Sleepingxashh-blog - :)

His head was pressed between your thighs, the warmth lulling him to sleep. Your hands coursed through his hair, your fingers brushing off his small knots. Turning his head to make himself comfortable, he noticed something. “Babe have you always had these ?”, he asked, his index finger ever so lightly tracing your stretch mark, immediately making you jolt. “Oh- yeah! I- it’s always been there”, you mumbled quickly, pulling the blanket to cover your bare legs. “I’ve always had these and I didn’t want to tell you because…well it’s not something to be proud of”, you voice came out dull. This however shattered his heart. His hands went back to your thighs, fingers now fully tracing your stretch marks. “I think they’re sexy”, he grins, leaning down to press kisses all over your thighs. “They’re beautiful baby, it makes your thighs look ever more gorgeous”, he smiles, going back to the same spot between your thighs. “Really…you don’t think they’re weird ?”, your surprise was full evident in your tone. “Nope. And I think you should start loving them too. Because, trust me when I say this, they’re beautiful”, he whispered.

MATSUKAWA ISSEI, KUROO TETSUROU, BOKUTO KOUTAROU, IWAIZUMI HAJIME, TENDOU SATORI, SAKUSA KIYOOMI, MIYA ATSUMU, MIYA OSAMU, Kageyama Tobio, Tsukishima Kei, Akaashi Keiji, TOORU OIKAWA

this girl in my class was sobbing since morning cuz some girls told her stretch marks were ugly and it’s weird. And the urge i had to just drag those bitches and pull their hair out was insane. stretch marks are beautiful bro wtf. i have got some too and i just stare at em and admire em. it’s called self love :) and you should do that too. in conclusion, screw what others say :)

— HQ BOYS + TAKING CARE OF THEM

feat. iwaizumi hajime, kuroo tetsurō, suna rintarō, miya atsumu, miya osamu, matsukawa issei

note. let me be ur housewife. also don't say anything abt how long osamu's is.... i like him.

IWAIZUMI lets you join him in the shower on nights when he comes home late, when his breath smells a bit like scotch and his smile is lopsided in a way that you both know means midnight. he's all hushed drunken laughter, soap cascading down rippling shoulders as he leans down to press a sweet kiss to your collarbone. he'll whisper that you don't have to do this, the soft mumbling of go to bed crossing his tongue. and yet, you never do. instead, you lean up, shampoo in your hands, and let him hum as your fingers tangle in his hair.

KUROO lets you tie his tie. it's in the mornings, kisses drawn from the rising sun and touches soft enough to meld with the linens that once draped your bodies. he'll stand in front of you, suit, grin, and all, even when you're still dressed in the hanging fabric of your nightgown and your hair is still a tangled mess around your shoulders and face. but, no matter, because you'll reach up, delicate fingers around strong silk, and tie it just for him. and when you do, he'll cup your jaw in his hand just so he can kiss you one more time.

SUNA would never dare ask, but when you find him laying on the couch, face resting down on his arms and shirt riding up just enough so you can see his back, you can't help but let you nails follow the length of his spine. he shifts as though to lean into your touch, closing his eyes and breathing in a breath that almost feels like divinity. and if you stop, should you dare, he guides your hand back to him, ignoring the laughter that bubbles up past your lips and closing his eyes in sweet solace.

ATSUMU lets you dye his hair. or bleach it, rather, and then tone it when he finally lets you convince him. oh and how he's awful, moving and laughing and dodging out of the way of the cold dye even when it's dripping off of your gloved hands. he'll meet your gaze in the mirror, lopsided smirk carved into his cheeks, before putting his hands up in surrender. then, and only then, will he sit still, letting your hands comb through his hair with that stupid grin still on his face.

OSAMU finds you writing down notes for him. if he's cooking, he might change a recipe, speaking aloud as he adds a different spice or substitutes an ingredient, and each time, you'll write it down, scrawling handwriting with a little comment of whether he liked the change or not. other times, he'll come home to notes around the house—little reminders of why you're gone or what you need him to do before you get home. but his most favorite ones, and the ones he keeps locked away in drawers or hidden beneath clothes and old jewelry boxes, are the benign ones. little i loves you's scratched on napkins, drawings left on old gum wrappers from high school, sticky notes covered in old games you used to play to pass the time. he holds them like they're something to keep, an extension of you in the best way possible.

MATSUKAWA comes home to his laundry folded, or half-folded, at least, the rest of it still in the hamper or your hands. he'll roll his eyes, hands already at your waist and fingers dashing along your hips until laughter floats from your chest and into the air. when he tries to help you, you'll swat at his hand, your narrowed eyes drawing out a grin onto his face. so instead, he'll sit, tell you about his day and ramble about the things he misses (your voice, mostly, or your hair, or the scrunch of your nose), and each one will be met with the teasing lilt of tone that he's come to only associate with you.

iwaizumi brainrot hours 😩

MINORS DON'T INTERACT

You didn’t think that giving a flirtatious smile to your boyfriend on your way home from a party would land you in this situation.

But here you are, with Iwaizumi’s hips slamming into your own and your palms pressed against the car window, your moans filling the small space. His shirt is partially unbuttoned, tie loose around his neck as he fucks you senseless, groans spilling out of his lips at the sight of his cock disappearing into your dripping cunt, walls soft and clenching around his length.

“Ah, shit. You’re so pretty, y/n…” his calloused hands grip your waist tightly as he continues thrusting into you at a pace that has you practically drooling. He moves one of his hands up your back, tracing between your shoulder blades and knotting his fingers into your hair, tugging it slightly.

“R-right there…” You head is spinning and you can barely form coherent thoughts, the only thing on your mind is Iwaizumi, and how his cock is hitting that one spot inside of you that sends shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

“You gonna cum, pretty baby?” You can hear the strain is Iwa’s voice, and you nod your head, hands curling into fists against the window as you feel your high approaching. Every inch of your body feels like it’s lit up with a vibrating electricity, and you can barely remain upright as your orgasm hits you, legs shaking and sounds of pleasure leaving your lips.

“Fuck.” You feel Iwa’s load spill inside of you as his grip on your waist tightens. Leaning over, he kisses down your back as you both catch your breath.

“Hopefully no one was walking by at this hour.” He helps you back into your dress, cradling your form and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“I doubt it, Iwa.” You lean into his touch, letting out a small sigh. “Not that you care, do you?”

“Not at all. People should see themselves as lucky if they even get a glimpse of you.” Taking your hand, he assists you in getting back into the front seat, and he starts the car.

“Let’s just go home. I’m exhausted.” Your eyes flutter shut and your head rests against the window, and you can’t help the sleep that overtakes you as Iwa drives you both back home.

Onigiri Miya

mdni - typical jjk fighting, masturbation, interrupted intimacy?? I'm not sure how else to describe it :/

pt. 2 anyone?

-

My mind is a whore house. I've had this video saved on instagram for a while now, and since I've seen the JJK0 movie, I think it fits perfectly for Yuta <33

When he first came to your school, you didn't think much of it like Maki. He was timid and weak - wouldn't last a day fighting curses.

Even you and Maki would talk about him behind closed doors. Not necessarily talking shit per say, but you both pitied him.

"Even with training, he doesn't have much potential. Granted I haven't seen him up against any curses yet, but it's not looking good." You commented while stuffing another mouthful of ramen into your cheeks.

Maki nodded in agreement, "I think Gojo-sensei fucked up this time, he can't just keep picking random kids off the streets."

But Satoru didn't fuck up. In fact, Yuta was the strongest amongst them all. He just needed to be given a chance.

And once that chance was given, no one doubted him again. Yuta was one of your strongest sorcerers, a little rough around the edges, but he wanted to be strong. He had drive and the will power to become incredible.

So both you and Maki would rough him up during training, not because you thought he was weak anymore, but because you both knew he could take it. Because you both had to make sure that he always had some goal to fight towards in terms of training.

What set you apart from Maki though was the way Yuta made you feel. Maki saw him as a peer, a friend, a protector even.

You saw Yuta as the new cute boy.

His pretty, messy hair. That rare smile. His nervous nature. His love for learning. Even the dark circles under his eyes.

You wanted him to yourself.

And it seemed he felt the same.

Because one time, he had slipped into your room during the early hours of the morning to ask you for some one-on-one, yearning for some alone time with you to slip in his chance. You groaned and rolled over in your bed.

"Yuta, the sun isn't even out."

"I-I know, but I really need this training. I want to be strong."

How could you say no? You couldn't pass up a potential opportunity to let your friendship blossom into something more.

When he saw you shuffle around in your sheets and toss you legs over the edge of your bed, he smiled like a child on Christmas morning.

He even took your hands into his, "Thank you! I promise I'll do my best!"

"You're welcome Okkotsu."

Out on the field, you waited for your tea to wake you up. The sun was just barley peaking over the horizon and dusted the sky with yellows and oranges, the soft morning clouds creating the illusion of some grand painting.

You yawned and readied your weapon, "The shit I do for you Yuta."

He giggled and held his katana firmly, "I already said thank you."

"Yeah yeah, let's get on with it."

Little did you know, Yuta had done some training with Gojo. He was swiping you off your feet here, knocking you on your ass there, even got a few solid swings in. You blamed it on the early hour, but deep down you knew that Okkotsu had surpassed you.

On your last round, the sun had risen fully and you knew the other students would be up and about soon. You told him this had to be quick, and he replied cockily with, "With the way you're fighting, it will be."

Goddamnit he was right.

You weren't even two minutes in and he had you on your ass again, knees pining down your shoulders and the wooden prop readied to impale your heart.

With a sigh you smacked the prop from his hands, "It's too early for this, you knew I'd be easy to take down."

Then Yuta leaned down, nose nearly brushing over yours and his large, tired eyes staring mockingly into yours. It was enough to have your cheeks burning red.

"Maybe it's just time you admit you've gotten rusty."

Most of his words came in one ear and slipped out the other, for you couldn't ignore his proximity. With your body pinned to the ground, your mobility was low, so all you could do to hide your evident attraction and embarrassment was to turn your head further into the grass.

That's when Yuta gasped and his hand cupped your cheek, "Oh my God - I'm so sorry Y/n."

The warmth of his hand had your skin searing, "What for?"

"I - ugh - I must've scraped your cheek when we were fighting. I'm sorry." You reassured him there was no reason to worry, "No, let me take care of you and patch this up."

Your words of protest fell upon deaf ears as he drug you by your wrist to the nearest washroom. However, when the sign clarifying the gender of the bathroom came into view, you dug your heels into the ground and halted the both of you.

"Are you crazy? You'll get us suspended!"

As if he knew he had you wrapped around his finger, he slid his hand into yours and laced together your fingers. His hard working palm was rough, but the backside was velvety soft and his nails were well kept.

"Nobody is gonna be in here for another hour, maybe longer. I promise I'll be quick."

Again, you struggled to tell him no, letting him guide you into the men's bathroom and have you stand next to the nearest sink. Beneath it were cabinets where he found some disinfectant and bandages, setting the items on the counter and pausing to check on you.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been so rough with you."

You grinned, "Don't be, it's nothing I couldn't handle ."

He replied with his own grin and readied to clean your scape. The burn of the disinfectant made you screw your eyes shut and hiss, startling Okkotsu, but with a guiding touch on his wrist you told him you would be alright.

Once the bandage was delicately stuck to your skin, Yuta let his fingers linger. They stayed to study and file away the softness of your skin and how it grew hotter with each passing second. His mental filing cabinet for you was growing larger by the day, and now by the second.

But then a question popped into his mind: What would your skin feel like against his lips?

"Just for good measure." He whispered, and let his lips dust the skin next to the bandage.

How you bit your lip after your small gasp and scrunched your fists was dually noted. A small, unapologetic chuckle rumbled his chest.

"What's so funny?" You tried to banter with fake confidence.

Yuta shook his head, "Just you."

What felt like centuries and seconds elapsed. You felt everything and nothing at all. His closeness and touch had you entirely enraptured in him.

Therefore he was the only one to bring you back to Earth, more specifically the mens bathroom, when he slipped from your space to clean up his mess.

But you couldn't let him leave. You wanted him in your space forever, blacking out everything around you except for him and bathing in the feeling of how he could make your heart skip a beat. The special way he made your mind completely clear and think every thought simultaneously was intoxicating. Your craving had you acting before thinking.

When he rose from his crouched position, he faced the mirror with you behind him. Through the mirror he admired you and the small band-aid across your cheekbone and another smile appeared. Only that smile was replaced by his jaw dropping and blown pupils when your arms snaked around his abdomen to fumble with his belt.

"What are you-?"

The belt clinked and you began to slide it through the loops, "Let me take care of you."

His pale cheeks flushed a bashful red at your words - quoting him from earlier.

"Please." He sighed.

Yuta couldn't believe this was really happening. Since his appearance at Jujutsu High, all he could think about was you. How strong you were, your sense of humor and grace, just you. And as embarrassing as it was to him, he'd stroke himself to the thought of you in his dorm, pretending that your pretty hand was the one grasping his length.

The day when you'd have him come undone was nearing as he worked to get you attached to him. He just didn't think it would be the same day he had tainted your beautiful face. Nonetheless, his enthusiasm was spiraling out of control and every step closer to your hand or mouth or core milking him was speeding toward him.

Your lithe fingers slipped the button from its slit, then made quick work of his zipper - who knew that sound could be so lewd?

"Tuna Mayo!"

Inumaki.

You knew better than to abandon Yuta on missions or in any other scenario in life, but this one called for your escape. With your head low, you bolted for the exit and stopped just outside the door to listen.

Yuta was a stuttering mess as he worked to quickly slip his belt back on, "I-Inumaki - wait! It's not, oh God, it's not what it looks like!"

"Salmon..."

Some humiliated whispers came from Yuta before he pleaded, "Please don't tell anyone."

"Kelp." Which must of translated to 'Your secret is safe with me' because Yuta followed up with a series of thank you's.

Even you let out a sigh of relief and some of the guilt pooling in your stomach fizzled away. It would the a challenge to face Toge without your body wanting to whisk away in the wind - you owed him.

And you also owed Yuta, who would be using the next chance he got to finish the business you started.