Soft Dom! Bokuto + Heavy On The Size Kink + Mentions Of A Lot Of Cum + Overstimulation + Intense Squirting

includes: suna rintarou, miya osamu, miya atsumu

wc: 950

warnings: smut, use of ‘daddy’, bit of choking, bit of hair pulling

anon requested: How about our faves reaction to being called daddy the first times? Your pick?

Suna Rintarou ► There’s a TikTok trend where you call your boyfriend Daddy and see their reaction ► You’re waiting for Suna to come home from practice one day, phone propped up against something on the counter and ready ► The second the door shuts, you’re jumping onto Suna and hugging him ► “Welcome home, Daddy!” ► He doesn’t even question it, just giving you a raised brow before closing the space between you, quickly and easily due to his long legs

His presence is overwhelming. How is a guy with not the greatest posture still able to pressure you into stepping back simply by walking towards you? Your back hits the wall, and you look up to see Suna towering over you, his expression mostly blank save for the small grin tugging at his lips. Just looking at him like this, when he’s staring at you as if you’re some helpless prey, has your mind racing and arousal pooling in your stomach.

He still hasn’t said anything yet, meanwhile your heart’s hammering against your ribcage. The picture of confidence you had before starts to waver.

“R-Rin?”

Suddenly there’s a hand around your throat and long fingers pressing in on the sides—not hard enough for you to go lightheaded, but enough for your breath to hitch. There’s barely a second for you to realise what’s going on before Suna’s lips come crashing down on yours, nipping on your bottom lip and chuckling in that slightly condescending, very much sexy way when you moan.

The TikTok plan is completely forgotten at this point, but it doesn’t matter when Suna’s tongue tangles with yours, only breaking off the kiss once you’re basically panting.

“‘M home, baby. Were you a good girl for Daddy?”

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hi !! congrats on 2k!!!! you deserve it! for the event can i get sakusa + choking? with anything else you might want to add in there! thank you and pls take care of yourself <3

hi ren!!! omg tysm 💘 ur such a huge inspo to me!! <3 and yes i went for yander and noncon too, hope u like it !

sakusa kyoomi x fem! reader [haikyuu]

wordcount: 700

tw/ choking, toxic relationships, yandere, noncon.

“Where were you?” 

You frooze. Sakusa stood silently in the dark hallway with a growing glare on his face. 

“I was out with friends, I am sorry I came home a little late.” 

“A little?” he walked into the living, the frown much more prominent under the white lights.  “You didn’t call, text, nothing.” his tone was grave, he was beyond pissed and he had every right to be. You were gone for such a long time.

“My phone died.”  

“Your phone died?” he pulled his smartphone out of his pockets and dialed your number. A tiny groan left his lips when your phone started ringing. 

“I-I can explain!” 

Dating Sakusa was...difficult. He wasn’t like other men, he was a lot harder to manage. At first, you thought the only obstacles which would come with dating him would be his germophobia. You expected that he would ask you to take more baths and clean more often. And you were okay with it, besides it was a good practice for you too. But soon, it was clear the entire relationship was a red flag.

“Who were you out with?” Sakusa asked, his voice lower and filled with dread. “I was just out with Sakura, you can even ask her! I was with her all the time.” 

Sakusa was a little, a lot possessive. He did not like you going out of the house, he did not like you talking to people other than him. He was fixed on you. Sometimes he treated you more like his little child rather than his girlfriend. 

He uttered your name shutting you up. He walked in closer and you took a step back. Sakusa’s eyes were darker and they held a hateful glint, he looked angry and disappointed. 

“Stop running away from me!” he threw his arm out, wrapping it around your delicate neck. Pushing you against the cold wall, he held you there while he towered over you. 

He looked down at you viciously, he vexxed eyes never leaving you for a second. 

Your hands automatically shot up, grabbing his, trying to push his heavy grip away. 

“You are making a fool out of yourself, stop.” he commanded but you continued to fight anyways. Sakusa chose to ignore you as he tightened his grips around your neck, 

“Why do you always have to do this? You can just fucking listen to me! I hate it when you don’t. I told you not to go out with that whore, I don’t trust her. Why don’t you ever listen to me dammit!” 

 For some reason, Sakusa was obsessed with the idea that your best friend since your childhood was a slut. He never liked her and insisted you stay away from her but there was no way you could actually do that to your sister-like best friend.

He clicked his tongue. “There’s so much I need to tell you,” he groaned. “But now...It’s not the time.” 

Since you refused to look up at him, you were able to catch a view of his sweats and his rock hard cock which was pressed against the cotton fabric. 

“I was so lonely when you left,” he almost moaned in your ear, increasing his grip on your neck even more. You felt like you were going to pass out. His other hand snaked down to his crotch, palming his erection. “You should not have done that.” He rasped in your ear. 

He lets go of your neck and pushes you onto the couch. You take a deep breath before speaking. You already know what’s coming to you but yet you ask, 

“If...I- I say no, will you stop?”

Sakusa looks at you for a second, giving you a fixed look. You take it as a no. 

He rips off your dress and shoves your panties aside. 

“Why would you wear that skimpy dress if you weren’t looking to get fucked? Won’t be surprised if this cunt is already used.” He shoves a finger into your hole and you gasp. 

Sakusa scoffs, “Guess not.” 

He plays with your pussy for a moment before lining his fat length to your tiny hole. With minimum prep he pushes his cock past your hole, tearing you into two. You cry at the pain as he defiles. 

Sakusa has a lot to do to you tonight, but he’d like to start with getting his dick wet.  

playing call of duty on 6′4″ fuckboy suna’s lap as he lazily fingers you, calls you trash and criticizes your plays

Happy Birthday to the most beautiful anime character there is, Gojo Satoru!

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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this broke my heart 😭 can i please be added to the taglist? ty!! 💗

Chapter 3

sypnosis: you and your boyfriend, Bokuto had a fight the day before the training camp in Tokyo and it was all because of a girl carrying rumors that left the both of you in bad terms. Will the ace and the manager immediately resolve this issue, or will they keep it that way until for who knows when?

✦ genre: angst, fluff

✦ word count: 3.7k

✦ warnings: reader’s heartbreak

»»— masterlist | previous (ch.2) | next (ch. 3.5)

chapter 2…

Bokuto released a deep sigh, blaming himself for every stupid thing he’s done to you. “I fucking hate myself.” He holds his hips as he scrunched his eyebrows in distress. You would always laugh at his craziness and he’d even do it deliberately if it makes you happy. Out of each of them, this could be the stupidest and the saddest one yet.

“You reap what you sow.” Aiko stated and grabs her phone to check the time. “And you better get ready for tomorrow.”

That’s enough scolding for someone who already admits their fault.

He pouts, his eyes full of hope. “Is y/n-chan going to be there?”

“She’s not coming.”

DAY ONE: Training Camp

The night breaks into dawn. It was serene and the weather was perfect for the start of the training camp. People are snuggled into bed, still in slumber, and yet the volleyball clubs from different schools are already on their way to spend the week fortifying themselves.

Coach Yamiji speaks entirely of pure motivation to keep Fukurodani at their greatest forms. He had always encouraged them right before they showcase their willpower on the court.

However, the coach’s word doesn’t seem to be effective on the ace. All of them are steeled except for him. Bokuto stands beside his teammates, in a deep trance. He was unusually quiet for some reason, and it concerned the whole volleyball club.

Also, it was too early for him to be in his emo mode. Unless something or someone had provoked him to be that way.

But this wasn’t his typical emo mode either.

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stray kitten | r.cameron

[warnings] dark!rafe x homeless!pogue!reader, heavy somnophilia, blackmail/manipulation, size difference, DUBCON, little editing, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

A/N: Pls reblog and let me know what you think :)

Rafe icon: @/rafesfavslvt on pinterest!

In which Rafe grants you the freedom to come and go as you wish in his condo—but in return, your body becomes his to use freely.

word count: 3.5k

rafe cameron masterlist

The first night you met, a crashing sound wakes Rafe from his sleep. He’s delirious and still wearing his clothes from the same day. His flight had landed on the mainland at 11 o'clock, and after a long drive to Kildare, he'd collapsed on the couch in his condo's living room. He couldn’t quite gauge the time, but the sun hadn’t yet begun to creep through the tall windows that framed his space.

His mind was still foggy but he knew there was someone in his home, “Shit,” He muttered underneath his breath as he pulled himself off the couch and attempted to get his bearings. He found his phone, close to dying, lying underneath a pillow. The time read 2:19 a.m., making Rafe wince. He knew he hadn’t given anyone permission to be in his house. Sofia was the only one with a key and they were currently on an “off” phase of their on and off relationship. 

Rafe tucked his phone into his pocket, letting his eyes adjust, and quickly determining his plan of action. The bookcase beside the large-screen TV held a drawer. Precisely, Rafe moved over to it, and quietly retrieved a handgun that was discreetly hidden inside. 

The sounds of movement grew louder from the kitchen, and he could pinpoint the exact location now. His gaze shifted toward the hallway just off the living room, the one that led directly to the kitchen. Without hesitation, Rafe made his way toward it, the weight of the gun in his hand grounding him. 

The floorboards at the entrance to kitchen creaked slightly underneath his weight. Rafe knew he wouldn’t have the upperhand for long, soon he’d come face to face with the intruder, and he moved with determination. 

His heart beat louder than he wanted. As if on cue, the noise continued, and Rafe’s gun pointed toward his walk-in pantry. A quick shuffle of feet, Rafe moved quickly, strong arms pushing the door to the pantry completely open with one hand, the other tightly gripping the gun. 

He second guessed himself as soon as he saw you. His eyes scrunched in confusion just as you dropped the glass cookie jar in your hands, and the glass shattered all around your feet. The sound echoed in the quiet room, sharp and jarring.

For a brief moment, neither of you moved. Rafe’s gaze searched your face before he scanned you over. Scrawny legs, dark, golden skin and bare feet that were unprotected by the glass now around your feet. 

His grip on the gun tightened instinctively, but he hesitated, watching as you flinched at the sound of the shattering jar. Frightened, doe-like eyes looked back at him, wide and vulnerable. Your face was soft, framed by large, unruly curls that tumbled down your shoulders, “Don’t move,” It came off more threatening than he intended, “You’ll cut yourself.”

You didn’t respond though Rafe could see you were holding your breath. He lowered the gun. There was something wild in your eyes, untamed. Rafe’s curiosity piqued, “Who-Who are you?” Rafe asked, “What are you doing in my house?”

A long silence followed and the tension grew thicker, “I know you understand me,” Rafe continued. He took notice of your clothing. Your jean shorts reached just above your knee and were practically falling off your hips. You wore a raggedy sweatshirt with all the letters faded and you were clutching an old, leather backpack, “You here to steal from me?”

Rafe appeared disheveled, his button-up shirt untucked from his khakis, but even in his disorder, he stood in stark contrast to you.

You shook your head, eyes bursting with fear, “I didn’t … I didn’t mean to…”

“You didn’t mean to?” Rafe replied a little too quickly and you gave him a look that said you might shrink in on yourself. 

“I’ll … leave. I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were home.” 

“That’s called breaking and entering.” 

“I’m sorry,” You repeated again and Rafe couldn’t help the incredulous look that spread across his face, “All the lights were out and I just …I didn’t have anywhere to go.”

Rafe nodded slowly, trying to process your presence and the fact that he currently had the power to …possibly, do whatever he pleased with you. He could call the police. Or threaten to call the police. He could see what you were willing to do in order for him not to call the police on you. What would you be able to do? You barely looked strong enough to carry the bag on your shoulder. He didn’t need the gun or a threat to the police. He could easily overpower you. His thoughts wandered down that path, and he felt no guilt in doing so; he had long ago accepted the darker side of his nature. Still, you had taken the risk, broken in all on your own.

You were desperate, Rafe thought, as the realization sank in.

“You running from someone, sweetheart?” Rafe questioned further, “You got warrants? People after you?”

You shook your head quickly, “No warrants. No one…” It was vulnerable information, Rafe could see it in your eyes, but he currently held your fate in his hands. You had to trust him for the time being, “No one’s looking for me. My foster parents kicked me out, uh, a long time ago. And I just … don’t have that many friends right now. I was just going to crash for the night.”

“And take my food?” Rafe added, a tired smile on his lips. 

You were still unsettled, naturally, but Rafe had already decided your fate, “Yeah,” You admitted, “I’m sorry. If you let me leave, you will never see me again. I promise. Please don’t call-”

You froze when Rafe lifted his gun again. He made a show of him flipping on the gun’s safety and placing it on the kitchen counter. He took a step forward, luckily, he fell asleep in his Tom Ford loafers which could protect him from the shattered glass. He stood in the pantry, door way, reaching a hand out to you. When Rafe sensed your hesitation, he said, “I’m not going to call the police,” He reassured you, “Let me help you so you don’t cut your fucking feet and get blood everywhere.”

You let his larger hand, envelope yours, and you were about to take a hesitant hop over the glass but as you leaned closer, so did Rafe. Before you could react, he effortlessly lifted you, setting you down on the far side of the kitchen. “Stay there,” he commanded, his tone firm. “I’m serious, don’t move.”

You didn’t even know his name, yet his presence alone had you nodding in quick, unquestioning compliance.

His line of questioning continued as you watched him procure of a broom and dust pan, “You’re from the Cut?”

“Yeah,” You answered timidly. It wasn’t fully true. You’d grown up everywhere but the foster parents that had taken you in at fifteen were from the Cut and you’d made your Kildare your home over the next years. 

“I’m Rafe.”

“...Y/N.”

“And do you usually do your breaking and entering barefoot?”

"I don’t like shoes," you said, your voice carrying a weight of seriousness that caught Rafe off guard. He paused in his crouch, lifting his gaze to meet yours as he stopped sweeping the glass. His eyes searched your face, trying to gauge the sincerity behind your words. "Never have. And I don’t do a lot of breaking and entering…"

“You don’t like shoes,” Rafe repeated in understanding, “And you’ve got a sweet tooth?”

“You didn’t have much real food,” You said and regretted it quickly, “I mean-”

Rafe stood and you watched him bring the scraped up glass to the trashcan, “Noted,” Rafe interrupted, “I apologize, I travel too much. And I’m not much of a cook.”

“I didn’t mean…I’m sorry,” You spoke sincerely, pressing yourself back into his marble countertops. His kitchen was huge, covered floor to ceiling in white fixtures and marble accents. You could feed an entire orphanage with a kitchen like this and yet you had come to the conclusion that he lived alone, “I’m not picky. I’m really not. And I will pay you back for the jar.”

“Oh yeah?” Rafe’s eyes narrowed at you as he moved closer to you, “How do I know you won’t pay me back with money you stole?”

You couldn’t help that your jaw tensed at the question, “I guess you wouldn’t know.”

“And how do I know you won’t come back with one of your pogue friends?” He held you with his gaze, so much so that it became too late for you to realize that he was placing both his hands on either side of you, effectively pinning you against the counter. Instinctively, your hand reach out to keep him from coming closer. That was far too intimate, you realized, as your hands came in contact with the hardness of his chest. You gasped, your hand falling helplessly back to your side, “You sure there’s no lowlife pogue boyfriend out looking for you right now?”

“No,” You spoke rapidly, “Yes, I mean, I’m sure there isn’t. And I won’t come back-” 

“But you’ll do this again. You’ll get hungry or cold. And you’ll probably meet someone who’s not as kind and welcoming as me.” 

Your breathing started to grow uneven and your eyes began to look for an exit, an escape plan, “If you’re not calling the police then I’ll leave. After that, it wouldn’t really be your business.” 

He seemed to nod with understanding but he kept you trapped there, “I have another way you can pay for that jar, sweetheart. And the sleep I’ve lost. And whatever else you have stuffed in your bag.” 

A cold realization washed over you, “I promise I’ll leave and won’t come back-”

Rafe shushed you. You felt a hand at your waist, a hand so large it effortlessly almost encircled your entire torso. His finger traced the waistband of your jeans, the movement slow, deliberate, like he had all the time in the world. Then, his thumb brushed against the skin of your stomach. The sheer size of him, his imposing presence, his towering height, felt like a physical weight pressing down on you. 

“You don’t want to leave,” He leaned down to speak into your ear. This was the reality of your situation. You were aware of the risks. You were only scared that he would hurt you badly, “You’ve got nowhere to go, sweetheart. You’re hungry. Tired. You want a warm bed to sleep in tonight, don’t you? A hot shower?” 

“Yes,” You spoke weakly. 

“Good, then stay,” His words settled into the air like a final decree, and you couldn’t escape them. Not physically, and not mentally.

The first night happened like a dream. He made you hot food, something that came frozen, but you could microwave in a few minutes. After he watched you devour the entirety of the meal, he led you upstairs to his bedroom. Even in the dim light, of the early morning, the hues of cream and white gave the room a serene feeling. It was a distinct reminder of how different your world was from his. 

He left you alone to shower in his luxurious bathroom. The rainfall showerhead cascaded warm water over you, washing away two days of grime and exhaustion. The soothing stream was almost enough to lull you to sleep right there. You explored the shelves, trying a eucalyptus soap and using far too much from the expensive bottles of shampoo and conditioner, their silky textures foreign to you. When you stepped out, the heated floor greeted your feet with comforting warmth, and you wrapped yourself in a fluffy white robe that felt softer than anything you'd ever owned.

Standing before the mirror in the double vanity, you finally confronted your reflection. You began detangling your hair with your fingers, doing your best before braiding it into long plaits. For the first time in years, as you stared at yourself, you felt a glimmer of humanity, a version of yourself you had almost forgotten.

Finally, you found a spare toothbrush and freshened up, the minty taste a small but satisfying indulgence. Layers of cozy linens and soft throw blankets seemed to call you from the bedroom. Quietly, you left the bathroom and stepped back into the dimly lit space, your eyes drifting to the man who had taken you in.

He lay peacefully in his bed, his business clothes abandoned. The faint glow of moonlight revealed the contours of his bare torso, and though he appeared peaceful, there was no mistaking that undercurrent of danger that lingered in his presence. Handsome yet terrifying, he seemed both protector and predator.

Logic urged you to leave, to take the fleeting comforts he had offered and disappear before he could demand anything in return. But exhaustion and the strong pull of his presence overruled your better judgment. Silently, you slipped onto the opposite side of the California king bed, careful not to wake him. When he didn’t stir, you allowed yourself to sink into the luxurious mattress. Sleep claimed you within moments.

Something, someone, gently lulled you from your sleep later in the morning. You didn’t know it then but it wouldn’t be the last time you’d wake up with Rafe on top of you. Soft touches, kisses, peppered across your cheek. Small pecks against your lips. The feeling was almost comforting enough for you to not realize the reality of your situation. As soon as you did remember that you were in a stranger’s home underneath said stranger, your body reacted accordingly. 

You bit down on his lip.

"Fuck!" he hissed, pulling back slightly. You seized the moment to push against him, but any hope of escape vanished as his hand shot up, gripping your throat with unnerving ease.

“Don’t fucking move,” he commanded, his voice low and razor-sharp.

Your words caught in your throat and you stared up at the man with wide eyes, “You’re feisty in the morning, kitten,” Rafe breathed out, wiping his lip with his free hand. A thin smear of blood painted his fingertips. “Calm down, your body’s ready, your mind just hasn’t caught up.”

Although you were unable to look down at your body, you realized that the robe you slept in was wide open, exposing your naked body, “You’re already wet. I made sure.” He explained in most normal of tones. You realized what he was implying. 

“You touched me while I was sleeping?” You were able to ask once you gave the impression that you were calming down and he loosened his grip. The words were weaker than you intended. 

“What was I supposed to do, huh?” A wicked smirk grew on his lips, “I’ve got a half naked girl in my bed. I’m s’posed to keep my hands to myself? Be a saint?”

You swallowed, “Can you just …” Your voice came out uncertain, “I d-don’t have that much experience.”

His smirk grew even more, “You don’t want me to be rough? Don’t want me to bite you so hard you bleed? You can dish it out but you can’t take it?” 

You threw your head back in frustration, “You scared me.”

“That’s not the response I was looking for, kitten.”

“I’m sorry,” You corrected yourself, “I’m sorry for biting you.”

“Good girl,” Rafe kissed the side of your lip and you tried your best not to squirm, “Ask me what you wanted to ask me.”

Hands on either side of your head, he pressed his lower body into yours and his hard member pressing against your naked skin made your eyes widen in fear. You couldn’t look down, knowing that if you could visualize how big he was, you’d never stop fighting him. 

“Will you be gentle with me?” You asked the stranger, “Please don’t hurt me, Rafe.” 

The words you spoke out of nervousness seemed to add to his exhilaration. His body enveloped yours, the weight of him pressing down on you. It was inescapable, Rafe pushing all of his length, slowly but fully inside of you, “Won’t hurt you, little one,” You held onto him out of necessity, wanting to stabilize yourself, but your body told you to do the opposite. Although your legs were pinned, you tried to push away from him, not believing your body could fit all of him, “I know it doesn’t hurt. You’re ready for me. Don’t you fucking run.” 

“Please,” You whimpered. He was right. It wasn’t pain that you were feeling, “It feels too … too much. Too full.” 

Rafe hooked his arms around your legs, folding you into yourself, as he pushed himself deeper, “Shit, shit, shit,” you gasped, the words tumbling out as your head fell back. “Ffff—oh my god!”

“You can do it, little one,” Rafe coaxed you through the sensation, “Look at you. Taking me so deep. You’ve almost got all of me.” 

Almost, the word made you want to explode. You tried to leave your mind, to not overthink in that moment, knowing your anxiety was getting the best of you. You focused on his words. Maybe he was right? You could do it and you could do a good job. He’s too big, but he’s right, you’re not in pain. 

Rafe’s face swirled with amusement and ecstasy, “Fuck, let me use that tight little pussy,” He groaned, shifting his hips slightly, only to test how much further he could sheath himself inside of you, “You’re being such a good girl, squeezing me so good.” 

The praise sent an unexpected jolt of pleasure through you. His voice was warm but demanding. He wanted you to surrender, and deep down, you wanted that to. 

Your breath hitched as he pressed forward again, and your body instinctively clenched around him. “Rafe,” you whimpered, his name slipping past your lips.

“That’s it,” he encouraged, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “Say my name again, sweetheart.”

You shook your head, embarrassed by how easily he unraveled you, but Rafe wasn’t having it. His grip tightened, pulling you impossibly closer, his lips brushing against your ear.

“Say it.”

“Rafe,” you whispered obediently.

“Good girl.” His approval came like a reward. 

He adjusted his pace, moving in a rhythm that felt more intentional. It was overwhelming having him inside of you but you weren’t prepared for him to pull in an out of you, pushing deeper with each thrust. 

You weren’t sure if you were still dreaming. The gentle sound of the ocean outside the open windows providing a steady backdrop to the moment. The curtains swayed gently in the breeze, their flowing fabric catching the morning light.

It wasn’t a bad bargain, your mind started to rationalize the situation. When Rafe eventually finished deep inside of you, your body shaking beneath him, he proposed the idea of the two of you continuing your arrangement. Rafe traveled so much and it wasn’t in your nature to stay in one place for too long, he offered to host you whenever you wished. As long as you kept what was between your legs for him, you could make yourself at home, even when he wasn’t. 

He kept his fridge stocked for you, left you gifts in the form of new clothes (never shoes), and gift cards to restaurants and stores. 

Sometimes you’d go weeks in between seeing him, having missed each other, but when you were together, Rafe took full advantage. 

The sunroom became your sanctuary—a place where the world slowed down. You spent hours there, stretched out on a chaise lounge, the warmth of the sun blanketing your skin as you flipped through pages of a book or dozed off to the sound of distant waves.

Rafe loved to find you napping. The first time he came home from a long, work trip and found your body laid out on the soft carpet of the sunroom floor, he wasted no time. Easily, he lifted your patchwork dress and pushed your panties to the side. As soon as you stirred from your sleep, you realized he was pressing his length against your entrance, “Rafe,” You called out, half asleep, but he was already inside of you, “What –”

“Did you miss me?” He asks as he slowly moves in and out of you. 

You gasp from the sensation but also the shock. He doesn’t leave room for you to protest, to second guess yourself, because he presses his weight into you and pins you there to the floor. In prone position, he fucks you hard and slow, “Did you miss me, kitten?” He asks again and you try your hardest to form the words. 

“Yes,” You managed, able to feel just how much he missed you, “You’re here.”

“I’m here,” He confirms and you can practically hear his smirk, “This little pussy hasn’t been fucked in a week.”

The thought makes you grateful for that overwhelming feeling. That fullness. 

“Gotta take care of my kitten.”

+

Pls reblog and let me know what you think!! :)

Kiss the Cook - Murasakibara x Reader

Warning: Pure Fluff, Little Plot

Thanks to @reverie-starlight for getting me back in my KNB Feels.

It’s the smell of freshly cut apples that pulls him in.

In his defense, he’s incredibly hungry, but Muro-chin won’t let him have any snacks until they’ve made it to their seats. It’s also Muro-chin’s fault that they’re too early and have to wait for the doors to open.

But there’s the smell of freshly cut apples and he turns his head to get a look. If someone’s handing out food he will even eat apple slices.

Not far from their group, Atsushi finds the source of the delicious smell. You’re cutting up a pretty red apple, nick the edges a little to make it look like a bunny, and hand it over to a little girl. 

You’re smiling, something he only notices when he’s almost reached you.

“Can I help you?” You ask, confusion seeping into your eyes.

“Can I have a piece?” Atsushi asks, pointing at the apple. Behind him, he can hear Muro-chin call his name. But this is more important. He’s hungry.

“Oh, eh, sure, I guess.” You hand over a slice. He does not take it.

“Can you make it a bunny too?” Your eyes widen at his question but you nod and nick the edges, handing it over with slightly shaky hands. Funny. 

“Thank you.” Atsushi says, because he knows how to be polite, and drops the slice into his mouth. The apple is sweet and juicy and it makes him feel better instantly.

“Murasakibara,” Muro-chin appears to his left, “We can go in now.”

-

Your voice reminds him of apples now.

You’re in at least one of his classes but College Classes are bigger than the ones at Yosen or Teiko and he often gets people confused. Your voice, however, stands out. 

Sometimes, when Atsushi’s dozing off in class and you raise your hand to ask a question, he’s pulled out of his lethargy just by the sound of it, the softness of your vowels, or the sharpness of your thoughts.

It’s a little weird, he thinks, so he doesn’t bring it up to Muro-chin.

-

“You have to try this!” You say, offering a box of cookies to two other girls, “I made them last night and they turned out so good.”

Atsushi only realizes that he’s stepped over when you’re looking up at him, eyes wide and full of confusion yet again.

“Can I have one?” He asks because he knows how to be polite. One of the other girls pulls a face and he raises his hand to push her away, like he does with the annoying guys on his basketball team. But you’re faster, lifting the box up to him. 

“Sure,” you say. Your lips quiver slightly as if they’re shaking. Just like your hand when you gave him the apple bunny. Funny.

Atsushi takes one cookie and bites into it. The edges are crispy, but it’s soft on the inside, filled with gooey, sweet caramel. It tastes amazing and he wonders if he can have the rest of those cookies before he’s even finished the first one.

“Very good,” Atsushi says, licking some leftover Caramel off his fingertips. “You should try making them with salted Caramel too.”

“Oh,” your eyes are wide and warm and his stomach does something funny at the sight. “That’s a great idea! Thank you!”

“Murasakibara!” Muro-chin calls, “We’re going to be late for training.”

He pulls his shoulders up, not wanting to go yet. Not when there are so many more cookies to eat.

You seem to read his mind because you take another cookie out of the box and offer it to him. “The rest are for my friends,” you say and it sounds like you’re apologizing. “Have fun at training.”

Atsushi smiles, eats the cookie as slowly as he can while he follows Muro-chin. Apples with Caramel make a good treat as well.

-

“Muro-chin?” Atsushi asks one night after training. He barely moved today, but he feels tired, his brain exhausted from turning around a problem he cannot find a solution to. “How do you make a girl like you?”

Muro-chin looks like that one time someone accidentally shot the Basketball into his stomach. “Are you saying that you like a girl?”

“No, I asked you how I make a girl like me.”

“Murasakibara, shouldn’t that be the same thing?”

He ponders that for a moment before he deems it too difficult. 

“How do I make her like me?” 

Muro-chin sighs. “What have you done so far?”

“Nothing,” Atsushi blinks. “I eat her food.”

“Oh,” Muro-chin’s face is doing the thing again. He must have figured something difficult out. “So it’s her,” Muro-chin mutters softly, finger prodding his lips. “Have you tried offering her some food?”

“I don’t share my food.”

Muro-chin sighs again. “I know, Murasakibara. Everyone knows. But if you want a girl to like you, you have to show her that she’s special to you. Like doing something for her you’d do for no one else.”

Atsushi tries to think about it, but his brain is moving as slowly as a tired snail. He’s not good at thinking when he’s hungry but all that’s left of today’s snacks are those limited edition Umaibou that he doesn’t really like. He stares down at them and thinks, that yes, he could share them with you.

-

“Do you want one?” Atsushi asks, holding the Umaibou package in front of your eyes so you can’t miss them. Thanks to his long legs he’s had no problem catching up to you in the hallways.

“Eh?” You blink rapidly and take a step back. “Are you- Are you sure?”

“Yes,” He nods and pushes them into your hands before he can reconsider. After all, he is a little hungry right now and even if they’re not the best flavor- But now you’ve taken the snack from him and your mouth is doing that little quivering that makes his stomach do funny things.

You tear the package open and bite into it, smiling up at him for a second before you scrunch your face up. It looks adorable.

“Yuck!” You press your hand against your mouth as you force yourself to swallow. “What flavor is that?”

“Vegemite.” 

You stick your tongue out as if that could get the taste off. 

“That’s disgusting,” You shudder. “But… thank you… for offering it. You didn’t know it would taste so bad.”

“No, I did.” 

“You did?” You look up at him. “Then why…?”

“Muro-chin said to share my food with you,” He explains. “So that you know that you’re special to me.”

Your eyes widen almost comically. You open your mouth, but no words come out. 

It’s funny at first. You look cute like that. But while he’s learned to be polite, he doesn’t have the best patience.

“Are you okay?” Atsushi asks and waves his hand in front of your face.

“Ye- I mean, I don-t… know?”

“Oh. Then let’s go.” He takes your arm and pulls you with him. You follow without protest at first, only finding your voice when you’re down the hallway and up the stairs.

“Where are we going?”

“To the nurse. You’re not feeling well.”

“No, that’s not it-”

He stops to look at you. When he puts his hand on your temple, the skin is hot. 

“You’re warm. You probably have a fever.”

“No, I’m flustered, you dummy.”

Atsushi blinks. “Why?”

“Because you told me you liked me right now. Without warning! In front of all those people.”

He blinks again. “I did?”

“Yeah, you said… you said I was special to you.” Your eyes widen again. Before he can say anything you reach out and slap your cheeks with your hands. “Oh my god. That’s not what you meant, right? I just misunderstood you because I wanted it to mean that.”

Atsushi blinks. This is too much talking.

“Do you like me?” He asks and you look up at him with wide eyes, hands still pressed to your cheeks. Slowly, you nod. 

His stomach flips, but not in the way it does on roller coasters. This is a new feeling and he wonders what he has to do to feel it again.

“I like you too.” 

Your lips quiver at his words. He can’t help himself, reaches out, and presses his pointer finger against it, hoping to feel that quiver that he can see. It flips his stomach yet again.

“I bet you just like my food,” your voice sounds a little tense. Like you’re only half joking. Muro-chin does that too, sometimes.

Atsushi cocks his head, trying to guess if that’s a question or not. It probably is.

“I like your voice,” He says because he’d been thinking about it earlier. “It sounds like caramel apples. And your lips are cute. When they quiver like that…” He taps them when they do it again. “It does funny things to my stomach.”

“Well,” you say, reaching for his finger that’s still pressed against your lips. Your finger tangle with his, warm skin against warm skin. It makes his stomach flip again. “You could have just asked me out on a date, you know?”

“Oh?” He blinks. “Do you want to go on a date, then?”

“Yeah.” You smile. “Yeah, I’d like that a lot.”

-

“Oni-chan!” Your little sister races down the stairs at his sight, “You’re here!”

He picks her up with ease, lifts her up until her fingertips touch the ceiling. 

“I’m here.” He greets her. She laughs and clings to him, begs to be lifted onto his shoulders. Atsushi complies, listens to her bubbly voice as she pulls on his hair. 

“Onee-chan made chocolates today,” she tells him. “I got to help.”

“Really? Did you make one for me too?”

“Yes, with pink hearts!”

“Don’t spoil all the surprises!” Your voice calls out from the kitchen. Your little sister just giggles and hides her face in his hair.

Atsushi meets you at the kitchen door, your hair a mess and your face peppered with streaks of drying chocolate. 

You’re wearing an apron that says “Kiss the Cook” and he can’t help but follow that advice.

my Kofi if you want to tip me

Slight Yandere! Oikawa X Reader Smut

hhii here’s my first smut here ;) so this is from my wattpad yandere oikawa fic but I thought I’d add it here too.

;; – fingering, praise kink, hand job and dirty talk.

Oikawa Tooru looms over your body with a triumphant smirk modelling over his pretty lips and clear lust colouring his eyes. “Well, princess?” He purrs, slowly pushing his thigh up to the area between your parted legs. You feel his knee rub against your throbbing clit when he bends over, peppering honeyed kisses on the side of your neck.

You knew exactly what he wanted, his sexual endeavours in the past were usually denied because you never found yourself truly trusting Oikawa; sometimes you’d give in but very rarely. Yet now? Perhaps… it was okay. That for just a little time, you’d let yourself free and take each other’s love to the most intimate level.

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