kakashisacademia

[kakashisacademia]

what will you do, when your boyfriend is absolute cringe? — jjk version

ღ satoru gojo—cringe level: legendary

tries to ‘accidentally’ bump into innocent people while out with you and loudly says, “oh nooo, don’t mob me, i’m on a date with my beautiful girlfriend 😏.”

says, “babe let’s take a selfie,” then uses every filter on snapchat. he picks the dog ears one and pants like a puppy.

insists on calling you ‘his little infinity’ in public. says things like “you can’t touch her unless you break my domain 😘.” you just wanted sushi, not a battle declaration.

sends your photos to nanami with captions like, “look how hot she is, don’t be jealous, mr. accountant.”

ღ kento nanami—cringe level: dry dad energy™

tries to make jokes and they never land. “i’m feeling very… cursed today. must be because i’m under your spell.” silence. dead silence.

wears matching couple shirts. not ironically. “if mine says ‘king of curses’ yours should say ‘queen of my heart.’”

refers to you as ‘my beloved’ in every sentence. people think you’re in a period drama.

sends you passive-aggressive weather reports. “the temperature today is 12°c. wear a scarf. i won’t be responsible for your cold.”

ღ toji fushiguro—cringe level: dumb jock with zero shame

tries to sext you in emojis. it’s just the eggplant and three knives. you have no idea what that even means.

refuses to call anything by its real name. calls breakfast ���protein-up time’. calls your lips ‘mouth pillows’.

when you wear anything cute, he flexes and says, “yeah, i did that. you’re welcome, world.”

will absolutely send gym thirst traps and caption them “so you don’t forget what’s yours 💦💪.” sends them to the group chat by accident.

ღ megumi fushiguro—cringe level: reluctantly adorable

tries so hard to be cool around you but absolutely chokes. stares at you, then looks away too fast and walks into doors.

denies being jealous but mutters “i’ll kill him” under his breath when anyone flirts with you.

will text you “u up?” at 8:13 pm then panic and say “sorry wrong person” and ghost you for two hours.

his idea of flirting is saying, “i guess you’re alright.” then staring at the floor for 6 years.

ღ yuji itadori—cringe level: golden retriever with no filter

tells random strangers that you’re dating. waitress: “what would you like?” yuji: “i’d like whatever she wants. she’s my girlfriend. isn’t she pretty??”

dances anywhere if he hears music. grocery store. dentist’s office. funeral (he swears it was just a reflex).

wears a ‘world’s luckiest boyfriend’ shirt on your anniversary. you didn’t even get him one.

gets teary-eyed when you kiss him and goes, “wow. that felt like love… do you think sukuna felt that too?”

ღ yuuta okkotsu—cringe level: sweet boy but intense & fast™

brings you flowers every single day. like it’s a competition. you now own 13 vases.

gets so nervous around you he recites rika’s curse vow by accident instead of ‘have a nice day’. you just blinked.

once cried because you complimented his handwriting. “no one’s ever noticed that before… you’re so… so…” cue intense anime sobbing.

tries to talk dirty but his voice breaks and he immediately apologizes and bows. you just wanted to kiss. not a formal ceremony.

ღ toge inumaki—cringe level: silent rizz but when it goes wrong, it goes wrong

texts you only in emoji code. it’s cute until you realize 🍙💥💀 might mean ‘i miss you.’ or ‘i blew up a building.’. unclear.

tried to dirty talk you using only ‘salmon’ and ‘bonito flakes’. it was confusing. but strangely hot.

you said “i love you” once and he panicked so hard he said “tuna mayo” and ran out the room.

will dramatically mouth full love speeches in slow motion like it’s a silent movie. background music plays from his phone. the secondhand embarrassment is in 4d.

ღ suguru geto—cringe level: smooth-talking cult leader energy

flirts like a guy who read one too many romance novels. “every time you speak, the cursed spirits retreat. coincidence? i think not.”

performs unnecessary hair flips and stares into the distance as if someone is always filming a documentary about him being misunderstood.

calls you ‘my little curse queen’ in public. once said it at a bakery. the cashier blinked twice.

will 100% do a dramatic slow clap when you walk into a room. every single time.

ღ choso kamo—cringe level: emotionally earnest but awkward emo boy

writes you love poems at 3am and reads them out loud with complete sincerity while you’re trying to sleep.

once made you a playlist called ‘songs that make me think about your blood’. you had to lie down after that.

tries to recreate romance movie scenes but keeps picking the wrong ones. tried the ‘titanic’ scene in a bathtub. nearly drowned.

hugs you in front of everyone for 30 seconds longer than socially acceptable and whispers, “you smell like safety and also my destiny.”

ღ ryomen sukuna—cringe level: eldritch horror who thinks he’s hot on tiktok

tries to be ‘mysterious and sexy’ by saying things like “you’re lucky i don’t kill everyone you love just to have you to myself.” sir. therapy. now.

uses his domain expansion to make fireworks in the sky that spell out ‘mine’. you screamed. so did the neighborhood.

will take over yuji’s body mid-date just to flirt. “he’s too soft. let me show you how a real man treats you.” you were just trying to eat takoyaki.

posts shirtless mirror selfies captioned ‘god body. devil tongue. her problem.’ blocks comments so no one can call him out.

───────────────────────

ღ mahito—cringe level: feral theater kid with no social awareness

practices different personalities like a method actor to ‘see which one you like best’. one day he’s a victorian butler. next he’s a skater boy.

sends you cursed objects as gifts. you cried when a jar started whispering your name. he said, “it’s the thought that counts, baby 🥺🫶.”

made a scrapbook of your hair. not a lock. not a strand. like. all the hair you’ve ever shed in his presence. he calls it ‘the archive of her beauty’.

if someone flirts with you, he shapeshifts into them and says, “is this what you want?” you had to leave the restaurant.

[kakashisacademia]

ღ satoru x suguru x kento x sukuna x toji x you

—booked and blessed

The apartment door slammed behind you with a tipsy thud. “Fucking finally,” you mumbled, dropping your keys with a clatter and kicking off your heels like they were personally responsible for your aching arches. Your cheeks were a little flushed from the cheap champagne your friend insisted on ordering and the sheer secondhand horniness of watching two strangers make out in the club bathroom line. You hadn’t been kissed in weeks. Touched in months.

And now, of course, you were alone again.

You peeled off your coat, your dress and your dignity in a lazy little trail toward the bedroom. The soft glow of your laptop lit up the room like a beacon of bad decisions. You sprawled across your bed in just your panties, eyes hazy as you tapped into the website your friend had once whispered about with a look of guilty reverence. You had made an account there, also when you were tipsy and now…

‘Five-star companions. The kind you don’t forget.’

You bit your lip. The alcohol made you reckless. Warm. A little dumb.

Satoru. Suguru. Kento. Toji. Sukuna.

You clicked their profiles one by one. Each hotter than the last. It felt like reading porn. Muscles, sharp grins, lewd testimonials and bodies built to make a girl weep between the thighs.

God, imagine being filled by even one of them. There was for sure some drool at the corner of your mouth.

You scrolled down, just for fun and clicked; ‘Group Experience - Limited Edition. Do you crave a night with, not one, but five of our hottest men? Then book our special, but be quick, ladies. Our men are hot, and they’re wanted.’

It made your stomach flip. Five digits. But… your hand hovered over the screen. Drunken logic whispered: What’s the worst that could happen? They’ll decline. You’ll laugh it off.

You pressed the booking button. The screen flashed white.

‘Booking confirmed. Estimated arrival: 1 hour.’

You sobered instantly. “What the fuck,” you whispered. Your card was charged and you were panicked.

You paced your apartment like a girl about to get audited and fucked at the same time. You brushed your teeth. Moisturized. Put on lip gloss and took it off twice. You changed your panties. You considered calling your bank and telling them you’d been hacked, but… the idea of it, the fantasy, was already taking root in your bloodstream like a drug.

And then, exactly 58 minutes later, your doorbell rang.

You opened it. You blinked. You gawked.

There were five of them. All tall. All hot. All real. They looked like a pack of gods dressed in sin. Broad shoulders, black jackets, casual smiles that told you they knew exactly what kind of mess you were about to make of yourself.

The white-haired one, Satoru, grinned as his eyes skimmed you from bare legs to flushed face. “Holy shit,” he whistled. “You’re even prettier than the profile said.”

You swallowed. “Um. Hi.”

“Hi,” the dark-haired one beside him said with a lazy smile. Suguru, you thought. He stepped inside without waiting. “We came fast. Hope that’s not a theme tonight.”

You backed up on instinct as the other three followed. Kento, tall and serious; Toji, silent with a sharp jaw and a scar down his lip; and Sukuna, whose face was pretty in a violent kind of way, tattoos licking up his temples and a glint in his eyes that made you want to lock the doors and get on your knees all at once.

“Bedroom?” Kento asked politely.

You pointed. “Down the hall. First door—”

You were lifted. Legs in the air. Hands under your thighs. You gasped softly as Satoru carried you like you weighed nothing, slapping your ass on the way as you yelped in surprise. “She’s ready,” he said over his shoulder, “I can smell it.”

They were in your room before you could blink, setting you on the bed, stripping you with too-efficient hands. Your panties were pulled off with a snap. Your shirt was gone. Suguru kissed the inside of your knee like a priest blessing a sacrifice.

“She’s not running,” Sukuna said, circling you like a wolf. “She’s trembling, but she’s wet.”

“Of course she’s wet,” Toji muttered. “Look at us.”

You blinked up at them. Five of the hottest men you’d ever seen were unbuttoning shirts, licking their lips, unzipping pants like this was normal. Like this happened every night.

And maybe it did. For them. For you? This was some unspeakable dream.

“Shouldn’t we—talk about—“ You mindlessly waved your hand towards them. Then blushed as Toji pushed his pants down and exposed a cock so thick you nearly went unconscious from just staring at it.

“Talk about what?” Kento asked gently. Almost politely.

“I—uh—can I have a safeword?” you blurted, heart hammering.

All five froze. Kento crouched beside you, smoothing a hand down your bare thigh. “That’s a very good question. We usually pick one. You can say Red at any time. Everything stops.”

You nodded relieved. “Okay. Got it.”

Satoru smirked and leaned down until his lips brushed yours. “Just don’t cry too pretty, baby. Some of us like a little begging.”

They tore you apart. That was the only way to describe it.

One cock in your mouth. One in your pussy. One in your ass. Your wrists tied in soft rope tied to the headboard of the bed by Suguru while Satoru held your jaw open and spat in your mouth between groans. “You like that, don’t you?” he moaned, jerking himself against your tongue. “Filthy little mouth.”

Kento was under you, controlling and calm, muttering filth into your ear. “Take it. That’s it. Don’t waste it, sweetheart.” His cock was buried in your ass and you nearly blacked out from the pressure.

Toji was fucking your pussy like he hated you, bruising your hips with every slap. Sukuna sat next to you, jerking himself to the rhythm of your sobs. His leaking tip ran circles around your hard nipple until it was wet and shiny.

“She’s gonna pass out,” Suguru said, rubbing your clit in slow circles like a mercy. “Give her a second.”

“I’m not gonna—” you choked.

“You’re fine,” Kento reassured, voice hot against your neck. “You’re doing so fucking well.”

Your body was shaking. Crying. Coming again and again while they used you, filled you, praised and degraded you until you didn’t know what you were saying anymore. You begged. You screamed. You called them gods and assholes and please please please until your voice was wrecked.

And they still weren’t done.

Toji came inside you first. He buried himself deep and painted your insides with hot, sticky ropes. He pulled out with a groan, watching his cum drip out of you with greedy eyes.

Satoru didn’t even wait. He pushed in like your body was a hole made just for him, one hand fisting your hair as he thrust until your eyes rolled back and you clawed at the ropes around your wrists, sobbing around Sukuna’s cock while he came on your tongue.

Suguru wiped your tears away with his thumb and whispered, “Do you want more?”

You nodded, shaking. Fucked dumb and out of your goddamn mind.

He smiled. “Good girl.”

At this point you didn’t know where one body ended and another began. Sweat slicked your skin, your own juices and theirs dripped between your thighs, and other parts of your flushed body. You couldn’t stop shaking. Not out of fear or pain, you still had the safe word to stop, but it was just too much. Too much cock. Too much pleasure. Too much of them.

You were given some water in between and Satoru had found your chocolate stash, but it was only a fleeting second where the chocolate melted on your tongue, while the next cocks already pressed on your gaping holes.

You barely registered the mattress dipping beside you until a warm palm slid up your belly. It was Sukuna again. “You’re not tapping out, right?” he asked, voice a low rasp, thumb brushing your lower lip. His cock was still hard, heavy and twitching against his thigh like he hadn’t just come in your mouth five minutes ago. “You’ve still got holes left.”

You whined helplessly, too fucked out to speak a whole sentences. Kento’s hands were still smoothing down your sides, his voice a lullaby of filth against your temple. “She’s shaking so sweetly. Look at her. What a perfect little toy.”

“She’s leaking,” Toji muttered, using two fingers to spread your pussy lips apart and watching their cum dribble out. “Fucking pretty mess.”

“Let’s flip her,” Suguru said casually, as if he were asking someone to pass the salt. “Wanna see that ass bounce.”

Strong arms lifted you before your brain caught up. You were turned over, belly to the sheets, drool pooling at the corner of your mouth as your knees were shoved apart. Satoru fisted your hair and yanked your head back just enough to kiss you. A kiss that was so sweet and nasty at once, tasting like Sukuna’s cum and your own desperate moans.

“You can still say Red, sweetheart,” he murmured against your lips.

“I don’t want to,” you breathed. “I want more.”

The laugh that left the room was downright wicked. You almost felt ashamed what a greedy little whore you were. But who could blame you here? What did Lana Del Rey sang, ‘in the lands of gods and monsters, I was an angel, begging to get fucked hard’? Sounded about right.

“Oh, baby,” Suguru purred, spreading your ass wide. “That’s the best thing you could’ve said.”

They took you again. Rougher, deeper, sloppier. Sukuna was behind you now, fucking your ass like he owned it, hand wrapped around your throat to keep you gasping just on the edge. Kento slid underneath, pushing his cock back into your pussy with a groan of satisfaction like he’d missed it. You were double stuffed again, mindless from the pressure, only able to cry out for god or mercy or more.

Toji stroked himself at the foot of the bed, muttering dark things like “She’s gonna be ruined after this,” while Suguru kissed his way up your spine, whispering promises of how good you were. Satoru never stopped touching you. His warm mouth on your shoulder, fingers teasing your clit, breath hot in your ear. “She’s gonna come again,” he warned.

“She’s ready,” Kento growled. “Let her.”

You broke again. And again. And again. Your cunt and ass were clenching so hard that you were afraid you’d break their dicks. But they loved it. Each clenching, each little broken gasp made them grin widely like they just had won something. If you wouldn’t know it better you’d think they truly enjoy this and this wasn’t paid pleasure.

By the time the fifth orgasm hit you, you were nearly unconscious. They untied you slowly and carefully, and laid you on your back like a doll that had been played with too hard. You expected them to leave. But they didn’t.

Suguru brought water to your lips. Kento wiped your skin with a warm cloth. Satoru curled beside you, cradling your body against his bare chest and murmuring soft praise into your hair. You blinked up at them, boneless and ruined.

“…That was the group experience?” you rasped.

Toji smirked. “That was round one.”

Sukuna stretched, cracking his neck. “We’ve got hours left, princess.”

And Satoru? That bastard just grinned and kissed your swollen mouth. “Better hydrate.”

“Because now,” Suguru added, already pulling your thighs apart again, “we’re going to make you forget your own name.”

“Give her a moment.” Kento said firmly. “I’m not ready for our girl to break apart yet.”

You whimpered gratefully in return as you got picked up and carried to the bathroom, probably also by Kento since he seemed to be the most levelheaded from them.

You nuzzled into his broad shoulder as he turned on the warm water. The steam of it curling around the tiles like smoke and the soft scent of vanilla and roses fill the bathroom. He set you down on a fluffy mat and knelt to help you in. Strong hands and clean hands touched your body like you were something sacred, even after everything they’d done to you.

“You did so well,” Kento murmured, brushing your hair behind your ear. “You deserve a reward.”

The tub was deep and warm as he settled behind you. His broad chest pressed against your back as he pulled you gently between his thick thighs. One arm curled around your waist and caressed the marked skin of your hip. The other hand—well, that one had other plans.

“You ever been bathed by a man before?” he asked, lips soft at your temple.

You shook your head. Kento clicked his tongue, nuzzling into your hair. “Such a shame. We’ll fix that.”

His hand dipped below the water to spread your thighs with the same patience he had undressed earlier. You hid your face in his neck and whimpered quietly, but he was so patient and good to you. His fingers teased over your sore, swollen pussy with feather-light care, like he was touching a bruise—one he’d helped create.

“You’re still so sensitive,” his voice was pure velvet against your skin. “Poor thing. Can’t believe you let five strangers ruin you.”

You moaned, arching into him. His fingers didn’t fuck you. They caressed and rubbed. Circled your clit with maddening softness, never quite enough to push you over, just enough to remind you that you were still theirs.

The bathroom door creaked open behind the steam. You turned your head and met four more pairs of eyes. It was clear how still hungry they were, but they didn’t push. They just watched.

Toji was in the shower now, one hand pressed to the wall as the other stroked himself slowly under the spray. He was watching you. So was Suguru, toweling his hair off, bare and wet and grinning like the devil himself. Satoru leaned against the counter, arms crossed, cock hard again and already leaking.

Sukuna sat on the closed toilet seat like a king on a throne, stroking his cock lazily. “Look at her. She’s fucking trembling from just your fingers.”

“She’s perfect,” Kento murmured behind you. “Such a good girl. You want to come, sweetheart? Want to fall apart all over again in my hands?”

“K-Kento.” You gasped and nodded, clutching his wrist beneath the water, hips rocking into the motion of his palm.

“She’s soaking,” Toji muttered from the shower. “Is it the bath or her?”

“Both,” Suguru answered.

You cried out, your orgasm washing over you like a wave. This time slow, warm, soul-wrecking. Kento held you through it, one hand around your stomach, the other never leaving your pussy until you were twitching and wetting his fingers with more than just bathwater.

Satoru moved closer, rubbing your cheek with his knuckles. “Still think we’re done, baby?”

You looked up at him, dazed. Fucked-out. Floating. “I—I don’t know,” you whispered.

Sukuna grinned. “We do.”

Rough big hands slipped under your arms and hauled you up like you weighed nothing. Instantly you clutched to his wide chest and whined as you felt his erection throbbing hotly against your thigh.

“Pretty show,” he muttered against your ear. “But I’m done watching.”

Water still clung to your skin in rivulets when he carried you down the hall. His cock bumped against your thigh with every step, his fingers dug deep into your soft flesh like he wanted to leave a permanent mark. He didn’t say a word until he dropped you face-down onto the bed and shoved your legs apart.

“You’re wet,” he said, more to himself than to you. “Good.”

You barely had time to protest before he was inside you, deep. No prep. No fingers. Just a filthy, thick cock punching into your sore pussy like he owned it. You screamed and sobbed into the mattress, fingers clawed at the sheets. He didn’t stop. He fucked like he had a problem with you.

“Fucking tight,” he grunted, slapping your ass once. “Don’t tell me you’re sore already. We’re just getting started.”

You were sore. You were crying out so hard that it sounded borderline like you were murdered. And yet your hips pushed back against him to chase the painful pleasure, to chase him. Toji grabbed your waist and slammed into you harder, punishing you for wanting more.

“She likes it,” Sukuna said amused from the doorway. “Look at her greedy little cunt.”

“She loves it,” Satoru agreed, jerking himself at the foot of the bed. “You see the way she clenched when he said that?”

Toji reached forward and fisted your hair, yanking your head up. “Answer them.”

You moaned rawly. “I—I love it. Please. Fuck, don’t stop—”

He didn’t. Not until he came inside you with a groan that shook the bed frame. His balls emptying again in you while your walls fluttered around him. He pulled out then and smacked your ass again before stepping aside.

“My turn,” Sukuna said, already climbing onto the bed. His cock was flushed. The tip was almost purple and angry and gleaming. “Open that pretty mouth.”

You barely had the time to breathe before he was on his knees beside your face. His tattooed fingers gripped your jaw while his other hand fisted your hair to hold your head in place. With a growl he plunged his cock into your mouth and down your throat.

“No teeth,” he growled. “Just tongue. Show me you’re useful.”

You did. Tears leaking down your cheeks and you watched him with wide eyes as he started thrusting into your throat. He was rough and merciless. But he also was so goddamn beautiful like that, tattoos twitching under his skin, his abs flexing as he used your mouth.

“God, you look ruined,” Suguru murmured from the side, watching you with dark, hooded eyes. “Do you like this, sweetheart? You want us to keep going?”

You nodded the best you could with your mouth full. Sukuna groaned deeply and pulled out just before he came. His hand moved maddening fast as he put the tip on your lips and his hot cum spurred on your tongue.

“Don’t swallow,” he told you. “Let me see it.”

Despite everything you blushed as you opened your mouth wide and showed him the cum on your tongue. “Good girl,” he mumbled and covered your mouth with his hand. “And now swallow.”

You preened and wanted to say something as you suddenly were flipped again. Laid out on your back, Satoru leaned over you next. His blue eyes sparkled with sunshine and sin.

“I’ve been patient,” he said almost too sweet. “But I want this pussy now.”

You nodded quickly and Satoru smiled. Then he slid in slowly. Not brutal like Toji. Not sloppy like Sukuna. He fucked you like he knew you. It was almost a miracle how easily he found the spot that made your back arch and your thighs shake. He hit it again and again with his forehead pressed to yours. Long fingers rubbed your clit while he whispered filth in your ear.

“Think about this tomorrow,” he said between groans. “When you’re sore and leaking and too fucked out to walk. Think about my cock keeping you up at night.”

You didn’t think you’d survive him. He didn’t fuck like a machine, he fucked with emotions and that was dangerous. He played you and your body so perfectly that you almost believed it, and he aimed straight for it. Your heart was pounding so hard and you almost cried when you felt the twitch of his cock. Satoru came deep inside you, moaning into your open mouth as you spasmed around him again. You clutched to him, but it was no use.

“Fuck,” he gasped, pulling out with a shudder. “Okay. Who’s next?”

“Me,” Suguru murmured. “I’ll take her ass.”

“Suguru.” You whined as your head lolled to the side.

“Shh,” Kento said softly, already moving to stroke your thigh. He was the shelter in the storm. “You’re safe. You’re perfect. You can do this.”

You nodded, dizzy with desire. Your body and soul was drenched in cum and praise and filth.

Suguru kissed you sweetly before he fucked your ass. He was slow at first, giving you the time to adjust. He might was wicked and coated in dark chuckles. But you felt the caring side as he made sure he wouldn’t tear you and his hands stayed gentle the entire time. Even when his hips snapped forward, because he couldn’t wait to be buried in your body.

Who also kept you grounded was Kento again. He held your hand the entire time and kissed your knuckles, “That’s it. Take him. Look at you, angel.”

When Suguru came, you were crying again. You were broken, shattered, blissed out and begging for more. And everything at the same time. Whatever dick magic spell the men used on you, worked perfectly. Because they kept you on the edge of pure bliss and insanity.

Kento was the last. Gently he cradled you against his chest again and laid you back into his lap. Warm lips found your neck as he slid into your swollen and ruined pussy. He didn’t thrust fast. He didn’t need to. Instead he filled you and praised you with pride and longing. He took you with slow, sweet rolls of his hips that made you sob.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered. “We’ll keep you if you’re not careful.”

By the time he came, you were trembling in his arms and gasped against his sharp jawline. You were overstimulated, yes. Full of their cum. But your mind was far away and somewhere soft.

They didn’t leave. Not even now. They stayed and changed the sheets. They held you, gave you water and more snacks. Again you were cleaned and praised, like you were their most sacred treasure. It drove the tears to your eyes and you didn’t fight them as warm lips kissed under your eyes.

You’d paid for one night, but they were giving you so much more.

Once you trusted yourself to speak again and the writhing of your body stopped, you slowly rolled on your back. You wanted more, but something different. Maybe you weren’t allowed to have this and they’d laugh at you. But it just felt so right in this moment. And a part of you didn’t care that they’d maybe think you were just a silly girl who confused paid sex and whispered praise with feelings.

You wanted them, and you wanted to let them know.

You pushed yourself up on shaky arms, breath catching as you knelt in the middle of the bed. “C-come here,” you whispered, voice rough, threadbare. “Please.”

They were quietly watching you. Curious what you wanted next, but the mood felt a bit guarded.

Suguru was the first to move. He sat at the edge of the mattress. Satoru followed, crouching beside him, sweat drying on his snow white hair. Kento leaned against the headboard, arms crossed but eyes soft. Sukuna stood, head tilted, like trying to figure out what the hell you were up to. And Toji just stared, still half-hard and twitching. His jaw was tight.

You crawled to Suguru first and pressed your lips to the inside of his wrist. Then his chest. Then his neck. “You’re so beautiful,” you whispered, dragging your tongue gently along the curve of his collarbone. “You fucked me like I mattered. Like I wasn’t just a hole.”

His breath caught and he blinked stunned. Satoru did too, brows lifting. Each one of them listening.

“You could’ve been meaner,” you murmured, turning to the blue eyed god next. You kissed the base of his throat and his cheek. “But you wanted me to come. You wanted me to feel it. I’ll remember it forever.”

Satoru swallowed hard. “Shit.”

You kissed his hand and turned to Toji. “You’re a monster,” you whispered, dragging your mouth over the thick muscle of his thigh and the sharp jut of his hipbone. “But you knew I could take it. You made me proud of my body.”

Toji exhaled through his nose, low and slow. He didn’t say a word. But his fingers twitched, like he wanted to hold you and didn’t know how.

Sukuna chuckled darkly when you got to him. “What’re you gonna say to me, princess? That I skull-fucked you real polite?”

You smiled softly and kissed the trail of tattoos along his abdomen. “You’re so pretty when you come,” you said. “I liked making you feel good. I liked how loud you got.”

His smirk faltered and his eyes battled a war of emotions, beyond what you could comprehend and understand now.

Then you crawled to Kento, and god, he was trying to hide how moved he was. His knuckles flexed against the headboard, watching you with something dangerously close to reverence.

“You were kind,” you whispered, laying a hand on his chest. “You made me feel… cherished. Even while you ruined me.”

You laid your head in his lap and he stroked your hair without thinking. “You didn’t have to be gentle,” you added shakily. “But you were. And I’ll never forget it.”

None of them spoke. The air was heavy and quiet. You smiled through the ache and let your hand trail down Suguru’s thigh. “You’re not just pretty bodies. You’re not just gods. You’re men. And you’re… you’re mine for tonight. So let me say thank you.”

Satoru breathed out a stunned laugh. “Holy fuck, I think I just fell in love.”

Suguru rubbed a hand down his face, groaning. “She’s gonna break us.”

“You boys all right?” you asked sweetly, but sincerely. “You look like you just got hit by a truck.”

“We’re supposed to leave girls crying, not the other way around,” Sukuna muttered.

Toji finally moved. His fingers found your chin and tilted it up. “Say that shit again,” he said roughly. “Say I made you proud of your body.”

You did and he leaned down to kiss you hard. His tongue fucked your mouth roughly, his scar scratched your lips. But you felt it and so did he.

The others watched, a little stunned, a little wrecked. Each of them sporting new erections they didn’t even realize were happening. You, the good girl. The one they tore open and fucked raw. Crawling on bruised knees to worship them with lips and voice and love-drunk praise. It should’ve been unnatural. But god, it felt divine.

It was quiet afterward. Not awkward, just slow and heavy. The kind of silence that settles after an earthquake.

You laid in the middle of the ruined sheets, limp and covered in bruises and marks. Your lips were swollen and your thighs twitched occasionally. You were the most beautiful mess.

Suguru sat on the windowsill shirtless. A cigarette dangled between his lips. He wasn’t even smoking, just holding it there while he seemed lost in thoughts.

Kento had dressed again, but he kept his tie off. He had put on your nightstand, like he might leave a souvenir. But for now he stroked your hair and urged your head on his lap.

Satoru sat backwards on a chair, chin resting on his arms as he watched you with something sharp and unreadable in his eyes.

Sukuna had lit a match and burned a long, lazy line down the candle on your nightstand, just to watch it melt.

And Toji? Toji was still hard. He didn’t say much, but his fingers rested on your ankle like a brand. Thumb dragging slow circles into the bone like he was trying to memorize your pulse.

You finally broke the silence with a hoarse little laugh. “I can’t believe I actually paid for that.”

Satoru snorted. “Babe… you didn’t pay for that.”

You blinked. “I didn’t?”

Suguru smiled. “You paid for one night. That wasn’t one night. That was a fucking… religious experience.”

Toji’s hand slid up your leg. “Next time your pussy gets hungry,” he said darkly, “you call us.”

You blinked confused. Your heart stuttered at the implication.

“No charge,” Sukuna added, grinning. “You just say the word.”

Kento nodded, brushing a thumb over your bottom lip. “You’ve earned that much.”

Suguru laughed and finally lit the cigarette. “Fuck, I’d cancel on paying clients for you. Girl who says thank you with a cock in her throat? Yeah. You’re top-tier.”

Satoru leaned in close and kissed your temple. “You’re not a client anymore,” he murmured. “You’re a favorite.”

“You don’t need a card,” Kento said. “Just keep the bed warm.”

“Text one of us,” Toji said. “We’ll bring the others.”

Sukuna grinned. “Fuck a website. You’re direct line now.”

You swallowed. You were still trembling. Still a little sore. But heat coiled low in your gut again. God, you were their favorite. Their chosen one.

And you knew, deep in your raw little cunt and fucked-out heart, that this wouldn’t be the last time you let these men destroy you.

[kakashisacademia]

Keeping to your ✨blasphemy✨ theme, incubi shigaraki and dabi seducing innocent closet perv nun reader?

ten seconds from coming and worship at your altar. also, I got a nun who’s close to me, so I changed the reader to an innocent woman who believes in god. I hope that’s okay 🩶

ღ dabi x you x shigaraki —eat, pray, ruin

She was a good girl. At least, that’s what everyone believed. She went to church every Sunday, rain or shine. Wore soft dresses with high necklines and pastel bows. Sang in the choir. Folded her hands in prayer with trembling sincerity, whispering “God, protect me from temptation.”

But temptation heard her and temptation came anyway.

It was a hot summer night. The kind where sweat clings to bare skin even in silence. Where the air is heavy and too still, and even the stars seem to hold their breath. She couldn’t sleep. Not with the ache between her thighs. Not with the image of his sharp jaw and black ink eyes still burning behind her lids. Though she didn’t know his name. Not with that rough, terrifying voice that seemed to whisper in her dreams “you’d beg for it, wouldn’t you?”

She prayed even more this night. The same whispered litany, hands folded so tightly her knuckles ached. “Protect me from evil. Keep me pure. Forgive my thoughts, my sins, my weakness…”

But it wasn’t enough tonight. The air in her room turned thick, too still. Like the whole world had stopped breathing. The cross above her bed tilted on the wall. Her nightlight flickered and fizzed into black. Then the scent of smoke and rot came.

She opened her eyes and saw him, the first demon. Tall. Tattooed. Shirtless. His hand around his neck as he smirked, flames flickering lazily around him. Hair dark like soot, grin sharp like sin.

“Hi angel,” he drawled, voice like gravel dragged across her spine. “You called for me.”

“I—I didn’t—” she stammered, backing against her bed, chest rising and falling fast.

Dabi just grinned, dark and slow. “Sure you did. Every night you fuck your pillow and whisper please, every time you close your eyes and imagine hands choking you, mouths tasting you—” his tongue licked his lip—“You think Heaven’s not listening?”

Another voice filled the room. This one was raspy and deeper. Coming from the shadows by her window. “You summoned us,” Shigaraki said, stepping out of the dark. “Don’t lie to yourself.”

Pale hair, crimson eyes, body wrapped in hunger and decay. He moved like smoke, like a curse slipping through the cracks. His hand hovered just above her blanket, not touching—but ready.

“I didn’t—” she whispered.

“She’s better than I thought,” Shigaraki muttered, unfazed by her denial. “Smells like sin and sugar.”

“Because she’s been saving it,” Dabi said, crawling over her body now. “Saving herself. For God. Ain’t that right, sweetheart?”

“I—I’m pure—” she whimpered, but it was a lie.

A filthy lie. Because Dabi pushed her nightgown up and found her bare underneath. Her legs parted. Her thighs sticky with need. Her cunt already glistening.

“Oh yeah,” he breathed, mouth curling into something vicious. “Pure, my ass.”

“She’s wet for us,” Shigaraki murmured. “Soaked.”

He was beside her now, cold fingers wrapping around her wrist, pinning it above her head. His other hand trailed between her legs, tapping her clit lightly with two rough fingers. “You don’t want to be good. You want to be used.”

Dabi’s tongue traced her nipple, followed by his sharp teeth. “You prayed,” he rasped. “Now kneel.”

They ruined her mouth first.

Shigaraki gripped her hair and pushed her face down onto Dabi’s cock. The head of it flushed and leaking, his chest rising slow as he stared down at her.

“Open your mouth wider,” Dabi said firmly. “That’s it. All the way in. Yeah… God can’t hear you now, can He?”

She gagged with tears in her eyes. For the first time in her life she didn’t worship the word of God, but a man’s cock. No, not a man. A demon. The devil. She moaned and clenched around nothing as her next depraved prayer lead her between Shigaraki’s legs.

Then they ruined her cunt.

Shigaraki stretched her open. He was slow at first, mocking her cries. “Tight little virgin hole. All mine tonight.”

Dabi spat between her cheeks, fingers slipping down to tease her asshole. “All of you is ours.”

She cried out and they laughed. Not cruelly, but with the joy of wolves feasting after the fast. They took turns. Switched holes. Made her beg even when her voice was gone.

“Say it,” Shigaraki hissed into her ear as he thrust. “Say you belong to us now.”

“I—I—” she sobbed.

Dabi choked her gently. Almost lovingly. Just enough to make the stars dance behind her eyes. “No God here. Just us, baby. Just fuckin’ demons.”

She came so hard she thought her soul cracked. She begged more. Cried. Even screamed and clawed at their bodies.

By dawn, the sheets were soaked. Her body bruised and limp. She laid between them, used, trembling, her inner thighs dripping with filth and seed. Dabi pressed a mocking kiss to her throat. “You’ll pray again tomorrow,” he whispered. “And we’ll come back.”

Shigaraki’s teeth dragged her earlobe. “Don’t fight it. This is what you were made for.”

She cried as the sun rose. But that night? She didn’t pray for mercy. She prayed they’d come back.

She came to church the next morning. Her eyes red and puffy from crying and her skin flushed. Every muscles in her body was aching. And worse, the shame clung to her like a second skin.

She lit a candle for forgiveness and sat through the service with her head bowed. When the word ‘salvation’ came from the priest, like a cruel joke, she hung her head lower. Prayed tighter until her knuckles almost broke.

When the pews cleared and the sunlight streamed soft through the tinted glass, she stayed behind. She was alone now, kneeling with her head bowed before the alter. Her voice cracked several times as she prayed.

“Forgive me, Father, for I—”

“You’re lying again,” came the whisper behind her.

She froze and her eyes widened in pure horror. Their scent—smoke and decay, lust and hunger—curled around her like purgatory. She hoped it was only punishment from God for all her sins.

Her lips trembled. “No… not here…”

“Especially here,” Dabi rasped, leaning down to lick the back of her neck. “You think He can save you? After what we did to you?”

“You begged us to come back,” Shigaraki muttered, his voice in front of her. “You wanted more.”

She opened her mouth to speak—deny it, maybe—but then she felt it. The weight of his cock sliding into her from behind. Thick. Slow. Brutal.

She hadn’t even noticed that he had lifted her church dress. And for sure, he didn’t ask nor did he wait. He just filled her on the altar floor like it was his right.

“Your God’s watching,” he grunted, burned hands on her hips. “Let Him see you repent.”

Shigaraki crouched in front of her, smirking. “On your knees. In His house. And all you’re good for…” he unzipped his pants, pulling out his cock. Slow and cruel he dragged it across her trembling lips, “is choking on demon cock while the saints weep.”

They used her body like a holy offering. Dabi fucked her from behind, slow and punishing, the slap of skin echoing in the cathedral dome. Shigaraki shoved himself into her mouth, her hands clenched in prayer as he thrusted in time with Dabi. Her moans were muffled by his cock while her knees ached on the tile. And her cunt drooled down her thighs like oil from a sacred lamp.

“You think confession will save you now?” Dabi sneered, slapping her ass. “You’re not here for forgiveness, angel.”

“You’re here because you like it,” Shigaraki growled. “Because you’re a fucktoy for demons and you know it.”

She choked. Gagged. Cried. But she never stopped them.

When they finished she was on her back, legs spread and mouth wide open. Her body was covered in their filth. Filth on her neck, inside her used cunt, inside her stomach. The altar cloth was ruined beneath her.

And her halo? Gone.

They left her there, limp and glistening, as the bells rang for the next sermon. Dabi paused at the doors with a smile. “See you next Sunday, sweetheart.”

The confession box smelled of incense and dust. She knelt inside, trembling hands gripping the sides of her dress. Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Forgive me, Father, for I’ve sinned…”

Her thighs clenched. The memory of the altar still lived in her skin. The bruises on her hips hadn’t faded. Her cunt still pulsed with shameful want. “I let them touch me… I let them inside me… I didn’t fight…”

There was no answer from the other side of the partition. But then a single breath. Not a warm one. Not a comforting one. Not even human.

Rough fingers dragged along the hem of her long skirt. The cloth lifted slowly and cold air licked at her bare legs, then her thighs. She gasped, head whipping around.

“Shh,” came the voice from the shadows below. “Keep confessing.”

Shigaraki. He was kneeling on the wooden floor and crawled between her legs like a beast summoned from the void. Eyes glowing faint red, mouth twisted into a cruel, hungry smile.

“You’re in His house,” he whispered, voice dry and low. “Tell Him how much you love it.”

Her breath hitched. “I… I touch myself. I think about them. I imagine being filled up until I can’t think…”

He spread her thighs further, peeling her open under the cover of her modest dress. She felt his wet, hot tongue press to her folds. She moaned, slapping a hand over her mouth.

Shigaraki chuckled darkly. “Tell Him you want more.”

“I want more,” she sobbed, biting her knuckles. “I can’t stop. I want their hands, their cocks, their mouths—I want to be used.”

His cruel tongue worked deeper, fucking into her used hole before he dragged his lips across her swollen clit. He let out a hungry moan like she was his sacrament.

The wood creaked beneath him. The walls of the confessional seemed to pulse. And when she came—shaking, gasping, whispering “oh God” like a broken record—he licked it all up like holy wine.

“Good girl,” he said, licking his lips. “That’s one prayer He’ll never answer.”

That night, when she returned home, she barely had time to close the door before she felt the heat. Heavy and alive. The air shimmered blue and Dabi was there. He leaned against the wall, flames licking at his fingers. But it was his eyes that drew her attention. They weren’t teasing like usual, they were too dark. He looked at her like a fuse about to blow.

“You let him taste you,” he said quietly and she froze. “Didn’t you?” he asked again, stepping closer. The light overhead flickered. “You let that corpse-tongued freak eat you out in the confessional.”

She couldn’t lie, neither did she want to. “Yes,” she whispered. “He knelt for me.”

The heat exploded. Dabi shoved her hard against the wall. His mouth was on her neck to bite and mark. His hands tore at her dress, flames flickering against her skin. Marking her. Burning her alive in sins and emotions.

“I should burn it off you,” he growled. “Smell him all over you. Filthy fucking scent in your thighs. That rotting mouth on what belongs to me.”

She moaned loudly and her head tipped back. And then he was inside her. Hard. Brutal. Unforgiving. He fucked her like he meant to kill the memory of Shigaraki. Every thrust was a punishment. Every slap of skin an exorcism. The wall behind her blackened with heat, wood scorching under his fury.

“You want demons?” he hissed. “You want corruption? I’ll give you something to confess for a lifetime.”

She sobbed his name as he bent her over the table. His cock rutting into her until the legs cracked. Not that it would ever stop him. Instead he flipped her over and mounted her again. His flames licked at her throat, her breasts, her thighs, but never enough to burn. Just enough to mark her.

By the time he finished, she was raw and shaking. Covered in sweat and soot and come. Smoke curled from the sheets. And still, he wasn’t done.

He dragged her into his lap and whispered, “You’ll never let him kneel again without me watching.”

She didn’t mean to love the attention. She didn’t mean to be fought over. But it started to feel like worship.

Dabi claimed her body in flames. Branded her skin with every thrust. Fucked her until her mouth only knew how to say his name. He whispered filthy things while his fingers burned between her legs, heat licking at her throat like a warning. “I’ll never let you go. Not even in death.”

Shigaraki took her mind. Twisted it sweet and slow. Pushed his fingers inside her while making her say prayers. Used her mouth like a chalice and said she was the only thing he’d never decay. Every time he licked her clean, he muttered. “You’re mine. Even if I have to rot him to get you.”

She let them both have her. Until they couldn’t stand it anymore.

It happened one night. Thunder cracking. Sky black. The power gone.

She stood alone and bare in her bedroom, but not for long. They appeared almost at once.

Dabi first, smoke swirling as he stepped through the flames. Then Shigaraki, shadow coiling as he formed from dust and ash. Their eyes locked and her name—her body—hung like a spell between them.

“You think we can keep sharing her?” Dabi spat. “You think I didn’t notice your stench all over her pussy?”

Shigaraki laughed a low, broken sound. “You’re the one who burns her. Who scars her. She comes to me for softness.”

“She doesn’t want soft,” Dabi growled. “She wants ruin.”

“I already ruined her,” Shigaraki said coldly. “I did it in His house. While she cried and came on my tongue.”

She gasped, but neither looked at her anymore. They lunged and the room erupted. Fire and decay, smoke and darkness. Fists. Claws. Teeth. They tore at each other, crashing into walls, breaking mirrors. Screaming her name. Cursing. Spilling infernal blood across her floor.

“SHE’S MINE.”

“I’LL RIP OUT YOUR HEART FOR HER.”

“SHE KNEELS FOR ME.”

She stood in the center. Tears in her eyes and wet between her thighs as she watched two monsters rip the world apart for her soul. She stepped forward, her body glowing like sin, and chose.

Her hand reached out to—

Dabi.

He stopped mid-swing. His chest heaving, covered in burns and ash. Shigaraki froze before a snarl twisted his mouth.

Dabi looked at her stunned. “You…” he whispered. “You choose me?”

She nodded once. Not because he loved her. Not because he saved her. But because Dabi didn’t want her worship. He wanted her suffering and that was what she needed.

Shigaraki stepped back, something cold and ancient in his eyes. His body began to unravel, ash drifting to the floor. “You picked flame over rot. He’ll destroy you.”

“I know,” she whispered.

That night, Dabi took her harder than ever. No mercy. No limits. He tied her down and fucked her in fire. Choked her with his cock and made her cry. Called her his whore, his girl, his offering. Held her down and spit in her mouth as she begged to be filled again and again. And when she finally passed out, bruised and ruined beneath him, he whispered:

“One soul. One sinner. All mine now.”

But in the corner of the room, a flicker of ash twisted once. Watching. Waiting. Because demons never really leave and no girl who begs in the dark is ever safe.

Shigaraki.

The world froze. Dabi stopped mid-swing, his flames flaring wild and betrayed. “No,” he said. “No, no. You don’t want him.”

Shigaraki’s mouth curled into a quiet, hungry grin. He stepped closer. Touched her hand and laced his fingers with hers.

“I do,” she whispered. “I want the one who undid me. Who made me pray with my mouth full.”

“You’re fucking stupid,” Dabi hissed. His voice cracked like burning wood. “He’ll rot your soul. You’ll forget who you are.”

“That’s the point,” she said softly.

Shigaraki exhaled. His breath was cold as winter, brushing her neck. “Good girl.”

Dabi screamed in rage and heartbreak, and vanished in smoke and flame. He left scorch marks on the floor, but not in her.

That belonged to someone else now.

Shigaraki didn’t take her to bed. He took her to the chapel. Naked. Silent. Shivering with guilt and lust. He pushed her to her knees in front of the altar she once wept before.

“Pray,” he said calmly. “For everything I’m about to do.”

She opened her mouth, he bent her forward and fucked her like a prophecy. Deep. Dirty. With a hand on her throat and a promise on his tongue.

“You don’t belong to Heaven anymore,” he whispered. “You belong to me.”

The crucifix above her trembled.

Later, when she could no longer walk, when the pews were slick with her sin and her thighs ached from being filled so many times, Shigaraki held her face in his hands. His eyes weren’t red now. They were empty. And she swore she saw her own reflection inside them. Tied down, mouth open, begging for more.

“You chose right,” he murmured, dragging his thumb over her lip. “I’ll keep you forever. Even if your body turns to dust.”

But far away, in the smoke, Dabi watched. Burning with a fury so deep it cracked the sky. Because she was his once and demons don’t forgive betrayal.

Both of them.

Each one standing on either side of her. Smoke curling around her thighs. Decay licking at her skin. Two monsters who tore the world apart just to own her. And a girl on her knees, body wrecked from pleasure, voice too broken to whisper their names.

She looked at one. Then the other. Dabi, smoldering like wrath itself, his hands still warm from choking her through another orgasm. Shigaraki, quiet and cold, mouth still wet from hours between her legs.

“Choose, little whore,” Dabi growled. “Or I’ll burn your name off my tongue.”

“Choose,” Shigaraki said, smiling faintly. “Or I’ll rot the spine that keeps you standing.”

She shook. “I can’t,” she breathed. “I don’t want to choose.”

The room went still, and the silence was worse than the fighting.

Then Dabi stepped forward. “So you want both?” he asked deadly soft. “Want to be passed back and forth like a fucking toy?”

Shigaraki’s tongue clicked behind his teeth. “She doesn’t want to choose,” he murmured. “She wants to be taken.”

They didn’t give her time to protest. They grabbed her and dragged her to the floor like prey. Rough hands shoved her on all fours.

Dabi rammed two fingers into her mouth. “Open wide for your sin, baby.”

Behind her Shigaraki lined up his cock. “She said she can’t choose. So we’ll fill her until she splits.”

She choked and moaned. Her hands clawed at the floor when they fucked her at the same time. One in her mouth. One in her cunt. And when Dabi pulled out to spit on her tongue, Shigaraki flipped her over to stretch her open from the other side.

It didn’t end. They used her like a shared altar. Smeared her with spit, come, blood.

Made her say who she belonged to—over and over—until her voice broke and all that came out was moans. Dabi wrapped his fingers around her throat while Shigaraki rubbed her clit in punishing circles.

“Say it, girl. You’re ours now.”

“No God hears you anymore.”

“We’re the only ones who’ll ever answer your prayers.”

She came so hard her vision went white.

When it was over, they didn’t leave. They marked her—burned sigils into her hips, but into her thighs, came inside her again and again until it leaked from every hole. They shackled her between them with need. With the addiction that grew every time she begged for more.

Because she knew now, that she’d never kneel in a pew again. She’d only ever kneel for them.

Fire and rot. Heat and hunger.

One girl, split between two demons.

No Heaven.

No mercy.

No escape.

Only eternity.

[kakashisacademia]

Would you consider Mothman Tomura and Researcher MC? MC is always the one to patch him up after tests and bring him his meals, so when his suspected mating season comes around, her colleagues decide she’s the perfect subject for research on his… mating rituals?

I loved writing this a lot.

ღ shigaraki x you —winged instincts

He wasn’t supposed to have favorites. That’s what the lead researcher had said, at least, scowling as she watched Tomura’s unblinking red eyes follow your every move through the thick glass of Observation Chamber 6. You’d just set the tray down, his real food, not the synthetic nutrient paste the others fed him, and started noting his condition when he shifted.

His wings shuddered. Heavy, iridescent, pulsing in faint motion behind him. Claws curled against the ground. And those eyes, always bloodshot and dilated, drank you in like he was starving for something no one else could give him.

“You bring him real meals?” they’d asked. “Why?”

You’d shrugged. “He doesn’t eat the paste. And he’s more cooperative when I patch him up.”

But that wasn’t the whole truth. Shigaraki—Subject TH-01 on the logs, Tomura when he whispered his name to you through the reinforced glass—was more than a test subject to you. There was something in the way he moved when he saw you. The way his antennae trembled as though trying to catch your scent. The way he pressed closer when you leaned in to inspect the cuts on his arms, careful not to startle him, even though you both knew he could destroy you in a blink.

He didn’t, though. Not with you. Not even when they had to tranquilize him for bloodwork. He lashed out at everyone but you. They noticed.

“You’re… close with him,” Dr. Yanagida said one morning, clipboard in hand. “Comfortable. And he’s… well. He’s entering the cycle.”

You blinked. “Cycle?”

“Mating season.” She didn’t even flinch as she said it. “We’ve monitored the hormone spike. Pheromonal activity. Aggression. Territoriality. It’s beginning. And considering the failed compatibility trials last year…”

You stood a little straighter. “He tore them apart.”

“Exactly.” Dr. Yanagida’s eyes glinted behind her glasses. “But not you.”

Your stomach turned. “You’re not seriously suggesting—”

“Purely for observation. Controlled exposure. You’d be safe. He trusts you. We just want to see how he reacts.”

But you already knew. You’d felt it building in the air, thick and electric, every time you stepped into the room. The way he breathed harder. The way his claws flexed. The quiet, guttural sounds he made when he saw you. Not pain, not rage… need.

“You’d be compensated, of course,” she added, as if that made it better.

When you entered the chamber that evening, something had already shifted. The lights were low. The air was warmer than usual, humid, even. You knew they were testing environmental triggers.

Tomura sat in the center of the room, his wings draped low, dragging along the floor like a velvet cloak. His shirt was half-torn from earlier sedation, bandages on his forearms stained with old blood. But his gaze snapped up the second the door hissed open.

You didn’t speak. You just approached quietly with the kit. He made a low, scratchy sound, almost a growl.

“Easy,” you whispered, kneeling beside him. “Let me fix you up.”

His breath hitched. When your fingers brushed his skin, the heat coming off his body was searing. He shuddered.

“…They said something today,” you murmured, taping gauze along a torn patch of his chest. He tilted his head. “They said I should stay. With you. For research.”

Tomura’s wings rose, high and wide. His antennae twitched violently. He was breathing fast now. His claws dug into the floor beside you.

“…Do you want that?” you asked, barely louder than a breath.

And then he moved slightly, leaning in, close enough that you could feel the pulse of heat radiating off him. His lips parted.

“I don’t want anyone else,” he rasped. “Just you.”

They called it an exposure trial. The words sounded sterile, cold. But nothing about the room felt that way. They’d lowered the lights to mimic dusk, increased the humidity again, even brought in organic nesting materials. Shredded cloth, moss, a bundle of woven fibers like a primitive bed. And then they’d put you inside. Alone.

Well, not alone. Tomura had been waiting.

He was already in a state when you entered. His body shook with restraint. His wings were high, twitching, as though straining against invisible binds. His claws scraped, tapped again on the concrete floor. The black slits of his pupils were nearly lost in a flood of red. He smelled different too. Feral, thick, the air saturated with pheromones that made your mouth go dry and your thighs press together before you even knew you were reacting.

The researchers said they’d be watching from the other side of the glass. Said you could call out if things escalated. But when the door sealed behind you with that airtight hiss, it felt like they’d abandoned you on purpose. You took one step in and he growled.

“Tomura,” you breathed. “It’s me.”

He lunged. Not at you, but past you, wings flaring wide as he circled you like a caged beast. His breath came in hard, panting gasps. He wasn’t speaking. Not yet. He was scenting. The moment you turned your head, he was behind you. His hand slammed against the wall beside your face, claws embedded in the concrete, his chest pressing up against your back, heat blistering between your bodies.

“Mine,” he rasped. “You’re mine.”

Your breath hitched. “They told me to come. To see how you’d react.”

“React?” His voice was raw, cracking under the weight of his instinct. “I’ve been reacting for weeks. I can’t sleep. I can’t fucking think.”

He shoved his nose into your hair, inhaling like he needed your scent in his lungs to survive. The sharp edge of his teeth grazed your throat, but he didn’t bite.

“You smell like them,” he snarled. “Like the ones who touch you. Talk to you. Not me. Not me.”

You turned slowly in his grip, heart pounding, hands rising to press lightly against his chest. His skin was hot to the touch, sweat glistening across his collarbones. His wings shivered when you touched him.

“You want to scent me?” you whispered.

He stilled. Then he jerkily and desperately nodded once. Your fingers slid up his chest, to his neck, then into his hair. He whimpered. You’d never heard a sound like that from him. Not pain, not rage… submission.

“They’re watching,” you murmured. “Cameras. Audio. All of it.”

“I don’t care.” He buried his face in your neck. “I’ll fuck you against the glass. Let them watch. Let them see you become mine.”

You gasped as heat coiled low in your belly. This was a bad idea. This was the worst idea. And yet you reached for the waistband of his pants anyway. His growl became a moan, guttural and shaking. His wings flexed wide, like a creature about to claim.

“You’re in heat,” you said.

“No,” he breathed. “We are.”

Your hands were shaking from the anticipation crawling under your skin like a second heartbeat. You should’ve pushed him away. Should’ve called out, used the safe phrase they drilled into you. But when his hands gripped your hips like they’d earned you, when his tongue dragged up the side of your throat, when his body pressed you into the nest like he’d die without this? You didn’t say a damn word.

Tomura loomed over you, his wings folding around the two of you in a cocoon of shadow. His breath was ragged, every exhale a guttural growl of restraint he couldn’t hold much longer.

“I smell it,” he rasped, nuzzling between your breasts. “You want it. You want me.”

“Yes,” you gasped. “God, yes—Tomura, I—”

He didn’t give you time to finish. His claws tore your clothes with surgical precision. Shirt shredded. Pants yanked down your thighs. He was drooling, literally drooling, pupils blown wide, his mouth trembling with need. His tongue dragged down your stomach, rough and hot and when he shoved your thighs apart with a low, primal grunt, you felt the heat bloom between your legs. Slick, already dripping, soaked just from scent and tension alone. He moaned like it hurt.

“Gonna nest you,” he muttered. “Gonna put it in, fuck you until it sticks. Until they smell me on you for weeks.”

His cock was already out. It was thick, flushed deep pink, with a vein throbbing up the underside. You caught only a glimpse before he shoved your thighs up, folding you in half, wings trembling as his hips aligned with yours.

“You want me to use it?” he hissed. “You want me to fuck my heat into you?”

“Yes.”

He didn’t wait another second. The first push was too much, too fast, but you didn’t care. The stretch, the burn, the sheer fill of him made your back arch off the nest. He snarled and grabbed your hips, grinding deep until you screamed in shock.

“Fucking perfect,” he breathed. “Tight, hot, wet for me—mine—mine—mine.”

His thrusts were wild and unrestrained. He fucked like an instinct, like centuries of primal memory lived in his spine and you were the key to all of it. Your nails dug into his back, but he only moaned louder, harder, the sting fueling him.

“Take it,” he hissed. “Let me breed you. Let me fill you. Let them watch you take all of me.”

Your thighs shook. Pleasure built fast, too fast, your nerves alight, your mind fuzzy with his scent, his heat, the unrelenting pounding of his cock inside you.

“Say it,” he growled, fucking you harder. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours—fuck, Tomura—I’m yours!”

That did it. He snarled against your throat, buried to the hilt and came like a monster. Hot, thick, flooding you with so much cum it spilled out instantly. He rutted through it, fucking it deeper, still twitching inside you as your orgasm ripped through you. Your legs locked around his hips, wings shuddering above you both. You barely noticed the cameras. You barely heard the murmurs from behind the glass. You only heard his whimpers and whispers.

“Mine. Gonna keep you. Gonna make a nest for you. They can’t have you anymore.”

And as you lay there, sweat-slicked and ruined in the warmth of his body, you realized that you didn’t want to leave.

They told you it would be one night. One controlled exposure. One data collection window. One brief containment breach of boundaries. But once you’d mated, once your body reeked of him, slick with his scent, his seed still leaking from your thighs, they realized they’d made a mistake. They couldn’t take you back.

You woke in the nest. The room was warmer than before. Still thick with his pheromones, your scent interlaced with his, humid and heavy like summer air before a storm. You shifted, muscles sore, thighs sticky and felt arms around you. Wings draped like a veil. Claws curled possessively over your hip. Tomura was still inside you. Soft now, but still there. Breathing slow, deep. His face buried in the crook of your neck like you were his only anchor to reality.

You moved slightly and his body tensed. “You’re not leaving,” he murmured. “They’ll try. They’ll come in here and drag you out. But they won’t take you.”

“Tomura—”

“I’ll kill them.” He sat up, red eyes blazing feral in the light. “I’ll break the glass. Tear them open. I’ll burn this whole fucking facility down if they touch you again.”

You sat up slowly, hand on his chest. “You wouldn’t survive that.”

“I don’t care.” His claws tightened on your waist. “They made me a monster. But you—” His voice cracked. “You made me want.”

A soft chime echoed. The door’s lock hissed and you both froze.

Then the intercom buzzed. “Subject TH-01, step away from the researcher. Doctor, please prepare for extraction.”

Tomura’s head turned toward the glass. You’d never seen him like that. Not even during sedations. Not even when they hurt him.

This wasn’t rage. This was devastation. Grief. Like he was about to be carved in half.

You didn’t move. He growled then, loud and sharp. Wings unfurled in a terrifying sweep. His body moved in front of yours, shielding you completely.

“If you don’t comply,” the voice continued, “we will release containment gas.”

You swallowed. They would knock him out. Drag you out. Ruin him.

You stood suddenly. Tomura turned panicked, like you were leaving him already. But you just touched his chest and pressed your palm over his pounding heart. Then you looked at the camera and lifted your chin.

“I’m staying.”

Silence. He blinked. You turned back to him and held his face between your hands.

“They’ll fight it,” you whispered. “But I’m not leaving this room.”

Something broke in his eyes. His claws touched your hips so gently now. Like you weren’t just a mate. You were a miracle.

“I’ll keep you safe,” he promised. “I’ll guard the nest. I’ll take care of you.”

You kissed him softly. “I know.”

Behind the glass, alarms buzzed faintly. Protocols snapped into place. Papers rustled. Voices shouted. But inside the nest, he wrapped you in his wings and the world ceased to exist.

[kakashisacademia]

Hybrid/pet AUs ok? Bc I would love to see your take on Gojo as a snow leopard, and Geto as a black fox~ maybe with a doting owner that looooves to spoil them, and just can’t say no to whatever her precious pets want~

now got the fattest crush on them both. I even wrote more, but didn’t want to overdo it 😭 also when they talk about her heat, they mean she’s ovulating.

ღ geto x you x gojo —good boys

You didn’t mean to raise them spoiled. But you were only human and they were just so good. So precious.

Suguru liked your lap. Long, sleek and warm, his tail curled delicately around your thigh as he read his book across your knees. His ears twitched now and then when you stroked them, but he never asked you to stop. Just leaned in, lazily affectionate, letting out a pleased little sigh when you scratched under his chin.

Satoru was the opposite. Huge. Heavy. Dramatic. The snow leopard hybrid had draped himself fully across the couch, head in your lap, legs hanging off the side like he owned the entire space and he did. Because he owned you. You’d barely sat down when he grabbed you.

“You smell different,” he muttered, nose pressed into your belly. “Were you with someone else?”

“No,” you said patiently, carding your fingers through his thick white hair. “Just the market.”

“Mm. Still too far. You didn’t bring us anything.”

“I brought snacks.”

His ears perked. Suguru’s tail flicked with interest.

“Good girl,” Suguru said with a soft smirk. “Always thinking about us.”

You flushed. They were both way too good at doing making you feel like the pet, while they lounged like kings. You couldn’t help it though. Not when they looked at you like that.

“You want the little cakes I got you, or?”

“Feed us,” Satoru interrupted, without shame. “You know I don’t like crumbs on my paws.”

“I have utensils—”

“Mouth, baby.” Suguru’s voice was velvet. “Be our sweet little feeder.”

And like always you said yes.

Later, after soft pastries and belly rubs and contented hybrid purring, you brushed out their tails while they napped on you.

Suguru’s black fur was sleek and clean, but he still made these quiet, blissed-out noises when you groomed him. His tail twitched with every gentle tug of the brush.

Satoru’s tail was thick and snowy, needing extra attention. He stretched, shirt riding up to expose the pale skin of his hips and groaned theatrically when your fingers scratched the base.

“You’re so good to us,” he murmured, lips grazing your thigh. “So, so good.”

You smiled. You were lucky, you told yourself. Two hybrids who adored you, who never left your side, who looked at you like you were their world. You didn’t notice the way they shared a glance behind your back.

You didn’t notice Suguru’s hand slide across Satoru’s chest. Didn’t hear the low, whispered words;

“It’s almost her heat.”

“We should take care of her this time.”

“Together.”

It started with a scent. Soft at first and barely noticeable. Just a trace of warmth on your skin, a flush under your cheeks. But they noticed immediately.

Suguru was the first to nuzzle into your throat. “You’re warm,” he murmured, voice low, violet eyes dark with something deeper than usual affection. “Soft. Sweet. It’s time, isn’t it?”

You blinked. “Time for—?”

Behind you Satoru growled. Not angry, but needy. His tongue dragged up your neck, purring against your ear. “Your heat, baby,” he whispered. “We smell it. Feel it. You’ve been teasing us all week.”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“But you didn’t stop either, did you?” Suguru’s fingers slid down your waist. “Didn’t stop feeding us from your lips. Didn’t stop petting us. Didn’t say no when we begged for your hands. Your lap.”

You swallowed. “You’re my boys. I like taking care of you.”

“Oh,” Satoru moaned, grinding against your back. “You’re gonna say that while we fuck you full?”

Your knees gave out and they caught you. They laid you down in their shared nest. All soft furs, velvet blankets and the whole room drenched in their scent. Pheromones thick in the air. You could barely think. Barely breathe. Every nerve in your body screamed yes when they pinned you between them.

Suguru kissed you slow and deep first. His tongue was warm, fangs teasing your bottom lip. His hands held your hips open, his tail flicking behind him, body pressed close and sure. “Want to taste how sweet your heat’s gotten,” he murmured. “Bet you’re already leaking for us.”

Satoru was starving. His mouth moved down your body, leaving wet trails, growls vibrating against your belly. His claws ripped through your underwear in one easy tear. And then his mouth was on you. You screamed. Loud. Choked. Shameless.

He moaned like he was the one being touched. “Tastes like you need us,” he groaned, fucking you with his tongue, arms wrapped around your thighs to hold you still. “Gonna stuff you full. You’ll never get rid of our scent again.”

Suguru kissed your throat, his voice dripping with praise. “You’re shaking already? We haven’t even put it in yet.”

“Please,” you begged. “I need—I want—”

“You want both?” Satoru teased, pulling his face from between your legs, lips slick and glistening. “Want your spoiled hybrids to fill both your holes at once?”

You nodded wildly, desperately and they broke. You ended up on all fours, body trembling, drool on your lips from how hard they made you cum. Satoru fucked you from behind. His cock deep and thick, claws gripping your hips, his growls right in your ear. Suguru was in front. His big palm cradling your jaw, his cock sliding between your lips, velvet voice full of sin.

“Look at you,” he breathed. “So good like this. So ready to be ruined.”

You moaned around him, thighs shaking as Satoru slammed into you from behind. His cock filled you completely. Every thrust pressing into the perfect spot, wet slaps echoing through the den as he bred you.

“You’re ours now,” he grunted. “Say it. Fucking say it.”

You pulled off Suguru’s cock long enough to sob,“I’m yours—yours—please don’t stop.”

And they didn’t. Not until your belly was full of them. Not until your voice was wrecked, your legs too weak to stand, your body marked and glowing with their scent. They licked you clean and kissed your tears. Tucked you between them, soft and warm and adored.

While you drifted in and out of sleep, Satoru nuzzled your neck and purred, “You really can’t say no to us, huh?”

Suguru just smiled, rubbing your belly like you were the one with a tail now.

And you? You sighed softly and whispered, “I never want to.”

What followed was new, but not unusual.

Satoru dragging every blanket in the apartment into one room. Suguru moving the pillows into a pile, then rearranging them over and over again until they were just right. Your favorite hoodie disappeared. So did the oversized sweater you wore to bed.

At first, you thought they were just being their usual chaotic selves. Until you walked in and saw them crouched in the middle of it all. Tail-twitching, ears alert and completely focused. You understood that they were nesting. For you.

“Hey,” you said gently from the doorway. “What’s going on?”

Satoru turned first. Hair messy, pupils blown wide, wearing nothing but sweatpants slung low over his hips. His white ears flicked. “It’s not done.”

Suguru didn’t even glance up from where he was arranging the softest fleece you owned. “She’ll need warmth. Somewhere safe.”

“I’m safe here,” you said with your heart melting.

“But you’ll be in heat again soon,” Suguru replied, eyes glowing purple. “You need a proper den.”

Satoru stalked toward you on all fours, like the big cat he was. Then rose to press his face into your stomach. His tail curled possessively around your leg. “You’re ours. We have to take care of you.”

You didn’t protest, because the room was soft and warm. Smelled like them, like musk and vanilla and skin. The plush blankets were already molded to your shape. The dim lighting, the walls padded with hanging fabric, the comfort of being wrapped in everything they wanted to give you. You were helpless against it. So you let them pull you in.

They made you sit in the middle of the pile while they circled you like watchful predators, rearranging the nest with careful touches.

Suguru added a silk scarf that still held your scent. “This keeps you calm.”

Satoru dropped one of your stuffed animals beside you. “You always sleep with it when we’re not in bed.”

You flushed. “You noticed that?”

He licked your cheek. “We notice everything.”

You were trembling by the time they were done. From the way they looked at you, like they’d built a temple to house you. Like you were their goddess, their precious treasure and they’d burn the world to keep you safe.

Suguru kissed your palm. “Lie down, baby.”

“Let us keep you warm,” Satoru murmured, already climbing into the nest behind you.

You obeyed. And once you were tucked in between them, fox tail curled around your waist, snow leopard arms caging you close, they both purred. That deep content purr that felt like warmth and safety.

“Do you feel it?” Suguru whispered.

“What?”

“The bond.”

You nodded, already half-asleep.

And Satoru’s soft voice, that cracked, full of everything he didn’t know how to say, breathed into your skin, “You’re home.”

Your body acted up again. Warmth in your belly. An ache in your thighs. That subtle, undeniable flutter of ovulation. You knew it was coming. But you didn’t mean to do anything weird. Just a few harmless things; You folded the blankets in the nest a certain way. Then you added one of their worn shirts and brought your favorite plush into the pile and curled around it. Just comfort things. Instinctive. But your hybrids? They lost their fucking minds.

Suguru was the first to notice. He stood at the edge of the nest, sharp-eyed and still, watching you rearrange the center of the pile. You didn’t even realize he was there until he spoke.

“You made it.”

You looked up. “Huh?”

He didn’t blink or move. Just sniffed the air and his pupils blew wide. “You made the nest while you’re ovulating. While you’re in heat.”

Your mouth opened and closed again. “I didn’t mean—”

Behind him, Satoru appeared in a blur of white fur and muscle, fully shifted into that dangerous, beautiful hybrid form. Sharp claws, snowy tail swaying, sweat-slicked chest heaving. “You want our kits,” he growled, stalking forward. His paws tapping impatiently. “You’re ready.”

“No—wait—I didn’t say—”

“You don’t have to,” Suguru purred, crawling toward you. “Your body did.”

They didn’t give you time to explain. Because your scent was thick in the nest. It was sweet and fertile and desperate. And every instinct in their blood screamed to fill you. Breed you. Mark you.

Satoru pinned you first, licking at your throat, purring deep into your skin. “You want it, don’t you? Want your belly round. Want to be dripping with us.”

Suguru was behind you now, hands on your hips, tail flicking against your thigh. “You want to be a mama, sweetheart? Want to carry our pups?”

“Say yes,” Satoru whispered. “Say yes and we’ll give you everything.”

And gods help you, you whispered. “Yes.”

You didn’t remember how the rest of your clothes came off. Not that you cared much. Suguru sank slow and deep into you from behind, spreading you open with a low growl. His knot was already swelling, teasing you, promising more.

Satoru kissed your belly, murmuring into your skin. “Gonna be so full, baby. So swollen. We’ll take care of you. Feed you. Nest with you. You’ll never need anything but us.”

You cried out as Suguru bottomed out, cock curved just right, stretching you around that knot that would eventually lock you in place. You felt so full already, but then Satoru moved forward and pressed the head of his cock to your lips.

“Let me in too,” he begged. “Wanna taste how sweet our breeder is.”

You moaned around him, tears in your eyes, utterly surrounded. Held. Bred. Worshipped.

Suguru fucked you slow and deep, whispering praise and gripping your hips like he was afraid you’d vanish. Satoru stroked your hair while you sucked him down, his voice gone soft and aching.

“Good girl. Good little mate. You’re gonna take us so well.”

And when Suguru finally knotted you, when you screamed around Satoru’s cock and felt that hot flood of seed inside your womb, they both purred like it was the happiest moment of their lives.

They didn’t stop at one. Not when you were still ovulating. Not when your belly could still take more. They kept you in the nest all night, swapping places, licking your slick from each other’s mouths, filling you until you sobbed with overstimulation and bliss.

Until your belly was swollen, skin sticky with cum, thighs trembling and Suguru kissed your inner thigh and said. “You’ll give us beautiful pups.”

And Satoru curled around you, tail wrapped over your belly like a blanket, whispering. “Our good little mama.”

[kakashisacademia]

彡(✿ Jujutsu Kaisen

✧. ┊    Satoru Gojo 🌸 Suguru Geto 🌸 Ryomen Sukuna 🌸 Toji Fushiguro 🌸 Kento Nanami 🌸 Takuma Ino 🌸 Choso 🌸

彡(✿ My Hero Academia

✧. ┊   Katsuki Bakugo 🌺 Izuku Midoriya 🌺 Denki Kaminari 🌺 Eijiro Kirishima 🌺 Hanta Sero 🌺 Hitoshi Shinsou 🌺 Shouta Aizawa 🌺 Present Mic 🌺 Keigo Takami 🌺 All Might 🌺 Mirio Togata 🌺 Touya Todoroki 🌺 Tomura Shigaraki 🌺 Spinner 🌺 Mr Compress 🌺 Neito Monoma 🌺 Fumikage Tokoyami

彡(✿ Multiple Fandoms

✧. ┊    Levi Ackerman 🌼 Itachi Uchiha 🌼 Kakashi Hatake 🌼 Sebastian Michaelis 🌼 Shoei Barou

彡(✿ Headcanons

✧. ┊    Jujutsu Kaisen 🎋

✧. ┊    My Hero Academia 🎋

(alternative search for mha headcanons / jjk headcanons)

彡(✿ Ships

✧. ┊     Bakugo x Midoriya 💚🧡

彡(✿ Sideblogs

✧. ┊     @gojoscumrag

✧. ┊     @diaryofavillainwhore

✧. ┊  my other masterlist

[kakashisacademia]

wait so imagine aizawa is up all night grading tests or whatever teachers do and hes like super exhausted that he falls asleep and when he wakes up all the work is done cuz the user did it (user is also a teacher) and hes like "ily im gonna fuck you so bad" and HE DOES. pls do it IM ON MY KNEES 🥀🥀

ღ shouta aizawa x you —between papers & spread legs

It was well past midnight when Aizawa finally slumped over the coffee table. Papers scattered everywhere, lesson plans, behavior reports, seating charts. His handwriting had grown sloppy somewhere between 2 and 3AM and now the pen had fallen from his fingers completely. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep. He never did, but the exhaustion had won.

You found him like that, hunched and snoring softly, dark hair falling into his face. With a fond sigh, you eased the blanket off the couch and draped it over him, pressing a kiss to the top of his head before sitting down beside the mess of documents. You didn’t want him to wake up stressed again. So you took over and sorted the reports, finalized his lesson notes, even highlighted key bullet points like you knew he would. You worked in quiet companionship with the sound of his even breathing and somewhere between 4 and 5AM, your body gave out too. You curled up on the couch near him and let sleep take you.

The sun was barely up when Aizawa stirred. His body ached, his mouth dry, but when his bleary eyes landed on the neatly stacked papers and then on you, fast asleep with a highlighter still tucked in your fingers, something in his chest twisted. He moved quietly, carefully, crawling onto the couch between your thighs, eyes locked on your soft, sleeping face. You were always doing this for him. Always stepping in when he ran himself into the ground.

He leaned in, warm breath ghosting over your skin. His mouth met you slow and purposeful. Soft licks, deep kisses that built and built until your hips shifted, breath catching in your throat as you stirred.

“Mmm… ’Zawa?” you whispered sleepily, breath hitching as your thighs spread for him without a second thought.

He groaned low against you, tongue working deeper while his big hands stroking your sides. “Morning,” he murmured against your skin. “Thank you… for last night.”

Then his voice dropped to that filthy, gravel-soft tone that made your spine melt, “Now let your man fuck you real good.”

You blinked yourself awake, the warm rasp of his voice still lingering in your ears. Your breath caught again when his tongue dragged slow and deep over your folds. You were soaked already, your body surrendering the second his mouth touched you. You whined softly, fingers curling in his hair, trying to focus, but he wasn’t letting you. Aizawa kissed your clit like he loved it, lips wrapping around it, sucking until your thighs trembled. His fingers slid beneath your hoodie, tracing lazy patterns on your stomach as his mouth kept working slow, thorough, like he had all the time in the world and nothing else he wanted to do.

“Fucking perfect,” he muttered against you, his voice low and ruined with sleep, “always so sweet for me, even half-awake.”

You arched under his mouth, hips rolling up into him. He let you, dragging his tongue down to your entrance again, tasting you with a low groan. “Mhm… just like that. You did so good, baby. Took care of me when I should’ve been taking care of you.”

“‘Zawa,” you whimpered, pulling at his hair now, “need—please, need you inside me.”

He kissed your inner thigh, your mound, your stomach as he pulled himself up. His dark eyes were heavy-lidded, still tired but lit with something hotter now, something molten and possessive. His sweatpants were already tugged low, his cock thick and flushed, leaking at the tip.

“Yeah?” he said softly, settling between your legs again. “Then let me fuck you slow, baby. Let me take my time.”

He pressed inside with one long, delicious thrust, stretching you deep. He groaned into the crook of your neck as your body opened for him.

You moaned, legs wrapping around his hips, arms thrown around his shoulders. “God—‘Zawa—feels so good…”

He didn’t rush. His thrusts were deep, unhurried, like he was memorizing the feel of you around him. Each one hit a little deeper, a little more intense, his hand stroking up your side until he was palming your breast through your hoodie. “You feel that?” he murmured, lips brushing your ear. “Feel how good you take me? Pussy was made for me, baby. Can’t get enough of you.”

You nodded breathlessly, panting under him as he rutted deeper and his hips started stuttering. He kissed your cheek, your jaw, your mouth, whispering low between kisses, “You didn’t have to stay up for me. But you did. You always do. Gonna make you come, baby. Gonna make you feel so good for taking care of your man.”

His thumb found your clit, rubbing slow circles while his thrusts picked up, harder now. He was grinding so deep your breath caught on every stroke. Your climax crept up like a hot overwhelming wave and when it crashed, you cried out his name, clinging to him, back arching as your pussy clenched tight around him. He groaned quietly, hips jerking as he fucked you through it, chasing his own release. “Fuck—gonna come inside you, baby. Let me—let me fill you up.”

“Please, please, yes,” you gasped, biting down on his shoulder.

He came with a grunt, spilling deep, his cock twitching inside you as he ground himself in to the hilt. His body slumped over yours, panting, sweat-slicked and warm, his hair brushing your cheek.

“You’re mine,” he whispered, brushing your hair back and kissing your forehead. “My girl. My sweet girl.”

You smiled against his neck, arms still wrapped around him. Even after all the exhaustion, all the chaos, this was how he said thank you. With slow kisses, soft filth and the weight of his body curled around yours like he’d never leave.

[kakashisacademia]

Please please please PLEASEEE write something with hizashi I'm starved of content for my loud annoying man PLEASE. I'll also take something with all might BUT MAKE HIM A FREAK PLEASE freak might. That man was the #1 you can't tell me he didn't fuck.

please note, that this is an extreme size kink fantasy. including belly bulging and a lot of inches from the symbol of freedom

ღ all might x you —hero worship & belly bulges

You’d dreamt about this moment a thousand times. Every time he smiled at the camera, every time he called a villain ‘evil-doer’ and landed a punch that split the sky, you thought about what it’d feel like to be touched by him. Saved by him. Ruined by him.

You should’ve known he’d be this big. He’s All Might. The All Might. The man whose very presence crushes villains and ignites hope like fire. Seven feet of power, of impossible muscle, of that never-fading smile. But nothing prepared you for what was waiting under that hero suit.

His cock was, god, it was massive. Not just long, but thick and heavy. It was slapping up against his abs as he stripped for you, cocky and hungry like he’d been waiting to show you his real power all night.

“Something wrong, sweetheart?” he teased, cupping your jaw as your eyes stayed locked on it. “You’ve watched me your whole life, haven’t you? Dreamed of this? Now’s your chance. Serve your hero.”

And you tried. You really did. But he barely pushed in and it already felt like your insides were folding around him. He was too deep, too wide, your walls clenching like they were confused, overwhelmed, begging for mercy.

“T-Toshi—wait—ah, f-fuck—it’s too—!”

But he only groaned, dropping his forehead to yours like the sound of your pain fed him.“Don’t say that,” he breathed, voice trembling as he pushed in another inch. “You can take it. You’re doing so good. So fucking good.”

Your stomach bulged with the shape of him. You could feel it, literally feel it, pressing inside you like a blunt fist, stretching you open in places no one should reach. And he saw it.

“Look,” he rasped, grabbing your wrist, guiding your hand to your lower belly where the outline of him pressed faintly under your skin. “That’s me. Deep in my pretty little fangirl’s guts.”

He bottomed out with a growl that rattled your teeth. And slammed into your cervix like he wanted to break something and you screamed.

“There it is,” he moaned. “Kissed your cervix. Felt that? That jolt? That’s your womb saying hi to me.”

He pulled back, slow and cruel, dragging along your raw walls and then rammed back in hard, making your toes curl and your vision blur. Over. And over. And over. And every time your belly bulged, he lost his mind just a little more.

“Fuck, look at it. You’re made for me. Can’t believe I waited this long. I should’ve bent you over the first time you called me your hero.”

He said it while holding you folded in half, pounding into you with so much force the bed slammed into the wall. You were drooling. Crying. Legs numb. Mind gone. Fucked dumb.

All Might just smiled, like a man drunk on devotion. “You’re gonna take every inch. Every time. I don’t care if it’s too big, baby. You’re mine now. And I’m not stopping ‘til you’re so full you forget your own damn name.”

What you could give All Might credit for was that he gave you a break. He’d given you the sweetest aftercare. Bought expensive bathing salts. Soaps. Ointment. A spa weekend. But you knew he only prepared you for the next time, when he sent you another invite to an expensive hotel room.

His thighs were so wide your knees didn’t touch the bed. You had to brace yourself just to lower down onto him again, your palms flat on his flexed quads, your thighs already shaking as you whimpered.

“Tosh—Toshi—s-slow, I can’t—”

“You can,” he muttered, low and filthy behind you, his voice was nothing like the man the public worshipped. “You will. Look at you. Look what I’m doing to you.”

And then you saw it. The full-length mirror on the opposite wall angled just right. You saw everything. You, on his lap in reverse cowgirl. Your body trembling, sweat shining down your chest, tits bouncing slightly with every breath. And then his cock, buried to the hilt inside you, stretching you open so wide it looked impossible. Obscene.

Your belly bulged with the imprint of him. And All Might? He was watching it with an expression like he wanted to devour you whole.

“Beautiful,” he growled, his huge hands running down your waist to your hips, gripping tight. “So fuckin’ full. That’s your stomach, sweetheart. That’s me. In your guts.”

He grinded his hips up, slow, just to see your mouth fall open in the mirror. Just to watch your breath hitch and your cunt clench helplessly around him.

“You’re leaking down my cock. Can you see that? You’re dripping, even now. Even with this big fuckin’ thing tearing you in half.”

You whimpered, fingers digging into his thighs for stability.

“Every inch, baby,” he whispered, leaning forward, lips at your ear. “You’re takin’ every inch like a good little civilian. So brave. So desperate to make your hero proud.”

Then he snapped his hips up, slamming into your cervix and you screamed. Your vision went white for a second.

“That’s it,” he moaned, panting now. “Right there. You feel that? That’s me kissing your womb. Claiming it. You wanted this. You begged for it. And now you’re gonna take every drop.”

He let one massive hand slide up your stomach, palm pressing right over the bulge.

“You see this, sweetheart?” he hissed, dark and reverent. “That’s proof no one else’ll ever fuck you like I do. You’re ruined. Mine. My number one girl.”

He made you watch. Made you ride him until your thighs gave out, until your head lolled back against his shoulder and he had to fuck up into you. He was using your limp body like a fleshlight with praise on his tongue.

“So tight. So soft. Gonna fill you up so deep it won’t come out.”

And when he did? You saw it. That slight swell in your lower belly, the way your cunt fluttered. You collapsed forward, gasping and twitching and moaning his name over and over. All while he just sat back, a proud, unhinged smile on his face, still hard inside you, watching it all through the mirror.

“That’s my girl.”

[kakashisacademia]

TOKOYAMI!!!

yknow what? fuck this… he has ruts and now he’s knotting you.

you hadn’t realized what you were walking into when tokoyami texted you, ‘please… i need help.’

his voice sounded wrong when you got to his apartment. it was low, rougher, like he was holding something back with every word. his eyes, usually calm and observant, wouldn’t meet yours. the feathers on the back of his head were fluffed in distress, his beak looks bruised like he had bitten into wood to calm himself. and dark shadow flickered behind him, thick with restless energy.

“he’s burning up,” dark shadow hissed softly. “it’s his rut. it came early.”

you blinked. “your what came early?”

tokoyami groaned, shuddering. “it’s… something that happens with my quirk, my biology… i—i usually isolate. but this time, it’s worse. i can’t control him. i can’t control me. i didn’t want you to see me like this…”

you should’ve left. you knew that. but the way his body shook trying to hold himself back, the way dark shadow flickered like a beast in heat behind him, purring low and vibrating through the air, it lit something in you. curiosity… and desire.

you stepped forward and whispered, “let me help you.”

he froze. dark shadow surged behind him, coiling with delight. “she wants to help us.”

tokoyami’s pupils narrowed. “you don’t understand what you’re offering.”

“then show me,” you breathed.

you didn’t expect how hot he’d get. his skin, his breath, his presence. when his beak nipped on your lips and neck, it was desperate, trembling. but when he mounted you, you realized the shift—the trembling was gone. he was in control now.

his hips moved with brutal rhythm, growling your name, his hands digging into your thighs like he was marking you. dark shadow pulsed with every thrust, murmuring filth in your ears, telling you how perfect you were, how you were made to be filled by him.

and when he knotted, god, when he knotted, your body stretched around him, locked to him, and you swore you saw stars. he buried himself so deep, so far inside you, your body had no choice but to submit. he growled, “you’re mine now,” over and over, low and wrecked.

dark shadow purred like a beast satisfied, curling around you both protectively. “she took us so well,” it whispered. “she belongs here. she belongs to us.”

and you… you didn’t disagree.

[kakashisacademia]

hi!!! can you write for brat tamer touya!! i love ur writing!!

ღ dabi x you —brat tamer

He should’ve known from the moment you called him ‘ashtray’ instead of ‘Dabi’.

That little smirk you wore? The one that never seemed to go away? It haunted him in the best and worst ways. And every time you pushed his buttons, rolled your eyes, mouthed off just enough to get a warning glare, he swore he was gonna snap and kiss the attitude right off you.

“You always look like you smell something gross,” you said one day, popping a lollipop into your mouth as you leaned back on the couch. You didn’t even look at him and just scrolled your phone lazily. “Is that just your face or are you still trying to figure out how mirrors work?”

Dabi paused mid-drag of his cigarette and blinked. “You tryna die today, sweetheart?”

You didn’t even look up. “If I had a dollar for every time you threatened me and did nothing, I’d finally be able to afford therapy.”

His eye twitched. “You are therapy. Just not the helpful kind.”

You snorted. “Oh, come on. You like it. Admit it. You love that I make your life harder.”

And the worst part? You were right. There was just something about your mouth—smart, sharp, always poking the bear. You weren’t afraid of him. You teased him, rolled your eyes when he got all broody, called his scars ‘aesthetic’ just to piss him off, and still had the audacity to smile when he glared at you.

“You gonna kiss me or kill me?” you asked once, leaning in too close with that smug look in your eyes.

Dabi stared at you, cigarette burning low between his fingers. “…Maybe both.”

But what followed definitely was the cherry on top.

It started with a look. That little glance over your shoulder, slow, smirking, eyes half-lidded like you were thinking dangerous things, and then? You giggled.

At Spinner.

Dabi was halfway through lighting a cigarette when his jaw tightened. He didn’t move or said a word. But that faint flicker of blue at his fingertips? It said plenty.

You were standing with Spinner and Mr. Compress by the window, telling some story he couldn’t hear. You leaned in a little too close, running your fingers through your hair like you knew what you were doing. And oh, baby, you did. Every sweet laugh, every sideways glance, every time your fingers brushed Spinner’s arm, Dabi felt it like a punch to the gut.

And you didn’t look at him once. That’s when he knew. You were ignoring him on purpose.

“She’s doing it again,” Twice whispered beside him, watching the scene unfold. “The thing where she pretends Dabi doesn’t exist and flirts with everyone else so he goes feral.”

“I’m not feral,” Dabi growled under his breath, dragging hard on his cigarette.

“You look feral.” Toga teased.

He didn’t answer. Just sat there with his legs spread, leaning back like he didn’t care, like he wasn’t watching your every move from the corner of his eye. Until Mr. Compress said something that made you laugh again, tossing your head back all sweet and teasing.

That was it.

Dabi stood up, slow and dangerous, cigarette falling from his fingers. Everyone in the room went quiet as he walked over. Shoulders loose, smirk deadly, eyes fixed on you like he was about to commit a felony.

You felt him before you saw him. He didn’t say anything. He just stood behind you, hands sliding into his pockets, leaning down until his mouth was right next to your ear.

“You havin’ fun, sweetheart?” he murmured, voice like smoke and threat and hunger all in one. “Laughing it up with these guys while pretending I’m not watching?”

You turned slowly, meeting his eyes with a smile. “Why, jealous?”

He chuckled darkly, tongue sliding along his teeth. “Nah. Just thinking about all the ways I’m gonna make you regret it later.”

You didn’t even get to finish your sentence. One second, you were laughing with Spinner again, all sweet and smug and the next your feet were off the ground. “Hey!” you yelped, upside down, arms flailing as Dabi threw you over his shoulder. “What the fuck?!”

“Keep laughing,” he growled, slapping your ass hard. “See what happens.”

Your breath caught. You’d teased him all day, and now? You were exactly where you wanted to be. He kicked his door open and slammed it shut behind him, locking it with a loud click before tossing you onto the bed like a ragdoll. He stood there for a second, shirt half unbuttoned, turquoise eyes wild and glittering like an open flame.

“You think you’re cute?” he asked, crawling over you. “All those little looks? That giggle? You think I didn’t see you playing with them like that pussy isn’t already mine?”

You opened your mouth to sass back, but his hand was already gripping your jaw hard, forcing you to look up at him.

“Nah,” he muttered, shaking his head slowly. “No more talkin’. Not ‘til I say.”

Then he spit right into your mouth. You gasped, but he didn’t stop. Thumb dragging across your bottom lip, he watched it drip down your chin as he muttered, “Swallow it, baby. Be a good little toy for me.”

You obeyed. Of course you did. His smirk returned immediately. “Atta girl.”

He pulled your panties off with one hand, rough and fast. And when he spread your legs, the look in his eyes went feral.

“Dripping already? Fuckin’ brat,” he hissed. “All that attitude just ‘cause you wanted me mad.”

And then he started to spank your pussy. Slap after stingy, wet slap that made you jolt with every hit, his free hand holding your hips down so you couldn’t squirm away.

“You feel that?”

Slap.

“That’s what brats get.”

Slap.

“Messy little cunts who want attention.”

Slap.

You were whining now, legs trembling, brain slipping into mush. He laughed darkly. “Yeah, there she is. My filthy girl. Can’t even sass now, can you?”

He shoved two fingers in your mouth while lining his heavy cock up. It felt mean as he nudged it half above your entrance and kept slipping past your spank-swollen clit.

“I’m gonna fuck the brat outta you, baby,” he whispered right against your ear. “And when I’m done? You’re gonna thank me for it.”

You didn’t remember when your sass gave out. Somewhere between the fifth slap to your pussy and the first deep thrust, it all blurred. Your voice, your breath, your attitude. And Dabi fucking loved it.

“Look at you,” he growled, as he pinned your wrists and fucked you slow but deep. “Not a single smartass thing to say now, huh?”

You were a mess beneath him, legs trembling, eyes glassy, drool at the corner of your mouth from his fingers being in it so long.

“You gonna be good now?” he asked, leaning down until his chest pressed to your back, dragging his cock against your walls like he was trying to brand you from the inside. “Gonna stop batin’ Spinner just to piss me off?”

You mumbled something incoherent, and…Wrong answer.

He flipped you over fast, rough hands grabbing your hips as he pulled you up onto all fours. Your arms were too weak to hold yourself. You dropped to the mattress with a gasp, only to feel his hand slap your ass hard before he drove back into you, deeper and meaner.

“Nah, baby. You started this,” he grunted, slamming into you with a rhythm that had the bedframe hitting the wall. “So you take it.”

Your moans were broken now. No words, just gasps and whimpers and his name spilling from your lips like a prayer. His hips slapped against your ass again and again, his cock dragging through your soaked, swollen cunt like he owned it.

And then he pulled out. Your whine was pathetic. He didn’t give you time to beg. Just manhandled your hips, pushed your thighs up toward your chest, and shoved back inside, all the way, until he bottomed out and stayed there.

“You feel that?” he murmured, brushing his nose against yours, smirking. “That’s how deep you take me when you’re not being a fuckin’ brat.”

You were shaking and he still wasn’t done. He came hard deep inside you, cock twitching, filling you up so much it leaked right back out. But the second he saw it? He moaned.

“Fuck… baby,” he rasped, watching his cum drip from your folds. “Look at that. You’re leaking all over the fuckin’ bed.”

His still hard cock glistened with slick and his own mess as he grabbed it, and shoved it right back inside. You screamed from the overstimulation.

“Gotta keep it in, yeah?” he whispered, pressing in slow. “Wanna see how much you can hold.”

You clenched around him, broken and raw, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes and he kissed them away with lazy tenderness.

Later, when he finally—finally—pulled out, he laid down beside you, smirking like the devil with a cigarette between his fingers.

“Still wanna flirt with the others?” he asked, thumb stroking your ruined hip. You just whined and curled into his side. “That’s what I thought,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “That attitude’s mine now, baby.”

[kakashisacademia]

Imagine Shigaraki’s s/o going undercover as a teacher at UA. I bet he’d absolutely get off to the thought of their reactions if they found out their “sweet, innocent teacher” was getting bred nightly by the Symbol of Fear

ღ shigaraki x you —lesson plan

"You wore this to school?" Tomura's voice was a guttural rasp as he tugged you inside the hideout, the moment the door shut behind you. His fingers slid beneath the hem of your pencil skirt-one you had worn at UA all day and you barely had time to breathe before he turned you around and shoved your back against the wall.

Sometimes he couldn’t believe how someone like you could end up at this place. In his league. In his arms. You were all sunshine and smile. But beneath it, the place Tomura tried to reach, simmered something darker.

"Skirt so tight I could see the shape of your thighs," he muttered, sliding one knee between yours. "Sweet little voice pretending you're so innocent. Like they wouldn't lose their minds if they knew what you're like at night."

You gasped when he pressed against you, already hard, already hungry. His hands were rough, gripping your hips like they were his only anchor.

"They think you're a saint," he whispered against your throat, "but you come back here soaked and aching for the same villain they've been trained to kill. Bet Aizawa and co would loose their minds if they knew that you’re nothing, but a little whore for the Symbol of Fear."

You whimpered as he slid his hand between your thighs, fingers teasing your already-wet panties. His middle finger pressed through your covered folds and directly against her clit

"Dripping," he groaned, pushing them aside. "Every damn night."

He didn't even undress you. He just pulled down his pants enough to free himself and lifted one of your legs to wrap it around his waist. Grabbing his cock he lined up and thrusting in deep-all in one motion that knocked the breath from your lungs.

"Tomura-!"

"Say it again," he growled. "Let them hear. What would they do if you moaned like that in class?"

You bit your lip, tears forming at the corners of your eyes as he started thrusting, rough and deep, hitting a spot that made your knees shake. But there was also something so depraved in her eyes. That dark hunger that spoke to him in a language no one else could understand.

"Been thinking about it all day," he gritted out, "how you look standing in front of them, teaching like a good girl, while your body's still fucked full of me from the night before."

He slammed deeper, forcing another moan from your lips. "Maybe I should make it stick this time."

Your stomach flipped. "You mean-"

"I mean I'm not pulling out," he hissed. "You want it. Don't pretend you don't. You're made to take it. That sweet little smile of yours? That body? Built to get stuffed and filled by me."

You were a mess beneath him-shaking, clinging to his shoulders, your breath coming out in desperate little whimpers. And when he came, it was with a broken growl, holding you still while he pumped every drop into you, burying his face in your neck. He didn't move. Just breathed raggedly against you, hands twitching on your hips.

"You're going back tomorrow," he said, voice low and ruined. "Still full. You're gonna walk those halls while I'm dripping out of you. And none of them will ever know."

You trembled before a slow smirk crossed your features and it was him getting weak in the knees. She leaned in, her lips brushing his lobe. “Then I hope you got more than one load for me.”

[kakashisacademia]

Can you do MHA men lingerie preferences too?

PS: I just LOOVE your posts gurl

oh baby, I think I did a little too much… ☹️

ღ katsuki bakugo

material: rough lace or fishnet. something a little gritty. he loves when it looks like it might bite back.

colors: black, red, or deep burgundy. the more intense, the better. he goes feral for red against your skin.

coverage: minimal. he likes micro thongs, crotchless lace, strappy bras. anything that barely counts as coverage and leaves him growling.

what he does: bakugo rips it. every time. doesn’t matter if it’s brand new or your favorite piece. if he’s hard, that fabric is getting shredded. he’ll curse under his breath about how “fuckin’ hot you are” while he ruins it.

“you knew i was gonna tear it off anyway, didn’t you? don’t whine, i’ll buy you another one after i’m done ruining you.”

ღ shoto todoroki

material: soft satin or silk, maybe something with delicate embroidery. he likes sensual elegance with a hint of innocence.

colors: pale blue, icy white, soft lilac. he’s drawn to gentle colors that remind him of serenity and how much he wants to taint it.

coverage: demi bras, cheeky panties, soft corsets. he likes beautiful structure but nothing too wild. understated, expensive-looking.

what he does: todoroki leaves it on. slowly peels things down, kisses along the seams. he treats lingerie like a gift he’s unwrapping, reverent but intense.

“this is… breathtaking. stay just like this. i want to see you fall apart in it.”

ღ izuku midoriya

material: sheer mesh or soft tulle. something light and almost innocent. he blushes when he sees it, but his hands shake with restraint.

colors: blush pink, mint green, creamy neutrals. pastel, sweet, and secretly sinful.

coverage: he likes matching sets with bows, maybe a garter belt or harness if he’s feeling bold. he loves the detail—tiny charms, silk ties, ribbon straps.

what he does: izuku’s torn. he doesn’t want to ruin it, but the second he gets overwhelmed, it’s getting shoved aside or pushed up. he tries to be gentle but… good luck.

“y-you wore this for me? i… i don’t know if i can hold back—just—please, let me touch you.”

ღ denki kaminari

material: wet-look latex, glitter mesh or holographic fabrics. he’s obsessed with anything shiny, sparkly or a little wild.

colors: electric yellow, silver, pink. he wants it loud and bright. he wants to see you light up.

coverage: fun, slutty stuff. crotchless panties, sequin bras, body chains, neon straps. if it glows or sparkles, he’s on his knees.

what he does: denki gasps, laughs, worships. he’s not ripping anything unless you tell him to. he’ll play with every strap, lick every line and beg to keep it on for round two.

“you’re seriously trying to kill me, huh? i’m gonna take pictures next time. no way i’m letting this be a one-time thing.”

ღ eijiro kirishima

material: stretchy lace, ribbed cotton or soft leather something tough but pretty. he loves when it hugs your curves just right.

colors: cherry red, jet black or white. he’s obsessed with the contrast of sweet and spicy wrapped together.

coverage: classic sexy. full sets with matching bras and panties, garter belts, maybe a strappy harness. he loves when you look like a bombshell.

what he does: kirishima groans the moment he sees it, praise spilling out of his mouth. he tries not to tear it, really, but he gets too into it sometimes and those panties? gone.

“you wore all this for me? damn, baby… i’m gonna lose my fuckin’ mind. stay right there, i gotta see you come in this.”

ღ hanta sero

material: mesh, latex, or vinyl. something fun and wild. he wants to see everything but still feels like he’s unwrapping a treat.

colors: neon pink, gold, checkerboard black-and-white. bonus if it’s playful or themed, he’s lowkey a cosplay menace too.

coverage: bodysuits with cutouts, crotchless lingerie, strappy harnesses and anything with zippers or clips. if it’s interactive? he’s obsessed.

what he does: sero wants you to keep it on. he’ll bend you over in it, push things aside, snap straps against your thighs and laugh when you gasp. such a teasing little shit.

“god… you’re a walking fantasy, babe. turn around for me—no, no, don’t take it off. i want to feel it while i ruin you.”

ღ hitoshi shinsou

material: sheer lace or mesh with velvet trim. he likes elegant pieces that whisper sin, not scream it. something that looks too pretty on you.

colors: dusty plum, navy, muted black. he likes deep tones that suit his nighttime energy and how they contrast against your skin in low light.

coverage: lacy bralettes, open-front panties, garter sets, maybe a mesh robe. he’s into layering, because he wants to peel you out of it slowly.

what he does: shinsou doesn’t rip. he peels. undresses you in silence, then ruins you in it just to hear the way you moan his name through the fabric. sometimes he’ll tie your wrists with your own lingerie after.

“took your time picking this out, huh? good. means you knew i’d take my time fucking you in it.”

ღ neito monoma

material: high-end lace, satin or velvet. he’s got prince syndrome and wants his partner looking regal, luxurious, like a trophy only he deserves.

colors: gold, ivory, navy blue. he hates anything tacky. but if it’s couture-level sexy? he’s obsessed.

coverage: elegant bodysuits, pearl straps, underbust corsets. he wants it ornate, like a lingerie chandelier. he’ll buy it for you himself.

what he does: monoma peels it off delicately unless you tease him too hard. then he snaps. shreds the thong with his teeth and acts like you owe him for breaking character.

“look at you, trying to steal the spotlight. typical. but fine. i’ll give you a performance no one else could handle.”

ღ tamaki amajiki

material: soft lace, jersey, anything gentle. he doesn’t want you uncomfortable. he’s shy but secretly addicted to texture against your skin.

colors: lavender, baby blue, peach. soft tones that feel innocent and calm him… until they don’t.

coverage: shy designs. boy shorts, soft bralettes, halter lingerie. but catch him staring when you wear a bodysuit or high-leg panties. he can’t look away.

what he does: tamaki freezes at first. but when he finally touches? he keeps everything on. lifts it, moves it, parts it. something about you being wrapped up for him makes him feral.

“i—i want to see you like this more. n-not just tonight. all the time. please… d-don’t take it off yet.”

ღ mirio togata

material: soft stretch lace, microfiber or ribbed cotton. he’s very hands-on, so he likes material that moves with your body.

colors: sunshine yellow, sky blue, blush. he wants you in cheerful, innocent-looking pieces that make it way hotter when he flips you over.

coverage: cheeky panties, crop-top bras, romper-style lingerie or playful pieces with bows. he’s into fun, flirty, easy access designs.

what he does: mirio is a menace. slips the fabric aside like it’s nothing, laughs into your neck when you moan, and keeps it on just to feel it against his abs while he moves.

“awww, you wore this to seduce me? it’s working. big time. c’mere, sunshine, don’t even think about takin’ it off.”

ღ shouta aizawa

material: high-end silk, soft cotton, or sheer lace. something comfortable but sensual. he loves when it’s something you like wearing.

colors: black, charcoal gray, deep wine. nothing flashy, just sleek, elegant and effortlessly sexy.

coverage: classic sets—lace bralette, garter belt, thigh highs. bonus if it’s under an oversized shirt. he gets off on contrast: calm, casual, then filthy underneath.

what he does: aizawa takes his time. he peels it off with his teeth or fingers, slow and sleepy, like he’s savoring dessert. sometimes he leaves the thigh highs on while he pulls you apart.

“you always look so good for me. relax, lemme take care of everything.”

ღ present mic

material: fishnet, neon mesh, glitter lace. he’s a visual man. he wants texture, color, and the promise of a show.

colors: neon yellow, hot pink, electric blue. he’s into vibrant pieces that practically scream his name, like you’re daring him to go feral.

coverage: wild and bold. crotchless mesh, body harnesses, strappy garters, chokers. he loves a good collar on you.

what he does: hizashi worships first, moans second, devours third. he talks you through every step while pushing the lingerie aside or biting it down. he’s vocal, messy, filthy.

“yeahhh, baby! look at you, all dressed up like my favorite song! now let me play you like a goddamn instrument.”

ღ all might

material: satin, classic lace or cotton with embroidered hearts. he loves softness, elegance, something that makes you look precious.

colors: red, royal blue, cream. something wholesome, but his brain short-circuits when he realizes how unwholesome you plan to be in it.

coverage: tasteful, delicate sets. high-waist panties, balconette bras, maybe a vintage garter if you’re feeling bold. he loves the mix of innocence and temptation.

what he does: he starts gentle, reverent. then the power kicks in. one tug and the lingerie shreds like tissue paper. he apologizes while fucking you through the mattress.

“oh my goodness, my dear… you’re breathtaking. please forgive me, i can’t seem to hold back when you look like this…”

ღ hawks

material: feathered accents, mesh, anything with shimmer. he’s obsessed with texture and movement. he wants it to catch his eye and make him chase.

colors: gold, champagne, or crimson. he likes richness, sex appeal with flair. bonus points if it has glitter or reflective thread.

coverage: open-back panties, split cups, body chains. he loves pieces that tease. the more dramatic the reveal, the more it turns him on.

what he does: hawks slides it aside or down your thighs while grinning. he gets off on leaving it mostly on. fucking you in it, wings spread, praising every inch.

“goddamn, baby… look at you. don’t take it off—i want to fuck you while you sparkle.”

ღ dabi

material: tattered lace, shredded mesh, anything that looks wrong. he wants lingerie that’s already begging to be destroyed, just like you.

colors: black, ink-blue, blood red. no pastels, no sweetness, he wants danger wrapped around your hips.

coverage: barely-there. slashed panties, strap harnesses, nipple pasties. if it leaves more skin than it hides, he’s obsessed.

what he does: dabi burns through patience. he pushes it aside with scorched hands or yanks it down so roughly it leaves lines on your skin. and if it tears? even better.

“you really thought you were gonna wear this and walk away untouched? nah doll, i’m about to ruin you and the fabric.”

ღ shigaraki

material: ripped fishnet, mesh with holes, vintage lace that looks cursed. he likes the wrong things. decay and desire, all in one.

colors: ash gray, ultraviolet, dirty white. anything faded or offbeat. he gets off on the unconventional.

coverage: garters that dangle, torn bodysuits, pieces with weird asymmetry or cutouts. he doesn’t want pretty. he wants obsessive.

what he does: shigaraki claws it down with trembling hands, breath ragged. sometimes he stares first, like he can’t believe you’re real. then he loses it, hard.

“you wore this for me? fuck—mine. you’re mine. i don’t care what i break, you’re staying like this.”

ღ mr. compress

material: embroidered lace, silk, velvet. he adores vintage glamour. he wants you to look like a cabaret illusion before he pulls the final trick and ruins you.

colors: wine red, black and gold, deep emerald. rich jewel tones. he’s a connoisseur of decadence and loves you in lingerie that looks stolen from a victorian brothel.

coverage: corsets, longline bras, opera gloves, high-waist panties, thigh-highs with garters. the full fantasy. he moans when you match the aesthetic.

what he does: he removes it with flair. slow glove peels, teasing snaps of garters and a dramatic flair for the dramatic. sometimes he’ll leave your corset on while he folds you in half, just to hear it creak.

“ah, mon chéri… you’ve turned seduction into performance art. shall i reward you with my final act?”

ღ spinner

material: ripped mesh, faux leather, shredded fishnet. he’s not elegant. he likes things that look edgy, punk or straight-up raunchy.

colors: black, acid green, dark red. bonus if it looks like it’s from a street market or has safety pins holding it together.

coverage: very little. micro thongs, torn-up bodysuits, lingerie that looks more like a dare. he’s into zipper-fronts, studs and anything he can bite.

what he does: spinner barely lets you get it on before he’s pushing you into the wall. he pants like a dog, claws at the straps, accidentally rips it (but secretly loves that). very growly. very desperate.

“fuck—you look like a sin i wasn’t built to survive. don’t move. don’t fix it. i want it messy.”

ღ twice

material: soft cotton, silk, or mesh. anything that feels nice. he wants you to be comfy while looking like his sexy little dream. if it’s soft to the touch, he’s kissing it everywhere.

colors: black and white, baby pink or something themed. he’d lose it over a bunny lingerie set. full-on nosebleed.

coverage: classic cute! lacy sets, little bows, halter necklines, or themed lingerie (nurse? maid? his favorite version of you? yes.)

what he does: twice can’t decide. one side of him wants to treasure it, the other wants to tear it off with his teeth. usually ends up alternating: kisses down your stomach, then rips the panties and moans like it hurt him more.

“oh god, you’re so hot—wait, no! you’re beautiful! but sexy! fuck, can i clone you so i can fuck you and worship you at the same time?!”

[kakashisacademia]

Would you perhaps consider Gentleman Thief!Monoma? Sending a letter to the house he prepared to rob the day before, but instead of the expected police presence he’d always gotten a thrill out of outfoxing, all that awaits him is the solitary lady of the house, wearing an absolutely sinful negligee…

this was so much fun to write, thank you for the request.

ღ neito monoma x you —gentleman thief

The letter arrived at precisely 9:00AM. It was written in gold-inked calligraphy, sealed with a wax crest.

‘My dearest Lady,

You will not remember me, though we crossed paths once—your second cousin’s masquerade, yes? A touch too much champagne and that scandalous waltz on the balcony. You were devastating in red. Tomorrow at midnight, I shall be relieving your estate of its more tempting baubles. I recommend you not be home. I loathe involving the innocent.

Yours—fleetingly,

M.’

Monoma Neito loved the game. The warning letters. The chase. The smug satisfaction of slipping past guards, alarms. and traps. All while dressed in black velvet, a mask over his face and laughter in his lungs. He always gave them a chance. He wanted them to try. That was the thrill. That’s what had his heart racing.

So imagine his surprise when he arrived at night and there was nothing. No police. No guards. No creaking floorboards or flash of steel in the dark. Just the candlelit parlor and you.

You.

You half laid on a reclined chaise lounge in a negligee that had absolutely no business being that sheer. Instead of fear you were temptation. Instead of screaming you sipped wine as if awaiting a lover, not a thief. A fire danced in your eyes and your smile said everything; you’d read the letter and you’d prepared.

His boot steps slowed on the polished wood. He was masked, gloved, a dagger under his coat and wrapped in charm. Monoma tilted his head and took in the scene.

“You stayed,” he purred, like a violin’s final note. “Now that’s… dangerous.”

You looked him over slowly, admiring the cut of his coat, the gleam of silver on his collar. “So is inviting someone into your house when you’re dressed to kill.”

“You think I dressed for you?” you asked innocently.

He laughed, a rich sound. “Oh Lady, I know when I’m being hunted.”

He approached, circling you like a fox around a flame, his eyes never leaving your body.

“You sent a warning,” you said, swirling your wine. “I sent a reply.”

“You didn’t send a reply.”

“I did,” you said. “You just didn’t expect it to be me. Alone. Waiting. Wearing this.”

He leaned in closer, gloved fingers brushing your chin. “You wanted me to come,” he murmured.

You smirked. “Didn’t you want to be caught?”

The air snapped between you. One breath, two breath. Then he was on you, his mask still on, gloves still cold he pulled you into his lap.

Warm lips ghosting your throat. “You are… diabolical.”

“You’re overdressed.”

You tugged at his coat, pulling it off in one swift motion, your negligee sliding up your thighs as you shifted to straddle him. He groaned softly, hips pressing up instinctively.

“I thought I was here to steal your jewels,” he whispered.

You ground against him slowly, hips rolling like you were casting a spell. “Maybe I’m the most precious thing in this house.”

“And you’re offering yourself… willingly?”

“Didn’t say willingly,” you whispered into his ear. “I said temptingly.”

That was the final thread and he snapped it like silk.

Your back hit the velvet chaise as he pressed between your legs. His mouth was on yours in a hungry kiss, while his face was still half covered with the mask. But it was no bother. Not when those brilliant, stealing hands peeled your negligee away. His finger teased the insides of your thighs, up and down, making you sigh softly.

“You’re not afraid of me,” he said hoarsely.

“No,” you whispered, tugging at his belt. “You’re afraid of me.”

That night, he didn’t rob the estate.

He ruined its mistress instead. Ruined her body thoroughly, reverently, over every surface you allowed. Candlelight flickered off his mask, his body, your parted lips and flushed skin. And when morning came, and the staff crept through the quiet halls, they found the vaults untouched.

But the bed? Occupied.

[kakashisacademia]

GOD I LOVE YOUR WRITING ABOUT SHINSOU 😭😭😭😭 Could you maybe write something about him being over protective and treating the reader like glass but still rearranging the guts 😣

You portray all the characters so well

aw fuck, thank you 💜

ღ hitoshi x you —loving you softly, taking you roughly

You weren’t even wearing anything wild. A tank top and a short skirt. It was hot outside and it wasn’t like you were walking around alone. Shinsou’s arm was around your waist, pulling you close as you both made your way through the busy street festival. Still, you felt the shift in his body before you even saw what caused it.

He slowed down, his grip tightened on your hip. “Toshi?”

His violet eyes narrowed, locking onto someone across the street. Some guy whose eyes lingered too long. He was smirking, licking his lips before he made an obscene gesture, like he had the right.

“Don’t look,” Shinsou muttered tightly, his hand sliding down to rest just above the curve of your ass. Not to grope, just to claim. “He’s not worth your attention.”

You tried to laugh it off, but you knew that tone. “Hey,” you whispered, brushing your fingers over the back of his hand. “It’s fine.”

“No,” he said flatly. “It’s not.”

The guy didn’t even say anything, but he didn’t have to. That leer had Shinsou’s jaw clenched, his other hand in a loose fist at his side. You could tell he was seconds away from snapping. Not yelling, not even starting a fight, but walking across the street and doing something that would end with someone on the pavement.

“Please,” you murmured softly. “For me.”

He exhaled slow through his nose. Then he kissed your forehead as if that settled the matter. “Let’s go. We’re not staying here.”

He guided you away, keeping you tucked into his side like you were something delicate. And the truth was… to him, you were. You were his soft spot. His everything. And even though you could handle yourself, he didn’t want you to have to. He wanted to be your shelter in the storm.

At the next vendor stall, a guy reached a little too close to you for the free samples. Shinsou stepped between you and the table, shielding you with his body like a fucking wall.

“Watch it,” he said coldly.

The guy looked up, blinked, and backed off like Shinsou had just threatened to put him in a coma with a thought. Which he could, actually.

You couldn’t help the little smile tugging at your lips as you leaned into his arm. “Possessive much?”

“I let you wear that skirt,” he muttered. “Be grateful I haven’t dragged you home and made you change yet.”

“I thought you liked this skirt.”

He looked down at you, dark lashes low over half-lidded eyes. “I do. That’s the problem.”

His voice dropped to a near-growl, just for you. “It barely covers what’s mine.”

Your whole body shivered and just like that, you knew how the night would end. Because out here, he handled you like glass. He kept you tucked safe against his chest, moved people out of your way with just a look.

But later? Later, he’d break you in half and make you thank him for it.

It was like you predicted. You barely got the front door shut before he had you up against it.

“Toshi—” you gasped, but his mouth was already on yours, hands gripping your hips like he owned them. Which he did.

The second your lips parted, he groaned into you like he’d been holding back all day. All that quiet control, all that gentle restraint while he played the perfect boyfriend in public? Gone. Now he was starving.

“You wore that little skirt just to rile me up, didn’t you?” he rasped against your neck, biting the words into your skin. “Let me walk around like some docile boyfriend while every asshole with a pulse stared at you.”

“I—I didn’t—”

“Don’t lie.” He gripped your chin between his fingers and forced your eyes up to his. “You wanted my hands shaking. Wanted me biting the inside of my cheek to stay calm. You know what you do to me when you dress like that?”

You whimpered. That was all it took. That sound broke the last of his self-control.

“On the couch,” he ordered. “Now.”

You didn’t even make it halfway before he hooked an arm around your waist and threw you down like a ragdoll. With wide eyes and a surprised squeak you landed on the cushions.

He stood over you, one hand tugging his shirt over his head. The shadows caught the cut of his abs, the tension in his chest, the way his pants hung just low enough to drive you crazy.

“You think I’m gentle?” he said like gravel and sex, crawling over you. “You think I handle you like glass because I can’t ruin you?”

Your panties were soaked. You could feel it. He probably could too, because when he knelt between your thighs and dragged them off, he paused and grinned.

“So wet,” he murmured, low and satisfied. “Such a good girl. Always so fucking ready for me.”

You reached for him, but he caught both your wrists in one hand and pinned them above your head.

“No touching,” he warned. “Princess doesn’t get to be greedy tonight.”

His fingers dipped between your thighs, teasing and slow. Then his lips brushed your ear, and his voice dipped into something dark and mean. “Not until I’ve claimed you.”

You whimpered and arched into his hand. But he didn’t speed up. Because this wasn’t about you taking, it was about you remembering who owned you. All the patience he showed in public—all the soft protectiveness—was gone now, turned inside out. He was tearing you apart with his mouth, his hands, his voice. He flipped you over like it was nothing, yanked your hips up, and buried himself in you with a groan that sounded like a man finally home.

“Fuck,” he growled, grabbing a fistful of your hair. “This is mine.”

Every thrust was filthy and deep. You were whining, drooling, shaking, but you didn’t want him to stop. You never did. No one knew and no one would ever know your body like he did. And despite every thrust that seemed to bruise your insides, you felt… safe.

“Toshi—please—!”

He pulled you up by your hair so your back was against his chest, voice a low rumble in your ear. “You’re mine to protect in the daylight,” he growled, one hand wrapped around your throat, the other holding your thigh wide open. “And mine to destroy when the sun goes down.”

You came so hard you nearly blacked out. He held you through the aftershocks, the trembling, the incoherent gasps of his name.

Because no matter how rough he got… he always put you back together.

[kakashisacademia]

Why do you write so much about Dabi and Shiragaki?

WHO?

also to answer your question;;

[kakashisacademia]

I kinda need some headcannons or a scenario about Dabi and his breeding kink. Something anything pleas!

ღ dabi x you —heat and breed

“You know what this pussy’s for, don’t you?”

Dabi had you on your hands and knees, your back arched in a way that had your thighs shaking, ass up and dripping for him. His voice was low and rough behind you, the kind of growl that sounded like it’d been carved out of fire and smoke.

“To keep me warm. To take this cock,” he grunted as he slammed into you, making you cry out, “and to get fucking bred.”

Your mouth dropped open, drooling against the sheets. He was so deep it felt like your brain short-circuited every time his hips snapped forward. And Dabi? He was obsessed, his burned skin flexing with every thrust as his cum from the last round already started leaking out of you. But his right hand was pressed tightly to your lower abdomen, feeling every thrust. Like he wanted to make sure his next load was gonna end up in your womb.

“You feel that?” he hissed, thumb reaching down to smear the mess where your bodies met, pressing it back into your fluttering hole. “Still fuckin’ full, and I’m not even close to done.”

You whimpered, tried to say something: “yes, or please, or Dabi, you’re gonna break me”, but all that came out was a broken moan. He laughed breathlessly. Never at you, but at the high of breeding you so fucking good.

“Oh yeah. This is it. This is what you were made for.” He leaned over your back, cock still buried inside, his voice a rasp of obsession against your ear. “I wanna knock you up so bad, baby. Wanna see that belly swell with my kid. Want you dripping for days, leaking like a bitch in heat. Think about it; you, round and slow, crying for more even when you’re full.”

His thrusts grew harsher, more frenzied until the sound of skin slapping skin filled the room and your cries turned into helpless sobs. You were close again. He could feel it when your cunt clenched, trying to milk him.

“Gonna give me one more,” he growled. “Gonna squeeze me real tight and take every fuckin’ drop.”

“D-Dabi—!”

“Say it.”

Your nails clawed at the sheets, tears smearing your cheeks. “I want it,” you gasped. “Want you to breed me, Dabi. Want you to fuck a baby into me.”

He snapped. He fucked you like he could burn the whole world down and still leave you glowing. He came again, deep and hard and groaning your name like it hurt. He stayed inside afterward. Didn’t pull out. Didn’t move. Just stayed there, twitching and burying it all so none of it escaped.

After a few minutes he pushed your hips down and watched his cum spill out. Watched how your hole fluttered like it missed it already and tried to keep it in.

“Next time,” he murmured, dragging a finger through the mess and pushing it back in again, “I’m not stopping until you’re pregnant. And even then…” He smirked, cock still hard behind you. “Who said I’d stop?”