kiyoors

[kiyoors]

hinata who jumps in front of kiyoko despite being scared shitless when he sees she's being bothered by two guys who are twice his height. hinata who walks yachi to the bus after practice even though he just got his ass handed to him by tanaka. hinata who plays volleyball with his younger sister and inspires her passion later in life. hinata who sees past kageyama's greatest fear and doesn't think he's scary or conceited. hinata who reignites asahi's love for volleyball with an earnest promise he'll see the other side of the net. hinata who brings out a competitiveness in kenma and doesn't find his shy personality unnerving. hinata who is genuine in all he does and meets people where they are. hinata who has a heart of gold.

[kiyoors]

i had such a profound thought about mattsun lazily circling my clit in adoration i had to sit down

18+

"issei—"

your top teeth graze your bottom lip before sinking in, toes curling as you try not to tremble at the lick of pleasure that stutters down your throat.

you feel the weight of matsukawa's cheek as he rests his head against your inner thigh, dark curls tickling the tender, soft skin there as his eyes find yours, a small smile perched on his lips.

"mm?"

his breath is hot on the exhale, curling like smoke against the damp slick between your legs. you shift slightly at the sensation, and a near-silent huff of amusement leaves his nose.

bright morning sunlight filters in through the curtains. it's hardly seven, and the sheets are already twisted into the pattern of matsukawa's hips rocking into yours.

you can feel the sticky remains of his cum as he slides his thumb through your folds before dragging the pad back up to your clit. he looks almost serene as he watches the path his hand takes, pillow-mussed hair falling over his eyes, and he smiles as he presses an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh while he draws slow, wet circles against your tender, swollen bundle of nerves.

"i can't—" you breathe out.

with your cunt still fluttering from the stretch of his cock, the lazy, unhurried way he's playing with your clit is almost too much after the two orgasms he's already wrung out of you.

"i know, baby," he murmurs as he shifts forward, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your swollen, tender bud.

you gasp, cunt clenching around nothing as his tongue laves at your clit, hot and wet with just enough pressure to have tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

matsukawa pulls off of your cunt with a slick pop, and you want to whimper at the warmth that blooms in your chest under the weight of his gaze as he eases his thumb into your cunt, traps your clit between two fingers, and watches you come apart for him one more time.

[kiyoors]

when your brows bunch up when you're concentrating or frustrated sae rubs it away with his thumb every time....he's also the type to remind you to unclench your jaw and rub the tension out of your neck with one hand while he sits next to you.....

[kiyoors]

bro you better shut the fuck up before i look at you one day and feel warm and realize i’ve fallen in love with you bro. im serious quit it dude

[kiyoors]

I feel like Kageyama is the type to casually and randomly reveal that he has a girlfriend to his teammates. Everyone’s engaging in boys’ locker room talk after a good game, some guy on the Japan team talking about the girls he scored at a nightclub last night. Soon enough, everyone’s joining in and leaving poor Kageyama out because they don’t think he’d relate to them getting laid💀

i wholeheartedly believe that kageyama is definitely a private but not secret type of person 😭 especially if his girlfriend isn't famous; he knows how awful the media and even his fans can be (the fact that he KNOWS he's referred to as one of the "hot" volleyball players and fans watch bc of his attractiveness will never not be funny). if anything, ushijima probably also knows because kageyama doesn't keep you a secret — he just doesn't see the need in bringing you up during vulgar locker room talk.

like, one day, ushijima just asks him where did he get the bento from and kageyama is just like "oh, my girlfriend made it for me" and ushi is just like "oh ok" and that's that.

what really gets the whole locker room to shut up and stop them from teasing kageyama is when, after a particularly long night with you, he's taking off his shirt and everyone is gawking at the scratches you left on his back last night. he's definitely beating the virgin allegations with that one!

[kiyoors]

Out of all the other boys, Gojo’s Six Eyes make him the most…sensitive. Makes his thighs twitch with every cute kiss against your cervix, makes his power flare every time you clench around him.

It’s not as if he does it on purpose, either. You just feel too good, and he just gets so sensitive. 

And he can tell - oh, he can tell that turns you on even more just how gone he is for you. Hell, he could see the exact moment during ovulation you’re in. Could even tell you whether you’ll be having a son or a daughter.��

[kiyoors]

dee what am I going to do with all these oliver x period sex thoughts you need to either kill me or tell me yours

18+, explicit period sex (fingering, oral f!receiving, unprotected p in v, creampie, blood)

being with oliver aiku is an exercise in acknowledging that you're but one of the many that have come before. the shape of his lips, the brush of his fingers, the stretch of his cock—you're well aware you could never hope to be any kind of first for him by any means.

sexually, that is.

(love, perhaps, but that's a conversation for a different day.)

and it's why it catches you entirely off guard on a rainy sunday morning when he glances from your horrified expression to the slick red that stains his fingertips, tilting his head to the side thoughtfully as he muses, "honestly, i haven't done this before."

embarrassment burns hot in your gut as you stare at the blood, watching as he rubs his thumb across the pads of his pointer and middle fingers to smear it over his skin.

"i'm sorry," you manage to get out before burying your face in a pillow.

(which is where it had been moments earlier, when you tiredly rolled over onto your stomach and moaned softly as oliver kissed the back of your neck, tugged your panties to the side, and slid two fingers through your sensitive folds, groaning over how wet you were.)

"why're you sorry?" oliver asks, pressing a kiss to the back of your shoulder.

you turn your head sideways, taking his confused face. "i didn't—i should have realized it was going to start soon..."

oliver blinks, leaning a little closer. "your period?"

you scrunch your eyes shut and nod, another hot wave of embarrassment hitting you, and you belatedly snap your thighs closed. because this happened years ago with your ex, and he was disgusted, and it was awful, and—

"do you not want me to touch you while you're bleeding?" he asks.

you open your eyes, and he looks honest to god earnest.

"do i not want you to?" you echo in confusion (because of the way he's phrased it, what it implies—)

"i haven't done this before, but if you wanted to..." he trails off, sheepish.

you breathe in slowly, trying to digest his words. "you don't...don't you think it's gross?"

oliver nudges your shoulder and your hip, urging you to roll over onto your back.

"i never really thought about it until right now. but feeling how wet you are, seeing it on my fingers..." he looks down at his hand.

you, in turn, notice just how hard he is, cock straining against the confines of his briefs.

"oh," you breathe out. because you feel incapable of getting any other words out at this revelation.

(because it's always been an idle thought, a depraved, filthy fantasy—)

your cunt aches.

"we don't have to do anything if you don't want to—" oliver starts.

(he has no idea.)

"please."

-

you should have known oliver aiku is nothing if not a meticulously thorough lover.

because it wasn't enough for him, slowly teasing the outer rim of your fluttering, empty hole until you were bucking your hips and begging for it. sliding two thick digits into your dripping, hypersensitive cunt. palming his cock through his briefs as he groaned over how hot it was—the red liquid smeared over your cunt and across your inner thighs. the obnoxious wet squelch of blood and arousal as he fucked you on his fingers till you went toppling over the edge (gasping for breath into a messy kiss as he rasped against your lips how beautiful you looked).

it wasn't enough, nearly coming on the fucking spot when he eased his flushed, leaking cock into your pussy (because he's so fucking thick and there's always a stretch as he eases into your tight walls but he slid right balls deep in one slick stroke).

it wasn't enough, the way you trembled and gasped in pleasure, clawing at his back and babbling nonsense and whimpering his name as you begged him to fuck you harder, harder, harder. the sloppy, filthy, depraved feeling of him fucking his cock into your bloody, wet hole.

it wasn't enough for oliver, fingering you and fucking you into a cock drunk mess atop a pile of stained, ruined sheets.

because it still surprises you, after everything, when you feel him nudge your thighs apart once more after he pulls his softening cock out of you.

you shiver as he drags two fingers through your folds, coating the digits in your blood and his cum.

"oliver—" you breathe out, watching as he brings his fingers to his mouth.

as he licks them clean.

"can i?" he asks.

(you're fairly certain you're on the verge of blacking out when oliver brings you to the brink of your third orgasm, red smeared across his chin, fist wrapped around his cock and your fingers buried in his hair. with his tongue buried in your sopping wet cunt as laves at your throbbing clit and laps up every last drop of blood and cum until you're sobbing his name.)

[kiyoors]

yakuza!kuroo, 18+ (fingering, oral sex f!receiving)

it’s your wedding night, and kuroo is weak.

weak after months of watching you yearn for his affection, of watching your hopeful expression morph into something painfully resigned (it feels like a gash behind his ribcage).

he thinks back to the night he took your father aside. he didn’t even know you, yet he found himself pleading with your father not broker a deal with nohebi. not to marry you off to fucking daishou suguru.

“he’ll ruin her,” kuroo bit out, because he knows what happened to daishou’s last wife (he shudders at the memory of it).

the thought of another woman going through that makes him sick to his stomach.

“i have no other choice to keep her safe right now,” your father stared at him, blunt and unapologetic. “you know who i am, what that entails.”

marriage was such a foreign concept to kuroo at the time, he’d never considered it for any sort of arrangement, let alone out of love. and yet—

“i’ll marry her.”

your father had warned him not to get attached. the engagement, the marriage—it’s all meant to be temporary. until things in tokyo cool down or your father decides to whisk you off somewhere else entirely.

you’re with kuroo for nekoma’s protection.

you don’t know this, of course. that kuroo’s been keeping you at arm’s length because he doesn’t want to hurt you when this charade crumbles. it’s better for you to hate him from the start.

(and really, he doesn’t trust himself to be able to let you go back to your father once he’s truly had you. once you’re really his.)

but it’s your wedding night.

and kuroo tetsurou has become a weak, weak man.

(weak for you.)

“do you want help?”

kuroo pauses in front of your bedroom, door left slightly ajar, gaze falling to where you’re currently struggling to undo the straps of your heels.

you blink at him several times, and he can’t blame you for being surprised. he’s never set foot in your bedroom, after all (not counting the night he brought you home after you were abducted—when he wouldn’t let anyone else touch you as he carried you in his arms to your bed).

but you eventually nod, collapsing back onto your mattress in a huff.

you changed into a short, thin, white silky dress for the latter half of the evening, one that’s been mercilessly eating away at the frayed edges of kuroo’s wavering self-control. and now your pretty, smooth thighs are on full display as the skirt unapologetically rides up with the position that you’re in.

kuroo inhales slowly before coming to kneel between your legs, trying not to revel in the way he feels you immediately react to the feeling of his hands wrapping around your ankles.

he doesn’t mean to do it, doesn’t mean to run the pad of his thumb over the arch of your foot (doesn’t mean to forget to breathe as he listens to your answering sharp intake of breath).

but kuroo is weak, weak for you. weak for his wife.

and when his heat of his lips finds your ankle, he can’t bring himself to care about anything else but the way you whimper his name.

“kuroo.”

he glances up at you, finds you sitting up halfway on your elbows staring at him with an expression that has his pants tightening almost painfully against the swell of his cock.

“i think we can agree it’s tetsurou now, no?” he asks before leaning back in to press a longer, hotter open-mouthed kiss to your knee.

your fingers bunch in the sheets.

“tetsurou,” you gasp.

kuroo feels something zip down his spine at the sound of those syllables dancing off of your tongue. and it’s a little terrifying, the sudden free fall he finds himself in—this near-loss of control.

because in this moment, kuroo knows he’d do anything to hear that sound again.

and he knows that despite all of the distance he’s wedged between the two of you, despite the fact that that this is supposed to be business and you were never really meant to be his—

kuroo knows now that if someone wants to take you away from him, they’re going to have to kill him first.

he wraps his hands around your waist and pulls you to the edge of the mattress, slowly sliding up the skirt of your dress as he greedily kisses his way up the inside of your thighs.

you’re so fucking sensitive beneath his touch he thinks he’s going to lose his mind.

your panties are the same blood red shade as the tie he wore today. his cock aches at the revelation. he runs a careful finger over the lace, staring up at you from where he’s still kneeling between your spread legs.

“can i touch you?” he asks, voice a little hoarse.

you have to smother a laugh with your hand, borderline hysterical over the implication that there’s any universe where you’d deny him. kuroo fights the urge to palm his dick through his pants as you say “yes” and “please.”

the lace tickles his lips as kuroo mouths at your cunt through your panties, teasing you until the material’s wholly soaked through with his spit and your arousal as you unconsciously bury your fingers in his hair and beg him for more.

you loosen your grip when he stops sucking at your clothed pussy, eyes widening a little as you realize you were pulling his hair.

“sorry,” you breathe out.

kuroo grins, butting his head against your hovering hand, “no, i like it.”

hooking a finger in your panties and tugging them aside, he lets his teeth press into his lower lip as he stares at the messy slick dripping from your folds.

for him.

he swipes his thumb up and down the length of your slit, just barely skirting the swollen, waiting bundle of nerves at your apex.

“you’re so wet,” he murmurs, feeling the messy smear of precum steadily soaking into his pants while you buck your hips into his touch.

kuroo’s never had the pleasure of coming untouched.

but he thinks he could when he slides a finger into your soaking wet cunt and feels the way your creamy walls tighten around him.

he thinks that the sound of you moaning his name alone could milk his cock dry as he fucks you with one finger until you’re begging for two, pulling his hair and cupping his face in a desperate frenzy.

and then kuroo slides off your panties and buries his tongue in your cunt, and he feels just as gone as you sound and feel while you’re wildly bucking into his touch, choking out a sob as a wet spray squirts out of you while when he sends you tumbling over the edge of your climax.

(he groans against your pussy as he feels his cock finally twitching and pulsing hot and thick in his boxers.)

the two of you sit there for minutes afterward, you on the bed and him kneeling on the floor before you, both of you struggling to catch your breath. to make sense of what just happened.

and something inside of kuroo cracks open at the shuttered look of rejection that begins to sink across your face when he goes to stand up, takes a step away.

you don’t try to stop him.

but he leans in, pressing a kiss to your temple as he murmurs, “i’m just getting a towel to clean you up.”

you look up at him, lips parting slightly in surprise.

“i’m not leaving,” he assures you, slowly stroking the curve of your jaw.

[kiyoors]

I wonder if they’d be less evil if we just gave them cats

[kiyoors]

nagi likes getting on his knees to eat you out so you'll grab his hair and fuck his face i think

[kiyoors]

That new key art though… ♨️🍙

[kiyoors]

The morning sun filtered through the curtains of your shared apartment with Atsumu, casting a warm glow across the hardwood floors. You had just returned from your morning run when you noticed a sleek black package sitting innocently by your door. The distinct white Chanel logo made your heart skip a beat.

"No way..." you muttered, picking up the package with trembling hands. Just last week, you had casually mentioned how beautiful that new Chanel collection was while window shopping with Atsumu. You specifically remembered telling him, "It's gorgeous, but please don't even think about it. I'm happy with my regular bags!"

But as you opened the package, there it was – the exact same black leather bag you had been admiring, complete with its iconic chain strap and quilted pattern. Your jaw dropped at its beauty, but immediately after came the familiar exasperation.

"ATSUMU MIYA!" Your voice echoed through the apartment.

You heard shuffling from the bedroom, and soon enough, your boyfriend appeared in the hallway, wearing his MSBY Black Jackals training shorts and a plain white t-shirt. His blonde hair was still slightly messy from sleep, but there was a telling glimmer in his eyes that he was trying hard to suppress.

"Mornin', what's with all the yellin'?" he asked innocently, leaning against the wall with that signature smirk of his.

You held up the bag, your eyes narrowing. "Care to explain this?"

"What? That's a nice bag ya got there. Secret admirer?" He scratched his head, playing dumb, but the slight pink tinge on his ears gave him away.

"Atsumu," you said firmly, though you couldn't help but feel your heart warm at his thoughtfulness, "who else would send me a Chanel bag?"

"Maybe it was Bokun? Ya know how he gets when he's shoppin' for Keiji-kun, might've got carried away and bought ya somethin' too!" His explanation was so ridiculous that you couldn't help but laugh.

"Bokuto-san, who panicked last week because he accidentally bought premium rice instead of regular rice, bought me a Chanel bag?"

Atsumu's facade cracked as he let out a chuckle. "Okay, okay, ya caught me." He walked over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist. "But before ya lecture me about spendin' money, just hear me out."

You sighed, letting your head rest against his chest. "Tsum, we've talked about this. You don't need to buy me expensive things."

"I know," he said softly, his Kansai accent thickening with emotion. "But ya work so hard, and ya never ask for anythin'. Ya even pack my lunches for away games and come to every match ya can. Let me spoil ya a little bit?"

"But—"

"Plus," he interrupted with a playful grin, "ya should see yer face whenever we pass by that store. Yer eyes light up like when ya watch me serve an ace."

You couldn't help but blush. "That's different! Your serves are actually impressive."

"And my girlfriend deservin' nice things ain't impressive enough reason?" He pressed a kiss to your forehead. "I got money to spend, and I wanna spend it on the love of my life. Sue me."

You looked down at the bag, running your fingers over the smooth leather. "It is beautiful," you admitted reluctantly.

"Just like ya," he said, and even though it was cheesy, your heart fluttered. "Now, are ya gonna model it for me or what? Gotta make sure my investment was worth it," he teased.

You playfully swatted his arm but couldn't hide your smile. "Fine, but this is the last time, okay? No more surprise luxury gifts."

"Sure, sure," he agreed too quickly, making you suspicious.

"Atsumu..."

"What? I didn't say anythin'!" He raised his hands in surrender, but you could see him already planning his next surprise in those mischievous brown eyes of his.

"You're impossible," you sighed, but reached up to kiss him anyway. "Thank you for the bag. I love it... and I love you."

His resulting smile was brighter than any designer purchase could ever be. "Love ya too, even when yer yellin' my name through the apartment."

"Only because you deserve it!"

"Worth it," he grinned, pulling you closer. "Every single time."

Ⓒkiesbrainjuice all rights reserved. please to not plagiarize, repost, or translate !

tag : @haechansbbg

[kiyoors]

I’ve watched a few Chinese court dramas growing up and I have to say, nobody got game like Mao Mao

[kiyoors]

Foxes disguised as monks. On the left from Japan and on the right from Denmark.

[kiyoors]

late night restaurant

[kiyoors]

i wish you would write a proper follow-up to reader and roommate!kuroo's aphrodisiac fiasco because i MUST know what happens next !!!

(continued from)

18+

>>: kuroo........

groaning in frustration as your vibrator dies a pleasureless, low-power death between your legs, you text kuroo before you can think better of it.

your roommate answers faster than you were expecting, the message hovering on your lock screen as you rifle around in your nightstand for a charging cord. kuroo: .........yes

the tangle of miscellaneous cords in your hand falls onto the carpet, and you groan at the hot, swollen ache that pulses below your navel, sending your ability to think straight wholly off kilter.

>>: what >>: the fuck

the typing indicator pops up and disappears several times before he finally answers.

kuroo: am i politely pretending i don't know what you're talking about or are we making this weird

>>: we accidentally ate viagra chocolate my vibrator is checked out and i need you to talk me out of pathetically relapse texting my ex we are past weird

and yet it only occurs to you after you hit send—

>>: wAIT are you >>: nvm

something inside of you burns hot at the thought that kuroo's probably got a hand wrapped around his cock right now. he hightailed it out of the living room before you, after all. he's got to be just as affected—

the typing indicator dance ensues.

kuroo: chances are very high i will punch him if that asshole sets foot in our apartment

>>: bokuto's been replying to all of my selfies with fire emojis lately >>: should i text him

kuroo: this is really effective at killing my boner actually keep going kuroo: but also please don't

>>: i heard lev's back in town

kuroo: please no more have mercy on me kuroo: i'm doordashing you a vibrator

you choke out a laugh.

>>: my knight in shining armor<3 >>: but it probably won’t come charged though so >>: square one

dots. more dots. more dots that appear and disappear.

>>: wait are we sexting right now

the door to your bedroom swings open suddenly, and for a brief moment, you forget that you're lying in bed naked from the waist down, tits spilling out of your tank top, your purple vibrator slick with arousal sitting forgotten on the sheets beside you.

you forget, because kuroo's standing there in your doorway shirtless, hair askew in every which way like he's been running his hands through it repeatedly, face and neck flushed, sporting an erection tented at the front of his gym shorts that leaves your throat dry.

kuroo's eyes go a little wide at the sight of you, but he recovers quickly, approaching the foot of the bed and placing his hands on the edge of it, leaning down to meet you at eye level.

"you're not calling your shithead ex-boyfriend."

you nod.

"and you're not calling bokuto."

you nod again.

"or lev."

you have to stifle a laugh at the last one—you weren't going to fucking call lev.

"you're going to look me in the eye and pick one of two options."

you swallow, a sharp swell of arousal cresting inside of you at the intensity in his gaze as he holds up two fingers.

"you can sit here waiting for your vibrator to charge. and i'm going to politely act like i don't hear you whimpering while you fuck yourself with it once it is—like i do most nights, by the way. like a good rommate. and then i'm going to put my phone on do not disturb and jerk off in peace."

he puts a finger down.

you might pass out.

"or, i fuck you until you're satisfied. with my fingers, my mouth, my dick. whatever the hell you want. until we get this out of our systems. and then we don't have to talk about it ever again."

he puts his other finger down, and your own fingers clench the sheets painfully tight. your cunt aches.

-

four orgasms later, you're too fucked out to think too hard about the way you're more than satisfied, but you're still curled up beside kuroo. still slotting your spit-slick lips against his, whimpering and moaning into his mouth between slow, deep kisses as he lazily fingers your oversensitive cunt, teasing your wet hole until you're trembling through yet another climax.

(he pretends like he's not aware that this is far beyond whatever the chocolate's done to both of you, that every desperate, needy sound you're making now is for him and because of him—and him alone.)

and you're rubbing your slick folds up and down his shaft until he's hard again, climbing into his lap to straddle him and gasping as he slides right back into your messy hole, fucking his cum right back inside of you.

[kiyoors]

haiiii. can i be 🍒 anon? i’d also like to ask: hand over ur horny oliver thoughts, i’m losing my mind over the man

18+

i keep coming back to the thought of how any time you spend the night with oliver, you have to set your alarm at least an hour earlier than you need to be up—at minimum.

because oliver's loathe to let you crawl out of bed without an orgasm.

it's not even about him waking up hard and turned on to the feeling of your body tucked into his. it's not about him.

it's about the way you look when you come for him in the soft morning light.

(he's addicted to it.)

it's about how sensitive you are to every single little touch of his fingers against your warm skin when you're still half asleep. the breathy noise that escapes your lips when he runs a thumb over your nipples (the way you arch back into him). the slow stretch of your limbs, the curling of your toes. your fluttering eyelashes, your tired eyes as they gaze into his.

it's about the way you shiver from head to toe over the smallest of things, like when he kisses the curve between your shoulder and neck. or when he cups the valley in the small of your back before letting his hand slide into your panties to caress your ass.

it's your cute, sleep rough voice as you whine his name. the tired, needy way you'll start to hump his thigh if he slots it between your legs. the tickle of your hair when you bury your face in his chest and yawn and whimper as he explores your naked body in a gentle tease with callused fingers.

oliver doesn't care how you come for him in the morning—be it your mouth plastered against his in a messy, tired kiss as he slowly finger fucks you. or your fingers carding through his pillow-mussed hair as he laps at your folds. or his body folded around yours, your hypersensitive, soaking wet cunt fluttering around the stretch of his cock as he rolls his hips and fucks you deep.

he doesn't care as long as he gets to see it, gets to hear it, gets to be the cause of it—the sleepy, beautiful, blissed out way you unravel when you come first thing in the morning.