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sashimiyas · 9 months

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cw: reader has breasts; lactation kink; breeding kink as a result of previously mentioned kink

kita leads by example and when his adored daughter continues to starve herself by refusing to latch on, he does as he’s always done.

he flushes the babe against his bare chest in hopes that his warmth can balm her bawling, “my love, watch me. just like this.”

it begins as nothing sexual. the new father runs his nose down your sternum, eyes closing at the feel of your luscious breasts against his cheeks.

he thinks nothing of the way your nipple blossoms into the softness of his mouth. or the ripe sweetness bursting past his lips. kita simply opens a single eye, witnessing his daughter watch from her front row seat. her cries have finally softened as she watches intently the way her father properly suckles and feeds himself off of what you so generously offer.

he doesn’t expect him to be so reluctant to stop. to pull away. the joy that bludgeons his chest as he watches his new infant latch on for the first time had been anticipated, and for a moment, he forgets all about.

but the undercurrent of jealousy swells when his daughter is finally sated and quiet in her crib.

kita walks over to you. the bed creaks when he places a knee to your hip and his expression speaks volumes, tongue limp. this newfound obsession makes him mindless and still, he’s searching for words to explain this.

all he can do is eye your breasts, large and swelling despite the recent feeding. hands reach to hold them in his palms and he fondles them, judging their weight in hopes that there’s still enough for him.

“it’s not too soon to teach her how to share, is it?” kita asks as he places circles of kisses around your chest.

you chuckle as your drag your fingertips to his two toned hair. “my milk isn’t for you.”

kita huffs, tracing the tip of his tongue against your enlarged areola, “she only likes it because i do.”

“yes, thank you.”

“i think i deserve a reward too.”

you only swirl his hair in answer, still bemused.

“just a little,” he murmurs thickly as he looks up. his golden eyes blink at you, slow, deliberate, and unnervingly confident that he’ll get what he wants, “i can’t sleep either.”

“fine.”

your ascent brews obsession and you’re convinced his kink is the only reason he keeps you pregnant.

#reina.writeshaikyuu!!#reinas.rioting

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sashimiyas · 1 year

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cw: drug use; alcohol consumption; dubcon bc they’re intoxicated; reader implicitly pressures atsumu into smoking; shotgunning; praise kink (receiving) for atsumu

atsumu doesn’t mean to stare. there’s actually not a single thought running through his brain. it could be the intoxication but the alcohol makes him quite honest.

because he knows.

this power, it’s all on you.

all he can do is fixate on the way your mouth puckers, the small lines that form whenever you take a hit from your pastel pink pen. your cheeks hollow in the most irresistible way and by the time he realizes he’s staring, you’re blowing another cloud of smoke out. and now he can’t help but he drawn in by the soothing exhale of your cloudy breath.

he doesn’t realize you’re looking at him until he hears your chuckle. it sounds too cocky, knowing, and atsumu feels suddenly so exposed that he flusters. his cheeks puff into a huff as he turns his face away so he can glare at the ground.

“what are ya laughing at?” and suddenly atsumu is sober. there’s clarity in his vision and it’s no longer fuzzy and this feeling that sits deep in the pit of his stomach feels so heavy and so real, he slumps forward, chest to his knees and index fingers dragging into the grass because he can no longer carry it.

“i’m not laughing,” you try to diffuse.

atsumu hums, unbelieving. he’s never been to a college party, never had the chance because he decided to make a career for himself right out of graduation. but bokuto’s just signed to msby and he was invited to the celebration so now he’s here in a room full of strangers and a very busy bokuto, drunk and star of the show.

atsumu had been okay with nursing a beer at the corner of a couch. he was fine with watching a drinking game ensue that he had no idea how to play and as the night went by, he even tolerated the five minute conversations people liked to have whenever their eyes caught his lone figure.

and instead of standing up after a small lull of conversation, you’d invited him outside. he followed you out the door he’d entered the first time only just a couple hours ago, stalled by a quick grappling of a hug from bokuto that begged him to promise he’d come back, went down the stairs with his eyes on your footsteps, and followed you blindly to a small enclave near an overgrown tree and bench.

your arrival signaled a hurried scuttle and snapped twigs. atsumu peered into the dark but found nothing but hushed breaths and when he sat down next to your unbothered figured, it was all gone.

it was just you, him, and his intoxicated mind that just couldn’t stop staring.

“i’m not,” you reiterate.

atsumu tilts his cheek against a knee and looks up at you. you look at him back, lips forming back into this amused expression that makes his throat clog because with the way that you meet his gaze, he wants to think he’s the reason why you’re looking so beautiful like that.

“you’re so cute.”

he can’t help but preen knowing he’s right and then when you reach for the back of his head to ruffle the hair at his nape, he melts. you giggle again.

atsumu wants to be ashamed but he only lights at your attention. the world tapers around the edges once more as he enjoys the lightness of his being.

“where has bokuto been hiding you?”

there’s no way he can answer, not when all his brain can register is the way your nails scratch into his scalp and how heavy it makes his body.

you remove your hand to inhale from your pen one more time with your eyes locked on his. he breathes with you.

you point the device at him “would you like to try?”

atsumu’s eyes flicker down. it’s a long, rectangular thing, nothing much different from his lessons in geometry. two short ends, one for a plug and another to aspirate, connected by two long ends.

yet it’s still foreign. there’s a glassy look in your eyes and it reminds atsumu of those silly mirrors in the fun houses his ma would take him to when he was younger that made your reflection all distorted; and the clouds you make smell like watermelon but with a twist.

it’s all things atsumu knows about. just… different.

“oh.” you say like you finally understand. the grin on your face grows as your hand retreats. “a goody two shoes. i get it. so that’s why i’ve never seen you before.”

and the judgment makes atsumu go petulant because he’s never been fond of assumptions, especially wrong ones like yours. how did you even come up with that? atsumu? a goody two shoes? there’s no way.

he’s a member of the miya twins of inarizaki. he started fights in the school gym and would incessantly get scolded by kita all the time. what do you mean goody two shoes?

he snatches the pen out of your hands and inhales with his whole chest. you don’t even bristle. instead, your eyes watch him, utterly focused on his expression as if he was reacting just the way you expected.

it comes out harsher than it goes in. the smoke quickly warms up in his lungs that in the middle of his exhale, he can’t help but cough nonstop. he’s back with his chest on his knees, hunched over the bench, as it racks through his whole body. you smooth a palm down his back but it does nothing to soothe him. by the time that he’s done, atsumu’s cheeks feel hot and he’s lightheaded. he can’t tell if it’s the drugs or from the coughing fit.

you pull a water bottle from out of nowhere and he immediately accepts. atsumu’s throat feels raw and clawed through like a monster had climbed out the depths of his lungs and no amount of cool liquid can tame its wreckage.

“that was a big one,” you say impressed, still running your hands up and down his back. he can’t help but feel pride just to hear your praise.

atsumu is melting again. his limbs go loose and he barely registers the small thud of the water bottle when it fall from his grip. physical sensations are so overwhelming, so so much that it’s all he can focus on. the press of your fingers, so warm and hot even with the buffer of his shirt. every digit forms a permanent mark against his skin.

then you go back up to his nape and atsumu cannot help but prickle. his whole body shivers as his shoulder pull back at the complete contact between your body and his. there’s a small dampness that forms beneath your fingertips that pulls his skin taut. atsumu doesn’t realize his hums have turned into small, micro moans that are muffled by the jeans at his knees.

you run your hands down his back. “would you like another hit?”

he feels like he’s floating, like he’s coughed all the weight inside his body and finally he’s been let go. like a balloon that’s been let loose. so it’s easy to consider. the coughs were painful though. and he has to clear his throat bc the fire still won’t go away.

but your hand drifts down to his biceps. they create patterns and curly around his arm and down his wrist. then you get to his hands, the ones that are dangling, and your fingers lock between his.

“it doesn’t hurt as bad if i take it first.” he looks up and you note quickly the question in his eyes.

you point at your lips, his hand still in yours. “i hit it first.” then you pinch atsumu’s bottom one. “then i’ll give it to you.”

“and it won’t hurt?” he has to clarify.

you grin. atsumu watches the way your lips split. “yeah, i’ll make sure of it. do you want me to show you?”

atsumu nods. he sits up when you ask him to and when he does, you lean in closer, so close that you’re somehow in his lap. with your hands around his shoulders, he finds his traveling to your waist and immediately, he cannot get enough.

they trace the seams of your clothes, dip underneath the edges of your wear for a taste. then he completely stills when you fully press your hips against his. atsumu’s head feels like it’s about to explode, completely overstimulated by the feel of your warmth and the cool kiss of the night air and the smell of liquor on your lips.

you quickly grab his hand and place it at your hips, making sure that half his palm is touching the skin beneath your shirt.

“you can keep touching me.” you assure. your confidence makes him nervous but with your permission, he can’t stop himself. they travel up your shirt, full palms pressing into your skin. “whatever distracts you.”

then you shuffle to make yourself comfortable. you pull yourself closer to him with your chests touching.

“ready?” you ask. atsumu nods. his tongue suddenly feels full of cotton.

without breaking eye contact, he watches you inhale. you hold it in your lungs, lips rolled inward as you look him down your nose. and then with a small tilt, you lean forward.

instinct tells atsumu to open his mouth just the smallest bit. you slot your lips between his, and as you exhale, he breathes in.

the taste is just as intense but instead of watermelon, all he can think of is the taste of you on his tongue. despite being an athlete, his lungs feel so full that they could explode by the time that you’re done. he immediately exhales when the two of you separate and just like you said, it was painless.

“look at you. what a goody two shoes, following my lead so well.” you gaze at him proud. “what a good boy.”

it’s another assumption, but this time, you’re not wrong.

#reina.writeshaikyuu!!#reinas.rioting #haikyuu smut #word vommie #haikyuu x reader #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader

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sashimiyas · 1 year

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atsumu only likes mating press bc he can be deep inside you the same time your fingers are deep in his ass

#reinas.inretrograde #reinas.rioting #remember when i said i’d come back after my run?#pretend i pulled a forest bump #pretend i’ve been running consecutively for days now #GUMP FOREST GUMP #i have not done forest bumps in my life! auto correct do not put that on me

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sashimiyas · 1 year

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long distance sexting with suna goes like can’t wait to 1 v 1 that pussy

#reinas.inretrograde #I JUST WOKE UP #WITH CURSED THOUGHTS #forgot to mention in the rn of the vibes that i would be asleep!#you’re all loved <3 #let me just finish this report first and i’ll get to you #reinas.rioting

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sashimiyas · 2 years

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a/n: gray, look what you'd done to me. reader has hair that can be pulled and is referred to as a good girl and baby. clearly i have a kink bc i think all (the small amount of it) of the smut i've written has the same flavor

It surprises no one that Iwaizumi falls for the brats. Oikawa being his childhood friend, the man has achieved that flair, that special touch that puts people in their place with ease.

You're scrappy and your lips are in a perpetual pout, toying with him, roping his emotions into your favor. Sometimes he gives in, placates you with a sense of power, but other times, other times he places a big hand to your nape. He takes your hair and he pulls, exposing the fragile skin of your throat, chin up and eyes down, breath heavy but quiet, careful not to make a sound.

Yes, sometimes you're bratty, but oftentimes, you're so, so good.

"Why are you so good to me, huh?" he asks in one quick breath, pace steady as he fucks into you. You've already orgasmed twice, made his hips stutter the same amount, made him flush his groin against yours so he can ride the clench of your walls without falling over. He can tell you're so fucked out you can hardly think but he needs an answer. Good girls always answer.

So he slows himself. It elicits a needy whine from you. You arch your back, hand reaching for his shoulder to bring him closer and he takes one hand to cradle your cheek. The sudden softness, despite the building pressure, makes you open your eyes in search for his.

Now, with your undivided attention, Iwaizumi repeats himself, "why are you so good to me?"

"Because," you keen in the adorable, breathy pitch of yours. The edge of your nails dig into his shoulder at a particularly hard thrust, dragging down his chest as you tense like a deer at the unexpected onslaught of pleasure. He pulls himself almost all the way out, the head of his cock teasing your entrance so that you can take a breath and try again, unexpectedly lenient today. "Because I love you."

The smirk he gives is so cocky, stroking the apple of your cheek affectionately, "you love me?"

"Yeah."

He fucks you harder, "you love it when I fuck you?"

"Ye--" you cut yourself off with a moan, basically lifting yourself off the bed so that you can press the rest of your body against his before falling back, limp from pleasure.

He fucks you faster, "are you going to take this cock like a good girl?"

You don't respond, eyes closed and mouth open in a silent cry as you cum again but Iwaizumi only has so much patience until it runs thin. The hand on your cheek travels to the back of your neck. You stiffen immediately at the movement, like falling into cold water and he sees tears building in your already glassy eyes. Is it from pleasure? Pain? He doesn't know and he doesn't care to find out.

"Answer me."

Incoherent sounds tumble past your lips, puffy tongue lolling out, actual words too big for you to muster. You keep your eyes on him desperately trying to give him what he wants despite yourself, brows quivering in fear of what happens when you don't. It makes Iwaizumi's dick twitch.

Groaning, he takes mercy on you. He flexes his wrist so that you nod your head for him, biting his lip when he sees your eyes roll back, knowing he's hitting that favored spot.

"Yeah, baby,? Iwaizumi coos, leaning in and bringing his arms behind your back so that he can pull you closer to his chest. Your soft breasts rub against him, so soft and warm that he has to bite your shoulder. One claw mark for a bite mark, "love you too. Love fucking you too. Gonna make you cum."

So good to him, making him feel euphoric, animalistic, and invincible like he could fuck you all day.

What a good, good girl.

#reinas.rioting #reina.writeshaikyuu!!#haikyuu smut #iwaizumi haijme #iwaizumi hajime x reader #me disappearing from the tags is my new themeeeee #over itttt

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sashimiyas · 1 year

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tongue in cheek osamu. when you push his buttons just a little too far at onigiri miya. he opens his mouth to snap back but quickly remembers himself, hollows his cheek with his tongue. he shakes his head for a moment. you almost say something but then he places his hands on his hips and stares you down with an aim so accurate it stills you.

“okay,” he grabs some containers without breaking eye contact, movement a memorize motion. the takeout is plopped carelessly in front of you, “we’ll talk when i get home.”

you’re fucked.

the muscles on his back ripple as he walks away from you.

you’re fucked. and maybe later you’ll get fucked too.

#reinas.inretrograde #your order is only made Slightly with love this time!#reinas.rioting

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sashimiyas · 1 year

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Worthy

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: fem reader; no curses au ; Sukuna is into pain; he licks your tears; tit play; reader is referred to as a queen; oral (f! receiving); tell me if ive missed anything

A/n: i blacked out and then this was made. idk man

All the passive aggressive anger from before weeps from your eyes, watery, teary, and so well-behaved the moment he squeezes your cheeks in a single hand.

“Why are you being a brat? Tell me why you’re acting this way.”

Sukuna knows why. He can even admit that he’s fucked up. Marriage has slowly altered his convictions and you’ve got a lot to do with it. So when he wakes up in the morning without an alarm, you edged to the other side of the bed with your back facing him, he only groans.

Busy season has kept him away from home and he promised to make up for it last night with a backbreaking session that involved your pleasure more than his own. But the week, the work hours, the exhaustion, your cooking, it’s enough to sate a monster’s belly. He doesn’t even realize he passed out until he wakes up the next morning.

Wordlessly, quietly, in a purposeful manner, he closes the door to the bedroom shut so he can make your favorite breakfast any coffee. Sukuna takes note when you return his good morning with a soundless nod. Slowly, he deciphers the extent of your anger and does his best to weasel into your best graces. He holds his tongue whenever he has something smart to say, cloyingly agreeable. It’s enough to be charming, but not too suspicious. He even withdraws when you push at his shoulder while he brushes his nose against your neck, telling him that you’re not in the mood.

Sukuna knows that the distance is deliberate, punishment for his actions. You can’t even make eye contact when you speak to him.

With a gaze on the floor, you tell him, “stop trying to act so sweet. We’re fine.”

He leaves it at that even when all he wants is to press your figure into the bed so hard the mattress forms against your body. He wants to draw orgasm after orgasm of yours, an obedient response to the curl of his fingers. But he does as you say and foregoes his own desires for yours.

Besides, Sukuna knows that eventually, if he continues to play his cards right, you will soften into his side by the end of the night. Another gala to attend, he makes sure he’s attentive to your very whims, requesting another glass of wine before the one in your hand is only halfway imbibed. A palm of his takes permanent residence at the curve of your back and occasionally grazes lower when he thinks you’ve lowered your guard.

You spend the night amicable but behind that close lipped smile, is a passive aggressive ire that slips slighting jabs at every chance.

Gojo mentions a recent trip to the Maldives and immediately, you step forward.

“Oh, I’m so jealous!” It’s overly cheery and it seems that only Sukuna can notice, especially with the way you pat at his chest as if he were a dog to be consoled, “I’d love to go to the Maldives but Sukuna here is always so busy to take me.”

He lets it pass.

Toji talks of nonstop laundry with the arrival of his newborn. You spin something as mundane as that back onto him.

“Well I guess that’s one good thing about Sukuna never being home. I never have to worry about his laundry.” You look at him and that faux confidence shatters the moment you meet his gaze. The man breathes through his nose. Sukuna crushes your hip in his grip.

Do it, he thinks. Test his patience one more time.

You blink up at him, “isn’t that right, my lovely, my wonderful, my perfect husband?”

You do.

A mocking grin splits his expression. You’re not afraid of him and it’s exactly why he married you.

He gazes down at you from the bridge of his nose and the sight of it, that sense of power, makes you weep even more. A desperateness bubbles past your lips and saliva trails down your chin as you start apologizing repeatedly.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you cry the words in between broken heaves. Your hands claw at his wrist and arms, ridges of veins and muscles, he refuses to let up his grip.

Just a pinch harder, he digs the sides of your mouth into your cheek. It hurts, but even with his face, infamously stern and authoritative, you do not feel fear. The pain is controlled in his hands, and he would never hurt you.

“Did I tell you to apologize?”

“No.”

His eyes gleam at your willing submission. You may test the boundaries of his patience, but he’s trained you well enough to know your place. Sukuna maneuvers his thigh between your legs. He has to choke on a groan from the heat that burns at his knee.

“What did I tell you to do?”

You snivel. In response, he coos. He looms over you with another step closer until you’re pressed against the family bathroom’s sink. His free hand grabs the back of your thigh and lifts you up onto the edge of it. He lets your legs dangle so that your weight rests on the balance of your pussy on his knee.

“Tell you why I’m acting this way,” you reply to him.

Sukuna hums. “Go on. Tell me.”

He waits, he appraises because very soon, he knows he will have what he wants. The grip of his does not falter but as he looks over your shoulder, even Sukuna cannot deny the desire so outright in his eyes.

One hand slides up and down the outside of your thigh and when he gets to your hip, he allows his fingers to graze inward. You squirm in a desperate attempt to meet him. All Sukuna has to do is click his tongue and you still immediately.

Another fresh set of tears line your eyes when you look at him. You blink up at him for mercy but he does not waver.

Fresh tears fall as you whine, “you haven’t been paying attention to me.”

Sukuna traces the tip of his tongue at your cheekbone and licks up to the corner of your eye. Then he presses a barely there kiss to the reddened skin.The saltiness makes him salivate. It pools underneath his tongue and he groans once more. Your taste travels to his head and to his cock and finally, Sukuna loosens his hold onto your face so he can freely nip into your neck.

“Tell me more.”

Air out your grievances, break down your walls, turn liquid in his arms.

There are other ways, he’s realized, to obtain what he wants aside from force.

“Feels like you don’t want me.” There’s a thinness to your voice now. The slight hiccup of your crying is almost nonexistent.

All you can think about is him. The husband you’ve missed, the husband you’ve doted on because you know how hard he works for your family, for you. He’s only exhausted so you can live a life without worries, but last night truly hurt.

It makes you feel inadequate. Is the lust no longer there? The answer was obvious when he chose, though unintentionally, slumber over pleasure.

“Felt like I wasn’t good enough for you.”

He responds by biting the soft skin at the top of your breast. You squeal but the sound tapers off into a moan when Sukuna pinches your nipples, twisting them between thumb and forefinger. Goosebumps ripple out in the appearance of your pebbled nipples and Sukuna suckles onto your tits.

Hands venture into his rosy hair. You spread your fingers through the tendrils, feeling them bow back in waves, and then snap your hand like an alligator’s bite. You grip his hair, pussy clenching at the sound of his groan, and lift his face up to meet yours.

The pain makes Sukuna grin. He looks depraved underneath you with hooded eyes that are weighted by desire.

“You mad at me?” Sukuna asks innocently, as innocent as he can be. Though he maintains eye contact, his hands still wander. They’ve gone under your dress and he traces the fabric that separates your head from him.

You do your best to stifle the shiver that runs through you by pressing your back against the mirror, dragging Sukuna by the hair with you. He follows though he does try turning his head downward, despite your grip, so that he can laden your skin with kisses.

He’s cute, but you’re still a little upset so you nod to answer him.

Sukuna’s hands ride up your sides and press your breasts together. They flank his ears and he uses the little give you provide to tilt his head and press kisses to them.

“Haven’t been treating you right?” Sukuna follows the question with his tongue licking up and down your inner breast.

“No.”

“Haven’t been treating you like the queen you are?”

You sob now. Maybe at the acknowledgment, but more likely because his lips have somehow made their way to your nipples once more. Anger fades into desire and your legs wrap around his waist to pull him in so desperately.

Sukuna’s mouth trails up your collarbone and into your neck. He grabs your jaw and presses the side of your cheek against the mirror. Your hot breath creates a fog over the surface and lust puppets your fingers.

Your husband stops you at the first button. He shakes his head into your neck. The motion makes you want to cry, crumble onto the bathroom floor when it proves that he truly doesn’t want you. Sukuna doesn’t allow it though.

He turns your head so that he may sear your lips repeatedly with kisses.

“Let me worship you,” he says into your mouth.

You should know your worth, that he’d never waste his time on someone if he didn’t want to. Don’t you see what you’ve done to him?

Does he kneel before anyone? Has he ever paid penance with the labor of his tongue, fingers, and lips? Do you see how he precedes your pleasure over his?

Sukuna’s knees dig into the bathroom tile. The walls reverberate the sound of your moans and the tacky song of your pussy.

“So perfect,” he praises in between licks, eyes trained at the vision of you sucking his fingers in. He doesn’t stop until you’ve cum twice.

Your hands blindly reach for the buckle of his pants after the second time, but he simply holds your hand in his. You look up at him as he lifts you from the sink and holds your waist in case your legs wobble.

“But–” you start, hurt once again forming in your eyes.

Sukuna kisses your temple for a quick placate, “later.”

“Why?”

The man pulls at his dress pants. He shuffles so that his erection may remain hidden, “we’ve got a plane to catch.”

“Where are we going?”

Sukuna grins. Yes, you should know your worth but a good husband will always remind you.

“The Maldives.”

#reina.writesjjk #sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #sukuna smut #reinas.rioting

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