their chin when they cum for the second time in a row.

Boys who cry out in both pleasure and pain when you still don't let up and only move to lightly pinch his nipples as you leave the toys to continue bzzz bzzz bzzz-ing.

Boys who lose all control of their bodies as they clench their jaw, their thighs tremble, legs thrash, hips jump, and hands clench around nothing, knuckles white at the headboard he's still tied to.

Boys who are so overstimulated that their begging cries of please, please, please! are unintelligible gibberish to your ears.

Boys who have become so dumb that they have no choice but to submit to your every whim and want, now simply your plaything to do with what you wish.

Boys who, despite the crying and begging for that to be the end, wouldn't choose to stop you if given the option anyway.

Boys.

—

My Hero Academia: Hawks, Shouto, Denki, Shigiraki, Bakugou, Iida, Kirishima, Aizawa, Shinsou.

Attack on Titan: Eren, Reiner, Jean, Armin.

Blue Lock: Chigiri, Bachira, Nagi, Reo.

Jujutsu Kaisen: Gojo, Yuuji, Yuuta.

Your Turn to Die: Joe, Alice, Kai.

Tokyo Revengers: Sanzu, Baji, Mikey, Draken, Chifuyu, Inui, Rindou, Kokonoi.

Bungou Stray Dogs: Ranpo, Dazai, Chuuya, Akutagawa, Atsushi.

Tokyo Ghoul: Hide, Haise, Juuzo, Naki.

Chainsaw Man: Denji.

Death Note: Matt, Mello, L.

Buddy Daddies: Rei, Kazuki.

Black Clover: Yuno, Magna, Finral, Klaus.

Fruits Basket: Haru, Yuki, Kyo, Shigure.

Danganronpa: Hajime, Nagito, Kazuichi, Gundham, Leon, Mondo, Taka, Fuyuhiko.

Sk8 the Infinity: Reki, Joe, Cherry.

Demon Slayer: Inosuke, Obanai, Douma.

Or your fave!

Hope you enjoyed this lil thing, it's nothing special but I had fun writing it!!

Follow for more, I'm busy but working on ✨️ things ✨️

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cosmicdog · 9 months

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ShinZawa | SFW | Literal Sleeping Together

Shinsou with siblings and not a lot of space at home, so he's never had a room or even a bed to himself. He moves in with Aizawa after graduation and can't get to sleep on his own, so they end up sharing a bed.

They both assumed it would be awkward, and Shinsou is hesitant. He doesn't want to make Aizawa uncomfortable. Aizawa hates seeing Shinsou trying to make himself small and decides to fix it. He's a little uncomfortable at first, but he grabs Shinsou and pulls him over.

Shinsou's a little stiff with his head on Aizawa's chest, his arm wrapped around his shoulders, but Aizawa is basically a space heater, and his steady heartbeat makes him slowly relax.

He melts against Aizawa within a few minutes, and in less than half an hour, both men are dead asleep and stay that way through the entire night.

Aizawa's last thought before he falls asleep is that Yamada might have had a point about weighted blankets, but this is much better than a weighted blanket.

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cosmicdog · 9 months

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Spoiled

ShinZawaMic | NSFW | 18+ | AFAB Terms | Implied Dom/sub

Yamada Hizashi deserves to be spoiled by his husband for putting up with all his bullshit.

So Shouta ties Hitoshi up in a pretty bow just for him.

Hitoshi is a whiny, needy, subby mess and Hizashi can’t get his dick in him fast enough.

He’s wet and loose and sloppy just the way Hizashi like, which works out for Shouta because it means he got to fill Hitoshi’s pretty little pussy up first.

He gets to watch his own cum leak around Hizashi’s cock while he turns Hitoshi’s bones to jelly.

Their little kitten is crying from the overstimulation, but won’t tap out and it only makes Hizashi and Shouta want to fuck him harder.

Hitoshi is a brainless puddle by the time Hizashi’s done with him.

And then he turns his eyes to his husband and tells him to strip.

Shouta trips over himself to comply, getting on his hands and knees to present his pretty, plugged ass to his husband to wreck.

Hizashi teases the pretty sun yellow jeweled plug from Shouta’s hole which makes warm lube slip out, sliding down over his balls and coating his thighs. He flips Shouta onto his back and presses into silky heat.

Hizashi takes his time pulling Shouta apart, praising him and telling him how much he loved his gift, how warm and soft and wet and perfect he made Hitoshi, just for him. He tells him how perfect Shouta is, just for him, too.

All Shouta can think about is how there is no way in the world he deserves Hizashi, especially when Hizashi is spoiling him when he’s supposed to the be the one getting spoiled.

Shouta can’t do much more than babble, tears leaking from his eyes, trying to tell Hizashi how much he loves him and having very little success.

Hizashi just shushes him, tells him he knows, and it’s okay, and won’t you come for me, darling? Just one more time.

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cosmicdog · 9 months

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See Me After Class

Hitoshi has always had hyper-sensitive nipples. They rub against the rough interior of his school uniform, and it feels good at first. It makes his pussy throb and his panties wet, but after a few hours of constant rubbing, they feel raw, and every shift makes little pinpricks of pleasure-pain shoot through him. By the end of the day, his panties are soaked through, sticking to his puffy, attention-starved pussy, and he’s squirming in his seat, waiting for the day to end so he can finally stuff himself with his fingers until he comes so hard he passes out.

Life (read: Aizawa) has other plans. He’s watched all day while Hitoshi shifted, squirmed, and sighed in his classroom. He could see Hitoshi’s dilated pupils when he passed his desk, and god, he could smell the arousal on him when he crouched by him to help with an assignment. He had to stealthily adjust himself before returning to the front of the classroom.

His baby boy didn’t wear a bra today, and it shows. He knows Hitoshi doesn’t always wear a bra or a binder; his chest is small enough that he hardly needs it anyway. He rarely forgoes one on school days, however. It’s sheer torture, apparently, to let his sensitive chest be rubbed raw by the rough uniform shirts. But Hitoshi likes a bit of pain on occasion.

Aizawa’s going to take advantage of that. Which is why he tells Hitoshi to stay after class. He agrees, of course, with only the tiniest pout. It’s cute. Aizawa’s going to turn that pout into tears before dinner.

Hitoshi sits at his desk after classes end, watching his classmates file out with sympathetic glances. Aizawa doesn’t move from his desk and doesn’t acknowledge Hitoshi at all. He’s left to his own devices while noise slowly fades from the halls.

It’s torture. Every breath Hitoshi takes drags his shirt across his raw nipples. They must be bright red instead of their usual dusty pink. Every needle-sharp prick of sensation makes him shift, squeezing his thighs together to try to create a little friction or add a little pressure to his pussy. It’s useless because the second Aizawa notices, he quietly, calmly tells Hitoshi to be still.

Hitoshi doesn’t dare argue or disobey, but his eyebrows crease his forehead, and he whimpers. It’s pathetic how badly he wants it.

Aizawa revels in his desperation, hard under his desk and mouth watering at the thought of sinking his cock in that tight, wet heat. Not yet. Hitoshi’s not crying yet.

He turns back to his paperwork, ignoring Hitoshi while a few stragglers can be heard scuttling through the halls. He waits and makes Hitoshi wait until the school has been silent for some time before putting his pen down and motioning for Hitoshi to approach.

Hitoshi scrambles to comply, flush high on his cheeks and breathing unevenly.

When Hitoshi is sitting on his desk in front of him, he takes his time opening the buttons of his shirt, making sure to shift the fabric across Hitoshi’s chest with every movement. He can see Hitoshi’s pants slowly getting dark between his thighs.

He doesn’t bother untucking Hitoshi’s shirt. He opens just enough buttons to display his perfect chest. His breathing is ragged, and his chest heaves with every inhale and exhale.

“Good boy,” Aizawa praises when he sees that Hitoshi is still following his instruction to be still. He’s not seeking pleasure, only taking what’s given to him exactly as he should.

Aizawa takes a moment to soak in the sight in front of him. Hitoshi’s mouth is open a sliver, breathing hard. And fuck, those pretty, sensitive little nubs are hard, dark red, and swollen on his pale chest. Aizawa wants nothing more than to clamp his mouth down on one and see what sounds Hitoshi will make.

He doesn’t, though. He takes his time, first tilting Hitoshi’s head to kiss him sweetly. Then he wraps an arm around his waist, pulling his boy’s back into an arch while he sits on the edge of the desk and slides one big calloused hand down his collarbones and onto his chest.

His rough, warm palm grazes over one nipple, and Hitoshi feels like he’s on fire, involuntarily arching into the touch because it feels so good even though it hurts. His hands are gripping the edge of Aizawa’s desk so hard his knuckles are white.

It’s quiet in the empty room, save for Hitoshi’s increasingly ragged breathing as Aizawa flicks, rubs, and pulls on his over-sensitive nipples until his eyes shine with unshed tears.

He’s shaking at this point, tense all over while concentrating on staying still. Because the only thing worse than Aizawa’s teasing is the possibility of Aizawa stopping, and if Hitoshi doesn’t follow directions, he will.

The hand torturing his chest comes to his chin, and tilts his head up to Aizawa. He’s given one sweet, soft kiss, and Aizawa murmurs for him to keep being good, and he’ll get a reward soon if he does as he’s told.

He whines. It’s all he can do in his current state. Aizawa’s head dips lower, and his mouth closes over one of those perfectly swollen nipples.

Hitoshi’s reaction is almost more than Aizawa can handle. He moans so loud it echoes in the empty room, and his hands fly from gripping the desk to fist into Aizawa’s uniform.

Aizawa’s mouth is hot and wet against his skin. The saliva soothes away the needle-sharp pain and leaves only pleasure behind while Aizawa licks, laps, swirls, and flicks his tongue.

Hitoshi’s trembling increases tenfold in an effort not to move. His broken cries are so precious and incredibly addictive to Aizawa’s ears.

He swaps from the other side of Hitoshi’s chest, and his cries only get louder when Aizawa roughly rolls the abandoned, saliva-soaked nipple in his fingers.

Hitoshi cries out for his Sensei, heat blossoming over every inch of skin, and he thinks he’ll go insane with how desperately he wants to be filled.

When he feels his sorrowfully empty pussy fluttering around nothing little sobs hitch through his moans, and he tugs on the jumpsuit wrinkled in his fists.

“Sensei, Sensei, please,” he sobs out.

Aizawa doesn’t answer, but he moves from his assault on Hitoshi’s chest to kiss, bite, and suck along his tender neck. His hand slides down, fingers pressing to his clit through the soaked fabric of his uniform pants.

He runs his fingers down the seam, pressing harder the lower he goes until he reaches a spot that makes Hitoshi twitch.

Aizawa pulls back from leaving a trail of hickies on Hitoshi’s throat to watch his face while he pets Hitoshi’s core through his clothes. His eyes are overfull with tears, and he looks up at Aizawa with the sweetest debauched sounds pouring from his mouth.

The tears don’t fall yet, so Aizawa keeps petting, running his fingers up and down Hitoshi’s clothed pussy.

It’s not enough, and it’s too much all at the same time. Hitoshi’s hand shifts from gripping Aizawa’s uniform to holding onto his bicep while he keeps as still as possible. There’s more than one half-abandoned roll of his hips into Aizawa’s fingers, and Hitoshi’s grateful Aizawa seems content to ignore them while he rubs hard and soft, fast and slow, in turns.

He can still feel his insides trying hard to clamp down on something that isn’t there. He’s close, he’s so close when Aizawa takes his hand away.

He cums anyway, more wetness soaking through his ruined pants, low groans rising from his throat, but it’s not satisfying at all. He’s quaking, and his pussy spasms, contracting around nothing again and again.

Tears fall while he falls apart, and Aizawa watches while he sobs with wet, gasping breaths, clutching Aizawa tightly. Finally, Hitoshi buries his face in Aizawa’s chest, still heaving sobs, and Aizawa runs his hands up and down his back, comforting.

“You did so well, Hitoshi,” he says softly next to Hitoshi’s ear. “You were so good, so perfect for me.”

Aizawa ignores his own need to offer as much comfort as Hitoshi will take, running his hands over his sides, back, and arms. He kisses his crown and presses his check into Hitoshi’s hair. His cock is achingly hard, leaking like a faucet into his clothes. Lust clouds his mind, but he pulls together as Hitoshi’s sobs turn into sniffles. He bundles his student up and takes him back to his off-campus apartment with promises to reward him.

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cosmicdog · 9 months

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Comfortable Spaces

“Mic-sensei,” Shinsou says, doing his best to keep his voice flat and unaffected in front of other students. “I have a question. About the course work.”

He’s sure that Mic-sensei sees through him immediately, but at least his general studies classmates likely won’t. Mic’s eyes are far too wise for comfort behind his glasses when he looks at Shinsou.

“Sure, listener! What’s your question?” Mic asks. His full attention is on Shinsou and they both wait while the last of Shinsou’s classmates file out of the room.

“Is he okay?,” Shinsou asks. His voice is a little quieter than usual, but he holds eye contact with Mic-sensei without any visible discomfort.

“He’s fine, Shinsou. It’s just a migraine. He tried his best to come to class today, but he can hardly see straight. He’ll probably be back tomorrow or the day after. He said you could use today as a rest day, didn’t he?”

“Yes, he did.” Shinsou pauses, mildly confused. “Why?”

“Well, I would suggest you use today to rest. Maybe you can even convince someone else to rest, too. You better get to your next class. Do you need a note?”

Shinsou is absolutely positive that his face is on fire. His heart is racing, and he’s pretty sure he stopped breathing, too. Mic-sensei knows. Does Aizawa-sensei know, too? Does Aizawa-sensei know that Mic-sensei knows?

“Shinsou, did you need a note?” Mic-sensei asks again, completely composed, without so much as a blink.

Hitoshi takes a breath, far too deep and burning. His eyes water at the sensation and he quickly shakes his head before fleeing the classroom.

Hizashi is mildly concerned about Shinsou passing out from a panic attack when he flees the classroom, but he seems to have been alright. Shouta is probably going to murder him for heavily implying that Shinsou should go see him. Hizashi isn’t sure how intimidated he is by that notion today. Not when Aizawa was worried about Shinsou not taking his absence well, and Shinsou is clearly not taking his absence well. They both need to get some sleep anyway, so hopefully Shinsou will take his advice.

Hizashi purses his lips, realizing that Shinsou is probably going to need another little push to get him to go over to Aizawa’s. He picks up his classroom phone to make a call. Maybe he could ensure that the two of them got a decent meal.

Shinsou is nervous when he quietly opens the door to Aizawa’s apartment. It’s almost never locked when Aizawa is home, and now is no exception. It’s irresponsible of Aizawa-sensei to leave his home vulnerable when he’s not feeling well, but it’s Aizawa-sensei, so it’s not really surprising.

He does his best to keep his breathing calm, even as his heart is clearly trying to be heard over the soft buzz of electronics in the otherwise quiet apartment. He slips his shoes off and walks into the kitchen, glancing to the living area couch.

There’s an abandoned nest of blankets there, evidence that Aizawa is around somewhere. Hitoshi silently moves through the apartment to Aizawa’s room, where he spots his mentor laid out on his back, one arm draped over his eyes.

“I told you to take a rest day,” Aizawa-sensei lifts his arm just enough to make eye contact with Shinsou in the warm, hazy light that filters in through the curtained windows. His voice is rough, and it’s obvious that he’s still in pain. Shinsou’s chest constricts. His mentor has never let his guard down like this with him.

“Mic-sensei and Midnight-sensei seemed pretty convinced that I would be able to convince you to eat something.” Shinsou responds as quietly as he can from the doorway. “I brought some stir fry. Midnight-sensei sent some coffee, too. Not prepared, just - for tomorrow.”

“Guess that means I have to get up.” Aizawa heaves a sigh.

“I could bring it to you, if you want.”

“I don’t usually eat in bed.”

“It might be a good time for an exception.”

“Cute. Go pick out a movie, and I’ll be there in a minute.”

Shinsou’s face is on fire all over again. He moves back to the kitchen just as quietly as he’d gone looking for Aizawa.

He’s set up a couple of plates of stir fry, gotten some water, and pain meds for Aizawa by the time he emerges from his room, slowly maneuvering himself down the hall. He watches out of the corner of his eye while pulling up Howl’s Moving Castle.

“This one again?,” Aizawa asks without judgment while settling himself on the couch.

“I like this one,” Shinsou mumbles, plainly pouting. “I can change it. You’re the sick one, you should get final say.”

“It’s fine, Shinsou,” Aizawa reaches for the glass of water set on the coffee table in front of him.

“Take the meds, too, please?”

Aizawa groans, but picks up the little pills from the table as well. He looks at Shinsou with raised brows, silently asking if he’s pleased. Shinsou looks back, unimpressed, until Aizawa actually takes the medication.

They both settle into the couch with their meals while the film starts, and Shinsou’s nerves calm as familiar music washes over him. When their meals are finished, Shinsou plucks the empty plate from Aizawa’s hands before he can make a move to get up.

By the time Shinsou is finished cleaning up the kitchen and refilling Aizawa’s water, Aizawa has curled up on the couch under a blanket, and the sun is starting to set.

“Are you feeling better?” Shinsou asks before hitting play on the paused film. He tries to be unassuming about it, to keep his voice mostly unconcerned, but if the look on Aizawa’s face is anything to go by, it doesn’t work.

“Come here, Toshi,” Aizawa yawns and lifts one side of his blanket. Shinsou’s blushing again, and hoping that the room is dark enough that Aizawa can’t see it.

He does as instructed while he grumbles softly about the unfairness of using nicknames. Aizawa hides a grin while Shinsou gets settled against his side. Maybe it was a little unfair to use the nickname, but Aizawa knows Shinsou will do anything when he calls him Toshi and he’s clearly exhausted, probably from the anxiety that he tries to pretend doesn’t plague him.

“I’m just fine,” Aizawa assures him, tucking the blanket around Shinsou before wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “I was getting better before you got here, but the food, the water, the meds all helped. Thank you for taking care of me.” Aizawa squeezes Hitoshi’s shoulders closer, and before he can think too much about it, presses a kiss to his favorite student’s hairline.

Shinsou’s eyes are as wide as saucers and he’s sure he’s grinning like a fool, curled against his mentor, his favorite person in the world. These moments are the ones he lives for, when Aizawa offers him affection that he’s hardly gotten anywhere else. Aizawa never comments on Shinsou’s eager acceptance, but always makes sure to ruffle his hair, or pull him into a short hug after training. These moments, though, when Aizawa decides it’s time for a break, and they get to exist together quietly, are special.

The movie plays on, and Shinsou is dangerously comfortable, tucked into Aizawa’s side under a warm blanket. His nerves are truly calm for the first time all day, he’s warm, the feeling of another person against him is comfortable. Aizawa’s steady presence is always a comfort and he’s done for when Aizawa starts absentmindedly running fingers through his hair. Exhaustion takes over entirely by the time the credits start rolling and Shinsou is a dead weight against Aizawa.

Aizawa finds himself hard pressed to keep his own eyes open, and Shinsou looks so peaceful, he can’t find it in himself to wake him up. So, Aizawa carefully shifts to a more comfortable position and allows himself to sleep.

A few hours later, Hizashi quietly opens the door to the apartment that he shares with Shouta. The exact scene he was hoping for greets him in the living room, Shouta and Shinsou curled together on the couch, deep asleep.

He snaps a quick photo before gently nudging Shouta awake. In careful silence, he gathers Shinsou up in his arms and motions for Shouta to follow. Shinsou isn’t typically a deep sleeper, but he always seems to sleep well enough here with the two of them, and he doesn’t so much as twitch while Hizashi tucks him into the bed he normally shares with Shouta before excusing himself to shower.

Shouta has Shinsou pulled against his chest and is already back to sleep when he returns. He watches them with fondness for a minute before sliding into the bed on Shouta’s other side. He mimics Shouta’s position, curling himself around the other man.

Morning comes far too quickly, but Hizashi pops up from bed when the alarm goes off. Shouta and Shinsou whine in sync, but slowly start to move while Hizashi herds them into the kitchen. Shinsou starts on making the coffee that Nemuri sent with him the day before. Shouta pulls leftover stir fry from the fridge and bentos from the cabinet while Hizashi turns on music before starting on making breakfast.

He loves these mornings, when Shinsou is still too sleepy and comfortable to be anxious. He reminds Hizashi so much of Shouta when they were teenagers, it’s a relief, to be able to be a safe place, a safe person for Shinsou to be around.

“You’re very quiet. Do you have a migraine now?” Shinsou asks softly, voice thick with sleep while he pouts at Hizashi. Hizashi gladly wraps Shinsou in a hug.

“Nope! Just felt like a quiet morning,” Hizashi grins down at the teenager who gives up on wiggling out of his grip to get to the coffee and leans on Hizashi instead.

“Okay.”

Hizashi is pretty sure this interaction will make Shinsou anxious later, but every minute of comfort he can offer, he will. It certainly doesn’t hurt that when Hizashi does manage to wrap Shinsou in hugs, it makes Shouta jealous enough to bully his way into it as well. It’s a bit like herding cats, really, but he can’t complain when he has his two favorite listeners cozy and warm in his arms.

It’s been a couple of weeks since Shinsou fell asleep pressed against his mentor, and his perpetual exhaustion has been exacerbated by a flare up in his insomnia. He’s processing everything slower and it feels like his mind is operating through cold maple syrup.

It’s impossible not to notice, and Shinsou is sure that Aizawa is going to berate him for not getting enough rest, mostly because he’s berating himself for not getting enough rest.

He’s surprised when he meets Aizawa in their usual spot to find both Aizawa and Yamada standing there with their things, looking ready to go home.

“Today we’re resting.” Aizawa tells his perplexed student without an ounce of hesitation. He takes Shinsou’s bag, and leads him to Yamada’s car. “We can watch Howl’s Moving Castle, if you want.”

“Again?,” Yamada sounds shocked, looking at Shinsou who ducks his head. “Well, Howl’s Moving Castle it is.”

“And maybe some coffee?”

“NO!” Yamada looks scandalized. “Rest, not coffee. Shouta! What are you teaching him? Next thing you know, he’s going to be asking for jelly packs.”

“Oh, do you have a mango one?” Shinsou asks with a straight face.

“Shouta!”

“He’s joking.” There’s a pause. “He prefers the strawberry one.”

“Shouta!”

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