Haikyuu X Reader - Blog Posts

when you first go up to KUROO TETSUROU and ask for help in chemistry, his eyes light up.

your chemistry teacher had recommended him to you, and thankfully, kuroo agreed to tutor you. you were relieved—at least your chemistry grades wouldn't have to suffer any more than it already was.

you can tell he really loves the subject—just by the way a smile graces his features when he explains a concept to you, or the way a blush settles high on his cheekbones, or how the intonation of his voice rises when he's particularly passionate about something.

but it's the way he explains it that you're especially impressed by. he's patient, too; when you're feeling frustrated after a hard class, he's there. he helps you through each problem, his soft voice describing analogies that you understand. for the first time, you finally feel the satisfaction of understanding something. that for the first time, you look forward to chemistry class.

and it's all thanks to kuroo.

it's admirable, you think. that he loves a subject so much that he can make someone like you—someone who had always hated the subject—like it.

but little did you know, it isn't just the subject he likes.

it's you.

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ᯓ★ love letters

tsukishima kei x gn!reader

a/n: probably ooc tsukki

wc: 1.2k

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TSUKISHIMA KEI had always written you letters.

in childhood, you'd lived a little too far away from him to be able to see him every day, so he would write you a letter.

even as a child, his penmanship was impressive. every letter was printed neatly on special card paper. he would write it in pencil, then seal it up and hand to his mother to send it to you.

dear y/n, how are you? i wish i could see you more often. my mother said i couldn't see you every day, and that i should write a letter instead. i decided to send you some stickers that i thought you would like. i hope we can see each other on the weekend. yours sincerely, kei

you'd send him replies, too — albeit in messier handwriting and with multiple spelling mistakes. you had also been quite fond of using coloured pencils and markers to write yours.

dear kei, thank you for the stikers!!! my parents said we can play in the park on the weeknd. i can't wait to see you!! yours sincerly, y/n

this continued on until you were teenagers. despite everyone having graduated to texting, the two of you still wrote letters to each other. even though you went to the same school, there was rarely a morning when you wouldn't slip a note into his locker, or one where you didn't find one in your own.

you never thought too much of it, and you didn't think tsukishima did either.

it was a habit, after all. it wasn't a big deal.

until it was.

you couldn't pinpoint the exact time it happened, but suddenly, the letters weren't a small matter anymore.

all you knew was that suddenly, the letters meant a lot more than they used to. suddenly, you were rereading every letter you found in your locker, overanalysing every detail, the words on the page, the intricate curve of his letters.

dear y/n, i hope your classes are going well. i heard you did well on the chemistry test; congratulations, i knew you could do it. i also noticed you weren't at math yesterday, i left notes in your locker for you. sincerely, kei

you notice that his handwriting hadn't changed that much from when you were kids. it was neater, and smaller, but it was still so distinctively kei.

when did these letters become so important to you?

tsukishima kei was an idiot.

he knew that he couldn't keep this up forever — pretending that he was writing these letters for the sake of habit. hell, even kageyama caught on. now that you were at the same school, there was no reason to keep doing this.

but you kept writing back.

dear kei, thank you so much for the notes, they were very helpful!! and i couldn't have passed the chem test without your help, so thank you for that too. good luck for your volleyball game tonight! sincerely, y/n

and it wasn't just responses to his letters — they detailed your day, how much you hated a subject, what you were going to do after school.

it scared him. it was a terrifying feeling, waking up every day and thinking i hope there's a letter in my locker today. it's terrifying for him, the way he always tucks your letters in his breast pocket.

falling in love was a terrifying feeling.

this continued on for more than the two of you would like to admit.

you knew that you would have to tell him at one point — there was no way you could continue this forever.

kei, on the other hand, refused to admit anything to his friends.

"come on, tsukki, we all know you like her." yamaguchi had been on his back for weeks.

kei decided not to answer.

hinata, unhelpfully, decides to join the conversation.

"come on, tsukishima, even kageyama and i have noticed."

kageyama nods, sipping on his milk. honestly, kei never understood his obsession with milk. it didn't taste any good, and whatever benefits it has to height, kageyama still isn't as tall as kei.

he's still lost in this thought when yamaguchi says:

"what if you wrote a letter to her?"

kei freezes.

and for a moment, he's not quite sure why he does — he writes a letter to you every day. surely it wouldn't be that hard?

but when he picks up a pen and a piece of paper torn off from hinata's (unused) notebook, three heads peering over his shoulder, he pauses.

dear y/n—

"go on," yamaguchi prods his shoulder.

kei glares at him.

he lifts his pen again—

and upon hearing kageyama and hinata snigger, he puts it back down again.

maybe he'd just write it at home.

but when he picks up the pen again, in the safety of his own room, he's stuck.

he'd discarded hinata's scrappy notebook paper and decided to use one of his own — one that wasn't creased. he starts off the same way:

dear y/n...

he almost misses yamaguchi's insistence.

it's fine, he thinks. if it's really bad, just throw it out.

he takes two hours to finish the letter.

dearest y/n, we've been writing these letters for a while. from when we were young, it became a tradition for us to write each other letters when we couldn't see each other. but even when we started at the same high school, you kept writing letters to me. i sort of expected that you would stop, given we were going to the same school. after a while, i started to look forward to receiving your letters. i mean, i always did, it started to become more than it used to. in the morning, your letters would be the motivation for me to get out of bed. i think i've read each letter about three times each, now. i think i like you, y/n. i think i have since we were children. so i was wondering: do you feel this too? yours sincerely, kei

before he can think too much of it, he folds up the note and seals it in an envelope.

kei's sleep-deprived and moody the next morning.

unable to sleep at all that night, he gets to school half an hour earlier than he usually does. there's nobody there, the hallways scarily quiet.

he slips the envelope in your locker, then escapes.

when yamaguchi, kageyama, and hinata get to school, he tries to act as normal as possible, but he can feel their cautiousness around him.

by the time school finishes, he's drained.

he hadn't seen you all day, and he was tired of checking his locker all day, trying not to hope that there might be something there.

as soon as his last class finishes, he practically runs from the classroom, without even saying goodbye to yamaguchi.

but when he opens his locker, there's a flower and a note sitting on his books.

dear kei, i do. i always have. meet in the courtyard after school? yours truly, y/n

hinata and kageyama's faces had identical expressions of shock as kei rushed past them.

towards the courtyard.

TSUKISHIMA KEI is known for his resting bitch face.

it's enough to make the first-year girls cower in fear as he walks past them in the hallways.

when he's got his headphones on, head bowed, with a threatening aura around him, people know not to even talk to him. and no matter how many times tadashi tells him to not scare off the first-year, kei insists that he doesn't do it on purpose. (he does.)

but you? you prided yourself in knowing you would never be on the receiving end of those stares.

you prided yourself in being the only person who was able to tell when he dropped this façade; when his gaze subtly shifts when he looks at you. the way the furrow in his eyebrows smooth out faintly, the way he stands a little straighter, the way his lips turn up at the corners a little.

you prided yourself in knowing, in the privacy of kei's room, what it looks like when he truly smiles. a smile where there's no mockery in his eyes, where the slight upturned corners of his mouth stretch to reveal an expression of mirth.

and to be honest?

you had no idea what they were talking about when they said that tsukishima kei had a resting bitch face.

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LUCKY NUMBER #27

pairings: Tobio Kageyama x reader

m.list

chapter 2 | top 10 coming home videos

prev | next

you felt your throat close up, it felt as if you were going to vomit everywhere. The same feeling you got when you first got your trainee contract but ten times worse.

Everytime you got a text from your brother you looked around, and around and around until he finally came into your sight with your mother and father. You couldn’t stop the corner of your lips from curling up into a smile, neither could you stop the small fountain of tears starting to pool in your eyes.

Sure you’ve called and FaceTimed your family but sometimes there would be weeks even months where you weren’t allowed to be in contact with them. You didn’t where they were at all and they didn’t know where you were or if you were even safe. 

It’s never felt so relieving to see them again. Before they could even see you, you ran up to all of them immediately embracing your mother in the biggest hug you could’ve ever given her, just as if you were a new born baby. Thank God your make up wore off during your plane ride here or else mascara would be everywhere.

It felt nice, familiar and comfortable to finally be around the people you cherish the most in this world.

Taglist: @diorzs @piapiaweee3 @sun-nny-side-up @lvtilzs

little note! : don’t forget your daily clicked for Palestine! 🇵🇸

© haeunoo 2024 please do not steal, copy, or repost my work onto other platforms.

LUCKY NUMBER #27!

pairings: Tobio Kageyama x reader

m.list

chapter one | milkshake (disaster)

next

NOTES! :

GUYS WE LOST THE PLOT!!

the gc w yn and the others is the girls yn is going to debut with in a couple of years!

don’t forget your daily clicks for Palestine! 🇵🇸

taglist: @diorzs @lvtilzs @piapiaweee3

© haeunoo 2024 please do not steal, copy, or repost my work onto other platforms.

LUCKY NUMBER #27!

Pairings: Tobio Kageyama x reader

M.list

b b b ballers | profiles!!

Check end for fun facts 🤓

NOTES! :

Your fans found out Daichi was your brother and they all started to follow him harassing him for picture of you as a baby😭

Asahi gets added in later dw!

yn spoils suga bc he’s her favourite lowk

Hinata and Kageyama are the only ones that don’t really know yn

noya got famous from a hit tweet and hasn’t shut up about it since then💀

tsukishima and tadashi were helping hinata and kageyama study

bios r lowk unfunny I made these at 3am SORRY I gave up😭

Reblogs are appreciated! ♡

Taglist: @diorzs (comment on masterlist if you wanna be added!!

© haeunoo 2024 please do not steal, copy, or repost my work onto other platforms.

LUCKY NUMBER #27!

pairings: Tobio kageyama x Reader

M.list

SPOTLIGHT ON US (not yn & tsuki tho) | profiles!!

Check end for fun facts🤓

NOTES! :

Tsukishima, Yamaguchi and yn all went to the same middle school. Yn left in her last year of middle school but still kept in contact with the both of them almost everyday!

yn knows kiyoko from her brother and they’ve met once when Sawamura was in his second year and they were friends ever since

yn knows Yachi from kiyoko, they’ve never met in person but face time regularly in between yn busy schedule 😭💀

erm Michimiya is in here cause she doesn’t get any love😕 anyway she knows yn through her bf sawamura (daichi) and they became friends. She’s rarely active in the gc tho but when she is, she says a lot

Guys lowk lost the plot in this just imagine it as a slice of life cause what!!🤷‍♀️

Um sorry it’s not gn with the pronouns but honestly if you just replace “she” with your pronouns it COULDDD work🙏🙏 (don’t quote me on that..)

Reblogs are always appreciated! ♡

everyone in the fg either got “famous” cause they’re friends w yn or they had a hit tweet😭

Taglist: @diorzs (comment on master list if u wanna be added!!)

© haeunoo 2024 please do not steal, copy, or repost my work onto other platforms.

LUCKY NUMBER #27

— Tobio Kageyama

CHANGING THE TITLE SOON LAWL

IM GONNA UPDATE THIS SOON PLS DONT LOOSE HOPE ON ME

Synopsis: 3 years of being away from your family, your brother. All to follow your dream of being an idol. What’s going to happen when your company says you can’t date but you just found the hottest guy in your grade? Will you go on with your dream, or sacrifice it?

Content: high school, sfw!!, angst lowk, fem reader in mind, slight slow burn??, lowk one sided for a few chapters, kys jokes, fat jokes erm, yn lowk op, characters may be ooc, umm you have a pet rabbit surprise!! Made up characters.

Status: ongoing - just started (bites nails)

profiles:

Spotlight on us (not y/n & tsuki tho) | b b b ballers

Chapters:

Milkshake (disaster)

Top 10 coming home videos

Not my type

Tba

YOU GIVE ME THE FEELS

—

your fav x gn! reader (ゝ。∂)

cw: valentines 😒, kisses ^3^, ANNIVERSARYS !!, marriage, lovey dovey yucky stuff..

—

YOUR FAV who asks you out on valentines! To make sure your anniversary is on valentines! (´,,>ω<,,`)♡

YOUR FAV who makes your first kiss on valentine’s day (a year into the relationship) so you can celebrate your 1 one year anniversary and your first kiss anniversary on the day of love.

YOUR FAV who proposes to you ON VALENTINES (you get the point atp) and they know that you can start seeing the pattern now, but they find it so cute.

YOUR FAV who NEEDS to have your wedding planned on valentines, and forces everyone to come no matter what their plans were

BONUS: they never get you on gift on valentines, buys you gifts for each anniversary !

two-way street — part 2.

summary | how is suna rintarou ever going to get over you? or: having a hard time not thinking of begging you on his knees to give him a second chance. warnings | angst; fem!receiving oral; pathetic!suna/sweet talker!suna and fem!reader; mentions of weed and alcohol; second chances (except they're still stupid) word count | 3122. a/n | how to angst...? please let me know what you think! -` ♡ ´- part 1 to be found: here.

“if this keeps up, yer gon’ be labeled a stalker.”

atsumu held the bills between his fingers, and suna snatched it, stuffing the money into his back pocket and the rest of the mary jane in the side pocket of his jacket, “how about minding your own business once in a while?”

“nah,” atsumu grinned, “where’s the fun in that?”

his fingers were quick in rolling the joint, crumbling the buds into a neat line before closing the paper with a swipe of his tongue. when he searched his jeans pockets for a lighter, suna’s eyes found your presence amidst the many people at the party, fitted between dancing, sweating bodies. 

the party he hadn’t wanted to stay at once he finished up his deals, but that he couldn’t help but prolong his visit more once his sweeping gaze over the masses found the light you were radiating.

so there he stood, in the shadowed corner of the room with his shady business, several couches and tables between you both, basking in your light even though he knew you didn’t like him to. he knew, he knew, and yet he stood there while the fake blonde next to him clicked his thumb against the lighter, watching you dance.

his hoodie and the jacket thrown on top of it felt heavy and too hot on his shoulders, but he didn’t bother shrugging any of it off.

because he hadn't planned to stay.

“so — “ atsumu dragged a deep breath, and that shit stank up this pathetic little corner suna rintarou was standing in, “ — what do ya say, i try my luck with’er?”

suna froze, but said nothing. maybe if he pretended that the music thrumming through the air was too loud, then he could ignore atsumu and his cocky exclamation of stupidity. 

but as blonde as atsumu was, he wasn’t as gullible.

an arm draped over suna’s shoulder, he leaned in, and smoke curled up into the air, the scent as penetrating as ever, “oi, come on, rinnie, what’s with yer stoic attitude, huh? you can hav’er right after, hn? jus’ wanna see what the fuss is all about. so, how abou—”

but atsumu asked for it. 

suna rintarou did not fight. he really didn’t. he wasn’t the type to, and punches hurt his knuckles.

if anything, he was more the underhanded type to deal with things, maybe a bit of blackmail if they wouldn’t let up, but fighting? smashing any of his body parts into somebody else for violent reasons? not really his style.

so leaving behind a doubled over blonde whose joint had fallen down from his open mouth onto the wooden floor, suna had to get out. it was hot, it was stuffy, it was so fucking unbearably close to where you were, with annoyance pumping through him at every turn because fuck— not even sending him a glance or leave any crumbs of recognition that you had seen him, that you had felt his presence in the same way that he did when he stepped into the goddamn house.

the air outside was fresh, cooling the sting on his knuckles, and he grit his teeth when he bent at the knee, sinking, leaned against a tree in the backyard of the house. the knuckle of his uninjured hand rapped against the space between his eyebrows, trying to pound back some sense back into his head. 

he should leave, ignore that atsumu would get up from the ground and would pursue you out of spite, and just go home. he may had been joking but the venomous way those words left his mouth, painting you like an usable toy, when suna couldn’t even fucking help but let you slip through his fingers, when all he wanted was to lose himself in you, keep a grasp on your essence, selfishly own all that you had to offer.

“rin?”

his head snapped up so fast, he felt his neck protest, but that didn’t matter, because—

fuck. 

the way you were rubbing your arms at the cool air, the hesitant look on your face when he had gotten so used to the look of disdain you used to send his way the past weeks, the absolute wreck that was your hair from running your hands through them while dancing. 

you were breathtaking. 

“what happened with miya?”

“nothing.”

you didn’t believe him, but that was because you knew him. you knew the way his face settled in the slightly bored expression when nothing was going on, the way his shoulders would relax because there was nothing to be tense about, the way he would roll his eyes, the sharp lines of his features laid-back.

suna rintarou looked up at you from where he was seated on the ground, and his face painted a clear picture for you. the tension in his jaw, the deep set of displeasure as his lips pressed into a thin line, the twitch of his ears whenever he lied, the red on his knuckles — he was pissed.

“it’s not nothing.”

what did you want to hear? that he couldn’t bear to hear somebody talk that way about you? as if you were dismissable? at the insult hurled your way and his? 

that he had no right to feel any way about you anymore, not when he fucked up and lost you?

you leaned forward, and a couple of strands of your hair slipped from your naked shoulder, littered in goosebumps. god, he wanted to exist within your confines.

“why do you care?” he settled on that question, a note of bitterness entering his voice, “last i checked, you were too busy dancing with some lame idiot.”

your silence was icy, and suna thought that he might be stupid. at last, your hands resumed rubbing your skin, and your voice sounded almost tired, “because you’re injured, rin. because you look like you’re gonna make some bad decisions.”

then, you huffed, just as bitter and full of resentment as he felt when he breathed next to you and could not call you his, “but i guess i’m the lame idiot here, whatever.”

you turned to leave, but movement rustling behind you and a warm hand on your legs stopped you. half-crawled, half-supported on a knee and a foot, suna rintarou’s fingers squeezed your flesh, and he looked up at you with eyes that spelt out too many hidden emotions, too many hidden desires, too many words unsaid.

“fuck, i’m sorry. i didn’t mean that,” he leaned his forehead against your thigh and your leg twitched at the contact, “i’m annoyed. this shit’s annoying. i fucking miss you, and you’re dancing and you don’t care and god, i’m so fucking pissed—”

a hot kiss placed on your thigh, his hand warm; tendrils of guilty and embarrassed pleasure shooting from where he had touched you to your lower stomach. 

“rin, i don’t—”

“i can’t without you,” he murmured against your leg, hot and wet, a bite, “fuck, please. tell me you miss me just as much.”

his other hand coming up to grip the back of the leg he was leaning against shut you up, and his fingers felt so familiar, the press of the tips against your flesh, marking you in the way they used to. the trace of his lips against you spelt out a dirty secret that he kept hidden in the sleeves of his jacket, in the confines of his pants, in the innermost window of his soul.

those eyes looked at you, half his face covered by the skirt from where you were watching him, pleading, another swipe of his tongue on your skin, tasting you, asking for you to give in.

your ribcage heaved up; rin at your feet, his hands spelling out his desire, the press of his face so comfortable and everything you wanted. your chest hurt, the arousal pooling low, “i hate you.”

he couldn't help but notice that you still didn't deny him.

“i know,” another kiss, and god, he was going to make you go—, “i know, babe, i know. but i’m— crazy, i’m going crazy.”

his nose was searching, a trail he could follow with his eyes closed, leading him under your skirt with ease, tracing the edges of your panties. his groan rumbled in his chest against your leg when he found the proof that you wanted him just as much, the vibration sending shocks through you and you couldn’t help the little pant escaping your mouth.

“fuck, you don’t even know,” suna mouthed against your clothed pussy, the desperate raw edge in his voice kissing you you through the material. your legs trembled, tiny little flutters at the way suna rintarou disappeared under your skirt so naturally, the way the hood of his sweater draped over his back peeped out from underneath, his hands steading you as he licked the wetness of your panties until his saliva drenched all of it.

“r—rin,” your hands found his shoulders to support yourself on, legs spread a little further, hair tickling your innermost skin, “i hate you, a—ha-nd i hate all those s—stupid girls you had with you, an— rin.”

his finger had wrapped around your panties, pulling it to the side, mouth latched to your pussy freely now, tongue tracing your folds like he had forgotten the look of you, the feel of you under his pink muscle, all the little things that had your breath hitching, that had you moan, that had your hands grip his thick neck to press him up further.

“i hated seeing those assholes at your arm,” he snapped against you, mouth growing forceful, and two of his fingers coating themselves in your wetness, teasing you, pushing in slowly, deliberately, “what do they fucking know about what type of sounds you make, huh? how to treat you? how to love you?”

suna knew you; he knew the spot to curl his fingers against, knew the rhythm of his tongue against your clit, knew the erogenous zones to stimulate with his other hand to have you panting, knew the tell-tale sign of you coming undone underneath his touch. and with each stroke, with each kiss, with each gasp of air he forces down his throat before diving back into you, he missed you.

“i want you,” the squelch in the air was obscene, so fucking vulgar, “i need you. please.”

your nerves coiled and crashed on top of him, dissolving into an onslaught of lust, of love, of hate, of cum, of his tongue ever-lasting, of his voice begging, and had he not been holding you up, you would have lost your footing and fallen down, too.

“rin, rin, rin, rin,” name chanting, hands sweaty on his jacket, the pull of your panties, the wet sounds of his fingers fucking you through the orgasm.

“tell me,” his hips were moving against the air, desperate for reprieve, “tell me there’s no other, babe. there’s me, hn? i’ve got you.”

another orgasm was on the edge of your perception at the continuous stimulation, at the continuous plea to give suna what he had to miss out on for the past weeks. brain drunk on you, yours drunk on him, fingers slipping, “rin, there— ah, never wa—ha-as. fuck, you make m’feel soo goo—oood.”

his cock pulsated in tandem with his heart, aching, your words beelining straight down, fuelling the haze surrounding his mind. his mind couldn’t help but conjure all the times other men’s hips snapped into your heat, imagining you opening your mouth wide to fit them. it was like a disease; his thoughts revolved around you, jealousy rushing hot through his veins. 

the way his fingers turned harsh, curling deep had your nerves tingling with an excitement that you hadn’t felt in so long, and your tongue flicked out to moisten your lips. he had leaned back, face exposed to the cool air, lower half of his face glistening in the night and the soft backyard lights. he kept you in his gaze, eyes following the movement of your tongue. his other finger joined to take over the featherlight touches to your clit, so in contrast to the filthy way a third finger joined to wedge itself into your cunt. 

he huffed, “look into my eyes.”

suna's eyes were like a maze that drew you in, the way they had from the first night you had found yourself in his bed. it kept luring you in, even when he paused to stand up in one swift move, balance found quickly, chest pressed against yours, his fingers slowing down from the pace you couldn’t keep up with. so close to you, in the familiar embrace, your head came forward instinctually to rest on his shoulder. 

“eyes up. look at me,” he repeated, nudging your head with his shoulder and you lifted it slightly to recapture the storming grey. his eyebrows were slightly furrowed, eyes half-lidded as he drank you in.

their usually sharp lines having softened, yet his voice remained rough, “nobody compares. you fuckin’ get that?”

his touch became more like a caress; the strokes plunging in deep but not with any less of the needy passion. it drew from you trembles, little moans meant for him, his name tumbling from your lips as you asked for another release; the brewing of feelings in your chest accompanying the heat pooling low.

suna’s head dipped low, found your sensitive skin littered with goosebumps and had his tongue brushing over your flesh to taste your scent. his teeth bit down lightly, a sharp canine digging into your skin; a certain intent behind the marking, possessive and pissed off. the pressure of his clothed cock rubbing your stomach had you clinging to him, and when you opened your mouth, amongst tiny mewls leaving your mouth, another inquiry did as well.

“w—what did a—ah-tsumu say to you?”

“who the fuck cares about that guy?”

he inhaled sharply, surprised, his teeth sinking in deeper and harder for a second, and a painful gasp escaped you. immediately, suna ripped his head back at the sound, half an apology in the depth of his eyes, half fogged confusion, a lot of annoyance.

he stilled, because why the fuck were you taking another man’s name into your mouth when he was knuckles deep inside you?

you visibly recoiled from the sharp tone and the way his fingers felt anything but nice anymore, yet when you stepped back, the inner walls of your pussy quivered at the loss, “why are you reacting like that?”

suna knew from the way your hands came up to hug yourself that you felt a little lost, and the way his pruney fingers grew cold, exposed to the air, squeezed his heart. he didn’t want to be apart from you, but when he stepped forward, you stepped back and suddenly, he thought that the jacket wasn’t enough to keep him warm anymore.

something licked at his heart; something ugly and anxious, clawing through his ribcage like something trying to escape a prison, “you don't get that it kind of wasn’t the time?” 

just stop asking. stop caring about that fucking miya guy. why are you so interested in what miya said? just sto—

“it never is the time with you,” another step back, your voice bitter and regretful, and suna had half a mind to try and step forward again, “you know, i didnt come out here to fuck around with you. i was genuinely concerned and there you go again, completely stuffing whatever fucking emotional connection i want to start.”

suna swallowed poison; tongue bitter and words even more so, “i didn't ask for your damn sympathy, alright?”

he was lying. 

sunarin was lying through his goddamn teeth. he wanted your sympathy and more. he wanted you to have the same interest, the same suffocating need for his presence the way he craved yours; so badly that he could vomit. yet you stared at him like he had never made you happy once, and drawing up the same old walls felt safe, a routine he had perfected, felt like something he couldn’t fuck up no matter how much he tried.

he didn’t want to mention atsumu, didn’t want to think that saying his name might prompt you to go look for that guy. because why wouldn’t you? 

you knew atsumu from before, doing god knows what. goddamn it, you weren’t even his.

suna wanted you for himself, wanted you to not even entertain the idea of hearing atsumu express any kind of interest, jest or not, couldn’t bear the idea that you might take the fake blonde up on his offer. 

he couldn’t. he couldn’t. 

he wanted you to never hear that name again, but he supposed that he had a funny way of expressing that. because what escaped his numb lips was not the love confession he yearned to say, but accusation after accusation. because he didn’t know and he needed to know and he couldn’t rest until he knew.

his palm hurt where his nails dug in harshly.

“if you just came out here because you’re scared for your miya fucking shitsumu, don’t bother. you already have his number, no? no need to go through me then.”

suna regretted his words the moment they left his mouth. because he did mention the guy. he did mention the number that would help you bridge the distance. did what he didn’t want to do because jealousy and sorrow and anger swirled in his chest and the gravitational pull of his heart for all negative things was too great. suna hated that he was the reason you looked like you were going to cry. 

he thought he was stupid. he was so goddamn stupid, and he wanted to get back down on his knees and ask you for forgiveness, but when he stepped forward, you took not one but two steps back. 

the silence stretched between you seemed to be more of a measurement of distance, and you were so far away.

“you’re messed up,” is what you replied, quiet, hands rubbing your arms. you wanted to turn around, wanted to leave and curl up because you felt so used, but he stood there with his stupid hoodie, with the stupid slanted eyes that always observed you so sharply, with the stupid glistening of his lips from where his mouth had met your body feverishly; and it was difficult to breathe because he was still the most beautiful guy you had ever met.

you turned around to leave and this time, sunarin didn’t stop you because maybe he did deserve to be alone.

taglist | @takes1

suna rintarou as your bsf that lowk wants you BAD

tags/warning : segsual jokes , mention of drinking , lowk fanon suna but like i’m obsessed

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part 1/part 2/part 3/part 4/part 5

Premise : you’ve been best friends with suna since high school and you both knew that the other doesn’t like commitment. you still want each other tho.

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HOORAY I just read ur bokuto x reader p4 it was really cute :3 sorry havent updated in awhile i got busy with life… but i never forget to keep u in mind 🫶 love ur work as always, very memorable writer to me -🐈🐈‍⬛

[final] bokuto teaching inexperienced!reader

only fitting to respond to you for this last one. ughhh ilysm 🥹😭💕💕

warnings. heavy nsfw, minors DNI

details. fem!reader / first time / soft kissy missionary / safe sex / BIG praise kink!bokuto / himbo!bokuto / sweet, dumb!bokuto / inexperienced!reader / possessive!bokuto / f!rec oral / guided handjob / kuroo's sister!reader / 2.3k words / last installment

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You tilted your head, eyes narrowed a little at the generous, clear bulge in his tiny shorts.

"Can I see it?"

He fisted the sheets in his excitement that you were thinking the same thing, biting his cheek so he didn't shout. Just by the obvious elation on his face, you could tell he was in the process of holding back a million bad responses.

Instead, he let his hands talk, lips crashing against yours all rough and thirsty as he pulled it out. You didn't want his kisses, though-- you grinned as you avoided what you could, so you could see.

Propped up on your elbows, you looked from his vigilant stare, trailing down his sculpted, smooth body down to his cock between your tummies.

It looked heavy.

You quickly learned that it was hot, too, as he guided your palm around it, and used your hand to pump himself. Your heart was racing- it was so weird, and you liked it so much, and he liked it even more.

Bokuto always stood by the idea that 'it always feels/tastes/sounds better when somebody else does it.' The kind of guy to only drink out of other peoples' cups, ask other people to read things out loud to him, massage a part of his shoulder he could get but won't.

While you didn't know what you were doing in the slightest, and he was controlling your pace, even the harsh grip, it still felt 40x better than all the jerking off he usually did.

His tongue got confident, and a bit curious, diving deeper past your teeth. He was just trying in whatever way he could to be inside of you. The weight of his body became more substantial.

You loved feeling his strength falter, his lust heightening, compelling him to get closer.

When he pulled away, he looked a little crazy- like he forgot to smile, or something. It was the nature of his eyes to not look very friendly, but it gave the impression that he was really holding himself back.

"Are- you okay?"

"Just-," He takes a sharp breath, eyes squeezing shut for a second, like he's recalibrating, "Feels really g-ood."

He wasn't prepared in the slightest for the smile you gave him. It was sweet, and prideful, and too cute with his cock in your hand.

That tortured look was back, briefly before he shoved his face in the nook of your shoulder.

"Fuck-! I need you s-o bad," He whined, pitiful, "Are- h-ahh, you ready yet?"

You could try.

With a question like that, asked so sweet, so sugary- you hummed against his hair, not quite understanding what 'ready' meant.

You hardly noticed how he plucked a condom from his shorts, somewhere in the mess of sheets to the left of you- and slid it on between clumsy kisses. Lots of practice must've made the process second nature.

It was difficult, to say the least, adjusting to him. His eagerness was already so spoken for, and you realized too late that you probably did need more time.

Bokuto could feel it too, though.

He could hear it in the thinly-veiled fear, making your voice waver, break, as you asked him to be gentle with you.

"Even if it takes all night," He kissed your nose while you couldn't move away, "I'll wait for ya."

Rough hands, so used to force and recklessness, practiced paying attention through running smooth lines across your skin.

Those hard kisses turned softer, slower, across your jaw and down your throat. He moved at a near imperceptible pace, just to get you accustomed to all of his size.

"Sooo pretty," He whispered to himself, forehead heavy on yours as he closed his eyes, "Fuck..."

The discomfort was just starting to be overshadowed with better, pleasurable, buzz. Your legs were slowly relaxing, a jelly-like feeling that spread from your thighs, squished comfy next to his hips, down to your toes.

Bokuto was capable of deliberate and soft sex. He wasn't always an animal, and he wasn't ignorant to somebody else's needs.

He was just excitable, and stupid. But all he needed was a whisper, a hint, or a reminder sometimes.

You kissed the tip of his nose, a way of telling him you were okay. Your fingers started to rake through his spiky hair, and the little smile on your face waited for him to he open his eyes.

"Shit--," He stole another few kisses from you, "Oh, you're so- mh- you're soo cute."

Between kisses, his tongue lagged, always proceeded by a sharp sigh. Almost like he was struggling to multitask. It made you curious when it started to get more frequent.

"Sh-it--h-ahh--," His curse broke into a shocked whine-- he stalled, deep.

Your higher, cuter sound at how good it felt did nothing to help to bring him down.

You watched him bite his own wrist, a small concern furrowing his brow.

Craving more, and only knowing one way to cheer him up, you rolled your hips up and locked your ankles around him with a squeeze.

"W-ait, waitwaitwait," He seethed, "Ahh- fuck-- stop moving babygirl- stop moving."

The person he looked down at was no longer a shy little nerd, incapable of handling his flirty second nature. Your mouth was curled into a coquettish grin, your pecks soft and affectionate and too much, scattered around his face.

He had to cum so bad that he felt sick. He had to look through you- draw blood to his palm, just to clear his filthy mind.

"Do I really feel that good?" You giggled- beyond flattered by his tortured expression.

There was no beat between the end of your sentence and his hushed response, "Yes."

You knew about vague stereotypes of guys with shitty endurance. You didn't have first-hand experience until you watched his expression shift, swirling, panic and euphoria taking one another over again and again.

He 'ruined' his orgasm by keeping your needs first. He knew you couldn't take what he wanted. His body was like iron, forced motionless, like a statue, except for the rapid, uneven rise and fall of his chest.

It looked like a delicious mix of pained and sexy as he came, almost perfectly still, so he didn't hurt you.

A kind of psychotic, intrusive desire made you tense-- the curious, hungry want to get rid of the condom between you. How much better would that have felt without it?

The sheets groaned, fabric snagging and snapping, under his grip. His body was all flexed up for you to watch. You knew he was trying to keep you in mind, so you didn't try anything too cute until he started relaxing, again.

"Hm-mmph--, fuck--," He groaned, a tremble in his arms as he slowly pulled out.

His exhaustion was short-lived, only manifested in a breathiness in his chuckle.

"Good thing I brought two."

This time you saw him take out a second one- but it wasn't just two. He had a whole row of condoms in his pocket this entire time.

You giggled at how he tore the second one off. What could he have possibly been thinking to bring seven along?

Bokuto harnessed some pornstar-like efficiency, tearing the outside open and pumping the latex onto himself with no waste of energy.

"Y'know," He cocked his head to the side, silly, despite his thumb sliding over your clit, "I've never cum that fast."

"Mmn-h-- Ah- that's- that's good--," You struggled.

A useful thing to know, sure, but it's not like you really cared- he never got soft. It was a non-issue because he was still clearly up for more.

He filled you back up so easy and slow, his thumb prodding stuttery waves of pleasure where there was once pain. He watched it with an air of pride about him. He sat up straighter, focused on where he disappeared into you. He soaked in all your twitching until he got his fill.

Only when he was satisfied did he lean down to his elbows to check on you.

Your had to fill your hands with his perfect muscles, all bouncy and twitchy at how overstimulated you got him. He was huffing, swallowing his groans so he didn't look uncool-- restrained or not, he would've looked just as cute.

He just wanted to fuck you good. For you to remember it well.

"Mmnh-! You're so big-,"

Those giant, fuck-me-harder eyes kept his shoulders tight. His hand was gripping your hip like a vice and bringing you down onto him.

His cock sank deep, a grumbly sound under his quiet, breathy whining-- your breath caught, and you had the brief revelation that you had been missing out on this for so long. How long had they been friends for? Years?

You wanted to make up for all the lost time. You locked your ankles around him for the second time, your hands pulling him back so you could put some hickeys all up and down his thick neck.

Though you had some vague idea that he loved when you hugged him close, you didn't understand the depth in which it turned him on.

It was one of those quick-affirming, sweet and wordless praises that resonated so hard with Bokuto's insatiable need to be validated.

He had to ask. He wanted more, he wanted to hear you.

"That feel good?" His hand cupped your entire jaw, forcing your eyes on his, ever so focused.

Your grip on his forearm was like an ant trying to push over a tree. It would never budge. And when it didn't, it took very little time to realize you actually liked it there. Your reflex did nothing to serve you, but you kept your hand still to prod at the muscle.

The breath you took to answer him was wasted on another moan.

"Ah-h--,"

"I want ya to tell me," His insistence was daunting, but filled with need.

"I--,"

Your nails were digging into his skin, and you were gasping, trying to tell him you were close- but none of it came out properly.

It was all just improper, uncontrollable, unmasked whining.

A bit late, he was witness to your adorable realization that you were cumming. He murmured a small, infatuated, "Aww..."

His lips pressed hard to your temple, and he let you pull him in, offering only the bulk of his shoulder as consolation for his deeper thrusts. It was a taste of what he could give you if only this wasn't your first, if you had been used to him from the start.

An orgasm had never felt so filled out, before. Like it was larger than you, stronger than anything you'd be able to craft on your own, from just your fingers. It was him. His cock, but moreso was his intensity and devotion to getting you there and fucking you all the way through it.

His hand was still cupping the bottom half of your face, but not covering your mouth. God, he wanted the entire world to know how good he made you feel. Especially Kuroo. Fuck that guy for keeping you a secret.

"Good girl, ohh- you did so good," He was slowing, still seeing those last, shallower, mellow waves through with dedication, "Sound sooo pretty."

Those eyes were softer, but still eating you up, savoring you while you were all messy for him.

Were you dating, now? It felt like you had been shot forward about ten years with this guy.

A light buzzing -the muted ring of a phone- was somewhere near you, interrupting your giggly, feel-good vibe. Again, and still just as surprising, Bokuto slowly pulled out of you and made quick work of that second condom.

He patted around the sheets for the source of the sound.

"Oh!"

He let the ringing continue- he had to get his idea out immediately: "That totally reminds me! I should get you a vibrator or something."

Jaw slack, you weren't given the opportunity to respond, before he answered. You lay there, a bit shivery and empty-feeling, as he hugged your thigh over his own.

"Hellooo?"

It was quiet. There was a faint, urgent, tone on the other side.

"Ummmm..."

His fingers tapped against your skin. He was lost in deep thought of how to respond. You were glad you couldn't hear the words being spoken, because you knew it was not going to be a pleasant earful.

"Yeah-... I mean, we were just talking... and... stuff."

Bokuto got droopier. He sank, sitting on his heels, still sitting butt-naked and hugging your thigh. You squeezed one of your blankets to your chest and frowned.

"It's nothing personal, man..."

He held the phone away from his ear as he was verbally berated, a pout making his whole face look cartoonishly sad. It was difficult, on your end, to understand that he could both be super into you and want to stay friends with Tetsurou.

"Would it make it any better iiiif I told you we were dating now?"

Bokuto winced and slid his free hand back and forth over your leg as consolation, for himself.

"Yeahyeahyeah, I gotchu, yeahyeah. Okay'bye," He hung up at the soonest crafted opportunity.

"Soooo," He sighed, distraught, instantly making up any distance between you. He dropped so much weight atop your sore body and covered you like a warm, weighted blanket, that you struggled to get air in your lungs.

"He's... not... happy."

The big dummy on top of you deflated with each word in a dismal decrescendo.

You had to wriggle around to find somewhere to breath from; room for your chest to expand at least a little.

"I thought you knew that?"

Bokuto made a high humming sound, feet kicking in the air, "Mmmmmmyeahhh, kinda, but..."

You freed one arm to wrap around him, so you could play with his hair, "He can't stay mad forever. He'll see that you're not- harmful- I guess, eventually."

He let his brow relax, shoved hard into your shoulder, and took in your new comforting scent.

Part of you couldn't blame your brother for assuming the worst. It took until incredibly recently for you to understand the full scale of Bokuto's fixation.

Despite all his sad body language, he couldn't have been that worried, because he was already back to sly, tongue-centered kisses on your neck.

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APHRODITE ; Osamu x f!reader

He looks down at you, his gaze betraying his words–greedy, lovesick–and you want to live in this moment forever.

contains: f!reader, dilf!Osamu, co-workers, age gap (reader is in her twenties, Osamu in his forties), mutual pining, pet names (all of them. he uses all of them), oral (reader giving), dirty talk, three lines of spit kink bc it wouldn't be a lale-txt work without it, praise kink, whipped Osamu (as in: down bad, adoring)

word count: 2.6k

You shouldn't have these kinds of thoughts. He’s your boss, you remind yourself. 

But admittedly, it’s hard when he’s currently lying under your kitchen sink, his shirt rucked up a little, revealing a sliver of soft skin and a happy trail while he aches and groans. You sit next to his figure on the kitchen floor, never been happier over a leaking pipe in your apartment.

“Hand me the ring wrench, sweetheart,” Osamu mumbles without looking at you, only holding out a calloused hand for you. You love these hands. They’re the hands you watch for hours while working, shaping the perfect onigiri and wondering what they’d feel wrapped around your neck. Sometimes he’d place them against the small of your back when passing by you behind the counter, always lingering a little longer than he had to. Last time he drove you home (he insisted because it was pouring outside), he rested one on your thigh while steering the car with the other.

You’re pretty sure Osamu Miya wants to fuck you badly. You hope he will.

“Doll,” he says again, his voice soft. He knows how often you tend to zone out. You snap out of it and rummage around the toolbox before you, handing him the thing he asked for. 

Look–you haven’t begged him to do this for you. This may be your first apartment you rented by yourself after moving to Osaka for your master program, but you were an independent one. Always have been. You built your own furniture and drilled every hole in the walls yourself. You knew for a fact how to fix a leaking pipe, you just didn’t get around to it yet because you picked up a few extra shifts at your part-time job at Onigiri Miya so you could save up for a new laptop.

But Osamu wants to help–he’s practically begging you to let him. Which is how he ended up on your kitchen floor. 

You’ve been alone with him before. When you were closing the shop together and you imagined how he’d bent you over the counter to violate every food safety regulation to ever exist. When you were the last ones at the bar during last year’s anniversary party, and you thought about stuffing your panties in the pockets of his coat for him to find later. When you spent one night at his place so you could finish a deadline before midnight on his laptop because yours gave out, and you wondered what his stubble would feel against the insides of your thighs if he ate you out. 

Nothing happened and you’ve been growing more frustrated lately. He’s sweet, he’s caring, he’s respectful and you get it. He’s trying to maintain a somewhat professional relationship between you two, especially given your age gap, but some days you wished he’d just let the animal in him run rampage and fuck you stupid against the nearest wall. 

You know he could. You know he’s thinking about it, too.

Ten minutes later he fixed your leaking pipe, but the ache between your thighs persists. He sits up again, so close that your knees are touching in your cramped little kitchen, and gives you a smile that makes your chest tighten with barely contained lust. There’s something boyish about his smile, making it easy to imagine what kind of heartthrob he must have been in his twenties. You gotta ask him about some photos from that time.

He’s still handsome, though. More than that. With his salt-and-pepper hair and the small wrinkles around his eyes, and his big calloused hands, adorned with a few scars from handling knives in the kitchen for over three decades and counting. He’s built differently than his twin, the retired pro-athlete. You’ve met him a few times at the shop. Osamu works out but he also likes to eat, granting him the strength to throw these heavy rice bags over his shoulders as if they weighed nothing. How many times have you imagined him manhandling you like that? You can’t remember. Far too often. 

Osamu wipes the sweat off his forehead and looks at you, lazy half-lidded eyes lingering on your face. He has no idea what kind of effect he has on you. Or maybe he does, but he’s not acting on it which is even more frustrating. 

“Yer hungry? I could fix us a plate,” he offers. Always looking out for you. Always caring. 

“Be my guest,” you reply, nodding over to your fridge. It’s currently stocked with two slices of toast, a cucumber that has seen better days, some leftovers from last week that you haven’t thrown out yet and a half-empty box of orange juice. You usually eat at uni or at work, and lately you’ve been so busy that you haven’t really gotten around to stocking up on things at home. 

Osamu lets out a long sigh when he peaks inside your fridge, one hand on his hip and the other rubbing over his face.

“Sweetheart,” he mutters, his tone a touch condescending, and you laugh quietly. You know this sight pained him more than anything. He looks over his shoulder back at you, his thick brows furrowed. “What is this?”

You rise to your feet as well and take a few steps towards him, firmly shutting the fridge door again.

“None of your business,” you say with a teasing smile to which Osamu huffs. He pats down the pockets of his pants for his phone and then taps the screen a few times. 

“Takeout it is then,” he sighs. This man is determined to feed you at all costs, already adding a few things to the cart. “What d’you want, doll?”

“You.”

Osamu doesn’t lift his head, but his eyes dart up to your face. Pondering if you’re serious or you’re joking. His expression doesn’t betray anything, but the small twitch of his hand and the sight of his pants tightening a little does.

“I want you, Osamu,” you say again, closing the remaining distance between you both. He’s now effectively trapped between you and the counter, and while you know he could easily shove you away–he doesn’t. You lean a little closer to him, your body pressing against his. He swallows and puts his phone aside, taking your face in both of his hands and tilting it up a little to make sure you look at him. You can tell that he’s scratching at the last bits of his self-restraint right now.

“I’m old enough to be your father and—sweetie, you have to stop smiling like that when I say this, goddamn,” he groans and looks away. You’re gonna give him a few more gray hairs, he’s sure of it. His thumbs trace absentmindedly along your jaw, fingers calloused but his touch gentle.

You tilt your head to the side, nuzzling closer into his big palm. His eyes linger on you, as if they’re silently telling you ‘behave’, but no. Of course you have to be a brat about it.

Osamu is a goner when you wrap your lips around his thumb, sucking on it while holding his gaze. 

His chest is heaving with every breath, a muttered ‘fuck’ falling out of his mouth as he pushes his thumb in deeper, pressing down on your tongue and making you open up wide for him. For a moment he thinks about spitting in your mouth, but he’ll save this for later. His cock is throbbing in his jeans, begging for release. 

Osamu has never been a patient man. For you, he tried. But right now you’re tearing him apart with your gaze alone and he lets you. He wants you to.

And now you’re lowering yourself to your knees before him, your nimble hands unbuckling his belt as if they waited a lifetime to do so, and glance up at him with these eyes of yours that make him insane if he looks back at them for too long.

“We shouldn’t,” he mutters. His voice is a little husky and his big hands wrap around yours, forcing them to pause what they were doing. He looks down at you, his gaze betraying his words–greedy, lovesick–and you want to live in this moment forever.

“Doesn’t matter,” you say, nuzzling your face against his clothed bulge and keeping your eyes pinned on him. There’s already a damp spot forming in his pants. “Do you want this?”

Osamu curses under his breath again, but he lets go of your hands and leans back against the counter, watching the smirk on your face widen now that you’re given permission to wreck him. You won’t hold back.

Hot, you think when you unzip his pants, learning that his pubic hair is also salt-and-pepper colored. Your mouth feels a little dry once you pull his pants and boxers down to his ankles, his cock springing free, pulsing and leaking, aching to be touched. It does nothing to ease the throbbing between your thighs, only worsening it, but you know he’ll take care of this for you soon, too. 

You press a few open mouthed kisses to the inside of his thighs, one hand wrapping around his cock and giving it a few slow strokes. Your hand can’t even wrap around his girth fully. He twitches underneath your touch. Osamu cups one side of your face with his hand, as if he can’t go a second without some form of contact, now that you both crossed that line. His breath is labored and his hips buck a little with every little caress of yours. 

“Yer killin’ me,” he sighs, his Kansai dialect becoming more prominent the more aroused he gets. His thumb traces the shape of your lips, coaxing them to open for him, now two fingers pressing in the cave of your mouth till you’re drooling. Your lipstick leaves faint marks on his skin when you trail your kisses up his abdomen. “Fuck, baby…” 

You spit on his cock and Osamu gives himself a few quick strokes. He looks like he’s barely keeping it together, still trying to act well-mannered, as if you weren’t silently pleading with your eyes only for him to wreck you.

He curses again under his breath and bends over till he’s hovering over you, two fingers tipping your chin up. Your first kiss is as messy and hungry as you imagined it to be, licking, biting, sucking till you’re moaning into his mouth and clawing against his thick thighs. There’s a thin string of salvia connecting you when he pulls away again. You briefly wonder if he mentally filed this under ‘proper manners’ too–always kiss your girl adoringly before making her choke on your cock. 

“C’mon now, sweet girl,” he coaxes you, gently guiding you towards his crotch with a hand tangled in your hair. “Be good for me, will ya? So fucking good for me.” His voice is low and hoarse, his cock leaking precum. Both of you know he won’t last long; he’s already on the edge of coming undone just from the sight of you on your knees in front of him.

When you take him down your throat, his head tips back and he lets out the most guttural moan. You show no mercy on him, your tongue swirling slowly around his tip before you swallow him whole. Your nose is nestled in his pubes as you glance up at him to make sure he’s watching, small tears welling up in the corners of your eyes. He collects them with his thumb and smears them mixed with some mascara across your face.

“Attagirl,” he praises you, his cock twitching in your mouth. By now he hasn’t cum yet out of sheer willpower and the desire to see you a little longer like this, as if you’re a fever dream that’s about to vanish the second he spills himself down your throat. 

You run your tongue over a prominent vein and Osamu growls, his knuckles white from how tight he is gripping the counter. Maybe it’s you who is dreaming. Sucking your boss off in your tiny kitchen wasn’t on your schedule when you got up this morning, but you wouldn’t want it any other way. You wonder if he’ll fuck you against the wall next or if he’s gonna have the decency to carry you over to the bed first. Either way you don’t see yourself walking anytime soon after this night. 

As you go on, Osamu’s breath is coming out in small huffs now, his nose scrunched up while he watches his cock disappear between your swollen lips. He never fully allowed himself to think about this, but now that he had you like that–fuck, he’ll never let you go. Yeah, he’s gonna keep you on your knees forever till your body remembers the shape of him. Fuck. 

“Baby… ‘m so close,” Osamu growls, a low warning. He taps your jaw with his fingers again, a sign for you to let go of him. It didn’t strike him as good manners to make an entire mess out of you the first time you blow him, and he wants you to remember him as a decent man (as decent as pining after your half-your-age employee can be). However he underestimated your determination to stubbornly refuse his request, making yourself gag a bit harder on his cock. Osamu’s hips jerk forwards involuntarily and he groans, barely keeping his composure. 

“Fuck,” he cusses under his breath, your hands now on his sides, steading yourself as you take him down your throat, your eyes fluttering up at him. The last bit of his carefully maintained self-restraint snaps. Osamu’s hands now find the back of your head, keeping it steady so you won’t have a chance of pulling back, then he slams his cock hard between your parted lips until you’re whimpering and coughing around his length. “Cumming, baby, ‘m cumming, so fucking tight for me, fuck–” 

He spills himself inside your mouth, the most primal moan leaving his lips. He’s trembling, his hips stuttering, thick cum spurting seemingly with no end, emptying himself into you. It’s dizzying. His breath is labored once he slides his softening cock out of your mouth.

“Shit, ‘m sorry,” he mutters, reaching behind him for a paper towel and dropping to his knees, holding it out for you. He brushes a few strands of hair out of face, trying hard not to think about how much he likes this fucked out expression on you. “Just spit it out, sweetheart. ’s okay. I was a little too rough, hm?”

What Osamu doesn’t expect is you opening up wide, sticking out your tongue. Spotless. 

You swallowed it all. Swallowed everything he gave you. His cock twitches back to life. 

“Little minx,” he growls, cupping your chin and towering over you. He spits in your mouth and watches you swallow it, again. It’s making him feel lightheaded. He should’ve done this sooner, he thinks. Making you take everything he has to offer and more. 

One of his hands wander underneath that flimsy skirt you’re wearing. He finds you dripping. A corner of his mouth twitches up in a lopsided smirk, a hint of something more sinister. His eyes darken a little. You mewl when he pushes your soaked panties aside to run a finger between your slit before bringing it to his lips, tasting you. You’re even sweeter than he imagined.

Oh, he’s gonna devour you. 

“Sweetheart. Be a good girl and spread your legs.”

a/n: osamu loving demon possessed me idk. i usually don't write part twos for my oneshots but for this one i could be sweet talked into it

omg hi eumy could u do rating the pet names u call him with atsumu pls pls pls ily 🤍🤍

MIYA ATSUMU ✰ RATING THE PET NAMES YOU CALL HIM: A THREAD

SEUMYO © 2024, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

I want one – Suna x reader wc 491 – f!reader

When babysitting Osamu’s twins for a weekend, you had expected Suna to get a little baby fever. You hadn’t spoken about children in a while, but you both love it when cute kids come up on your nightly TikTok scroll and both agreed you wanted them eventually.

Osamu’s twins were adorable and you felt the baby fever heating up only on the first day.

What you didn’t expect was for Suna to rush into the bathroom where you were brushing the girl’s teeth, the boy under his arm and a bright grin on his face. “These are amazing, I want one. No, I want four.”

You blinked at him, the little girl by your side doing the same in confusion.

Suna made an incredulous sound and pointed at her. “Those too!”

Your jaw dropped and you covered the poor girl’s ears as a joke, using a nod of your head to gesture to the boy in Suna’s arms. “What did he do? Also, why are you carrying him around like a sack of rice?”

The boy held up a Hot Wheels car and shrugged his shoulder as best as he could. “We were just playing with my toys.”

When the twins had gone to bed, you found Suna in the kitchen doing a pretty bad job with the dishes. Clearing your throat made him look over his shoulder and speak his mind. “Is eight too many?”

You snickered and snuck your arms around his waist, leaning your cheek on his muscular back. “Definitely. Maybe three?”

Suna sighed and shook the water off his hands, seemingly deciding to leave the rest of the dishes for now. “Can you imagine helping our own daughter brush her teeth? She looks like both of us and either takes after our hobbies or loathes them?” he ranted, using his hands to gesture in the most nonsensical way.

The thought made your heart flutter, actually taking the time to consider that image. “She’ll be such a brat, being your daughter.”

“She’ll be so cool!” he exclaimed in presumed agreement. “And imagine our son, he would gather blackmail on his iPad and use it to make his sister help him out of trouble. That’s what I did at least.”

“Both will be brats.”

His shoulders started slowly sinking into their normal hunch as the enthusiasm lulled. “I want to make humans with you and see who they turn into. Watch them grow and make terrible decisions while figuring themselves out. I want to be there for them in a way I can’t when I’m just borrowing Osamu’s.”

You caressed his cheek, letting your thumb graze his cheekbone comfortingly. “You are such a weirdo. And our kids will be even weirder.”

“All eight.”

“All three,” you corrected him.

“Three sets of twins.”

“Slow down cowboy, one at a time.” He looked at you with so much adoration, until his eyes turned more mischievous.

“One at a time. Let’s start right away.”

masterlist

this is entirely self-indulgent.

👀

Can you please do a nickname rating for Iwaizumi and/or Sakusa?

If you're not taking requests right now please ignore 🙏

These threads are AMAZING btw. I'm BINGING for MY SOUL ❤️

SAKUSA KIYOOMI ✰ RATING THE PET NAMES YOU CALL HIM: A THREAD

NOTE. Thank youu! These threads are so fun to make <33

SEUMYO © 2024, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

BACKSEAT GIRL ; Atsumu x f!reader

As if he’s trying to memorize every dip and curve of your body, the shape of your soul. As if he doesn’t mold you like molasses underneath his fingertips, perpetuating his name into your being.

contains: f!reader, friends to lovers vibes, college au, mutual pining, heavily suggestive (hence me not tagging anyone from the gen taglist for this i'm sorry), non-sexual nudity (bathing together), no plot just one thousand words of atsumu miya being touch-starved

word count: 1.3k

You didn’t plan on taking him home.

But the words he murmured against the shell of your ear were a little too sweet and his kisses were a little too hungry; and maybe you’ve also dreamt a little too often about Atsumu Miya nudging your legs apart to slot himself between them while he pushes you against the nearest wall–until it all wasn’t a dream anymore. 

It feels forbidden. As if you’re not supposed to know what it feels like to run your fingers over the shaved part of his neck. Or how his canine teeth graze the skin on the side of your neck, leaving trails of faint red marks. Or the way his muscles flex when you slip your hands underneath his shirt to feel him closer. 

He’s just a guy who sits in front of you in class. Someone who occasionally asks you for a pencil or your notes just so he has a reason to turn around to you, who nudges your feet with his underneath the tables when you push them together for group work, who finds a lame excuse to linger behind when you’re too slow with packing up your bag after class, just so he can walk to the cafeteria together with you. 

Atsumu shouldn’t be here; with his hair still a little damp from the shower and naked from the waist up in your bed, in your arms. He’s like a weighted blanket on top of you, his face hidden in the small space between your neck and your shoulder, his hot breath fanning across your skin. Your fingers are tangled in his hair, giving it a slight tug whenever his shameless fingers dip underneath the waistband of your shorts, followed by an airy laugh against your collarbone. 

Just a kiss, you told yourself earlier in that dark corner you both found yourself in, his broad back shielding you from the eyes of anyone else at the party. It was as if he wanted you just for himself, something so easy to brush off as greedy. But there’s something else luring underneath the surface, underneath the carefully composed mask of brazenness he wears so well. You couldn’t figure out what it was, too dizzy from his kisses and his hands roaming your body, but now in the dim light and quiet of your bedroom you can see it so clearly. 

Atsumu is touch-starved.

It shows. There is his hand on the small of your back when he leads you outside through the crowd of people. His fingers interlaced with yours in the back of the cab after he reached over you to secure your seatbelt for you. The stolen kisses during the elevator ride up to your floor and the scowl on his face when the elevator door opened, interrupting you too soon. Him kneeling in front of you while he helps you out of your heels, nimble fingers brushing over your ankle before loosening the clasp for you. The love-drunk expression he gives you when you grab his chin between two fingers, tilting it up so he’d look at you. 

As if he’d ever take his eyes off you to begin with. 

Not when he unzips the back of your dress till it slips to the floor with a soft thud. Not when you push him towards the bed, his hands catching your hips to pull you on top of him. Not when you unbuckle his belt, his fingers digging in the flesh of thighs, his chest heaving with every breath you draw out of him. 

For someone who has never learned how to shut up in his entire life, Atsumu turns into a needy, whining mess underneath you. All coherent words seem to slip from his mind as badly as his self-composure. It’s like he’s pleading for your touch, to feel more of you, to have you fully, wholly, deeply. His hands grasp every part of you he can reach, sometimes gentle, mostly insatiable, always with utter adoration. As if you’re a dream that’ll crumble between his fingers when he blinks.

You bathe together afterwards–or you try, at least. It’s the night you learn that your bathtub is a little too cramped to hold you and someone of Atsumu’s size, but you make it work somehow with your back pressed against his chest, nestled between his legs, his hand splayed out over your stomach. His idle fingers draw small patterns against your skin and every now and then he leans down to press kisses against your shoulder, a low sound of affection rumbling in his chest when he does. 

He washes your hair for you even though you didn’t ask him to, slender fingers working through every bit of tension in your scalp. Part of you believes he does it just so he can charm out more of these sweet little sounds from you that he seems to love so much, but then he tips your head back to kiss you upside down, smiling against your lips, and you think that maybe you’re not the only one who has fallen in love a long time ago.

Atsumu holds perfectly still when you dry off his hair with a towel. He sits on the edge of the bathtub, legs spread to make room for you standing between them. Looking down, you try hard not to think about how he had you grinding against his thick thighs earlier but to be fair it’s impossible to forget how that made you feel, the pulsing still present. There’s his grin again and your stomach does a little flip. I love having you like this, Atsumu murmurs and tugs you closer to him by your waist before trailing countless kisses up from your stomach to the valley of your chest, honey colored eyes never leaving yours. 

As if he’s trying to memorize every dip and curve of your body, the shape of your soul. As if he doesn’t mold you like molasses underneath his fingertips, perpetuating his name into your being. 

If Atsumu was a braver man he’d tell you all about the way you make his heart stumble. How the thought of you being with anyone else makes his chest coil and tighten. That only you allow him a calmness so unfamiliar it scares him sometimes. But the words are stuck in his throat and just won’t come out.

Not yet. Not when it’s you.

Because with you everything is different. With you his prideful heart unravels so easily, finding shelter in your palms. You give all of his touch a meaning, as if everything before you was just hollow. Golden, he thinks. Your love feels golden. Shining bright like a hundred suns, igniting a flame within him. Atsumu has long fallen for you without even realizing it. He gets it now, sees it so clearly when you smile at him; that it’s you. It’s always been you. 

You both don’t bother getting fully dressed after your bath–there’s this unspoken unanimity that you won’t need these clothes for too long. Atsumu carries you over to the bed despite your protests, your laughter mingling with his when he drops you unceremoniously on the mattress and crawls on top of you again, half-crushing you underneath him. It’s a sound he wants to hear forever, paired with your playful shoves against his shoulder and your huffs and puffs, as if you didn’t hook your leg around his middle to keep him close to you. He kisses the side of your neck again, wondering where else he can leave his mark, and what waking up with you will feel like, and just how these three words will taste like once you lick them off his lips.

Ambrosial, he thinks. Just like you.

a/n: starting the year with an atsumu fic was not on my bingo card but here we are. @nekozaki hi ily this is mostly for you my liege

Sunshine

small pregnancy mention. boyfriend!kiyoomi part III!!

There’s a feminine voice coming from the bathroom when Atsumu enters his hotel suite.

“Don’t you think you’re being just a little over dramatic?”

There’s a light sound of clanking when he sets his overnight bag to the side, water running and the sound of fizzling foam. Sakusa’s feet make shadows under the door as Atsumu creeps closer, and shallows his breathing to effectively eavesdrop.

“No.” He huffs like he’s pouting, and the voice giggles. “I’m gonna die here, you know. I hate sharing a room.”

“Mmh.” You hum. “Does that apply to me?”

“You’re different.”

Atsumu gapes a little.

There’s… no way Omi’s gone and found himself a girlfriend. No way. I mean, sure, his body’s a ten but-

“You’ll live, baby. I promise.” Your voice breaks a little from the wavering reception of the hotel suite. “Plus, Miya’s your friend. Better him than anyone else, huh?”

Sakusa huffs. “Yeah, but he’s a pig. At least Shoyo-kun knows not to leave his dirty socks laying around.”

Atsumu grins. He didn’t disagree! Before furrowing again. Wait, he calls him Shoyo-kun?

“Doesn’t that guy also stay up till like 3am? I remember you being really grumpy about that last time you shared a room.”

Wait, last season?

“Yeah.” Sakusa sighs, and there’s a rush of water that muffles him for a moment. Muted voices cottoned by white noise and Atsumu nearly starts to back away when the water finally stops.

“I miss you so much.” He hears clear as day, but even then Atsumu debates if he imagined it.

“I miss you too, Omi.” You sigh, a faint rustling hissing through his speaker. “It’s just three days. Then I’ll be all over you again.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

Atsumu blows out a breath through his nose. This is definitely his girlfriend. He’s never heard Omi speak like this to anybody. - And he’s seen him with his mom before. Hearing Omi talk so sweetly almost makes him feel like his brain is making it up, and he’s all but pressing his head against the door just to be sure that this is a real thing.

“‘You eaten yet by the way? I can send you some money so you can-“

“I’ve eaten, baby, yes.” You chuckle. “What is your deal? Money’s not a love language, you know. - My friends think you’re my sugar daddy.”

“I’m a pro athlete.” He says frankly. “And I don’t like seeing you spend your hard earned cash when you could be spending mine.”

“What’ll be the point of me working then?”

“Exactly, quit your job.” And the way he says it has you full out laughing.

“You know, if you’re gonna turn me into a housewife, I’d like to see a ring first.”

Sakusa’s voice sounds muffled under a towel when he retorts. “That can be arranged.”

You guffaw this time, a little airy, a little ugly. “Yeah? Well the sooner you get home the sooner you can make an honest woman outta me. Hell, next thing I know you’ll have me barefoot and pregnant.”

“Don’t just say things like that, I can’t get off with Atsumu in the same room as me.”

“Goodbye, Kiyoomi.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” And the desperation in his friend's voice nearly inclines him to audibly scoff in disbelief. This guy’s really hooked, huh?

“Yeah, sunshine?”

“I love you.”

Atsumu starts to choke on his spit.

Laptop

guys...

:(

soft!tsukki who after a long day, comes home and just plops down on top of you, completely encasing you in his arms, and refuses to let you get up.

soft!tsukki who watches movies he thinks are stupid, and shows he hates just so he can something to talk to you about.

soft!tsukki who makes you where his jersey to all of his games, and kisses you right after. In front of everyone, though he pretends to hate PDA.

just... just soft!tsukki :(

u can run but u can hide

cw. ghostface!suna x fem!reader, pet names, smut, little non-con if u pay attention, established relationship at the end, english isn’t my first language.

wa. 2,7k

It was close to 10 p.m. when I went down to the kitchen to make some popcorn. My parents went on a trip and left me home alone. It was common for nights like this to happen, as they always traveled for work.

I put the butter and corn in the popcorn maker and turned on the stove at the same time as the landline in the living room started ringing. The phone was maintained by my parents' work, because let's face it, nobody still uses a landline these days.

“Hello?”

“Hello, who is it?” a thick voice asked on the other end of the line.

“Who are you trying to reach?”

“What number is this?”

“What number are you trying to reach?” I replied.

“I don't know.”

“Well, I think you have the wrong number, then” I spoke simplistically.

“Do I?”

“Yeah, it happens.” I shrugged, even though the person couldn't see me, and hung up the phone without waiting for an answer. I turned to go back into the kitchen when the phone rang again.

“Yeah, I guess I really did call the wrong number.” It was the same voice.

“So why did you call again?” I asked, with a laugh.

“To apologize.”

“You're forgiven. Bye.”

“Wait, don't hang up!” The person exclaimed.

“Huh? Why not?”

“I want to talk to you for a minute.”

“Well, you have plenty of other numbers for that.” I said with a smile, hanging up the phone.

The popcorn had left a delicious aroma in the kitchen and my mouth was already watering. I was stirring the popcorn popper, waiting for the corn to stop popping, when my cell phone rang. It was a private number, so I had no idea who it was, but I answered anyway.

“Hello?” I asked as I looked for a bowl to put my popcorn in.

“Why don't you want to talk to me?”

“Okay, who is it?”

“Tell me your name and I'll tell you mine.”

“Um, no, I don't think so.” I rested my cell phone on my neck to get the popcorn out of the pot.

“What's that noise?”

“Popcorn.”

“Um, I only eat popcorn at the movies.”

“Well, I'm going to watch a movie now.”

“Yeah? What movie?”

“Oh it's just some scary movie.”

“A scary movie? Interesting” the person on the other end of the line paused and I could hear his heavy breathing “What's your favorite scary movie?”

“Oh, I don't know...” I pondered a bit, leaning on the kitchen counter, popping some popcorn in my mouth “I think… Scream.”

“It's the one with the masked killer, isn't it?”

I mumbled an "uh-huh", wanting to end the conversation

“So, do you have a boyfriend?” The person asks.

“Why? Do you want to ask me out on a date?” I asked mischievously, with a laugh.

“Maybe. Do you have a boyfriend?”

“Mm, no.”

“You never told me your name.”

“Why do you wanna know my name?”

“‘Cause I wanna know who I’m looking at.” the person stopped talking and I remained silent, a shiver ran through my body and the joke was no longer funny. “Are you used to being alone at home, y/n?”

“Who's talking?” I asked seriously this time.

“Calm down, there's no need to get nervous” the person spoke with an annoying calmness “You see, it's important to lock all the doors when you're home alone, especially at this time of night. Are you sure everything is locked, y/n?”

“It's not funny anymore. You know I can call the police if you carry on with this silly little game, don't you?” I checked the front door and the door to the living room that led to the garden and both were locked.

“Yeah? And what would you say to the police? Although... I don't think it's a good idea to call the police, sweetheart, especially given the clothes you're wearing, right? You know how disgusting these guys can be.”

I swallowed, going up to the second floor.

“And what am I wearing?” I asked. It was probably just some weirdo trying to prank and scare me. From school, maybe. But even so, I checked the glass doors leading to the balcony, just to be sure.

“Um, let's see... You're wearing a black tank top, and apparently you're not wearing a bra since your nipples are marked on the fabric, and a... what is that? A pair of panties? Shorts? I can't tell the difference, but it's short, black and has a kitten print.” My heart was pounding out of my chest and I wouldn't be surprised if it jumped out “You're quite a sight, y/n.”

“Right, end of joke. I'll call the police.” I ended the call and went to my room. Of course I wouldn't call the police for that.

A cold wind blew in through the open window, chilling my bare legs. I hurried to close it and locked it out of conscience just as I heard a noise in the hallway, only to stick my head out and see nothing. I jumped with a gasp when my cell phone rang again, but fortunately, this time it was my mother.

“Hi babygirl, how are you?” she asked softly and I relaxed at hearing her voice.

“Hey, Mom! I’m okay, how are you?” I lied, I wasn't going to worry my parents on account of some unoccupied weirdo.

“We're fine!” I heard my father shouting "I love you, baby!" in the background and my mother's laughter “I called to see if everything was okay, you're not scared, are you?”

I laughed nervously “Of course not! I'm a big girl, I can stay at home on my own!”

“Huuumm okay, Mrs. Grown-up” we laughed “Make sure you go to sleep soon, huh? Don't stay up till dawn.”

“Yes, ma'am!” We laughed some more and said goodbye.

I was able to relax a bit more and went down to the kitchen to get my popcorn. I went upstairs and turned off the downstairs lights that were on and returned to my room, putting the movie on the TV and lying down on the bed.

[…]

I was almost halfway through the movie, about forty minutes in, when I heard a noise, a kind of thump. I instantly remembered the phone call from earlier, which had really scared me. I decided to ignore it, it must have been the wind knocking something over in the garden or something. I played the movie and snuggled into bed, my popcorn bucket long since empty. But, as my peace wasn't lasting long tonight, I began to hear heavy footsteps in the hallway. I stopped the movie immediately. I tried to convince myself that it was nerves about the phone call that must have been in my head, or even the influence of the movie, but it was too real to be in my head. The footsteps were firm, they didn't seem to want to go unnoticed. A thick, loud voice said "toc, toc" followed by two knocks on my door. I froze, paralyzed on the bed.

“Cat got your tongue, y/n?” it was the same voice from the phone, I knew for sure.

“What are you doing in my house?! How did you get in here?” I asked nervously.

“Come on, I told you it was dangerous to leave the doors unlocked, didn't I?” the guy said, in the same calm, irritating tone of voice.

“Everything was locked, you weirdo!”

“Are you sure?” the door handle began to turn slowly and my body moved on its own towards the closet.

I hid among my clothes, crouching on the floor. I was panting and shaking, tears in the corners of my eyes. I heard the door creak open and footsteps entered my room. I mentally cursed myself when I realized that I had left my cell phone on the bed. Now would be a good time to call the police.

“Do you want to play hide and seek?” he said, laughing before continuing: “All right, it's more interesting that way.”

I heard him open the door to my bathroom and I could see when he turned the light on through the crack in the door. I also heard him open the drawer of my dressing table and play the movie on the television, even though he had turned the volume down.

My heart was pounding loudly and I was afraid he could hear it, so I put my hand over my mouth to stop my panting coming out too loud. I watched as he opened the closet door. He was a tall guy. All black pants, shirt and boots and a white ghost mask preventing me from seeing his face. The fucking ghostface. He rummaged through some hangers, making space between the clothes. My heart beat even faster, he'll find me. He'll find me!

“Boo!” he made space at once between the clothes covering me, a sadistic laugh coming from beneath his mask.

[…]

“What do you want?” I asked in a tearful voice, sniffling.

He laughed: “Let's watch the movie.”

What?!

I looked at him paralyzed, still crouched on the floor of my closet, and he left, sitting on my bed.

“Aren't you coming?” he turned to me, as if waiting for me. I got up from the floor, walking slowly over to him and sitting on the bed on top of my legs. He shook his head in denial, clicking his tongue. “Come here, sit down.” he patted his own lap.

I swallowed and looked at him incredulously, even though I couldn't see his face. I stood up and faced him. With surprising speed, he turned me onto my back and whispered against the back of my neck: “Do you know what a safe word is, y/n?” I nodded “Yours is mercy, you'll use it if you need to.”

His big an cold hands gripped my thighs firmly from behind.

“Bent forward and your head on the floor.” he ordered, his voice firm.

I did as he asked, sat on his lap, my clitoris almost brushing against his scratchy jeans, I was hanging off the bed, my torso stretched out and my face almost touching my white fur rug.

“What do we have here?” he said, and even though I couldn't see his face, I could tell he was smiling.

He pulled my pajama shorts aside, the chilly air in the room making my pussy clench around nothing, since I wasn't wearing any panties. He ran one of his fingers between my outer lips, realizing right there that I was wet.

“Did the fright I gave you make you wet, sweetheart? What a pervert...” he pulled my shorts down my legs with a little difficulty due to the position, hooking my ankles around his waist.

His hands roamed up and down my thighs, his thumbs hooking into the curve of my ass. I was all open for him, open and dripping.

“So pretty, babe” his voice was nothing more than a whisper, followed by a slap on my ass. It burned.

One more.

One more.

One more.

My thighs trembled from the slaps and my pussy throbbed and ached from lack of stimulation. I moved my hips down, my clitoris rubbing against his jeans, and I let out a louder moan than I expected.

“Owwn” he laughed “Does that pussy need something, pretty girl?”

I gasped when his icy thumb brushed under my clitoris.

“Come on, beautiful, I asked you a question. Don't be rude.”

“I...” I was dizzy. Maybe because I was horny, maybe because of my position and my blood was rushing to my head. I was nothing but a mess.

“Looks like someone here likes to be scared” he laughed as he rubbed my swollen clit.

I moaned, unconsciously leaning towards him for more contact as his palm slapped my pussy, the pain reverberating throughout my body. He slapped my ass again, my skin was hot and burning.

“Your pussy looks even prettier when your ass is red, that’s funny” but his tone had no humor in it.

When the seventh slap came, I let out a yelp, scrambling to my feet in a failed attempt to ward off the pain burning my skin. He laughed at my attitude, stroking my burning ass. Each time he slammed into me, the momentum pushed me further and further down, rubbing my clit against his jeans, which were probably already stained with my lubrication. Those flashes of pleasure were what kept me there, the pain and pleasure turning me on even more.

“Come on, babe, do you want to cum already?” he asked in a whisper, leaning down.

I turned my crying face to the side, trying to see his figure: “Yes! I... Please!” I was nothing but a humiliating mess who just wanted some relief.

“Very well, then” he pulled my torso to himself, my back against his hard and warm chest, my battered ass pinching under his scratchy jeans.

“You okay, babe? Do you want to use your word?” he asked, his hot breath hitting my cheek. I denied it. He smiled. “That's my good girl.”

He laid me on the bed, my back on the mattress, while he lay on top of me. He ripped off my top with ease, my nipples erect from arousal and the chilly air in the room welcoming them. He tugged on my right nipple with his forefinger and thumb, twisting it and pulling it upwards, eliciting a moan from me. He left a kiss on my belly and started to undress, without taking off his mask yet. His chest was white and toned, with a few spots here and there, as were his thighs. His cock wasn't thick, but it was long and slightly curved upwards. The little pink head was leaking pre-cum and had a prominent vein at the base. I sighed at the sight.

“Enjoying the view, doll?” he asked, head tilted to the side, sliding his right hand in a slow masturbation. I tipped my head back, biting my lip with a stifled laugh. You bet I am. “Come here, sweetheart.”

He said slyly, pulling me up by my ankles and slowly inserting his cock into my needy pussy.

“Oh fuck” I moaned, sinking my head into the sheets. My insides trembled around his cock, feeling full. He sighed heavily above me, muffled by the mask.

He moved his hips back, taking his cock out completely, to shove it in again with force. He did this a few times before he started thrusting hard. I moaned loudly, too sensitive. My pussy was squeezing his hard cock and my clit was throbbing, my ass was burning against the sheets. I brought two fingers to my clit to stimulate it, but they were soon removed and replaced by his.

He rubbed my swollen spot hard with his thumb while I squeezed my nipples. The familiar pressure felt extremely good from my womb.

“Fuck, I'm going to cum!” I exclaimed as I felt my orgasm coming, and he increased the pace of his thrusts, driving deep into my pussy.

My legs trembled as the orgasm hit me and I opened my mouth in a silent moan. He penetrated me a few more times, prolonging my orgasm as he deposited his hot cum inside me.

“Fuck!” he exclaimed as he removed his mask, kissing me for the first time that night, a delicate kiss. I laughed against his lips. “You perverted little thing!” he laughed, slapping my sensitive ass, not so hard this time.

“Rin, babe! That was awesome!” I kissed him with so much love.

“You naughty naughty girl!” he laughed, biting my lower lip as he pushed his oozing cum back into my pussy.

“Yeah and you like it!”

Well, let's see what a coincidence. The weirdo Mr. Ghostface who broke into my house and fucked me happened to be my boyfriend, Suna. He and I always like to do something different when it comes to sex from time to time, and knowing that his naughty girlfriend was a little scared and horny about ghostface and that she'd be home alone all night, he wanted to surprise me. Besides, I would recognize my boyfriend's voice on the phone, which only increased my anxiety and excitement about what he would do that night. And what a good surprise it was!

I've been a fan of Haikyuu for like 4-5 years now and I wanna know if Kenna's gamer name is kozuken or kodzuken ?? I always assumed it was the first one because it's for his name kozume kenma and from this manga piece

but like everywhere else like his fandom profile and fanfics and stuff all spell it with a 'd' but why did y'all start putting it like that ?? i don't understand where it came from and it bothers me 😭😭

someonehelpplz :(

alternatively:

*pulls out Ouija Board*

*during a truth or dare game*

Hinata: I dare Y/N to prank call their dad

Y/N, taking out their phone: really? Ok

Y/N: hey siri, call dad

Siri: calling 'daddy'

Y/N, panicking: OH NO STO-

*Asahi's phone rings*

Asahi, blushing: ₒₕ

self indulgent, but read if you want

𖤐⋆. ࿐࿔

"i don't want to stay here." you said.

"where do you wanna go?" he asked.

"i wanna leave somewhere far away. somewhere where no one would find us. it'd just be us two."

"..." something happened, huh.

"hey, you know what?" he said, with a glint in his eye.

"hm?"

"run away with me, won't you?"

Me as soon as the fic mentions “Y/N” only for it to be described as an OC, being extremely submissive and childish or uses some dumbass pet-name like “puppy”🥀🥀

THIS IS SO GOOOODDD PART 2 WHENN 😢😢

WHAT AM I TO YOU?

♥︎ ﹑ SEMI EITA

she’s always been in love with him, he’s always been in love with her. does any of that change when he goes on tour? main masterlist ♡ haikyuu masterlist ♡ more haikyuu

CW. language, crude humor, ignore dates, angsty CRED. divider by aozui, png by cravinganescape

this was a request! want to send one in?

planned this awhile ago after iris’ request but I’ll take any chance to plug a moot even if it’s via coincidence, for more band au esque semi head over to meeya’s blog !! ♡

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haii!! my name is lori or riri!! (any pronouns)

i am 8teen ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´-

i plan to post haikyuu based content (small oneshots, hcs, etc etc)

baii!!! ^3^

I might end it omg

I’m looking for a specific suna x reader oneshot where basically after suna drives the reader back home he brings them inside and takes their makeup off for them and stuff and I can’t find it ARGH

I know at one point reader says something about how they remember when suna called them a pretty girl or something and it was the first time they felt like he meant it. JUST HELP ME I CANT FIND ITTT

(Also sorry for using the tags to get attention, I just need this oneshot so bad I can’t find it 💔)

⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡perfect ✧｡٩(ˊᗜˋ )و✧*｡

Your fav fucking you until you cry and then handing you one of your stuffies for comfort. While continuing to fuck you as you cry.

I-I 🤭

i know ft kiyoomi

warnings: fem!bodied reader, dirty talk, public indecency, mentions of bondage, unedited.

“kiyo would you rather fuck someone wearing a black dress or a white one?”

sakusa lifts his eyes from his phone, fixing you with an incredulous look.

“why are you asking me that in the middle of a very public dressing room, which i’m probably not even supposed to be in right now?”

“it’s literally 2pm and the store is practically empty kiyo. besides, i doubt the workers are paid enough to care anyway.”

“that’s not what i asked.”

rolling your eyes, you push the door of the dressing room open further, revealing the short, white dress you had on.

“i haven’t been laid in such a long time, and i have a good feeling about this weekend. i wanna make sure i look, y'know, fuckable or something.”

a muscle in sakusa’s jaw twitches as he glances over the dress, still leaning against the wall opposite to your dressing room, phone clutched in hand.

“okay, first of all fuckable isn’t a real word. secondly, what sort of bastard are you dating who’ll decide if he likes you based on your dress?”

pressing your lips together you squint at him, walking forward to grab his arm.

“ki-yo-omi, it’s not that deep, just tell me if you would rather fuck someone in a white dress or a black one.”

“if it’s someone i’m interested in, their clothing would not matter.”

hiding a grin, you shake your head slightly. your best friend really was leagues apart from most men you had met.

“okay so the white one then?”

shrugging, sakusa straightens, slipping his phone into the pocket of his dark slacks. “get whatever dress you want, if you’d like i could buy you both.”

“kiyo, just say you wouldn’t fuck me next time,” you whine, “stop avoiding the question.”

a hand catches your wrist as you turn to go back to change your clothes, sakusa’s fingers warm against your skin.

“i never said i wouldn’t fu- i wouldn’t have sex with you. stop putting words into my mouth.”

“fuck kiyo, fuck me. say it properly c'mon, we’re not kids anymore.”

scowling he lets go of your hand, “don’t be a brat.”

“oh yeah? and what are you going to do about it?”

you hear him scoff as you move to close the door, only to have the door be pushed back and find yourself pushed against a mirrored wall, the door clicking closed behind sakusa.

“kiyo, what the hell-”

“you think i don’t want to fuck you? you think i don’t fantasize about tying you up and making you beg for me?”

he moves closer, pressing a hand to the mirror beside your head, the other hand slipping inside your dress to grip your hip.

“do you have any idea what you do to me? how i feel like a complete caveman, devoid of any sense of rationality every time you show up in those little skirts? all i can ever think of is how much i want to flip them up and fuck you until you cry.”

you whimper, pussy clenching around nothing as sakusa’s lips brush against yours’, his thumb lazily stroking hipbone.

“every time you come whining about how some boy couldn’t make you cum, or left you unsatisfied, all i can think of is how i could make you cum without even making you take any clothes off- how i could make you cream around my dick so many times.

your lips part, as you moan, sakusa’s fingers now slipping into your soaked panties.

fingers lightly tracing your pussy, he sighs into the crook of your neck.

” i would fuck you in each and every one of your dresses.“

your eyes slide shut as he presses down your throbbing clit, head hitting against the mirror with a thud.

however instead of continuing, he moves away, "i’ll pay for both dresses and meet you outside, i’m sure he’ll fuck you regardless.”

MASTERLIST

| requesting rules: i don’t have many, just that we respect the time it takes to write and such!! i also love when people come in my inbox to discuss my socmeds so please do so! also just to drop in and say hi of course :)

| i’m willing to write nsfw but only for character above 18. in haikyuu if it involves nsfw it is always timeskip.

HAIKYUU

| kageyama tobio

| oikawa tooru

| miya atsumu

| miya osamu

| iwaizumi hajime

| hinata shoyo

| suna rintarou

| ushijima wakatoshi

| akaashi keiji

| kenma kozume

| kuroo tetsurou

| semi eita

| bokuto koutarou