Includes: Suna Rintarou, Miya Osamu, Miya Atsumu

miya atsumu x f!reader

tags: con noncon, anal, public bathroom, degradation, dacryphilia

you know that atsumu always demands absolute silence for his serves. you know it, but it’s also been a while since he’s been rough with you, and you crave it. so you muster up all your courage and scream his name just after he commands the room. you know instantly that he recognizes your voice, but he doesn’t even look at you, and you watch as he hits one of the most intense jump serves you’ve ever seen. 

atsumu finds you as soon as he exits the locker rooms and without a word pull’s you into the men’s washrooms. he glares at the man washing his hands, who scrambles off, and pushes you into the stall.

“yer a fuckin’ pig, y’know?” he hisses, holding your upper arm with bruising force.

you whimper, “tsumu—”

“shut yer mouth,” he spins you around, bending you over the filthy toilet, “ya really pissed me off this time, y/n.”

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CHARACTERS. hanma, ran, izana

AUTHOR’S NOTE. a cherry chaser is someone who pines after someone’s virginity. first time writing for izana!! let me know how you feel about it :-) 19 and below, ageless, and blank blogs DNI!

HANMA SHUJI

CONTENT WARNINGS. female!reader, reader gets slapped, weed, blood gets drawn (not from reader), reader’s kinda dumb, noncon

There was no way you weren’t a virgin.

From your doe eyes to the way you attempted to maintain your modesty by pulling down at the hem of your skirt in a den full of lecherous men, Shuji was nearly convinced that this was too good to be true.

“You a virgin, sweetheart?”

Snapped out of your own little world, you cautiously look over at the bespectacled man who then promptly took a hit from his joint.

“And what if I am?” you dare to ask despite the unsettling feeling Shuji Hanma gave you. He chuckles before blowing the smoke into your unsuspecting face. You cough and splutter rather ungracefully.

“No need to get so defensive. S’just a question.” He smiles at you, all pearly whites and danger.

Blinking, you tentatively answer. “Yes.”

This, of course, was no surprise to Shuji. This time he laughs and you feel your eye twitch. “How precious,” he drawls, golden hues shamelessly traversing your stiff posture. As virgin as they come, he thinks to himself before passing the joint in the hand that was inked with ‘sin,’ which soon joins its partner ‘punishment’ as he steeples his fingers together, resting his elbows on his knees as he regards you curiously. You break eye contact quickly to study the marbled floor.

“Ever cared for a creampie?” he asks.

“No, I was never one for sweets.”

The boisterous cacophony of laughter that joined Shuji’s makes you shrink back into yourself in burning embarrassment. Had you said something wrong?

Shuji gestures to you as he rises to his full height. “Well, let’s change that, yeah?”

You were more confused than ever, and it must’ve been sprawled across your features because the loan shark before you shifts over to you in two short strides. He takes your smaller hand into his ‘punishment’ hand, grinning all the while.

“Follow me.”

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these men could destroy my life and i would say thank you

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。HANDS — ITOSHI SAE.

sae doesn’t understand the purpose of holding hands. it’s a bit annoying to try and move around while you’re practically chained to someone else, it feels a bit odd to have someone’s hand lace with yours and keep it occupied, and it just draws this unwarranted attention that he doesn’t like.

he doesn’t hold hands, and you don’t seem to mind, so it’s never really been a concern of his.

not until today at least.

“are you nervous?” you ask, standing next to him as you stare out at the field. it’s a large stadium—there’s a bigger audience here than you’ve ever seen at any of the last few games you’ve been to.

it makes sense, you suppose. you’ve really only been to a handful of sae’s games—and even if you haven’t dated long, you’re well accustomed now to the occasional mic in your face as they as you how you feel about your boyfriend’s win. but now that he officially doesn’t play for a youth team anymore, now that he’s in the big shots with the adults, there’s bound to be more people, right? it makes you a bit nervous, all the eyes on you, but it doesn’t keep you from standing next to him as he waits with his team just minutes before starting the game.

sae only raises a brow at you, looks at you like you’ve grown two heads, “what do you take me for? they’re lucky to even play against me,” he mutters.

from a distance, you can hear a few amused chuckles and a few scoffs of disbelief from his older teammates. for the youngest on the team, sae has the largest presence. he’s already the talk of the hour—you can hear reporters buzzing for an interview and fans chanting his name already.

but he’s unbothered, sipping on his water bottle like it’s child’s play he’s preparing for.

“i know, baby,” you mumble, “you’ll crush them but…there’s just so many people,” you mumble. “what if you trip and fall? that’ll be so many people seeing.”

“i’m not gonna trip and fall,” he grumbles, lips twitching into a small frown that’s almost—almost—a pout, like the fact that you think he’d do something like that is an insult to his pride.

“oh my gosh,” you gasp, “i think someone just took a picture of us,” you ramble, not even paying attention to him. “what if i looked ugly?”

he wants to tell you there are a lot of people taking pictures, and that it’s a dumb thing to say—since when have you ever looked ugly? even your bad angles are better than the average person’s best, but before he can even say anything, your hand tightly grasps his.

he looks down, furrows his brows, opens his mouth to say something when you cut in.

“don’t be nervous, sae,” you babble away, “you got this, okay? there’s not even that many people here, they look like ants from down here anyway. you won’t even notice them.”

and then your hand squeezes his tightly, like it’s for reassurance, like it’s to tell him it’s okay, i’m here. except, he’s sure you’re doing it more for yourself than him—since he’s quite literally fine, quite literally standing here with as bored of an expression as always.

“i’m not nervous, idiot,” he mumbles.

and sae doesn’t like holding hands. your hands are a bit clammy and cold and they’re squeezing a bit too tight for his liking and he can’t move around as freely now. but your thumb is rubbing circles into the back of his hand and…it’s nice. for some reason, it’s kind of nice and he likes it.

he gives your hand an experimental squeeze, and when you squeeze right back, he finds that oddly enough, it’s kind of comforting to be able to communicate with you like this without actually saying words.

it’s okay. i’m here. you’ve got this. i’m not going anywhere. i’m proud of you. you’re all i need. you make me happiest. did you see that? i think that was another camera flash. i’m scared. i believe in you. it’s almost time for you to go. play your best. i love you.

i love you. i love you. i love you.

every tightening of your hand and every small squeeze tells him something that he finds he can understand for some reason—even without words. even without looking at your eyes or your face or seeing your expression. it’s so simple—so easy and…and he likes it.

why does he like it?

“good luck, baby,” you whisper, turning to face him, giving him a look that’s so nervous, yet so filled with conviction, he almost feels that to not play better than his best is of a disservice to you.

“thanks,” he murmurs, tugging you a bit closer by your hand. he finds that’s also a nice added perk of holding your hand—being able to pull your body impossibly closer whenever he wants. “but i won’t need it.”

“no,” you huff, rolling your eyes, “because you’re mister itoshi-sae-the-best-ever-who-never-gets-nervous. my bad.”

he huffs a small chuckle, gives your hand a squeeze and lets out a small sigh of content when he realizes the circles you’re rubbing over his knuckles have turned into hearts.

“don’t be nervous,” he says quietly, “‘s just us. everyone else’s background noise.”

“i know, but—”

“and don’t answer any reporters till i come back, okay? don’t need you having a breakdown on national television.”

“sae!” you whine, “that doesn’t help.”

“see you after my win,” he grins ever so slightly. it’s the biggest smile any of his teammates have ever seen from him—a few of them even gape in shock, but he pays no mind. he contemplates for a small moment before he decides—brings up your laced fingers and presses a small, short kiss to the back of your hand.

“see you after your win,” you agree, giving one more squeeze to his hand.

i love you.

he squeezes back. i love you too.

and then he’s off, and he almost hesitates before he lets his hand leave your grasp while he runs onto the field. he glances back at you, sees the way your hands are clutched tightly together to your chest as you stare at him with hope in your eyes and awe in your expression.

itoshi sae has never liked holding hands—but then your hands hold out his entire universe, and how could he not change his mind?

hi everyone. pls take this very self indulgent and very me coded reader as they overthink sae’s entire game more than he even thinks about it 💀

“heatwaves”

pairing: alpha!gojo x omega!fem!reader summary: when a work trip takes you to japan, the last thing you expect is a heatwave... and some guy with blue eyes? content: MDNI (18+ only), nsfw, a/b/o dynamics, no established relationship, dubcon (i feel like it’s always kinda dubcon with a/b/o), p->v, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding, biting, blood, marking, spit, praise, swearing, pet names (baby/sweetheart/princess), brief mention/implication of pregnancy, knotting, reader gets picked up, reader is american, reader is unaware of their omega status, reader experiences their first heat, reader and satoru “bond” without having a fully conscious conversation, reader and satoru are early twenties. a/n: it's here! somebody spay me. by popular demand i have written alpha!gojo for you all… just a classic reader goes into an accidental heat at work and (x) character happens to be the nearest alpha LMAO. this is entirely uncreative, but i love it for that!!! straight smut with a little plot if you squint hard enough! i hope it lives up to your expectations. find my alpha!geto fic here and find the list of my 1k event fics here. enjoy and remember, ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED! credits: dividers by @cafekitsune. wc: 5k

Nobody ever told you that Japan was so damn hot. 

Hot was not what came to mind when you’d heard you’d be taking a trip to Tokyo. Temples? Sure. Mt. Fuji? Great. Hot? No fucking way. 

But, here you were, boiling away under the sun on what you’d thought would be a fun little work trip. Instead, you were just suffering with every step, trying to listen to what Principal Yaga was saying and failing miserably. 

“These are the sparring courts. No students right now, but they’ll start training within the hour.” 

You rub at the back of your neck, cringing when your palm comes away coated with a thin layer of sweat. Gross. 

You lift your eyes to the sky, wondering how much longer this was going to take. Your little trip to Japan was to organize an exchange program with Jujutsu Tech. Your students had been begging to take a trip to Tokyo, to where their cursed energy would be closer to the source and, consequently, stronger. You had to admit, it was a good idea. A few months spent training here in Japan would do them good. From the moment you’d set foot on Japanese soil, your power had thrummed faster in your veins than ever before. 

Principal Yaga was giving you a tour of the grounds and had sealed your horrible fate when he’d decided to start outside. You barely heard a word the man said. New York was never this hot…

“Are you alright?” You blink, fanning your face as best you can. It provides no relief. God, it felt like the heat was penetrating your fucking bones… 

When your eyes slide to Principal Yaga, you’re surprised to see that he looks genuinely concerned. “Y-yeah.” You blink again, shocked by your own stutter. Maybe you were coming down with something? “I’m fine, just not used to this kind of heat, I guess.” You fan your face again and clench your jaw when it still does nothing. 

Yaga’s brows furrow and you see him glance around, like he’ll find said heat standing next to him. How was he wearing so many layers? 

“How about we head inside and take a break, then? We can continue the tour… later.” You nearly fall to the ground and kiss his feet. Air conditioning is truly God's gift to man… 

You smile and it’s all genuine. “That would be amazing. Thank you.” 

Yaga nods, but you think his eyes linger on you for just a beat too long before he turns. He still looks confused… or maybe flustered? That only leaves you confused. 

You follow after him, each step feeling like you’re sinking deep into cement. You tug at the collar of your shirt, trying to get some ventilation. When you finally reach the building you nearly sigh with relief. Air conditioning… that’ll be good. Just what you need. A few minutes inside and you’ll be good to go. You’ll just have to remember not to wear so many damn layers again when you continue the tour. 

You’re smiling as you step inside, so ready for relief that you’re practically shaking– but relief never comes. Your brows furrow. You brush your arm through the air. It… doesn’t help. It’s strange– you can feel the coolness of the air conditioning, feel it gliding up and across your skin, but the heat doesn’t subside, doesn’t so much as lessen. 

“I trust you know how to find anything you might–” Yaga clears his throat. “Need?” 

 Your brows furrow. He’d shown you all the school’s resources last night and your room was already stocked with food, toiletries, and every other thing you could possibly need. Of course you knew where everything was… 

“Yes… Thank you.” 

Yaga shifts so uncomfortably you think that maybe he’s about to pee his pants. “Right, well, you have my contact information. Let me know if I can be of assistance in connecting you to any… resources.”

You’re more confused now than you were at the start of this conversation. “Right…” 

“Take care.” 

Yaga shoots you one last– worried?- glance and stalks down the hall. You’re left wondering what the hell is happening in his mind and why he seemed so desperate to offer you resources? 

You blink, clearing your mind as best you can, but some sort of fog seems to be settling over your consciousness. Definitely coming down with something, you think. 

You make your way through the halls, steps still feeling suspiciously heavy and heat still radiating off your body. A cold shower. That’ll help. Or so you thought. The further you walk, the more each hallway starts to look like the next. Was it left or right next? Was this hallway always a dead end? Since when was there a bathroom there?

You’re leaning against the wall now, panting. Something is pooling in your gut, something warm and far too intense. Your inner thighs are wet, too. You want to convince yourself it’s sweat, but… you’re horny. More horny than you’ve ever been in your whole damn life. You think you might die if you don’t get some dick in the next ten minutes. What the fuck?

You slide yourself into the next room you see: an empty classroom. Thank fucking god. You grab the back of a chair, hands shaking with how hard you’re gripping the wood. You take a deep breath. You need to get a hold of yourself, need to figure out what the fuck is happening to you.  

You swallow and try your best to think. It’s not without difficulty. Your head feels like somebody’s filled it with glue. It takes a minute for a coherent thought to come through, but when it does, you think it’s a good one. Doctor. 

Yes– you don’t feel well, so obviously a doctor is the correct choice, right? You scramble for your phone in your back pocket but freeze when the brush of your own hand against your ass sends a jolt up your spine. What the fuck is wrong with you? 

Carefully, you extract your phone from your pocket, but it’s too difficult to even remember your fucking passcode. You press your thighs together, trying to relieve some of the overwhelming ache that’s forming between your legs. Something is definitely wrong.

You fumble with your phone, but your hands are shaking so hard it just tumbles to the floor. 

“Fuck,” you breathe. “Fuck, fuck, fuck?” 

“Yo, who’s baking cookies in here without me?” 

Your head snaps up and, with some difficulty, your eyes settle on a… man. You suck in a breath. He’s… dazzling. He’s wearing all black, but it’s not a student uniform. One of the teachers that you’ve yet to meet, then. White hair and pale skin contrasts against his clothes, but his eyes are covered by a pair of sunglasses set low on his nose. Even in your delirious state you still have the wherewithal to wonder who the fuck wears sunglasses inside. 

You get a quick look at him before a wave of intense- fuck, desire?- washes over you. You tremble again and shock yourself when a whimper tumbles from your lips. 

“Oh, shit,” you hear him say. You glance at him from the corner of your eye and watch him inhale again– deeply. His lips part. “Oh, shit.”

You clench your jaw and tighten your grip on your chair. Your legs are shaking now– you can barely stand. You squeak pitifully. 

The second the sound leaves your throat you hear footsteps– rapid, hurried, concerned, ones. Warm hands clasp your waist and you cry out at the touch, electricity sparking on your skin. 

“Shhh, it’s okay.” He turns you gently to face him, hands steadying your swaying body. “Who the fuck left you alone in here?” His hand is rubbing soothing circles on your lower back now and you think you’ve never felt something so good in your life. It’s so good that you almost miss what he said. Almost. 

“W-What?” You see his brows furrow as you peek up at him. At this angle you can see under his sunglasses. His eyes are blue. Really fucking blue. You think he might be the most attractive man you’ve ever seen, even with the expression of… anger?- that he’s currently wearing. 

“Whoever he is, I'll kill him.” 

That makes you blink. An extra sliver of clarity opens in your brain. “What are you talking about?”

He tugs you a little closer, wrapping an arm fully around your waist and pressing you up against him. You try to ignore the fact that you love it, that you want nothing more than to wrap yourself around him and climb him like a fucking tree. 

“What idiot leaves an omega going into heat?” He’s glaring at the doorway like he’s torn between staying here with you and running after said idiot to pommel him into the ground. 

“‘M not an omega.” The words are out before you’ve even stopped to consider them. It’s true. You’re not an omega. You’re a beta. You’ve always been a beta. You’ve got the little “B” on your ID card to prove it. You were tested at birth, just like everyone else, and even if you really were an omega you would have presented years ago.

He only glances down at you and snorts. “Funny, sweetheart.” His hand is still rubbing those little circles into your back and it’s enough to make that fogginess in your mind grow a little thicker. 

But your fear, your uncertainty outways your instinct. You pound a weak fist against his chest, not to push him away, but to get his attention. He’s still glaring at the doorway like he wants to murder it. 

“‘M serious,” you gasp. “I’m a beta… I don’... know whas’ happenin’… to me.” Each word is a tremendous effort to form. Your tongue seems to have lost its ability to do anything but hang limply. 

That gets his attention. He lifts a hand, gently brushing your hair back from your eyes and then cupping your jaw. “Is this your first heat?” 

You find yourself leaning into his touch despite the fact that you’ve only known him for thirty seconds. Your eyelids flutter. “N-Not a heat… jus’ feel… sick.”

His brows furrow again, deeper this time, and he shakes his head. “How old are you?”

You know why he asks. Most omegas present around eighteen or nineteen. “Older than… nineteen…” You try to laugh, but it only comes out as a whimper.

That answer only serves to make him push closer. You feel his hand trailing down your neck, skimming gently over the skin until he reaches a spot you hadn't even realized was so… sore. You keen at the touch. Fuck, no. There was no way. You had swollen fucking scent glands. 

You try to push away, but he pulls you in, burying his face in your neck. You shudder when he groans. “You smell like a damn bakery exploded,” he chuckles, and the sound is muffled by your skin. When he pulls away he makes it look like the action is physically painful. He cups your face again. “Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but you’re an omega. If this is your first heat then…” he swallows and your eyes track the bob of his throat. “You’re just a late bloomer, baby.”

You shake your head desperately. It’s just the stupid heatwave. It’s just… hot outside… right? 

You try to think about how this could be possible. It could be that the test you took as a baby was wrong… it happened sometimes. It was rare, but it happened. But if you were an omega, what would have triggered your presentation now? What had changed? 

Your eyes widen. Japan. You’d set foot in fucking Japan. Ever since you’d gotten here, you’d felt power pulsing in your veins. Maybe it hadn’t been just power… 

“N-no–” 

A gentle thumb smooths over your cheek and you meet his eyes again. You shiver when you see a whole lot more black than blue. “You have no alpha?” 

You whimper, leaning into him. Touch me, touch me, touch me, a part of you begs. You shake your head again and a tear slides down your cheek. “No,” you whisper. 

Strong arms slide beneath your knees and you squeak when you’re suddenly suspended in the air. When you glance up he’s grinning triumphantly. “You have one now,” is all he says before he’s carrying you out of the classroom and twisting through the halls. 

Warmth rushes over you at the sensation of being held, and something begs you to give into it, to give into the heat still washing over you, to the throbbing between your legs. You fight it and fight it hard. 

“Where’re we going?” you ask, but your voice is sounding more and more like a whisper. 

His eyes stay focused ahead, even as he presses a comforting kiss to the crown of your head. “Your room, sweetheart.” 

Your brows scrunch. “How d’ you know where–” 

“‘M following your scent, baby.” 

He can do that? You bury your face in his neck, embarrassed, only to be hit by a different scent so delicious your mouth starts watering. You groan. Loudly. There’s a scent pouring from his neck that’s filling your head with memories of spices you can’t name, but suddenly know you love. 

You think you hear him chuckle and then feel a gentle hand on the back of your neck, encouraging you. You snuggle deeper into him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and burying your fingers in his hair. Taste him, taste him, taste him your mind chants. It’s too good an offer to deny. You lick a stripe across his skin. 

Your groans are instant. He’s squeezing you closer, leaning into your touch, and you’re pulling him closer. Your fingers curl into his jacket, tugging and tugging. You lick again and now he’s the one groaning. 

“Damn, that feels good,” He sounds as surprised by that fact as you feel. The swaying of his steps comes to a sudden halt. You whine, missing the rocking of his body. “Think we’re here, princess. This it?” His hand is smoothing over your hair, slowly coaxing you away from the curve of his neck. You blink, not wanting to leave the paradise of his scent, but also feeling some overwhelming urge to please him.

Your eyes settle on a door and you recognize a little chip in the wood. You nod. “Mhm.” 

You gasp when his hand grips your hip, wriggling through your pocket until he pulls out a little brass key. 

“Perfect,” he says, and his voice sounds like he’s all too pleased with himself. He shimmies your key in the knob until the lock clicks and then you’re inside. The door slams shut loud enough to make you jump and squeak. 

“Oops, sorry, baby. Guess I’m a little excited, heh.” His hand squeezes your hip soothingly and you mewl at the wave of heat that pulses through you. Your clit throbs almost painfully and you feel something gush onto your thighs. You whimper. 

He inhales. “Oh, shit,” he breathes, and then you’re moving again. He navigates your room like he knows it. He probably does. From what you can tell, most of the rooms at Jujutsu Tech follow a standard layout. He weaves down a hall to the left and then into your bedroom on the right. 

He lays you on the bed gently, tenderly, like he’s afraid you might break if he drops you so much as an inch. “There we go,” he breathes. You can’t deny that it feels good, that it feels right, to be lying on the softness of your mattress, but it’s not enough. 

You claw at him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck and pulling him close. You want something from him, need something, but you can’t name what. You just know that the heat boiling beneath your skin can only be sated by him, that the throbbing between your legs can only be calmed by him. “P-Please,” you whimper. Tears well in your eyes. You need him so bad it physically hurts. 

The smile he gives you is soft and genuine and it takes your breath away. He dips his head and you think you see him slide those sunglasses down his nose and toss them to the side. You don’t pay too close attention, though, because he’s kissing your neck again and your body is screaming with sensation. 

“Aw, I know, baby. Don’ worry. ‘M gonna take care of you now. Jus’ relax.” 

His words spark something in you– your last bit of consciousness. A brief moment of clarity shines through the fog of your mind and you remember what the hell is happening, what the hell you’re doing. You squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head desperately. No, no, no, this is not happening to you. There’s no way.

“Hey, now. None a’ that.” Fingers clasp your chin, holding you still. When you peek your eyes open, you see that he has in fact removed his sunglasses and that his eyes are more black pupil than dazzling blue. His jaw is clenched and his breathing is heavy. “Don’t try t’ fight it. Jus’ try to enjoy it…” His head dips and suddenly he’s nipping at your scent gland again. 

You thrash and scream, but not in fear or pain. You’ve never felt something so good in your life. Every graze of his teeth feels like heaven. Your skin zings with electricity, sending pulses of pure need straight between your thighs. 

You grab at him, tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging him closer. Your chest is heaving when you speak. “Please, p-please-” 

“Shhh…” You think you hear your shirt tearing, but you’re too focused on pulling him closer to care. His tongue licks a stripe up your throat and your eyes roll back. 

You’re sure your shirt is off now. You can feel the cool air, but it does nothing to ease the heat raging inside you, pulsing and pumping through your veins.You feel him tugging at your pants, too, and you try to raise your hips. He only shushes you again. “Jus’ relax. Let me do the work, baby.” 

Your pants are gone in seconds, even without your assistance. So is your bra and then your panties. He tries pulling away to undress himself, but you mewl and his eyes blow even blacker before he’s back over you again. He settles for popping the buttons straight off his shirt and shimmying out of his pants. 

The sight of his bare skin makes you whimper and then you’re clawing at him again, dragging your fingers across his shoulders, over his chest, down his abs. It’s a greedy touch and one that he returns. His palms move along your body, kneading and squeezing at any flesh he can grab. It feels so good that you think you might pass out– but it’s still not enough. Something is still missing. You feel… empty. 

His fingers trace across your stomach and it’s too late to realize what’s happening before he’s circling your clit. You jerk and jolt at the touch, but he presses his chest to yours, pinning you. The throbbing only worsens when his fingers settle into a rhythm. 

Tears leak down your cheeks. It’s too overwhelming. You’re burning– burning from the inside out. The pulsing between your thighs is all-consuming with its intensity, with its-

“Need! N-Need–” you’re crying out, but you don’t even know what to ask for– don’t even know what you need. 

“God, Fuck, I know, princess,” he groans. He licks a long stripe up your neck. “But ‘s your first heat. Gotta–” he has to pause to swallow. He’s panting, now, just as lost as you are, and you get the sense that he’s restraining himself. “Gotta get you ready… go slow.” 

You shake your head. Now, now, now is all you can think. You need him now. “No… please…” You bury your head in his neck and find that spot that’s pouring his spicy scent into the air. Your mouth waters and you lick him, letting your teeth graze his skin.

“Fuck!” He shivers atop you and you feel the pure strength restrained within his muscles. “Fuck- okay. Okay. Relax f’ me, princess.” 

You try, you really do, but your body refuses to do anything but try to pull him closer. You feel his fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs, pressing them up, up, up until they’re pressed tightly to your chest and your feet are dangling on his shoulders. The position makes you whine, feeling more exposed than you ever have before. 

“You on birth control, baby?” 

Your brows furrow. It’s becoming harder and harder to focus on what he’s saying rather than simply the sound of his voice. Were you? You try to think, try to remember through the pit of glue that is your brain. No…

You shake your head. “N-No…” 

There’s a slight pause, a beat of contemplation, and then he’s laughing. “Guess I’m bouta be a daddy then, heh.” He chuckles again and the sound rings through you with a wave of pure bliss. His lips brush your neck again, settling on your pulse and making you whine. “Don’t really mind as long as I get you.” Your head rolls back submissively, exposing your throat. Yes, yes, yes, your mind screams. There’s nothing you want more than that, you think.“Okay, here we go, baby.” 

There’s hardly any more warning. One second you feel him shifting between your thighs and the next he’s pressing inside of you, feeding his cock in inch by inch. The stretch is… delicious. It burns, fuels that fire inside you, but it makes the heat feel more… pleasurable. Your back arches and your head rolls back submissively. 

“Oh, fuck, princess.” His voice has gotten higher, more like a whine than anything else. When you gaze up at him you can see the flush in his cheeks, even through the fog in your mind. More, more, more your mind screams. Or maybe you say it aloud, because more is exactly what he gives you. The second you feel him tucked up against your cervix the second he begins to take you. He sets a pace that is somehow both brutal and gentle, with strokes that rattle your skull and also give you exactly what you need. His hands grip your hips, holding you still to take exactly what he wants to give. His head dips until he has his lips wrapped around your nipple, and his tongue is swirling so deliciously that you can’t help but drag your nails down his back. 

Your body rocks with every thrust, teeth rattling and eyes rolling. The heat inside you grows… tighter, like it’s all pooling to your core, waiting for something you still can’t quite name. 

“N-need…” You don’t know what you need, still. Only that you want to beg for it so badly it hurts. 

His tongue slides away from your nipple, tracing a line up between the valley of your breasts, over your collarbone, before he finally settles on your pulse once again. The nick of his teeth makes something click in your mind. This is what you need. Bite me, bite me, bite. Claim me, claim me, claim me. 

“Yes,” you breathe. Your fingers dig into his scalp, pulling him closer, coaxing his teeth to sink in, to stake their claim. “Oh God, yes. Please.” You sound delirious, you think, but then so does he when he answers. 

“Not yet, princess. Not yet.” His tongue darts out to lick across your neck again and you can only sob. Why not yet? Now, now, now… 

Tightness coils in your muscles, the throb at your core reaching a breaking point. You feel something coming, something like an orgasm but yet also not. You know that when whatever is pooling inside you releases, you will shatter, and you’re not sure you’ll ever be put back together. 

Your nails claw across his back hard enough to draw blood and the action forces out some sort of low grumble from his chest that makes you whimper and melt into the mattress. The tip of his nose draws a line up your throat. “Keep doin’ that, baby. Mark me up.” 

You don’t dare deny him. You scratch at his skin, desperately trying to pull him closer. His thrusts grow faster and your thighs begin to tremble and shake on his shoulders, overwhelmed with the intensity of all you’re feeling. You pull at him, grab at him, thread your fingers through his hair. 

Your body jolts with each thrust and you’re sure you’re going to burst any moment. But you can’t. Not yet. You still need something, something he hasn’t given you yet. He groans and the sound is so delicious that you feel it sliding over your skin and settling in your bones. 

“M’ gonna knot you now, princess,” he breathes. “Gonna make you feel so good. Gonna take care ‘ve you.”

You whimper at his words. You hope they’re true. You don’t think you can take much more of the incessant gnawing of need in your gut. 

“Please…” your voice is hardly more than a whisper. His breath is hot as it shakes against your neck. He’s licking and nipping at you ravenously, like he needs you just as badly, like he wants to claim you as badly as you want to be claimed. 

His thrusts quicken even further and your jaw falls open, neck arching. You don’t think you can hold on much longer. Apparently, neither can he. 

You feel it the moment he starts to swell inside you. It’s perfect, you think. It can’t get better than this– but then it does. 

His teeth graze your throat again, this time a little harsher and with a little more intent. “Mine,” he whispers. The second he bites you everything goes blurry. 

You’re experiencing… heaven. There is a rush of that electricity that buzzes under your skin. It bursts forth and you feel it reaching out, forming a link between the two of you that you know is now impenetrable. It pulses and burns and you can feel him, feel his pleasure, his desire, his need for you and only you– his need to make you his. You think your souls must be blending, merging, with how deep the connection runs. You think you know him, know everything you could possibly ever need to. You know he’s the one. You know he’s yours.

It’s perfect, the way it fulfills every desire you’ve ever had, the way he notches inside your cunt like that’s where he was made to be, the way his teeth clamp around your throat and bond you together forever.

You scream for him, you think, but you can’t tell through the complete and total haze of pleasure. Your walls spasm around him, milking him for every last drop, and you feel the heat of his cum coating your cervix. The heat at your center finally releases, bursting and flooding through you in a way that feels like pure bliss has been injected into your veins. Your thighs quake and tremble with the pure intensity of it all and white spots dot your vision. 

His body is tense above you, shivering with the magnitude of what’s just happened. He’s groaning into your neck, your flesh still clamped between his teeth like he never wants to let go. You’re not sure you ever want him to. 

Your breaths shake in and out, lungs heaving as you finally come down. His knot is still settled deep inside you and with the few strings of consciousness that slowly filter back into your mind you know that he’ll remain there for a while.

His teeth release from your neck with a squelch that you think you would be sickening in any other context, but only makes you whimper at the loss of contact. He only hums and finds your hand, twining your fingers together as he laps at the fresh bite on your throat. It feels… amazing. Not in the way it felt before, like he was licking pure lust straight onto your skin, but more like he’s giving you a comfort you have never known in your life. You feel safe in his arms, like nothing could ever hurt you here. 

His lips press a final kiss to your throat before you feel him shifting. He gently rolls you both onto your sides, getting comfortable and pulling you to his chest while you both wait for the next wave of lust to hit you. It will, you know. Sooner rather than later, too. Your mind has cleared enough to realize what’s happening, what’s to come. You won’t be leaving this room, this bed, for quite some time. 

A gentle hand brushes a sweaty lock of hair from your eyes before it settles on the nape of your neck, massaging the sore muscles there. You sigh and raise your gaze to find him already looking at you, an easy smile on his lips. He has dimples, you realize, and he’s… breathtaking. And now… he’s all yours.

There’s a beat of silence between you, a moment of reconciliation with what’s just happened between you, of what it means. You blink up at him, your lips parting to say something, anything, but instead your brows furrow in thought.

His smile drops instantly. He leans into you, thumb caressing your cheek. “What is it, sweetheart?” 

Your mouth runs dry. You peek up at him from beneath your lashes. “What’s your name?”

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─ SHE CAN GET IT

dabi x f!reader

you’ve gone to the tattoo and piercing parlor that sits between the two family-owned restaurants before, never for yourself but as support for friends. The man with jet black hair who does a majority of the work always makes small talk with you, encouraging you to stop by for yourself. Your curiosity is piqued, if they can do it why can’t you? It won’t hurt that bad, right? It’s not like his gaze alone lights a fire deep in your core.

tattoo-parlor au, no quirks, dom!dabi, needles, nipple play, piercing nipples, cock piercings, biting, vibrator, semi-public sex, masturbation, minor dacryphilia, overstimulation, teasing, squirting.

Keep reading

captain oikawa takes full advantage of the sweet pining lil crush little cheerleader you have on him. it’s like the universe wanted this right? the handsome captain of the volleyball team with his own personal cheerleader.

abuse... of power... make me... cower... (omg i tried so hard to rhyme there forgive me)

nsfwish, fem reader, manipulation-y?, nothing too crazy, just oikawa being slimy

“oi- oikawa-san!”

there it is; your beautiful, little voice. it’s become a ritual, to hear your footsteps come up behind him before he can enter the gym.

“hey.” he smiles down at you when he turns. you’re dressed in your little cheerleading outfit, hair put up and tied with teal bows. 

“oikawa-san...” your cheeks are dusted with a blush. “i’ll be- i’ll be cheering for you today; extra loud, too.”

“you will?” he pats the back of his head. “that would make me very happy... you’re like my good luck charm, you know?”

“i am?”

“of course you are.” he comes to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “tell you what, if we win tonight... why don’t you come meet me behind the gym? i’ll take you out somewhere. deal?”

that light dust of blush is dark now. you look like you’re about to combust. ah, what a sweet, little girl you are.

“d- deal!” you grin so wide. “i know you won’t lose, oikawa-san!”

and they don’t; seijoh never loses.

in all honesty, the cheers get muddled after a while; he can’t tell which voice from which, but of course he tells you he could hear you loud and clear.

“you could?” you pull his jacket tighter over your shoulders. 

“of course!” he laughs, his breath becoming steam in the cold air. “it was cute.”

you blush, looking up at the sky for a moment. “um, where are we going, oikawa-san?”

“my place.” he throws and arm around you. “you don’t mind, do you?”

“oh, of course not!”

of course you don’t.

he lets you inside his house first, looking at those pretty little legs beneath your skirt. his jacket hangs over you as he leads you to his room, watching you get all flustered.

“here, come sit.” he pats his thigh as he settles himself on the floor.

“on your- your lap?”

“yeah? where else?”

you do as he says, still wrapped up in his jacket. your back is to his chest, and his arms snake around you to hold you.

“oi- oikawa-san, there’s something i need to tell you.”

“you can call me tooru, you know.”

“tooru...” you’re so quiet. “i... i like you a lot, tooru.”

“you do?” he fakes a gasp.

“y- yeah...” 

“well, what if i told you...” he places his lips right over your ear. “that i like you, too.”

you turn to look at him. “really?”

“of course.” a smooth smile finds his face. “you’re the prettiest girl on the cheer team, after all.”

“that’s- that’s not true...”

god, the insecure ones are the best.

“don’t say that,” he chuckles. “you’re the prettiest girl in the entire school...”

his hands move to stroke your skin.

“oh, oikawa-- tooru-san... there’s a lot of girls that are way prettier... at our school...”

“don’t be like that... do i have to show you how beautiful you are?”

“you- you think i’m beautiful?”

he has one hand coming beneath your cheer skirt, the other hovering above your breast. what he really wants to say is that you’re fuckable, but  girls like you need an extra kick if he’s ever gonna get between your legs.

wakatoshi smiling.. reblog for good luck (clear skin, good grades, financial luck etc)