kunaiiikittennn

[kunaiiikittennn]

holy shit, i got sidetracked with a thought n wrote 1k... on an entirely new wip... might post it tomorrow after editing 𖹭

p.s it's for a fandom i haven't written for yet

[kunaiiikittennn]

What it's like having Mitsuya as your partner ♡

[kunaiiikittennn]

Omg I loved your post on characters favorite positions and I just KNOW Iwaizumi and Gojo would be obsessed with using a butt plug on their S/O

this was... not how i planned to start my morning... IT IS 5AM AND I'M (S)CREAMING

but YESSS!?! absolutely okie so i feel like gojo would get those trainer plugs y'know the kind, the kind that have those gaudy gems on the end. and lemme tell you he purposely gets ONLY blue gems "that way you guys match" with that chesire grin.

teasing your ass as he stretches it out so that you're ready to take him, which will def take time bc i just KNOW the man is packing some serious meat.

iwa on the other hand does it purely for the whimpers you make! add in the obvious of "of course im gonna play with her. she's winking at me, baby." like that explains that wicked gleam in those eyes as he smirks before inserting it niiiiicceee n sloooooow. cock throbbing n leaking bc you look so ruined and he hasn't even fucked you yet.

so yeah, anyways those two definitely love doggy so that they can play with two of your holes at once. maybe three if they shove their fingers into your mouth...

[kunaiiikittennn]

The noise he makes has captivated me.

[kunaiiikittennn]

𓏵 mdni 𓏵

the feminine urge to feel his fingers threading through your hair, all gentle n loving while his dick is in your mouth. he isn't even hard—yet—it twitches on your tongue with every little suckle, drawing the sweetest sounds as he tries to stay composed. it's done almost mindlessly, sadistically enjoying how desperate he gets; how his hips buck up, trying to push himself further into your wet heat. every little whimper and groan only fuels you to tease him more, lapping slowly at his tip, nothing more than little kitten licks. until his fingers twist into your hair, forcefully shoving your face into his stomach, buried deeply into the back of your throat.

now it's your turn to be at his mercy. 𖹭

tokyo rev: ryuguji ken (draken), kazutora hanemiya, mitsuya takashi, mikey (manjiro sano), wakasa imaushi, hanma shuji

haikyuu: tobio kageyama, bokuto kotaro, ,kuroo tetsuro, tooru oikawa, iwaizumi hajime, issei mastukawa, hanamaki takahiro, asahi azumane, kenma kozume (but he's making you do the work)

blue lock: itoshi sae, shido ryusei, bachira meguru, nagi seishiro, isagi yoichi, michael kaiser

++your favs 𖹭 (the usual suspects) ᝰ.ᐟ

[kunaiiikittennn]

𓏵 mdni 𓏵

the punching bag hits the side of your head, throwing yourself dramatically out of the way just before his fist connects into the battered leather—smooth, effortless like a trained war machine. he made it look so easy. the number ticks higher n higher, creeping closer to breaking the current record until it stops. it flashes with the number 999. you're left speechless but not for the same reasons as everyone else.

the sounds of the bar fade out as you gape at him, the easy grin on his face like he didn't just max out the game you'd seen most guys struggle at. your thighs press together, hoping no one thinks anything of the flush on your face—blame it on the alcohol or the stifling heat in the crowded bar. you're not so lucky, keen eyes are watching you, dragging up nd down your figure like a phantom caress.

you'd never thought of your best friend in this way, but now you can't shake the image of being pinned under that wall of muscle. maybe it's time to switch things up.𖹭

tokyo rev: ken ryuguji (draken), mikey (manjiro sano), keisuke baji, nahoya kawata, kakucho, izana kurokawa, kazutora hanemiya

haikyuu: iwaizumi hajime, kuroo tetsurou, bokuto koutarou, suna rintarou, wakatoshi ushijima, atsumu miya, shinsuke kita, asahi azumane, kiyoomi sakusa

kaiju no. 8: gen narumi, soshiro hoshina, hibino kafka, reno ichikawa

++your favs ᝰ.ᐟ inspired by this: tiktok

[kunaiiikittennn]

chat, is my type nerds?

be real with me here. when you see my posts which character do you think of??

[kunaiiikittennn]

───☆ quickie?

☆ mikey

are we really surprised he's here? man just wants your attention. all. the. damn. time. so if you ever have to leave his side? mikey sticks his head around the corner, the question popping out before you can even get your shoes on. and yes, it inevitably means that you're late to whatever you were going to do—now too preoccupied with bouncing on mikey's cock. and you can best believe that he's cumming inside, marking his territory so to speak. secretly loving that you'll have him leaking out of you all evening.

your friends hate it—the tardiness, being late all the time.

the marks on your neck tell them exactly what—or rather who—held you up. (you'll tell them all the naughty details over cocktails, giggling like teenagers again.) not that you care, showing up thirty minutes late, dropped off by the menace himself, planting one final kiss on your grinning face.

☆ shinichiro

maybe it's a genetic thing? or mikey learned it from the source. a full blown ten stage clinger! any hopes for 'escaping' without this beanpole flashing those damn boba eyes at you are fruitless. a hopeless endeavor. shin will beg, like sat on the floor, gangly legs wrapped around yours, preventing you from leaving until you cave—you just like that he gets so desperate for you.

eventually by the end of it you're slumped, drained and melting into the surface of wherever y'all were doing the nasty. draped over the kitchen counter? yea, that has happened. half off the bed? your neck was sore for daaaays after. face down in the carpet? ugly rug burn on the side of your face.

it means that you don't leave. immobilized. which is exactly what this freak wanted.

☆ hanma

a baby. will pull out a bottle of fake tears, in front of you, then proceed to sniffle and pout to get his way. and you know what? it works. this man learned early into your relationship that you fall for his puppy dog eyes—he has been abusing that knowledge for years!

hanma can't help himself, you get all dolled up for girl's night and expect him to behave? when you're dressed like this? looking like every single one of his fantasies come to life before his very eyes. absolutely not. he needs to show you, drill it into you, how beautiful he finds you. to make sure that you're satisfied.

call it an insurance policy. won't cheat if you cum three times before leaving the house. because no damn hook-up would take better care of you than him. (not that you're going to cheat anyways, but it eases his mind nonetheless.)

kunaiiikittennn ᝰ.ᐟ please do not repost, copy or steal my trash 𖹭

[kunaiiikittennn]

updated my theme on a whim n realized i now have to update my masterlist themes as well... fuck me

[kunaiiikittennn]

I love being a fangirl and writing fanfiction because yes that’s OUR man. Yes, we SHARE a boyfriend. We have a communal love interest and i appreciate the sense of community it brings.

[kunaiiikittennn]

──☆ what's their favorite positions?

prone bone ──☆

loves to put his full body weight on you. a literal human weighed blanket. you love it, being squished beneath his massive body—like how cats lay on top of one another. a comforting feeling while also getting stuffed so full that you might burst. perfect for lazy early morning sex, with feverish groping included.

𖹭 choso kamo 𖹭 nagi seishiro 𖹭 kenma kozume 𖹭 mikey sano (bonten timeline) 𖹭 umemiya hajime 𖹭

doggy style ──☆

engrossed in the way your ass jiggles with his harsh thrusts. a mini earthquake vibrating across your plump cheeks. plus this perverted freak loves to toy with your asshole, thumb pushing in more and more with every filthy slam of his hips.

𖹭 satoru gojo 𖹭 isagi yoichi 𖹭 alexis ness 𖹭 iwaizumi hajime 𖹭 wakasa imaushi 𖹭 choji tomiyama 𖹭

cowgirl ──☆

tits. in. his. face. god is real and he's witnessing it as you bounce on his cock. in this position he gets to bear witness to your blissed out expression, mouth agape, moans falling out freely as you ride him like there's no tomorrow.

𖹭 suguru geto 𖹭 bachira meguru 𖹭 sugawara koushi 𖹭 mitsuya takashi 𖹭 togame jo 𖹭

mating press ──☆

getting as close to your heart as he can through your tight little hole. he loves having you folded in half, legs over his shoulders as he ruthlessly pounds into you. plus when he spills inside it's that much more likely to shoot directly into your womb. an added bonus.

𖹭 togi fushiguro 𖹭 bunny iglesias 𖹭 itoshi rin 𖹭 mastukawa issei 𖹭 ran haitani 𖹭 suo hayato 𖹭

++your favs! (all timeskip vers)

kunaiiikittennn ᝰ.ᐟ please do not repost, copy or steal my trash 𖹭

[kunaiiikittennn]

───☆ quickie?

☆ mikey

are we really surprised he's here? man just wants your attention. all. the. damn. time. so if you ever have to leave his side? mikey sticks his head around the corner, the question popping out before you can even get your shoes on. and yes, it inevitably means that you're late to whatever you were going to do—now too preoccupied with bouncing on mikey's cock. and you can best believe that he's cumming inside, marking his territory so to speak. secretly loving that you'll have him leaking out of you all evening.

your friends hate it—the tardiness, being late all the time.

the marks on your neck tell them exactly what—or rather who—held you up. (you'll tell them all the naughty details over cocktails, giggling like teenagers again.) not that you care, showing up thirty minutes late, dropped off by the menace himself, planting one final kiss on your grinning face.

☆ shinichiro

maybe it's a genetic thing? or mikey learned it from the source. a full blown ten stage clinger! any hopes for 'escaping' without this beanpole flashing those damn boba eyes at you are fruitless. a hopeless endeavor. shin will beg, like sat on the floor, gangly legs wrapped around yours, preventing you from leaving until you cave—you just like that he gets so desperate for you.

eventually by the end of it you're slumped, drained and melting into the surface of wherever y'all were doing the nasty. draped over the kitchen counter? yea, that has happened. half off the bed? your neck was sore for daaaays after. face down in the carpet? ugly rug burn on the side of your face.

it means that you don't leave. immobilized. which is exactly what this freak wanted.

☆ hanma

a baby. will pull out a bottle of fake tears, in front of you, then proceed to sniffle and pout to get his way. and you know what? it works. this man learned early into your relationship that you fall for his puppy dog eyes—he has been abusing that knowledge for years!

hanma can't help himself, you get all dolled up for girl's night and expect him to behave? when you're dressed like this? looking like every single one of his fantasies come to life before his very eyes. absolutely not. he needs to show you, drill it into you, how beautiful he finds you. to make sure that you're satisfied.

call it an insurance policy. won't cheat if you cum three times before leaving the house. because no damn hook-up would take better care of you than him. (not that you're going to cheat anyways, but it eases his mind nonetheless.)

kunaiiikittennn ᝰ.ᐟ please do not repost, copy or steal my trash 𖹭

[kunaiiikittennn]

i post to torture everyone with my thoughts

[kunaiiikittennn]

AND IMAGINE. a headlock (i think its the name) with his arm like LOOK AT THE BICEPS AND THE TATTOOS 🙏🙏

OHMYFUCKINGGOD those arms around your head would squeeze sosososo good!!! your would cheeks get all cutely squished up mhmgh (i need to be sedated)

⤷ now i present you with: a gift. enjoy beebs 𖹭

it's all fun n games...

syp: MDNI f!reader x wakasa cw; needy!wakasa, jealousy, headlocks, drunk sex, semi-public sex, creampie; wakasa finds his girlfriend at the club getting 'harassed' n gets clingy... ᝰ.ᐟ wc: (1.5k)

wakasa didn't want to be here, it was shin's idea, and a poor one at that—another desperate attempt to get laid.

the music in the club was obnoxiously loud, an overly remixed song that hurts his ears. does anyone actually like this garbage? he sits at the crowded bar, sweaty bodies pressing in closely on both sides, sipping on his half-empty beer. the bartenders are buzzing around, taking orders, mixing drinks and dodging poor attempts at flirting from the drunk patrons. wakasa rolls his eyes, fed up with everything, to top it off he lost sight of that lanky jackass in the sea of the packed dance floor.

all he wanted to do was go home to you, he missed you terribly.

his eyes fixate on the condensation rolling down his beer glass, the lingering feeling of your lips pressed against his cheek, hearing your sweet voice bid him goodbye that morning. honestly, he should've yanked you back inside, kept you in bed with him all day. at least then he'd be with you, holding you tightly.

so imagine his surprise when he turns, droopy lilac eyes scanning the crowd and freezes.

the last thing he expected to see was you, here, on the dance floor, with some random guy's hands on your hips like you were his. wakasa's vision clouds, hands balled into fists and ready to pummel that jerks face into the dirt. how dare he touch what doesn't belong to him. every step carries him closer to you, walking with purpose and menace, despite the bored look on his face there's an aura of power radiating off wakasa—people part like the red sea, evading the short terror.

your gaze snaps up at his approach, relief shining in your eyes while your hands shove at the stranger who has still yet to let go.

"waka—"

his hand closes around your wrist and yanks, pulling you into his side, away from the creep. "hands off." he snarls, just barely loud enough over the music, but the cold, dark edge to his voice is clear. the prick rolls his eyes, completely inebriated, stalking off to find another poor woman to bother. the second he's gone wakasa is dragging you after him, pushing through the thick throng of people.

where he intends to take you is a mystery, the alcohol in your system making it hard to focus on much else besides the tight grip wakasa has on your hand. that is until he's dragging you into a deserted bathroom—a rare feat at a club—his body pressing your back into the cold metal of the stall door.

"you okay?" he whispers, face buried into your chest, like you'll slip right through his fingers if he lets go.

instantly your hands are on his face, tipping it upwards to meet your eyes. "i'm fine—"

"he didn't touch you elsewhere, right?"

"no, the asshole just grabbed my hips..."

wakasa exhales sharply, anger slowly ebbing away. he kisses you then, crashing his lips into yours, staking his claim like he has a point to prove—whether to himself or to you is unknown. large hands paw at your body, insistent and greedy, hiking up the hem of your dress up several inches. thigh weaseling it's way between your legs, spreading them apart as his fingers dance along the edge of your underwear.

his touch sets your skin on fire, closing your legs around his hand, "we can't— not here." you whisper, jolting when his finger dips under the band of your panties. bunching them to the side.

"don't care. just need you... right now." wakasa ignores your poor attempt to stop him, there's no use in lying—he can feel how wet you are for him, how badly you crave him. wouldn't be the first time you've indulged his neediness.

(y'all are banned from numerous places.)

you arch into his hands, falling pliant as he works two fingers into you. long thin fingers scissor you open, plunging in hard and fast, and curling up in the way he knows breaks you.

normally wakasa takes his time, slowly driving you mad with subtle touches throughout the day; a kiss at the nape of your neck, right by your fluttering pulse. a guiding hand on your lower back, fingers dipping under the hem of your top. claiming it was an 'innocent' slip up. a firm slap on the ass, palm rubbing at the sore spot. making sure you never forget he's there, but never giving you what you truly want.

tonight is an exception.

he needs to hear you crying out his name while you fall apart, legs shaking under you. wakasa will stop at nothing to achieve that goal: to remind you who you belong to.

the door to the bathroom swings opens, a giggly swarm of girls stumbling in, streams of the music sweep in along with them. your eyes go as wide as saucers, heart beating a million miles a minute. attempting to wriggle out of his grasp.

oh no you don't, he thinks.

wakasa pulls his fingers out with a pop, forcing you to spin, pressing your chest flush with the cold stall door. a tattooed arm loops around your neck, squishing your face in the crook of his elbow.

"you're not going anywhere." he whispers lowly in your ear, as he works himself free from his pants, pushing his cock at your sticky, glistening folds.

(the only saving grace is that these stalls are floor to ceiling with zero gaps, but while no one can look inside, it doesn't stop sounds from escaping out. and the music in the club can only cover so much.)

his tip catches on your entrance, spreading your slick before he slowly eases into you. grinding along the curve of your perfect ass, plundering deep in your hot, wet pussy. until finally burying himself to the hilt, snug inside.

the shuffling and tittering by the sinks dies down, in it's wake is the faint murmurs: "do you guys hear that?" "that's not—" "is someone fucking in here?!"

your pussy flutters around him, the sticky sounds bounce off the metal walls. it's obscene and filthy.

biting down on your bottom lip does little, your choked gasp creeps out. guess he'll have to keep you quiet too. waka snakes his left arm up, and those same fingers that were in your cunt are shoved between your lips, tasting the tang of your own arousal.

the group flees with muttered protests of disgust. finally some peace and quiet.

now the real fun can begin.

"be quiet." wakasa hisses, "or don't. let that fucking bastard hear how you well you take me."

the dry chuckle he lets out rumbles against your back, tinged with all that repressed jealousy he bottled up.

his right arm tightens around your neck, locking you into place against his solid chest. the headlock makes it a bit difficult to breathe, mind going hazy as wakasa plows his girthy cock in with fast and brutal thrusts.

every roll of his hips screams: "mine mine mine."

and you feel every inch of him. succumbing to the waves of pleasure crashing through you. tongue swirling around mindlessly the digits pressed between your lips. the blunt head of his cock hits your sweet spot with ungodly accuracy that has you going crossed eyed.

whether on accident or not, every snap of his hips align with the bass thudding through the walls. he latches his mouth onto the back of your neck, muffling his groan against your skin. teeth dig in, sharp and painful. it's not the first mark he's left on your body—certainly won't be the last either. pink tongue darting out to lick at the red spots blossoming.

wakasa fucks you like a man gone feral.

"nggh—haa... waka—"

it hits you like a truck. legs turning to jelly as you cum, a creamy ring forming around his cock. whimpering as drool leaks down your chin and into his palm.

it's mind blowing how tightly your pussy grips him.

"i love you. i love you. iloveyou..." waka growls, each word punctuated between thrusts, like a mantra.

wakasa's hips stutter, bucking wildly as heat floods your insides. hot ropes of cum spilling into you—milking him. sucking out every last drop.

the two of you are breathing heavily, slumped into the stall door. you hiss when wakasa pulls out, his seed already starting to leak out. he promptly tugs your panties back into place with a gentle tap—the sticky mess trapped between your thighs.

"c'mon, let's go home." wakasa says casually, like he doesn't just rearrange your guts out of pure jealousy.

you should be embarrassed when you emerge, getting dirty looks from the people who bore witness to your debauchery—instead you feel just the tiniest bit smug.

the music hits you both in the face when you exit the bathroom, the bass rattling your bones. it reeks of sweat and alcohol, hot and musky. and there in the middle of the dancefloor, flailing like an uncoordinated circus clown, shinichiro. the two of you snort at the ridiculous display, shaking your heads as you make your way to the exit.

walking hand in hand, sinfully mussed up and glowing.

kunaiiikittennn 𖹭 koriiiiiiiiii come get your man! please do not repost, copy or steal my trash 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯 ᝰ.ᐟ

[kunaiiikittennn]

oops! that's not a bench

syp: f!reader x iwaizumi hajime (27) cw; suggestive, gym spotter/gym goer, misuse of faces, shy!reader, where mistakes lead to unforeseen situations 𖹭

iwaizumi was everyone's gym crush—you could see it, how every woman had her gaze attached to his back.

(no one has the confidence to go up and talk to him though)

those rippling muscles, the damn cut-out t-shirts. his arms looked massive, veins popping along his forearms. sweat dripping down his sun-tanned body like he were a greek god come to life.

the jealousy thrummed in the air, suffocating and angry. you approached iwa, tapping his shoulder. a shy smile on your face.

"can you spot me?"

iwa turns, looks you up n down. then cracks a smile. wide and crooked.

"sure thing," he says, walking along side you to his bench, "you ever weight lift before?" iwa asks after noticing the slight nervous look in your eyes.

"yeah. not often though."

he goes full trainer mode then, asking how much you can lift. what your fitness goals are. yada yada. once he's got a grasp on what you can handle he guides you over to the weight rack, but iwa, ever the gentlemen picks up the dumbbells for you.

that simple gesture has your heart fluttering. and pussy clenching.

now iwaizumi is showing you how to do your reps, laying back on the leather bench. it looks easy. effortless. the way he's maneuvering the dumbbells—your pitiful weights are lighter than air.

his instructions go in one ear and out the other. nerves shutting down your listening functions to zilch.

to ensure you have the proper form you do the first 'rep' without weights.

you lower yourself onto the bench—but your body connects with something else instead. a nose bumps into your clothed core. you jolt. iwaizumi stiffens.

idiot! you sat without even checking to see if iwaizumi had gotten up!

you jump back like you've been burned. hands clasped over your mouth. a noise like a strangled teakettle leaks out from behind your hands.

"if you wanted to sit on my face you could've just asked." he chuckles, low and deep, like this is a regular occurrence for him. discreetly adjusting the front of his shorts.

"no!— that wasn't— not on purpose." you stammer, unable to meet his gaze. mortification searing through your veins.

warm hands find your hips, manhandling you onto the bench—sans him underneath. "it's alright. i've got you, just breathe."

you might be mistaken but there's a sparkle in iwa's green eyes that wasn't there earlier.

(iwaizumi noticed what you failed to—the envious gazes of the other men. because the hottest woman in the gym just sat on his face and not theirs.)

by some miracle you finish your session—mostly—unscathed. thanking your lucky stars.

iwa waits for you by the exit to the locker rooms, bag hiked up onto his shoulder and phone in his opposite hand. glancing up when you appear. the walk to your car is mostly silent. words trapped in your throat without the distraction of working out.

he breaks the silence first, "see you later." back into trainer mode—professional and guarded. like he wasn't going crazy with want.

"yeah, later."

somehow you managed to snag his phone number, the details are blurry as you slide into the driver's seat. still hot under your collar.

later that night you get a text.

[hot trainer iwa]: "if you ever wanna do that again just give me a heads up next time ;)"

you scream into your pillow. flailing atop your mattress as your heart tries to escape from your chest.

how the hell are you going to survive this man?

kunaiiikittennn 𖹭 written for my moot: hori on tiktok! please do not repost, copy or steal my trash 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯ᝰ.ᐟ

[kunaiiikittennn]

breaking news: a woman has been personally victimized by the ever growing trend of hoochie daddy shorts. if you or anyone you know has ever fallen victim please call xxx-xxx-xxxx to file for compensation!

it's not an exaggeration either.

those damn shorts just did irreparable damage to your brain. feeling no better than a man, leering at his thick thighs, almost foaming at the mouth—hastily wiping the corner of your mouth to catch the drool that leaked out—muscles bulging like a tasty treat. it should be illegal to look that good.

it's almost pathetic, that a small—very small—article of clothing could undo your composure. smash it to smithereens.

(and maybe the visible print isn't helping your wandering eyes either. i mean it's right there, how could you not look? a lil peek at what else you might be able to ride should you get the chance)

tr: wakasa imaushi, mikey (manjiro) sano, shinichiro sano, ken ryuguji (draken)

hq: iwaizumi hajime, kageyama tobio, matsukawa issei, oikawa tooru, hinata shoyo

mha: izuku midoriya, katsuki bakugo, ejiro kirishima, keigo takami, hitoshi shinso

bllk: isagi yoichi, itoshi sae, itoshi rin, bachira meguru, nagi seishiro, bunny igesias

++your favs 𖹭

kunaiiikittennn ᝰ.ᐟ please do not repost, copy or steal my trash 𖹭

[kunaiiikittennn]

𖹭

to the anon who requested a mitsuya post-argument fic: i am working on it i promise!! tumblr flagged it n it's stuck in content review.