nat :)

KUNIKIDA DOPPO

ORGASM CONTROL: kunikida has his entire life planned out to the minute, and a part of that includes when and how you're cumming. whether it be by his fingers, mouth, cock, he determines when and where that happens. not only does it sooth his nerves, but the power rush that it gives him is otherworldly. he knows you'll be good and listen to him. the fact that at this point you can't cum unless he gives you explicit permission is always stuck in the back of his head. it should be concerning, but he's made it perfectly clear now that sex for you is ruined for anyone else.

SPANKING: as we all know, kunikida is a very strict and organized person. he may have rules for his own life, but that also means he has rules for you. god forbid you break any one of them because the look he sends you is enough to have you shaking in your seat. as soon as you two are home, you’re bound to be thrown over his lap and spanked until your ass is bruised and tears are leaking out of your eyes. shame on you for breaking his rules.

MARKING: listen, kunikida is a slightly very possessive boyfriend. he knows that with his job you’re in a lot of danger all the time, and while he reminds you of this daily, he also knows nothing he says will force you away. so, his solution is to mark you as his until the day he dies. he knows it’s irrational, but he needs everyone around you to know exactly who you belong to. which is why he’ll finish deep inside of you, and have you walk out of the house with cum pooled in your underwear as it seeps out of you.

GAGGING: he HATES brats who talk back (i knowwww hes a brat tamer and he's damn good at it, too.) so when you do, he'll gag you with his fingers. If he's feeling really fancy that day, he'll tear your panties off of you and stuff them into your mouth before you even know what's going on.

see also: kunikida getting pissed off at you and just grabbing your tongue with this fingers. he always tells you to shut the fuck up, too. bonus points if it's in public.

THIGH RIDING: i KNOW THIS IS TRUE. Listen, him doing paperwork and he KNOWS you're needy, so he just tells you to make yourself cum on his thigh. he knows that you're not good at making yourself feel good. he knows that at any second, you're gonna start whining and begging for his help (not that he'd give it to you.)

kiyoomi full bush enthusiast brrr

cw: afab, gender neutral, & hairy reader

oh absolutely. it all started when you texted him late one night, saying "omi, can i come over?" only for him to reply, "absolutely not, it's too late for you to be out. i'll come to your apartment instead."

dominant! ushijima + throat fucking + rough oral + praise + very brief mentions of breeding + f! reader

he stands before you, unmoving for minutes at a time- slowly sinking as much of him as he can before you squirm, knowing just what a daunting task it is trying to shove such a monstrous length down your throat.

no you are so so right oh my god

cw: dumbification

- wants to make you babble absolute nonsense. lives for your cries of t-too good and oh my god and fu- more, oh my god thank you. his pupils blow and his fingers dig in your hips as he lifts your lower body from the mattress so he can angle his cock just how you like it

- knows your body in and out, will hit every one of your points before laughing that yer spot, baby? and doing it again and again. you can't even respond, you can only let out those dumb moans samu loves so much with your eyes rolled back in your head

(contains somnophilia)

atsumu has a twin bed because he lives alone, in a tiny apartment because the payment every month is cheap and he can still afford to buy other needs.

so, when he brings hook ups over, it’s everywhere but in his room — usually on a green couch he bought for twenty dollars, sometimes in the kitchen ‘cause he offers them dinner and it ends up in something else (sex) but really, it’s totally alright.

and it’s not that he’s embarrassed of the tiny bed, but it’s old. when he moves to turn and face the wall in the middle of the night, it squeaks under him. it makes a little creak sound and he swears it’s the end.

until you come along.

it’s 7:57 pm and the sun is setting, clouds of rain are rolling in and he has your legs wrapped around his waist and he’s carrying you toward his bedroom, to his twin sized bed ‘cause it’s fine if his little bed ends up breaking.

he’s been dating you for months now and he’s sure he’s in love, so why not finally fuck on his bed instead of on the couch or out on the balcony or in the kitchen?

it’s so hot at first. you’re on top of him and he leans up to take your shirt off, smiles again as he kisses you some more and you kind of giggle — then smash.

the bed breaks and you both yell.

“holy shit — is this why we hadn’t slept here?!”

the moment is ruined because the fuckin’ bed is broken and because you both burst out in laughter.

you end up taking the bedding to the dumpster and moving the mattress to the floor — instead of sex, cuddles as the pitter patter of rain hit the window.

you’re close together, cuddled under a blanket because if you move a little too much either you or atsumu will fall to the wooden floor.

“we should buy a new bed.”

atsumu has a little smirk playing at his lips. “so yer saying we should move in together, yeah?”

“… well, i mean - i’m not opposed to the idea. it’d be a lot cheaper.”

“and it’d mean more sex.”

“probably lots of sex.”

“and breakfast in bed.”

“atsumu - you know how to cook?!” you ask, prop yourself up on your elbow and stare down at him, smile plastered on your face as he pouts up at you.

“can it! i’m the best cook you’ll ever meet!”

“didn’t you say your twin brother was the best -”

“if ya don’t shut up i’ll kiss you.”

you smile: “then i’ll talk all day and babble about how you only ever -”

and he shuts you up. his hand is wrapped around your neck to bring you closer toward him, his other hand on your waist so your body is pressed tightly against his, so you feel his heart that beats with love for you and no one else but you.

atsumu miya doesn’t know how to love - at least, that’s what the girls at the beach tell him. they say he only knows how to surf and please, they say that he’s good for a hook up and nothing else. they’re mean.

sure, he’s good in bed. knows his way around both women and men - but he’s good at love, too. he can be good at love. he’d be amazing at love, he thinks.

and so, to prove the women at the beach wrong, he seeks out the one - comes across many people who may be his lover, like the guy he met at the gas station when he was buying a pack of cigarettes. or the redhead he met at a party with too many sweaty bodies, when he had had one too many drinks.

perhaps it could’ve also been the lady who works at the beach bar every time he surfs, perhaps it could have been the guy he sees at the train station every night after a day full of surfing, perhaps it could have been the girl a year younger than him that works as a waitress at the diner he visits every saturday.

but it ends up being you - a complete stranger he meets on a thursday, at a beach party at 12:37 am.

he thinks it was love at first sight (or maybe not, does that bullshit even exist?) because your eyes hold the sun and your hair has salt from the sea. you look beautiful under the moonlight, you look like you’d be fun - not only in bed, but in romance. in love.

so, he talks you up. and it’s awkward - it’s so weird because he usually flirts with people with a sly smirk that eventually leads to sex. but with you it’s supposed to lead to something else: to a date, if you’d be up to that, to sleepy kisses in the morning, to teaching you how to surf if you don’t already know how, to sleeping under the stars on the sand.

maybe he’s looking too far into it. but he can’t find it in himself to care - you’ve cast a spell upon him, one that makes him want to kiss you right then and there.

after a few tequila shots, you give him your number with a smile that surpasses the moon’s glow. and then you leave with a friend, leaving him with his feet stuck in the sand, dumb struck look on his face.

then it goes from there.

your first date, he picks you up. he drives down to the beach with a surfboard atop his beat up car and a few boxes full of cheap can beer. he can’t help but stare as you take off the shirt that is way too big on your body, can’t help but admire the way your bathing suit hugs your body (fuck, he’s never felt more envious of a damn piece of clothing) with an open mouth. and he blushes when you tell him to take a picture ‘cause it’ll last longer. he blames the redness of his cheeks on the heat.

and then (months later) you’re still together.

you go to the gas station that is near the beach and buy cherry slushees, sit on the cold concrete sidewalk and laugh as you count the blue cars and he counts the red ones. and after you’ve slurped all your cherry slushee (atsumu had ordered a blueberry one, by the way) you go to his car. he sits you on his lap and you giggle at nothing, tangle your fingers in his fake blond hair and you kiss him. and his hands go to the sides of your waist because it’s an instinct, because he likes pulling you closer to his body. and it’s a romantic make out session, one that feels different from the ones that led to one night stands.

he’s breathless and so are you but you keep kissing. and then atsumu hears a gasp (one you miss) and he opens an eye, can’t help but smirk into the kiss because it’s the girl who told him he wouldn’t find love. even she can see this is different, can notice that there’s love mixed with lust.

atsumu moves one hand from your waist and wraps it around the side of your neck, pulls you down and continues to kiss you - it’s dreamy, it’s out of breath, it’s hungry. it’s love filled. you can feel it. he can, too.

but it’s until a week later that he tells you he loves you. it’s 10:59 am and you’re at his apartment in one of his shirts that has a surfboard on it, eating sugary sweet cereal because you two haven’t gone grocery shopping this week and there’s nothing for an actual, proper breakfast. he’s sitting across from you, cigarette dangling in between his lips (a bad habit he should quit) with his hands behind his head, unintentionally (or intentionally) showing off his muscles and the veins that run up and down them.

and he’s smiling as you tell him some dumb story from a few years, about a party gone wrong. the sun is hitting your face, but it doesn’t seem to bother you all that much. you look beautiful, ethereal, stunning.

“heya, doll face?” he starts and you look up with a mouth full of cereal and he can’t help but smile, little laugh escaping his lips. “i think i love you.”

your eyes seem to brighten, you swallow your cereal and smile back at him. “i think i love you, too.”

atsumu miya knows how to love - you showed him how to. on nights full of surfing, drinking slushees outside of the gas station and making out.

lol you’re good no worries !!

cw; watersports !!! + gn reader (18+ MINORS DNI)