Extension October 2025 Drabble #2

Aizawa/Shinsou – sleep paralysis – Pro hero Shinsou (20+) finally gets to play with his friend Aizawa...

Part 1 (Patreon Link)

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Aizawa is used to sleep demons. For someone with his relationship to sleep and with how fucked his autonomous nervous system is, there’s no surprise there. He’s never had a paralysis demon like this, though. Moving sleek as a cat and looking like a wet dream even with his own dark circles beneath his eyes.

Shinsou is making sure that Aizawa’s head is propped in a way that lets him watch every moment as the sleeping bag is opened until the other hero can get at the real prize.

Shinsou shifts then, creeping across his legs. Years after graduating, he is taller than even Aizawa now, if just by a few inches. However he is still young and flexible enough to bunch his spine in a way that has Aizawa’s breath stutter in his lungs as he straddles him and manages to bring his face to hover closer to Aizawa’s crotch.

It’s certainly not one of his prouder moments to watch his cock twitch visibly so close to the younger underground hero’s face. Shinsou’s gaze is locked with his, his smile slowly widening.

“Seems like not all of your body’s got the memo, huh? Gotta say this has been like… a fantasy of mine for years now. Finding you all helpless in your sleeping bag. Able to do whatever it is I want.”

Aizawa can see how a feline shudder is racing along Shinsou’s body. His body armor doesn’t leave much to the imagination, after all. It is too tight and in places even too revealing to hide his obvious desire.

He feels overwhelmed by Shinsou’s undivided attention. By this feline grace crouched across him, beautiful and dangerous and entirely too pretty to concern itself with someone like him.

Doesn’t mean that what Shinsou is doing to him right now is right. He is using him, and Aizawa is forced to just watch as the younger man tilts his head and presses his soft cheek against where Shouta’s crown is hidden beneath the fly of his baggy, black pants.

His breath catches in his throat, a soft puff of a groan rippling out of him; just about the only thing he can do while his body is still sleep heavy and unresponsive to his eager brain.

Like a cat, Shinsou rubs his cheek against him once, twice, putting more pressure into it and making the fabric drag against Aizawa’s sensitive crown until he feels his scalp start to tingle.

“Oh Eraser,” Shinsou sighs softly. He turns his head briefly, sniffing at his cock through the crotch of his pants before finally beginning to release him from the confines. Aizawa’s heart jumps in his chest, pumping faster against his ribcage when Shinsou fishes around inside the opening of his shorts and pulls him out into the cool morning air on this random rooftop.

Shinsou’s violet gaze fixes on the fat cock in his grip, his lunar pupils dilating like fat twin moons until his irises are just thin rings of glittering, dark purple. “You shouldn’t have,” he concludes, voice dipped down by a whole register, deep and clicking in his throat.

Aizawa thinks he can feel it against the overheated skin of his cock even before Shinsou opens up nice and wide and pops his mouth over his glans. Just like that. No hesitation, no teasing, no will-he-won’t-he. Just him following what his heart has wanted him to do for an inappropriately long time, it seems.

Aizawa’s mouth opens on a soft little gasp. He can feel his fingers twitching at his sides, but the movement is wholly involuntary. His body is still out of commission. He is still a prisoner in his own mind, forced to watch this young man’s eyes flutter in euphoric delirium as the salt of pre-cum bursts on his tongue and he starts to realize that he is doing this. He is really molesting the Eraserhead on the roof of some building.

Aizawa watches as Shinsou slowly slides his hand down his shaft until he has only a couple fingers curled around the base to keep him nice and steady. He even gives his pubes a cheeky little scratch as if he were treating a little animal to some petting. Aizawa’s nostrils flare. He tries to glare at him but is not sure what his face is doing at the moment. It, like the rest of his body, is not playing along with what his mind is trying to dictate.

Shinsou chuckles softly like he got the message even so. With his mouth wet and warm around Aizawa’s glans, it only makes his blood pump hotter, boiling in his veins as he feels the vibrations and the little puffs of breath up close and personal.

His heavy moonstone gaze is fixed on Aizawa’s face, lids so heavy that his long, dark lashes nearly cut off their connection. His hair has grown longer since school days, the mane looking heavy and thick and perfect for someone to sink their fingers into. If only that someone were able to move beyond a few pathetic twitches.

Shinsou’s tongue lashes his cock. That’s what it feels like, in any case, even though the movements of that warm little muscle are languid, the texture velvet soft. Wet silk dragging against Aizawa’s pathetically pulsing cock, drawing more dribbling need pearling from his piss slit and dripping right against Shinsou’s offered tongue.

In a way it feels like Shinsou is doing him a… a favor of some sort. As if he isn’t accosting Aizawa. As if he hasn’t seen him sleeping and then subsequently being caged by his own body and decided that today is the day he can finally make do on so many of his fantasies.

If Aizawa didn’t know better he would have thought that he was being Brainwashed.

Shinsou hums and Aizawa grits his teeth when the vibration shivers through his cock and settles at the very base of it. Involuntary tears spring to his eyes when he feels his balls pulling up tighter and higher to his body, sensitive and overly eager to spill in a matter of minutes. He does not feel like he has enough agency over his own body to stop it. At least the humiliating thought of prematurely shooting his load cools his blood down a little bit.

He slowly flexes his fingers, curls them into the palms of his hands, watches as Shinsou pulls back to pop his mouth off with an obscenely wet little suckling sound. The young man licks his lips. His gaze is arresting Aizawa on the spot. The lilac of his irises has gotten wine dark, almost red as he briefly moves his hand and fists that warm, eagerly throbbing cock to smear the mess of drool and pre-cum along the shaft.

He does not talk; just stares and then lowers his head once again in an entirely too graceful motion. He swallows Aizawa just like that; silky, molten warmth pushing over his cock, lips taking care to tease his foreskin back until his tip is exposed to the devastating heat of Hitoshi’s insides.

Aizawa’s eyes roll up into his head, his jaw slowly opening a fraction more to allow him a throaty groan. It’s why he’s not prepared for the other underground pro hero to tilt his head in a devious little curl to the side, tucking Aizawa’s glans into the cup of his velvet cheek. Aizawa’s legs jump, breath catching in his chest and eyes flying back open wide.

He feels like he’s losing his grip on his Quirk. It’s briefly burning through his body, lifting the heavy curtain of his hair off his shoulders as he watches his cock bulging his colleague’s cheek outward while this absolute demon is somehow curling his tongue around his shaft. Or tries to, at the very least. There’s a lot of drool now, sliding from Hitoshi’s open lips, his expression one of blissed out euphoria as he pulls back again, rights his head, then repeats the action, but with the other cheek.

He’s helping along with his hand now; has it wrapped around Aizawa’s shaft, slipping along the wet, heated skin just enough to make the older man’s toes curl in his boots and his balls feel swollen to twice their size. He’s panting now, his tongue against his bottom lip, limbs moving against his will.

Somehow he manages to lift his hands and grip into Hitoshi’s wild mane. It takes an impossible amount of time to even feel the round of his skull. It has Aizawa’s heart inexplicably squeeze in his chest.

He should be angry about this whole thing. He should be furious. But all he can think about is how small Shinsou’s head feels in his palms or how incredibly hot his mouth is, suckling on his cock, slurping up all the juices eagerly dribbling from him.

There’s no finesse in coming down this pretty demon’s throat. He can’t pull it out, can’t make him work for it any more than he already has. He just comes and comes and comes, the blood roaring in his ears and his heels scraping against the rooftop as he inadvertently snaps his knees up and clamps them around Shinsou’s body.

When he looks down again, he is greeted by the sight of Hitoshi patiently hunkered down, face still close to his brick red cock, mouth open wide like an obedient whore to show Shouta the load pooling on that devious little tongue before he closes his lips and makes a show out of swallowing it all down.

Aizawa feels like he’s about to go cross-eyed. Hitoshi is flushed prettily, his eyes still dilated and feverish looking. But instead of staying and waiting for the fallout of his actions, he suddenly scrambles back and pushes his Persona Chords back into place. The crinkle at the corner of his eyes lets Aizawa know this absolute menace is grinning before quickly scurrying off the building before the older hero can finally get his bearings back.

But God, Aizawa will get him back for this.