motuzi

[motuzi]

♡ f!reader, rough sex, overstimulation, creampie, dacryphilia, multiple orgasms

“I’M STILL CUMMING WAIT- ahhh... Mhmn– still cumming!” You cried out, tears crawling down your flushed cheeks as he slammed his fat cock into your pussy all the way in while you’re still trembling from the orgasm he just gave you.

“Can’t hold myself– Y’re so tight, it’s so good...” he said in a strained voice. His clutch on your ass, tight as he had his teeth gritted, giving out all his force in fucking you raw and wild from behind in a prone bone.

Your face fell flat on the pillow and drool started leaking from your lips as you whined endlessly. He continued to rapidly pound your little pussy that your body won’t stop quivering from the overwhelming pleasure.

“Wai- aahnn too much...too good...hah aah–“ You felt spent, worn and overused yet it was exactly how you wanted to be...so messed up by him that he couldn’t see straight ramming your insides until you’re both on the brink of passing out.

“You want this, right? You want all of me?” He groaned, through gritted teeth. “Then take! All– of me–” he suddenly slammed right in so deep that you were stunned. Your eyes widened in shock as another orgasm shoot right through your already trembling body. He leaned down, caging your helpless, shivering frame as he thrust faster finally about to get to his own release. “Take this! Take – ngghh all– of this–“ His hot milk poured inside you as his body gave in on you.

Breathing heavily, he hugged you tenderly, and asked, “Are you...are you alright?”

You were bresthless and could barely answer. “I...I...won’t stop shaking.”

Trust me, he’s lowkey proud of it.

—♡ kuroo, oikawa, atsumu, samu, iwaizumi, reo, isagi, chigiri, sae

⏝︶︶⏝︶ ୨୧ ︶⏝︶︶⏝

© nekorei 2023 - All rights reserved. No work shall be reproduced, reposted, modified, translated in any form or by any means.

[motuzi]

yoichi isagi who can't control himself when he sees you cheering so lively for him in the crowd, your delicious thighs on full display for his hungry eyes due to the miniskirt you chose to wear for this match, it's like they're practically begging for him to hold and knead them, his brain malfunctioning for the rest of the whole damn game. he isn't thinking straight when he shoves his tongue down your throat as soon as the match ends, you just looked so pretty celebrating his goal, and the adorable way you were nearly jumping while running towards him, he couldn't resist it. his fingers waste no time before sneaking down your body and grabbing ahold of your flesh, his mind too clouded to care about the cameras.

but just grabbing won't be enough, he isn't satisfied – he needs more. the way home is the worst for him, to have you so close yet so distant, your skirt riding up your thighs and they look so inviting, but you won't let him go further than just resting his hand on them – it's so mean of you to deny him when he just won a match...!

as soon as you get home, he's pushing you against the nearest surface he can find and flipping up the tiny fabric to expose your panties, fingers hooking on their sides to pull them down your thighs, the pink, lacy fabric adorning your flesh so prettily, his forefinger going up and down your slit to gather your arousal on the tip of it, grazing your needy clit and earning a desperate gasp from you.

soon his middle and ring finger are plunging into your hole at an insane pace, the squelching sounds echoing through your whole apartment along with your loud moans, his wrist keeps bruising your ass as he reaches deep inside you, touching your sweet spot over and over and making your fluids gush all over his palm. he can feel the way your plush thighs lock around his hand, trembling due to the pleasure he's giving you and it makes him go feral, dick hard and tip leaking inside his pants and voice just a low groan when he speaks.

"s–sorry baby, couldn't help myself. you just look so hot in this skirt, makes me want to fuck you so bad... cum for me yeah? gonna look so pretty when you cum."

[motuzi]

hi! could you do an aged up yatora yaguchi smut? i don’t have anything else specifically just stay true to his character. this is my first time requesting so sorry if i’m doing anything wrong!

thanks!!!

Yellow is the Colour of His Eyes | Yaguchi Yatora x Reader

AN: thank you so much for the request, i'm sorry this took so long! you're absolutely perfect and i'm so excited for my first Blue Period request! i really tried hard to write him in character but idek anymore, it's been a fat while since i last read bp tbh, and idek what that ending was i got hella tired at the end of writing this but i just hope you enjoy it,, i ended up really leaning into the idea of the reader being a fellow student so there's actually quite a bit of plot so i hope that's okay too,, i was also listening to soccer mommy's song of the same-ish name technically it's "her eyes" while writing this and, while the lyrics don't quite line up, i'd recommend listening to it while reading this bc idk it just fits for me :)

Summary: during a rough night pouring yourself into your final assignment of your second year at Geidai, Yatora finds you decrepit in your studio area. the weight of the mistakes in your work weighs heavy on your shoulders and you find yourself unable to hold back your feelings any longer.

CW: smut, nsfw (minors dni!), friends to lovers, angst with a bit of fluff, unprotected sex, gn! reader

As the end of the semester drew near, you found yourself gradually spending more and more time holed up in your studio working on your final assignment. Your hands stained with ink, paint caked underneath your chipped fingernails, and your eyes swelled with a lackluster enthusiasm as you stared at the canvas before you. It was completed, ready for submission and you were elated that you could finally call it a night... but then you spotted it, a dark smudge on the right edge of the canvas. No doubt it was made by your grimy hands as you'd absent-mindedly gripped the canvas while painting. It wasn't just there either, suddenly every imperfection stood out like a sore thumb and you groaned, tears threatening to spill over as you buried your face into your hands. You just sat there, shoulders slumped as you prepared yourself for another couple of hours of fixing all those blemishes. A gentle knock echoed from the door, platinum blonde wisps of hair peeking out between the frame and the door.

"Thought I'd find you here," Yatora huffed, "I've been calling you, y'know?" You didn't dare look at him, you didn't want one of your closest friends to see you in such a state.

"Oh, sorry... my phone's in my bag." You dejectedly reply. You heard the rustle of a plastic bag, then some rattling, and his footsteps drawing near. You furrowed your brows, you really weren't in the mood for this.

"It looks amazing, just a couple more touches here and there and you're almost done. I got you a couple of things to keep you going-" Yatora's rambling was cut short by the shrill screech of your stool. Keeping your head down, you marched over to him and began dragging him back towards the door.

"Yeah, thanks, really. Can you please leave now?" Your voice shook with every word, your fingers trembling as they gripped his biceps and legs wobbling with every step. The tremors in your voice sparking concern, Yatora spun around and clutched your shoulder, peering down to get a look at your face.

"Fuck, you don't look so good. Just- let's get some air, okay? I brought some snacks, you look like you're about to keel over." Yatora huffs, bringing an arm around your shoulder to lead your tired figure outside. You can't it back any longer, your frustration and exhaustion boiling over. You push his arm away, stumbling back towards your canvas. You know you're being dramatic but you can't waste any more time, and you know that if you went with him, you wouldn't want to leave.

"I can't! I have to finish this and, unlike you, I just- I can't work like you do! Constantly working, improving, like you know what you need to get better at a-and you just do it! It's like time doesn't slip away from you like it does for me, I just-" and then it hits you. You're knees crash into the vinyl beneath you, the air is abrasive in your lungs, probably from all the turpentine fumes, the dry skin of your hands absorbing your tears as they fall. The boy is stunned, his feet rigid but, in his stupor, he manages to walk towards you. Squatting beside you, he hesitantly places a hand on your head, ruffling your disheveled hair.

"Is that how you think of me?" he sighs, your outburst simultaneously empowered him yet pierced him. On one hand, the fact that someone like you saw how much he was improving made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside, even if it was via some eruption of bitter emotions, and it wasn't like you never praised him, quite the opposite. However, there was something different about how you had said it, that was what was nagging at him; the fact that you seemed to put him on a pedestal like some prodigy when, for him, he was the one lagging behind.

"You're just so onto it," you sobbed, "half the time, I'm just fucking around, but you're constantly growing and doing something. And then shit like this happens and it's last minute and I'm falling over myself trying to finish." Yatora just snorts in response; he recalls all the times you spent sketching out ideas for all kinds of projects, when you'd meet up with him with some new idea just to abandon it an hour later when something new catches your eye. Sure, maybe he had a more consistent work ethic but that gleam in your eye and the hyper-intense passion that you and everyone else got with art was something that didn't really come naturally to him. But that wasn't really it, was it? You both were just seeing each other in those moments, only noticing the shadow the other person cast over you. He brings his hand down to pull you into an embrace, plopping his chin where his hand previously was.

"You know that's all bullshit, right?" Yatora huffs, burying his face into your hair, "you all are way ahead of me, I'm the one who's catching up. Fuck, I still don't know if I even get art yet. I only started a couple years ago now, but you've all been doing this for way longer than I have, you have it all down now but I've only just gotten the hang of it, to be honest." You're shaking in his arms, and you know he's right. All of his improvements were the same as yours however many years ago, but seeing his growth as an artist compared to your stagnation made you forget all that. Of course, how could you have been so blind?

"Fuck," you choke out, "you're right, I'm sorry." You pull away from him, his hand falling limply from your shoulder to your knee, rubbing small circles into your skin. "I didn't mean to say all that, I-I know you're working hard just to pass, we-we all are... I let the stress get to me, I'm really sorry, Yatora." You laugh, rubbing the tears from your eyes as you try to collect yourself, the embarrassment from your little outburst beginning to sink in.

"It's fine, besides, I kinda like the smudges..." he chuckles, his hand reaching around to rub the back of his neck. At this moment, a slight blush begins to creep onto his cheeks, realizing just how intimate the scene had been. You glance up at him, eyes wide and puffy, and he feels all the air leave his chest. He drops his head to avoid eye contact, his hands bashfully trying to hide his blush but you knew better than to let the moment end. Out of curiosity, you slink up to remove his hands from his face, and he loses balance, falling back onto the vinyl. You hover over him for a moment, taking in his flushed appearance before giggling. It wasn't exactly rare to see Yatora like this but, after such an emotionally charged moment, it was exactly what you needed to feel better.

"You know, Yatora, I think I could get used to a view like this." You giggle as he rises, his hand running through his hair as he propels himself forward to sit up properly. He mutters for you to shut up but the smile on his face speaks otherwise. Slowly, Yatora brings a finger up to stroke your cheek, collecting some stray tears. There's a fondness in his eyes that you can't help but shuffle closer to get a better look at. "Thank you Yatora, for checking up on me and dealing with... well, that."

"Don't worry about it..." He trails off, leaning towards you, his single finger turning into a hand cupping your cheek. Planting a hand on each of his sides, you rise up to meet his lips in a small kiss. Your heart is beating a million kilometers an hour, the cool vinyl the only thing keeping you grounded in the heat of the moment. His lips are soft if not a little dry, the faint taste of tobacco offset by whatever he'd been snacking on earlier but you didn't mind. You reached around to tangle your fingers in his hair, while his hands settled on your waist, dipping under your shirt to rub at your skin. You settled on his lap, gasping as he began to trail kisses from your lips to your jaw and down your neck. You thanked every deity that the studio was empty tonight, no one around to witness you grinding against his clothed erection. You didn't want Yatora's ministrations on your body to cease even for a second but, as you desperately began to claw at his shirt, he pulled away for a moment. His face flushed and chest heaving, he asked, "Here? Now?"

"You said I needed a break, right?"

"I said you needed air."

"Same difference." You shrugged, reattaching your lips to his. Despite his complaints, one hand continued to snake up your back while another plunged beneath the waistline of your pants. Meanwhile, yours trailed down his chest to the hem of his shirt, following his movements as you sucked on the skin of his neck. You both paused, desperately removing your bottoms to cut straight to where you needed each other most. His fingers descended right to your heat, clumsily rubbing and prodding at your entrance but, at this point, any stimulation was enough. You let out a small whine, hastily reaching for his cock and rubbing it against your hole.

"W-wait, don't we need a condo-" Yatora's plea was cut off when you sunk down onto his length, a groan was ripped from his lungs before you silenced him with another kiss. Your tongues danced in rhythm with your hips, nimbly rocking back and forth in his lap while the tip of his cock hit your most sensitive spot. Pulling back for air, Yatora immediately reattached his lips to your neck, continuing where he left off by sucking dark purple marks on your collarbone. Your nails dug into his scalp as you bounced up and down in his lap, the muscles in your legs taut and you didn't know how much longer you could keep up the pace you had set for yourself. Sensing your exhaustion, Yatora leaned back, pulling you down with him as he began to thrust upward into you. With your arms planted on either side of his head for support, you pressed your forehead against his, the knot in your core tightening with every lunge of his hips.

"Yatora~" you whimpered, your body overcome by pleasure. Yatora rolled over, capturing you beneath him as he continued to thrust into you. His hands came up to cradle your head while you pulled him down to your lips, drowning yourselves in another lustful kiss. As your ears were assaulted by the wild slapping of skin, you became hyper-aware of your lewd conduct in the middle of the studio. If anyone were to walk in at any moment... The thought alone was enough to send you over the edge, your legs binding themselves around his waist as your back curved up off the floor. As your insides clenched around his cock, Yatora couldn't help but also come undone inside you, the orgasm enough to cloud his better judgment of pulling out. You both remained in that position for a while, the remainder of your clothes clinging to your bodies, your bodies aching and begging for respite. Yatora's senses returned first, panic setting in as he pulled out.

"I- uh... Y/N?" Yatora whispered, you merely hummed in response, still dazed from your intense orgasm. Yatora sighed, pulling you up to settle in his lap, your hands resting on his biceps and head nestling into the crook of his neck. He pulled at one of your hands, holding it delicately in his own, fiddling with your fingers, and examining the blue and yellow stains across your hand. He looked at your painting, and then back at you before smiling. "You're fucking beautiful"

A giggle bubbled out of you, "so are you."

"But seriously, you need air and food, all the paint and turpentine fumes are probably fucking with your head."

© 2022 All rights reserved — do not modify, translate, repost or claim any of my work.

[motuzi]

i’m gonna combust omgsjsgdsjd thinking abt ruining yotasuke just by words and teasing touches!! he’s that sensitive.

lean down to his ear and call him all his fav petnames. my pretty boy, my bunny, my best boy and tell him how you wanna fuck him so hard that he’ll see stars, how you make him cum over and over while you let your hands grope him all over.

and yota loves to play indifferent, grimacing and grumbling that “you’re a pervert” but the apples of his cheeks were blooming pink and blue eyes glossing over in pure arsoual. you had him right in the palms of your hands…

[motuzi]

⋆｡˚ ₊˚ ପ ⊹ LAVENDER .ᐟ | souya kawata

｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 . . . camboy souya, strangers to friends to lovers, fem reader, she / her pronouns used, masturbation, sex toys mentioned, dacryphilia, breathplay, belly bulge, multiple orgasms, dry humping, big dick souya, soft dom souya, oral sex ( f receiving ), bit of ooc souya + idc how tall u are, he is taller, pet name usage ( ex. pretty girl, sweet girl, princess, baby ), insomnia mention !

𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡 . . . 13.8k ( ໒꒰ྀི 𖦹 ˕ × ꒱ྀིა )

𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑘𝑖𝑒’𝑧 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒 . . . finally .ᐟ she is back :p few more warningzzz . . this is a leetol bit of self insertion but ‘s like . . veri veri loose ! title inspired by dis song aaaand souya’s twenty four ( 24 ) while reader is twenty two ( 22 ).

( ♡ ) — your name.

the first sex toy was created in the 1800’s; an electromechanical vibrator crafted by dr. joseph granville, used to treat female hysteria.

you hope he’s burning in hell.

wanting to work at a sex shop at twenty two years old wasn’t something you would have particularly answered at five years old when asked what you aspired to be. separating bottles of lube by scent, color, and tag labels, wiping down display dildos, and stocking prostate massagers are what you now call your day to day, unfortunately.

planted in a parking lot on the far corner beside a gym and chiropractor’s office, wet dreamz, z purposeful, drags in a decent amount of people. you have your regulars, mostly sex workers looking to try out new things, whether on other people or themselves, or replace some of their favorite trinkets. there’s the occasional classy and refined older lady who usually comes in to buy something simple. the single moms — they’re your favorite — they all have a certain . . . look, you figure out. and it’s never physical, most of them just carry a weirdly balanced aura of quiet stress and gentleness that always makes it quite hard for you to maintain your bitch-like façade when approached by one.

then the couples. the hate that swells within the expanse of your chest at the sound of the soft chimes indicating a customer entering the store, followed by soft giggles and a ‘stoppp, babe. c’mon,’ is simply unparalleled. well, hate . . . that’s a strong word. lets just put it as a strong, strong feeling of dislike.

“jealousy isn’t a nice look on you, ( ♡ ),” yuzuha constantly sings inside of your ear when you roll your eyes and plop your chin down into the cant of your soft palm while seated at the register as soon as you both hear a little whine followed by a gruff, ‘i’m not letting you put that inside me. forget it.’

“ ‘m not jealous,” you always grumble in reply, not missing her rolled eyes while she stumbles into the back storage room with two boxes almost taller than her held within her arms.

you consider helping her but because of her comment, you remain seated where you are, tapping your manicured fingers against the soft dough of your cheeks boredly.

the word jealous rings in your ear. you’re not. what do you possibly have to be jealous of? you’re . . . content with where you are in life. you have a nice apartment focused near downtown shibuya, you finished paying off your car note a few months ago which took a nice load off, you have a lazy calico named pucca whom you love very much. life doesn’t throw an awe-striking, heart-stirring adventure at you everyday but you’re okay with that. relationships get in the way. a partner would completely fuck up the routine you have going here and you really don’t need the stress that comes with having one.

at a rhythmic beep buzzing within the slot of your back pocket, you reach around and slip your phone from it to see 4.55 flashing at you. coincidentally, the couple whose voices seem to be grinding cheese graters against the surface of your eardrums are starting to walk up to the register with their little, handheld cart filled to the brim and you consider this perfect.

you plop down on your feet from the stool you were seated on to whip around, knock on the storage room door and softly shout, “yuzuha, i’m out! finish this transaction for me!”

at her groan you roll your lips into your mouth to keep from smiling before quickly slipping from behind the counter to scurry to the tiny breakroom beside the restroom focused in a little hallway between the walls of strap-on harnesses and edible lingerie. clocking out of work has to be your favorite part of the day, well, second to stepping past your doorframe and being greeted by a tiny chirrup and calf nuzzle by pucca.

“hi, baby boy,” you coo, dropping your keys and purse onto the small counter right beside your door, hearing it automatically close as you kick off your platform docs then bend to scoop the fuzzy kitty into your arms.

pucca’s a chunky boy coated with soft white fur with large patches of black and orange focused more so on his tail, sides, and ears than back. he slowly blinks at you when you nuzzle the tip of your nose against his tiny pink one and you give a slow blink back, hoping your ‘i love you’ is read loud and clear. “cutie.”

you allow him to jump from your arms and trot over to his cat tree that stood near the corner of your living room beside your large, circular window. “mommy’s had a long day, too.”

you’re tired. it seems like you’re always tired these days.

and it’s never physical exhaustion, no, you make sure your nine hours of sleep are maintained daily. it’s more . . . mental, and you’re never quite certain as to why. each time your brain wanders off on a tangent to figure it out, the reason always comes back blank and clean containing nothing. fuck it.

you’re out of the shower come six thirty, a hefty serving of leftover creamy chicken ravioli sits in your stomach by seven fifteen, and after a few episodes of your favorite netflix show, you’re nuzzled underneath the comforters inside your queen sized bed, prepared to do this all over again tomorrow.

only tonight you can feel that certain . . itch.

you’re staring at the bright disc of the moon through sheer curtains as you try to ignore it, but subsequently when trying to overlook the specific need proves no solution, you end up sighing, snatching your phone from its wireless charger off of your nightstand and opening up safari.

you desperately try to ignore the heat crawling up your chest and neck to spread across your cheeks and ears as you open up a private tab to shamefully type ‘ camstarz.com ‘ into the search bar. it’s not every night you do this — only once or twice a week and you feel embarrassed to finally admit it to yourself that you only open the site to watch him.

sleepy6lue.

camstarz is a pretty lowkey site. you stumbled upon it through one of those sketchy pop up ads on a more popular, well-known site one late evening and after scrolling through profile after profile you stumbled upon him. “sleepy blue,” you had whispered underneath your breath, staring at a circular icon image of just a shot of most likely his hand with a rectangular pic of a pair of pretty blue eyes blown up behind it.

‘i’m just here,’ his bio had read.

back then, maybe two months ago when you had first discovered him, he was ranked seventy two out of one hundred with eighteen thousand subscribers — a pretty solid fanbase compared to the more up and coming cam stars.

you had clicked on a random three minute video with a blacked out thumbnail to see what he had to offer. the video had started out with some shuffling and tumbles before a hand was pulling back from the camera to reveal blue seated on what looked like a bench. instead of facing forward, one leg was planted on either side so that they were agape. all you could see was half of his torso and his crotch; he was wearing a hoodie and jeans. you weren’t sure of the color because the video had been filtered to a gloomy black and white.

on first glance you automatically knew he was a tease, or rather, he liked teasing.

his fingers, nimble and slender, had slowly rubbed up and down across the protruding bulge of his cock through his jeans before he had gave a shaky, little sigh.

clearly he’s sensitive, too.

“i should stop.”

you had jolted a little in bed at the sound of his voice — soft and pretty, peppered with a soft rasp that you could tell was natural and not because he was purposely trying to make his voice sound attractive — it just . . was attractive.

your thighs clenched.

“i know you guys like when i tease,” he utters. “but, mmph, had a long fuckin’ day.”

his fingers are slender but they move with a slight briskness when undoing his belt that had made you whimper. he seemed impatient. the video fades into a cut where the zipper of his jeans and fabric of his briefs are tucked underneath his balls.

you mewled again and had to shove fingers past your pouty lips to suckle on them at the sight of his cock.

it stands strong and upright . . he easily looks about eight inches length wise and you knew your lips would burn with the utter stretch of just the tip if he were to glide inside of your little mouth because of how thick he is, too.

he’s evil, you thought. because he lifted his hoodie and underneath the thick fabric is a plain of freckle dusted abs. he isn’t necessarily cut, his body reminded you of a swimmer’s or runner’s — he’s just carved enough to make saliva pool along the surface of your tongue at the simple thought of getting to run it down the crevices that sculpt them.

when he finally started to stroke his cock is when you shoved one of your decorative pillows between your legs, rolled over onto your tummy, and started to grind at the pace he set. most times he starts off slow, wanting to bask in the feel of his own fingers thumbing with the small slit that sits upon the crown of his tip or even roll his soft sac between them but, in this video, as he said ‘he had a long fucking day.’

he had released a soft ptuh so that a thick dollop of saliva could sloppily land on his tip then he was rolling his palm over it to coat his shaft before starting to stroke.

my god, you had thought.

he’s shameless.

worked himself nice and steady, uncaring if the rub got too dry ‘cause he’d only spit again to make it messy. even through the black and white filter, you could tell that his tip was flushed an angry red that continuously hid underneath the thin shield of his foreskin of each tight upstroke. he leaks like crazy. precum dribbles down his knuckles and squelches between his fingers.

and his moans. you could’ve came from the sound alone.

“mm,” he mewled. “damnit . . ‘m gonna c-cum already.”

your hips had moved with him, grinding your needy clit over and over the rumpled corner of the pillow until you had began to see blurred white borders materialize around your vision. and when he had started to fuck up into his own fist? hips waving up then down which made his abs roll and tauten over and over again, you had came with a soft scream — had to bite your pillow to muffle it.

“you watchin’?” you could hear his pretty voice drifting past the loud ringing in your ears as your legs spasm and shake between satin sheets. “watch me.” you manage to creak open your lids so that your blurry eyes could focus on the pretty guy on your screen. his fist had stroked once, twice — before the first shot of cum spurts out of his tip and to the bench.

he whines when he cums — makes you whine with him — and curses like a sailor. “f-fuck . . mm shit, damnit … ” his voice goes all shaky to resemble his hand that slowly squeezes the last leaky, thick droplets out of his cock until they gather and drip down his fingers to his emptied balls. “y-yeah.” sometimes he likes to let the camera catch his softening cock that likes to grow limp and lay against his thigh, but in this vid, he pulled his dirtied hand away, tsk’d, and flicked a few strings of cum off of his fingers as if it was an annoying piece of lint on him and not his own semen. “alright,” he had chuckled softly, letting his hoodie drop to hide his stunning body line. “ ‘m gonna head on home now.”

present day sleepy6lue now sits on rank six out of one hundred with four hundred thousand subscribers and sixteen new videos more than that first one you watched.

he had grew dramatically and still does day by day.

you had learned that he likes to post late in the evening — late being two, three, and four am. he seems to only film in public too. parks, libraries, inside of his seemingly expensive car while at an empty gas station.

when the horniness ebbs off and leaves you looking at those pretty blue eyes blown up on his profile, you like to stare at the dark lines that interlineate them, simply wondering.

“there’s a stock of new harnesses, condoms, and lube coming in,” mitsuya sets a clipboard down on the counter of the register you sit behind of and gives you a little smile. “it should be here by four and i’ll be gone which’ll leave you, emma, and atsushi. you just have to sign for it, we’ll place everything on the shelves tomorrow.”

if you had to find a single word to describe mitsuya it’d be … caring. your manager is bizarrely kind — he’s understanding of your work schedule, doesn’t bitch when you call in sick, allows you to eat little snacks while on the clock; he’s so strangely nice that a slight thought of him being a murderer pops into your brain here and there. but when he gives you a smile which makes his under eyes crease and push them closed into cute crescents, the muse is immediately pushed from your brain. a face belonging to a person like that wouldn’t murder anyone, you’re sure of it.

“okay,” you twist back and forth on your stool while popping a mini cheese ritz cracker into your mouth. “who’s going to be on schedule tomorrow?”

“why are you wondering?” he playfully scoffs, all while lifting a sheet of paper on the clipboard to check. “uh, it’ll be ‘michi, hinata, atsushi, and hakkai, why?”

at the mention of the store’s two, pining lovebirds you coo a long “oooooh!” while grinning and shaking your shoulders. “you think you’re so slick, don’t you? putting ‘michi and hinata on the same schedule, you know they’re gonna be too busy tripping over their own feet and eye fucking each other rather than working, takashi.”

he rolls his eyes and swats you over the head softly with a rolled up magazine while rounding the counter to head to the stock room. “consider me cupid. the more shifts they have, the better. hopefully one of ‘em will finally make a move on the other.”

distantly you hear the chime of the store door while you’re tossing another cracker up in the air to catch with your mouth. “doubt that.”

when the door behind you closes with a small click, you hum and twist in your stool to look at the small screen beside the register that shows a twelve-squared grid of different angles of the store through security cameras. there’s — you count softly underneath your breath, — only four people in the shop right now which isn’t surprising.

wet dreamz’s ‘rush hour’ isn’t ‘til around four to six ‘o clock and it’s only two. you take the downtime to hum, finish your snack, toss the emptied packet in the trash can and start organizing the condoms that sit on the counter by their package color out of boredom.

“excuse me.”

you want to audibly sigh, yet you can only settle for subtly rolling your eyes before lifting your head.

“can i get some help?”

you blink.

the way your heart seems to thud harder and harder against the cage of your ribs confuses you. “. . yeah?” you had asked quietly, staring up into baby blues that seem all too familiar to you. “yeah? sure.” you try again after clearing your throat and straightening your spine, hoping, oddly, that you hadn’t came off rude with your previous low tone. “how can i help you?”

the guy in front of you looks . . mean.

a wild fro of sea-blue curls sits atop his head with a few falling down his forehead into furrowed brows. he seems to almost be glaring at you and you’re fully prepared to calmly offer a, ‘no, i am sorry, sir but i’m unable to take your return nor offer an exchange,’ when he softly says, “can you . . can i just show you? i don’t know why i didn’t bring the packages with me.” his voice is airy and light, certain words streaked over with a small rasp.

your own eyes start to squint because why the absolute fuck does he sound so familiar?

when you nod, he actually gives you a polite smile and waits for you to round the counter so that he can lead you to aisle four — the aisle where vibrators and cocksleeves are stocked. with him only a step in front of you, you notice that he’s quite . . tall . . and lanky. maybe six foot two?, you assume.

“i just need a professional’s opinion — you’re like a professional right?” he takes hold of two boxes with two large hands, fingers on each adorned with an assortment of silver rings that tinkled prettily when rubbed together. the boxes he holds are packages of fleshlights.

at his question, you grow slightly embarrassed, “ . . i guess so.”

he smiles.

you hadn’t known someone so pretty could become even prettier but the guy in front of you does. the simple action softens up his entire face and two, light, identical dimples dip into doughy, freckled cheeks and your heart absolutely skips several beats.

“okay,” he gives a soft chuckle. “i need to know which one’s better. this one? the . . aviator?” he holds up a brown flesh toned one. “or this one? the, uhm, commander?” this one’s entirely translucent.

you swallow and really, desperately try not to think about this man’s penis deep inside of one — god, you know it’s pretty — and take hold of both boxes to see for yourself. the aviator offers a three inch wide, seven inch long insert, a ‘sucking’ feel, and an inner feel made up of ‘superskin.’ while the commander’s lined with stimulating sucking superskin rings, a twist base to adjust the level, and an eight inch long insert.

“i’d go with the commander,” you give a small, toothless smile and hold up the box. “it’s, uhm, more . . versatile.”

he’s staring at you. you find that as much as you find it intimidating, the shivers that crawl up and down the length of your spine isn’t ‘cause you’re scared . . his full attention on you makes you feel a little . . respected, honestly, like he actually cares about what you have to say.

“y’think so?” he seems to whisper before grabbing both boxes, looking at them again himself then setting the aviator down. “alright,” he smiles again and you have to look away for your own sanity. “i’ll take it.”

on your way back to the register, you can hear him shuffling and picking up things as you walk but it’s not until you round the counter and take your seat to start scanning that you see just what they all were.

“i know,” he murmurs, “it’s a lot. sorry if i made your job a little difficult, today.”

what sits atop the counter in front of you are several bottles of lube, two boxes of condoms, the fleshlight, a cocksleeve, and hand held vibrator. “it’s fine. it’s what i do, i guess.” you scan quietly and he stands before you, watching, while tapping his fingers on the counter slowly. you can tell he’s not impatient, just waiting, so you take the slight moment of silence to look up and, just your luck, he’s staring right at you again.

only, this time, you both look away ashamedly at the same time and his cheeks flush a little pink while at it. “thank you for helping me,” he says. “you didn’t have to so i appreciate it . . i had a long fuckin’ day so far.”

long fucking day . . . long fucking day.

“sleepy blue?” the name had flew out of your mouth with a passing thought and it makes you quickly slap both hands to it with widened eyes as you take in his expression.

it’s him, it’s really fucking him.

his face doesn’t really change . . only his cheeks and ears go a little bit pinker and he straightens up his posture to give a small, “ahh,” while pulling his wallet from his back pocket. “shit — oh my god,” he chuckles and looks down. “you, uh, you know me?”

“i’m so sorry,” you quickly bag his items while mentally kicking your foot so far up your own ass that it sticks out from your mouth. stupid, stupid, stupid. “that’ll be 128.57.”

“it’s fine.” he taps his card against the reader. it’s laminated platinum you notice. “you are the first though.”

really? “really?” you’re shocked and it’s read all over your pretty face.

he — sleepy blue? blue? — nods and slides his wallet back inside of his pocket. his curls bounce with the movement and now that he’s in front of you, you really don’t know how you didn’t notice the moment you had heard his voice. his curls are a dead giveaway.

on camstarz, he rarely ever goes live, however when he does, he usually wears a mask with a hoodie or beanie and even so, they can barely sustain the unruly coils that lay underneath them. you had always noticed a blue curl or two, thought that they were maybe part of his hoodie?, you never really knew, but this makes much more sense.

“yeah,” he takes his bag when you hand it to him and gives you a small smile. “makes me happy to know someone so pretty watches my streams. thanks for helping me again.”

he doesn’t wait for you to reply this time. he turns away and walks down an aisle, back towards the exit and you’re left sitting at the counter, confounded, mouth left seemingly permanently agape with your disbelief.

the shock doesn’t wear off. you don’t think it ever will. it’s like a leech, stuck against the sticky chamber of your heart that constantly feels like it keeps dropping into the barrel of your tummy as his voice plays in your head over and over and over again.

when you get home, you try to forget that it ever happened.

because underneath the shock lies an otherworldly amount of embarrassment that makes your shoulders rise up to your ears and body curl into itself as you recall yourself blurting out ‘sleepy blue’ again and again. sometimes you wish you could just rewind time to keep certain things from ever happening, however, unfortunately, life doesn’t work that way.

it keeps going and going, throwing twists and turns and bombshells. and,

‘sleepy6lue is now live! don’t miss out on the fun & join now!’

. . . is a bombshell.

you’re left staring wide eyed at the notification in bed with a bowl of ice cream in hand. it’s eleven pm, the earliest he’s ever gone live before. your heart is racing so fast that it makes you have to sit your bowl down just to press your hand against your chest to somehow regain your previous composure as a trembling thumb hovers over the slowly jumping icon, daring you to press it.

“god.” you do.

and he’s staring at you again. pretty blue eyes more pronounced due to the black starkness of the mask he wears, shielding freckled, dimpled cheeks, pink, pouty lips, and a charmingly-etched jawline. he has on a beanie tonight, a neutral cream that stands out against the teal-green nanoleaf panel lights he has laid in an abstract pattern across his wall behind him.

he lounges back comfortably in a gaming chair, tapping his finger against the armrest like the way he did the counter earlier today while he stared at you bagging his items, and sways his legs in and out, watching comments start to rush in along the side of his screen.

“hm . .” he leans in closer and you tilt yourself a little bit back as if he was actually in front of you. “thirty thou within two minutes, nice,” his eyes crinkle a bit at the corners. you’re reminded of his pretty smile. “i’ll wait ‘til we get to fifty before we start. is that okay, guys?” he tilts his head — how adorable, you can’t help but notice — and reads some of the comments in response to his question.

s1ckb1mbo : mhm! +25 camcoins pervybvnny : whatever u want<3 +10 camcoins ditzykyu : how was ur day?? +50 camcoins

he sucks in some air through his teeth, leans back in his seat, and hums again. “my day?” he twists his chair back and forth and starts to thumb with the ring on his index finger while he thinks about the question. “i just . . ran errands today,” he says softly. “i’m sure you all know that i barely sleep so, most of the time i’m low on energy, but today, i felt a little active so i decided to why not use it?”

the view count is jumping up to the forties.

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“yeah,” he leans his head on a fist so that he can idly twirl a curl around his fingers, then in a low, sing-song like voice, he adds, “i did.”

your eyes catch 50.1k and you pull your knees up to your chest right when he pulls at the neckline of his hoodie and catches it too. “ ‘kay, we’re at fifty thousand now,” he straightens up. “i hope you guys had a good day, too. make sure to eat something and drink water . . and don’t be like me, get some sleep after this, alright? you have to promise me. blue wants to see promises.”

s1ckb1mbo : we promiseeeee! +15 camcoins ditzykyu : promise promise !!! urgoodboydev : pinkie promise ;-; +25 camcoins

you can tell that he’s smiling beneath his mask.

“you guys are so cute,” he utters gently. “so cute . . and all mine, right?”

you clench your thighs.

god, no. how easy it is for him to tip toe a line between cute and hot, adorable and risqué, shouldn’t be possible. his fingers start to play with the drawstrings that holds his sweats up on his hips and he seems to be staring at the camera as if he could see right through it — as if he could see you. “i wanna overstim myself today,” his voice rasps quietly. “went to a sex shop today and bought a bunch of new stuff.”

his fingers pull a string to loosen the loop and have his sweats sag off of his slim hips — you have to bite your finger to keep from whimpering when he pushes them down and reveals he hadn’t been wearing any underwear.

he’s already half hard, twitching against his thigh with his foreskin still shielding his angry, red tip from thousands of greedy eyes.

“there was this employee there.”

your heart stops . . you’re absolutely positive it does, albeit for a second, it still does. but, just in case, to not get your hopes up, you shake your head and try to convince yourself that maybe he was talking about emma, or even mitsuya.

“she helped me pick out my new things.” you know it’s you. he spits into his palm and grips his cock almost painfully tight. “oh my god,” he whispers underneath his breath with his eyes rolling back into his head as he pauses, seemingly tries to grab his bearings. “ ‘m not . . well, i don't think ‘m a bad person. i try to . . be polite and kind, but,” he swallows and starts to stroke himself. his thighs give a strong twitch. “the things i thought while she talked to me,” he gives a breathy chuckle and lets his head fall back against the headrest of his chair. “i feel like i should apologize to her.”

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“she was fuckin’ . . mmph,” his eyes roll back into his skull and he starts to stroke his cock faster, opening his legs wider to make sure the second camera he has positioned pointing towards his groin gets a good look of milky, muscled thighs and a thick, long cock between them. “her lips . . my fuckin’ god,” a dense tendon in his thigh clenches and it makes your entire body do the same. “f-first thing i noticed about her . . and her eyes . . her f-fuckin’ smell, the way she fuckin’ talked, and how she walked . .”

he cums.

it’s shocking. he cums with a high, little hiccupy moan as shot after shot after shot of white semen with the consistency of honey shoots up into the air with some landing on his soft, grey, nike hoodie and falling back down over his thighs and some on the chair between his legs. you hadn’t even know you were holding your breath this entire time until you start to pant right along with him as he tries to calm down. he seems . . . out of it.

a chunk of the reason why he gained so many subscribers within such a short amount of time is because it’s known that his stamina is out of this world. within only a twelve minute video, he had managed to cum four times without getting soft for even a second.

tonight, you can tell when the camera catches on a small twitch which makes his cock bob, you think that he’ll probably break his own record.

he plays with his cum on his fingers for a moment — glides featherlight touches along his tip while staring at the chat through long, thin lashes before rubbing his fingers against each other which makes the metal and platinum rings he has encircled around them chime and twinkle prettily.

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he laughs — it’s soft and breezy while his head rolls back on his shoulders. “okay, okay, i see,” he hums and lets it drop back forward while running his dirtied hand over his thigh.

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“because of the brats in the chat tonight, angel, i can’t,” he leans a little closer to the camera so that his blue, doe eyes are more clearer. your tummy feels like it’s flipping, because within gorgeous, sapphire blue is a lurking darkness that you come to realize is usually veiled. it shows itself properly when his eyebrows dip in just a little closer and his smile drops from behind his mask, leaving just piercing eyes watching the chat start to roll in whiny apologies and pouty faces. “now, see,” he lounges back again, voice a little quieter. “i had thought that there’d be good boys, girls, and angels in the chat, but i guess i was wrong.”

you swallow where you’re sitting. you can practically feel displeasure and irritation rolling off of him in waves that’s managing to seep through both of your cameras to you. it’s utterly sick how bad you wish you were there in that room with him, seated upon strong thighs, with your head tucked into the pocket of his neck that you’d kiss and whimper apologies into, hoping he’d accept them, and you weren’t even the one in the wrong.

“i’m not overstimming myself tonight.” he sits quietly with his head leaned almost boredly onto his shoulder while he watches the chat erupt into chaos.

urgoodboydev : no whyyyyy :( ditzykyu : don’t leave early s1ckb1mbo : u’re bein so mean :(((

he rolls his eyes, “you guys are fuckin’ spoiled, i’m starting to see it now.”

he reaches off camera for something and your eyes almost balloon out of your skull when you see that it’s the fleshlight you had recommended him and a bottle of lube. “i’m going to edge,” he drags a line down the length of his cock with the gel-like substance, strokes it over his shaft evenly then aligned the opening of the toy right on his crown. he pushes it down just enough to where the top is only engulfed then looks at the chat again. “you’re gonna edge with me, hm? gonna be good for blue again?”

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s1ckb1mbo : mhm!! promise +20 camcoins

urgoodboydev : just for you +50 camcoins

when he pushes the fleshlight down to his base, you feel your cunt clench around nothing which only oozes out another rush of slick, adding to the mess that’s starting to dampen your inner thighs. you don’t want to touch yourself — you weren’t even suppose to be watching this long. but, it’s hard to tear your eyes from him.

he rotates his wrist and pushes the toy up and down at a constant pace, not too fast nor slow. and because of it being translucent, thousands of eyes can see the way the rings work his cock; massaging and sucking against him which has him starting to slowly buck up into it as if it were a real pussy above him. “oh, fuck,” he gently curses beneath his breath, tilting his head back against his seat as he keeps the fleshlight still so that he can only move his hips and stroke up into it. “that’s it,” he breathes. “b-be good f’me . . let blue use your sloppy, fuckin’ hole until he’s done.”

figuring there’s no point in just watching, you whimper and shove your hand down your little boyshorts, "oh my god." you’d just be teasing yourself for no clear reason.

your little fingers rub and rub at your pulsing clit, slipping and sliding off of it here and there because of so much slick you’re producing which makes you whine. the sounds emitting from your phone’s speakers are lewd — loud squelches of pre cum and lube dripping out from around the fleshlight, breathy moans and curses, muted squeaks of a gaming chair rocking back and forth.

your middle finger’s sliding deep into your pussy without much resistance at the same time his other hand cups both of his swollen balls. his eyes creak open in the slightest, staring into the lens of his camera, into yours . . and you know that underneath his mask, the slightest little smile lifts the corner of his lips.

and thirty minutes later, after edging yourself four times and orgasming so hard that you see kaleidoscopic stars dancing behind your closed eyelids, you power your phone off and let it fall from your hand, uncaring that it hits your carpeted floor with a dull thud and heave for breath while staring up at your whirling ceiling fan.

even through a fuzzy mind and post-orgasmic murk, you’re absolutely, one hundred percent positive of two things — he is dangerous and you undeniably and incontrovertibly want him.

the next day’s sunday and you’re always off on sundays.

you spend it taking care of things you’re normally too tired to get done with during the week. you do some laundry, meal prep, take pucca to the vet appointment you scheduled last month for his physical, go grocery shopping, and scrub down your bathroom and kitchen til they’re sparkling clean since the two seem to always get so messy every other day.

it’s . . productive — you feel productive. and because of you being so busy, he barely runs through your mind if it isn’t the sound of his broken voice going ‘a-awe fuck . . yeah,’ out of nowhere that you’re always swift to banish away with a quick shake of your head.

you find that as much as you like your home, and as much as a soi-distant homebody you are, you’re aware of the fact that a person shouldn’t be always holed up at their apartment if they’re not at work, and vice versa. even though you had soaked up enough vitamin d and done enough socializing today to get you through another week, you still, to a certain extent, force yourself to get out of the house to take a short walk down the street of your apartment to your favorite cafe.

the sun and its rays fleet by the time you’re close to it, leaving behind imminent, ashen grey clouds that starts to spread across blue skies, darkening the entire city. you sigh. rain; you’re not very fond of rain if you weren’t spending the day at home. wet shoes and clothes, sharp, cold winds, slick roads and traffic . . you’d rather die, honestly.

when you walk through the doors of the cafe, you’re greeted by a wave of comforting heat and a distant ‘welcome’ from one of the busy baristas. you adore it here. there’s an ignited fireplace focused near the left side of the establishment with small tables and chairs nearby that a few college students and couples occupied. the right contained booths for larger parties.

you walk up to the queue and pull your phone out to busy yourself with a childish mobile game while waiting. vacantly, you hear the swinging door behind you open with a light bell toll which makes you take a tiny step forward to give the person behind you a good amount of space to further enter the shop without being so close to the door. by the time you make it to the front of the line, you have passed two boards of candy crush so you place your phone back in your pocket with content and give the kind-faced barista a small smile before saying, “uhm, can i get a large caramel macchiato, light on the foam with—“

“—three pumps of cinnamon syrup?”

your eyebrows furrow in close at the voice behind you citing your exact order as if they, themselves, had ordered it a million times before. you turn your head around to take a look and — of course, there he is. the blue-haired, dimple-cheeked, freckle faced camboy who’s been plaguing your dreams for days now gives you a soft smile with a slight ruffle of his curls by his hand so that they can fall into his eyes. “that’s my . .” he takes a step up so that he’s standing beside you. his smile never leaves his face. “that’s my, uh, order too. i thought i knew you, i’ve been standing behind you trying to figure it out for the longest.”

you want to say something, you desperately do, but you’re stuck again. your tongue can only move against the roof of your closed mouth as he turns to the barista, makes it two, then pays before looking at you again and tilting his head towards the tables near the fireplace. “do you wanna sit together?”

“. . . sure.”

he leads you over to a little table a good distance away from the fire so that you can both be warm without getting too hot. he takes his seat and you take yours, and he loosens the slate grey scarf he wore so that it’s no longer wrapped around and just hangs from the back of his neck. “it’s nice seeing you here,” he softly starts while placing his hands on the table.

he’s wearing rings on most of his fingers again and he begins to twist the one on his index back and forth, something you notice he does a lot.

“yeah, you too,” you reply quietly. “i like it here. they’re super nice … and the coffee’s good.”

he doesn’t say anything at first, just gives a small “hm,” while staring at you. “shit — uh, my name, i’m souya,” even holds his hand out for a proper handshake as his cheeks go peachy.

souya.

you give him your name and slip your hand within his, pleasantly shocked to feel that it’s soft, warm, and a bit damp. he’s nervous, you come to realize, and you’re not sure why. “so, uh, i went by the shop earlier today and you weren’t there.”

your heart skips a beat, just a tiny one, at the thought of him visiting your job just to see you, but you know that that’s a probability by a long shot. “yeah, i was off today — just ran some errands and stuff.”

“yeah,” he huffs a little laugh as if he were embarrassed and rubs the back of his neck. “i figured.”

“so, how was your day?”

souya nibbles at his bottom lip, pink and plush, the action makes one of his dimples crater into his cheeks and — god, he’s so pretty. he’s so pretty and you’re positive that he doesn’t even know it. “went to visit my brother over by shinjuku for a while, but that’s really it.”

you like talking to him, “you have a brother?”

he nods. it seems like at the mention of him, he gets a little bit more comfortable. “a twin. he’s older.”

it seems like you both talk for hours. you even stay past when the barista hands you both your orders, simply getting to know one another. he tells you about his brother and his friends, his life growing up in tokyo, and what he does while he’s not camming — helps his brother run a country-wide chain of noodle restaurants which completely blows your mind when first told. “so . . you’re like . . very well off, souya.”

he glances away which grinning, “i’m . . i’m comfortable.”

you’re sure he is, “if you’re ‘comfortable,’” you lift and drop the cardboard cup sleeve around your, now, lukewarm coffee. “why do you cam?”

something in his face shifts — he doesn’t get angry or defensive; if anything, he looks down at his cup of coffee for a moment before shrugging and looking back up at you. there’s a slight smirk on his face and his eyes dance something . . . dark. it has the blood running through your veins igniting, turning plasma into molten lava that rushes up to your cheeks and heats them hot.

when he speaks again, his voice is soft, more so than usual; he’s talking like it’s a shared secret between the two of you, “you know how when you were a kid, your parents would tell you not to do something … and them telling you not to just makes you want to do it even more . .” he asks, leaning back comfortably in his seat the way he does his gaming chair. “doesn’t matter if you liked doing it or not. i think it’s just something about being told no . . and knowing that i shouldn’t do it that makes it more fun. don’t you agree?”

you nod. you’re not even sure why, but you do. you’re entranced by him in every single way, and you’re confident in knowing that the little bud inside of your core that’s starting to sprout into something much, much more intense is a fucking crush.

souya smiles, lifts one arm, drops it with a smack to his side, then shakes his head as if dismissing the conversation, “i don’t know . . anyways,” he looks out of the window which makes you do the same. it’s pouring outside and you hadn’t even realized, too caught up in cyanic blue eyes, small chuckles, and a honeyed voice. “i like talking to you.”

you look back forward to see him staring at you with eyes that reflected yours — kind, captivated — and you almost melt where you sit. “i did too, souya.”

“no,” he simply says with his lips raising to a grin. “i like talking to you, no past tense. i’d like to do this again.”

you’re rendered speechless for what feels like the thousandth time today, watching him pull out his phone, open it, then pause, “can i have your number?”

fuck yes. “y-yeah, sure.”

your number is saved into his phone and his into yours. minutes later, you both exit the cafe together and he offers you a ride home in his car which he points to, a glossy, obsidian black lexus lc coupe parked a few establishments down. but you politely turn him down, noting when his face falls into something more concerned which makes you explain that you only lived a few blocks away. he still seemed a little weary of you having to walk alone in a storm but with a gentle ‘i’ll be fine,’ he’s letting you go with a short nod.

texting souya slips into your weekly routine before it becomes daily, and seeing souya becomes weekly before that becomes every other day — souya kawata quietly and unelaborately slips into your entire routine, gets comfortable, and molds his way into your life like he’d been here from the very start.

it’s … different. he’s different.

he makes you feel things you’ve never felt before, whether that be slight irritation in how he absolutely loves popping up at your job unannounced just to lean on the counter and talk to you all soft and quietly the way he always does which makes you get all shy and feel fuzz grow in your tummy or even bona fied, unadulterated happiness when he calls you when you get home just to make sure you made it safe.

you’re aware that you both begin to tip toe into this scary, unknown territory three months into your friendship when your crush on him begins to bloom and expand into something more. you know it does because when souya lets out a disgusting burp loud enough to shake your entire complex at nine pm after a shared pizza and soda pop, you, surprisingly, don’t get repulsed by it which you know you would have if it had been anyone else — you find it cute?, which puts a lot of things in perspective.

you find yourself excited to text him which is another thing you’ve never experienced before. you like hearing him talk about his life and how he manages the noodle shops’ finances all from home at his desk. you like watching him lounge back in the gaming chair you’ve seen him jerk himself off in almost a dozen times while you both facetime as his fingers tap and click at his keyboard and mouse. the expensive headphones he wears push all of his curls back and reveals his smooth forehead and thick, angry eyebrows that makes him look all mean and vicious.

but, then his eyes meet yours through his phone screen and you can literally see his face melt into one of fondness and you really like that, too.

souya kawata has came and simply turned your life upside down, and you don’t know how to feel about it.

“what are you smiling at?” he grumbles through the phone, watching you hum and walk back and forth past your phone that seemed to be propped up against something inside of your kitchen beside the stove.

“none of your business.”

his fingers click quickly on his mouse to quickscope an opponent, hearing his friends cursing in his ears which he chooses to ignore to instead focus on you. you were cooking as you do every other day when you get off of work, dressed in a huge, band tee. souya’s sure in the fact that you like teasing him. you’ve bent over a few times just shy of the camera lens and as gentlemanly as he is, souya can only take so much. “none of my business, huh?”

you nod while shaking some black pepper into the skillet in front of you, “yup,” you pop the last syllable to emphasize the word. “don’t worry about it, souya.”

he thinks you like his name. you say it a lot, and you always sing it like, soyyyAh!

it’s cute — makes him want to push you down and shove your legs up until your ankles meet your ears — but it’s cute, nonetheless.

“mmm,” he hums, focusing back on his game as you click the burner off, sprinkle some shredded cheese on your dish then place a top on it so that the steam could help melt it.

when the first round of the game is completed, he finds you looking at him with your arms folded on the counter and your head slightly tilted. he grows flustered, “what?”

“nothin’.”

“liar.”

“what’re you gonna do about it?”

just shy underneath his breath he utters, “pin you down and make you—“

“—hm?”

he shakes his head, watching the second round begin on his pc screen, “nothing. how was work?”

you inhale through your mouth and blow it out harshly, it makes your chubby cheeks go round and fat and souya feels his heart rush. “work was . . okay.”

“okay?” his focus is back on the game but his ears are only open to you. “why? usually it’s, ‘it was good, souya,’ ‘same ol’, same ol’ souya.’”

you rub your thumb across your manicured nail, “i don’t know. jus’ . . i got flirted with by this guy and, i don’t know, he wasn’t annoying or ugly or anything, but i just got uncomfy and i’ve been a bit off all day, i guess.” when even thinking about it again, you feel put-off.

souya likes that — your honesty. you never hold back on your feelings or thoughts, you like talking things out. it’s refreshing. “flirted with, hm?” his fingers jab a little bit harder at his mouse and keys.

“yeah,” you quietly reply. “he was tall . . and sweet, had brown hair and hazel eyes . . looked strong, too.”

“i bet.”

you catch his attitude immediately. you tilt your head even further to the side, stare at him for a moment, then start to smile, “souya.”

he’s quiet.

his eyes are glued to his screen and you doubt he’s even listening to you anymore.

“souya . . . .” you try again. “souya!”

“what, ( ♡ )? what?” he articulates with his eyebrows dipping low where they meet. he looks upset. it makes you pout and bury your face into your arm.

“you’re being mean. are you upset with me?”

he answers bluntly, “no. i just don’t want to hear about that shit.”

your eyebrows dip low too, “. . why not? we’re friends. friends talk about this stuff.”

and in the most calmest tone with his eyes remaining focused on the screen as his index finger clicks at his mouse, he says, “you know we’re not just fuckin’ friends.”

his words make you pause and you can hear them echoing inside of your brain. out of shock, you huff a small laugh and straighten your posture. “. . . we’re not?” your heart’s beating so hard that it hurts, it feels like it’s in your ears.

“we’re not.”

a beat of silence passes. you look at your pasta, realizing you’re not even hungry anymore. thoughts are rushing through your head at an all time speed, turning them all jumbled and into gibberish yet there’s only one thing that makes sense. you swallow nervously, “. . can you come over?”

souya’s face goes that familiar soft . . his expression relaxes and his lips lift at the corners. you hear the game narrator firmly shout, ‘cleared!’ as he takes off his headphones and sets them down. his hand reaches up to ruffle his curls back down across his forehead and a little into his eyes and he leans his cheek on his fist while staring at you silently for a moment, “you want me to come over?”

he’s asking it in a tone resembling, ‘are you sure?’

you nod, “mhm, yes,” then more gently, “p-please?”

he smiles and you watch him stand, walk off screen then you hear the sound of keys before he’s grabbing his phone. “i’ll be there in a bit, alright?”

“okay, souya.”

with the call disconnected, you’re left standing silently in the kitchen for a moment, letting the repercussions of what you had just done soak into you for a moment. “shit!” you hiss when it all hits. he’s coming over. souya’s been over your house maybe three to four times but you know that this time is different. something’s going to happen and you’re not completely sure what, and that doesn’t help even so. “shit!”

and so you tear off your oversized tee which leaves you in nothing but your underwear which you cover with a pair of tiny, pink shorts and then slip into a white, cropped cami. you’re making sure that the living room is all neat and pucca’s bowls are full of food and fresh water twenty minutes later when your doorbell rings. you jump which makes pucca jump and scramble up into the sanctuary of his cat tree. “thanks a lot,” you grumble with a pout while walking over to the door, twisting a few locks and opening it.

souya stands on the other side, dressed in a pair of tan, baggy khakis, layered long sleeve tee, vans, and a beanie. you always tease him for how he dresses — how he reminds you of a skater boy which makes him just roll his eyes and flick your nose. you only tease because you like it so much. it fits him. “hey,” he smiles and you smile, too.

“hi.” you allow him entry and he steps inside to kick off his shoes and align them beside the rack of others. he sets his keys and phone down on the table and you’re inhaling a slow, shaky breath while taking your time locking the door.

you had thought he’d be annoyed with you not knowing what you wanted or what to do, but when you turn around, he’s plopping down on your couch and reaching for the tv remote, “c’mon,” he pats the space beside him. “let’s watch that show you’re always talking about.”

your nerves seem to settle when you take a seat beside him and curl your legs underneath your butt. because you smell him ��� clean linen, morning dew fabric softener, and peppermint cologne and you’re leaning and leaning and leaning until you find yourself nuzzled into his side which he welcomes happily. he brings you close by the waist and kisses the top of your head and you bury your face into his chest to hide your smile because you just feel so, so happy.

“souya?” he hears you whispering minutes later with your chin pressed against his pec to look up at him. your lips are glossed and plump and they shine underneath the ghoulish, pale blue light emitting from the television screen.

“hm?”

you don’t say anything and that’s okay. he’s patient with you. he stays quiet and watches you frown a bit, as if you were upset with yourself, before you were leaning in and smacking a soft kiss to his collarbone. souya’s eyebrows lift. but, you keep doing that, kissing up his neck to his jawline, across his cheek and then you stop at his lips. “. . can i—“

he grabs you by the face with one hand to firmly push his into yours in a rush of scorching hot fervency. he kisses you like he’s . . angry, not with you, but with himself. he kisses you like you’re oxygen and he’s been out of air for weeks. his lips are warm and soft, terribly soft, you hate him for it because now that you’ve gotten a taste, you’re sure that you’re never going to get enough. they taste like strawberries from the chapstick he always wears and you can’t help but toss one knee over him into the couch cushion to take a seat right on his lap where his thighs open a bit to fit you perfectly.

his teeth nibbles on your bottom lip which he tugs on when falsely pulling away just to make you whine before he’s kissing you even deeper than before, dipping his tongue past your lips, gliding it over the roof of your mouth, tasting spearmint, swallowing your gasps. it’s so much.

you mewl, “souya.”

he pulls away, presses his forehead against yours, and you both are quiet, save for the soft breaths being passed between you. “fuck,” he smiles softly and looks up at you through his lashes. “know how long i wanted to do that, baby?”

baby. your heart flutters and you curl your arms around his neck to play with the hairs at the nape of his neck. you shake your head. “nuh-uh.”

“so long,” he admits quietly. “too long.”

you’re nothing more than clay for him to mold when he starts to stamps kisses along your cheeks, underneath your jaw, and neck, but never further than that. you close your eyes, bask in his affection and grip his tee tight in a fist, “souya,” his name is weakly hiccuped. you feel dazed. “souya, you’re teasing.”

“am i?” his voice shows that he doesn’t care. “deal with it,” he tells you. “needed you for so long … now you’re all mine.”

all mine. the brazen display of possessiveness makes your clit jump against your panties. you feel his hands grip your ass and squeeze. the way he wants you is sobering. all this time souya’s spent around you, yet never made a move makes him want to throw a bowling ball into his own face because here you are, showing him that you’ve wanted him just as much as he wanted you, too. it shows in the way you start to grind your hips down against the hardened bulge of his dick through his pants, how you whimper with each kiss he presses into your skin, and how you sigh sweetly each time he squeezes the globes of your ass cheeks tight enough for the soft skin to spill beneath these tiny fucking shorts into the gaps of his fingers.

“mm,” he utters and gives four firm smacks to it in a row.

you hiccup with each one and rise up higher so that he’s able to somehow grope you more. “c’mon,” you sniffle, not even sure of what you want. you just need something. “souya, please.”

he wants to ravish you yet take his time, simultaneously. you’re truly a sight to behold when he sits back and takes a look at you — lipgloss smudged and shining across your chin, chest rising and falling with each heavy breath you take, how you’re looking at him with your eyebrows pulled in together just the tiniest bit and, oh, you’re pouting. how cute.

“sit on my face.”

“. . huh?” your eyes go wide and you perk up on his lap. “i, you want me to … r-really?”

souya can’t tell you how serious he is. “jus’ . . lemme,” he lifts his arms so that he can pull off his shirt and beanie and how dumb your brain goes when you finally come face to chest with the same abs you’ve been drooling over and daydreaming about riding for months now is fucking humiliating.

freckles are dotted all over his body like a constellation of bronzed stars had been snatched from the skies and sprinkled across him. your little fingers are trembling when you reach out to gently touch his chest to see if they’d explode like supernova remnants. “you’re pretty,” you whisper softly, unable to hold it in. he’s beautiful.

and across his nose sprouts a coral-pink blush that only makes you cup his face to kiss the bridge of it. you’re whipped over him, but the moment only lasts so long before you’re suddenly being lifted with a squeak and carried down the hall to your bedroom. “why are you so cute, hm?” he plops you down on your soft mattress and follows you so that his body is completely draped over yours once your lips reconnect.

you slip your fingers through teal blue ringlets and curl your toes when he accidentally angles his hips down which only has his cock rubbing against your pussy that aches and drips between your legs. it’s perfect — the angle’s perfect. you have to pull away from his lips just to moan when he does it again.

“fuck — y’like that?” he breathes, watching your pretty face screw up once he rolls his hips and his bulge manages to catch your clit. “mm, you do.”

he grabs you by the backs of your knees and pushes them up. “s-souya.” he lets them go only a second later, presses his hands into the mattress by your sides and keep your legs up and spread with his biceps.

it’s the perfect position for him to start to slowly thrust his hips back and forth, grinding and fucking you into the mattress and you’re already going so stupid, looking up at him like he’s hung every moon and star in the sky tonight with your pretty fingers shoved into your mouth that you use to bite and suck on from being too loud.

“ ‘nngh, souya . . s-souya feels s’good.”

he coo’d, “ooh, i know it does, princess . . feels good for souya, too.”

he’s holding himself back, you can tell when he tilts his head back as the veins in his neck and forearms bulge. you can cum like this and you know he can too, you want him to. “f-faster, souya.”

“baby, i want us to take our time—“ it’s your first time together. he has to get to know your body better, he wants to.

but you’re stubborn and you know how to get what you want, even if that means pulling out a bratty pout and glare, “faster.”

souya stops, sighs, leans down to bury his face into your neck which only has your knees pressing into the mattress and your feet dangling in the air and gives you what you want. his pace builds up slowly — rolls his hips and grinds until they pick up to more gyrates and thrusts until it feels like he’s literally fucking you through both of your barriers of clothing. it’s good, it’s so fucking good.

your moans get choked up in your throat as you’re left watching your pretty feet flap pathetically in the air through blurry eyes as he pins you where he wants you. “oh f-fuck,” you hiccup. “souya — ‘ngh.”

souya starts to slur, his voice still, always so gentle though a bit deeper, more heavier begins to peek through. he starts to speak more through breaths and soft groans, each word he says only drifts straight into your ears to your little brain and renders it more and more dumb. “sloppy, lil’ pussy,” he utters. “s-so fuckin’ wet, sweet girl … can feel you through my pants.”

you wriggle and squirm, dragging angry, red lines down the smooth canvas of his back with sharp, acrylic nails as his bulge rolls into your clit just right. your entire body feels like a sensitive spot. each kiss he gives you, each touch of his fingers on your skin, each grind — you can only take so much.

“pretty lil princess pussy,”

your eyes roll into the back of your head as the edge only draws nearer.

“made jus’ f’me.”

you’re a blubbering mess of sobs and whines as your body writhes underneath souya’s frame upon the first gush of cum pouring out of your pussy. souya lifts up as you’re gasping and piercing your nails into his forearms for something to hold onto to take in your expression — mouth agape, drool dribbling down your cheek, teary eyed. he captures a mental snapshot as something for him to hold onto when he finds himself drifting off into daydreams that almost always contain you.

“felt good, didn’t it?” he softly whispers, pulling his hips back to take a look at the mess between your legs. your shorts are completely ruined — crotch is soaked beyond repair and your inner thighs are shining with slick. “mmm.” souya gives a firm slap to your chubby pussy whose imprint he can now see. “came so much for souya, sweet girl.”

you’re fighting for breath as you wiggle your hips. souya can tell that you’re still so needy, still unsated. “let’s get these off of you, hm?” he waits until you nod before he reaches for your camisole first. you have to sit up a bit for him to lift the fabric up and over your head so that your tits can spill out from beneath it. souya isn’t surprised to see that you’re pretty all over. your shorts are next; he takes his time pulling these off. ever so slowly, inch by inch, until both them and your panties are peeled away and tossed to the carpet and your legs steadily fall apart. you had came so much that a film of your slick had connected both of your thighs together.

“fuck.”

souya groans and pulls you into another kiss, feeling you shuffle up on your knees so that you’re kneeling on the bed in front of him. “touch me,” you sigh sweetly while grabbing his wrist and carefully slipping his hand between your thighs. he understands. he slips his fingers between your lips, puffy and thick, and immediately finds your swollen, little bud. souya wants to touch you, he really does, but he needs you on his tongue. he needs to know if you taste as sweet as you look, if you’d squeeze your thighs around his head if it feels too good, if you’d grip his curls in your tiny hands and pull or let him control the reigns through and through.

and so he falls back onto your bed and forces you to walk up on your knees up his body until they’re above his shoulders and your cunt is only inches away from his mouth. you’re shy; you nibble on your fingernail and stare down into lidded, blue eyes, “s-souya, are you sure—“

“—shh shh, baby, just c’mon,” he squeezes your ass and feasts his sight on your pretty pussy. “jus’ take a seat . . mhm, that’s it.”

you have his eyes closing in bliss at the first taste of your juices on his tongue. his cock jumps in his pants which he chooses to ignore to only focus on wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking. your lips are so thick, too thick, that he has to keep them spread apart with his thumbs just to get access to it. “oh god,” you whimper, feeling his hands pressing into the front of your thighs and pushing. you’re confused at what he’s doing for a moment until he’s urging you to literally take a seat onto his face so you’re no longer standing on your knees and that your pussy is completely swathed by his mouth.

your head falls back as the feel of his tongue, long and warm, pushing past your drippy hole and inside where he attempts to coax out more of your nectar and swallow every single drop you give him. “souya . . souya, souya!” you mewl pathetically, hips starting to rotate and rock back and forth along the surface of his tongue he lays out on display for you.

for how nice and sweet he always is to you, he eats you out without one fuck about your physical well being given. he doesn’t care if you start to shake and tremble and cry ‘cause it’s too much. he grips you by the hips, keeps you still, and loudly slurps along your clit until the little bud feels like it’s chafed raw. chin wet and eyes glinting with smug pride, he looks up at you and you look down at him and you already feel the twisting band in your core tightening to apprise you of your second orgasm tonight.

but souya doesn’t let that happen. he lets your clit go with a loud, wet smacking sound, tilts your body in doing so you fall onto your back and so that he can lift up and slip above you, in between your legs. “suck.”

he traces your lips with his fingers prior to slipping his middle and ring past them and onto your tongue. you suck them as if it were his cock — curling and slipping your tongue between the spaces of them, drooling, and slurping, getting his pretty, silver rings all messy. souya pushes them a little past your throat to feel and watch you choke. “filthy,” he whispers when he slips them out to tap your clit.

he doesn’t tease you, doesn’t think he can when he wants you this bad. he slips his middle finger inside first, not shocked when you tense and grip on tight to his shoulders because, fuck, you were tight. “poor thing,” he coo’s, massaging your thigh. “relax f’me . . mhm, there you go.”

the digit bottoms out with a loud squelch. your thighs clench around his slim hips when he starts to stroke it in and out, getting you to loosen up before his ring finger’s following. your mouth drops at the feeling; his fingers are slender and long, they reach deeper than what yours can and you’re positive that he manages to find your g-spot for the first time when he curls them and your body convulses.

he smiles upon your lips, “right there?”

you can hardly speak, let alone breathe when he picks up a quick rhythm that has your cunt squelching and slurping around its intrusion. your eyes, unfocused and glimmering with unshed tears, look up into his, “n-never . . never felt this good before, souya.”

your confession absolutely warms his entire heart. how sweet of you, how precious of you. “no?” his head tilts as the skin between his brows gather. “well, that’s upsetting to hear, princess. you should always feel this good. y’tellin’ me no one’s made you cum before?”

he’s speaking to you as if he’s asking about the weather, as if he isn’t knuckle deep inside of you. your back arches when the pad of his fingers massage that special, little spot inside of you again, “nuh-uh,” your voice has risen several octaves higher. “j-just you, just you.”

something about that makes souya break. he pulls his fingers out, sucks them clean, and undoes his belt. you help him out of his pants and grey, tom ford briefs, kicking them off the bed to the floor, and with his cock right between your legs, tip only centimeters away from your clit, you’re aware that cameras really hadn’t done him justice.

he’s prettier than you recall, crown flushed pink when he pulls the extra layer of skin back. “shit, lemme see.”

you let him push in close so that he can lay his dick over your tummy with his balls pressed against your cunt, sizing it up. your breath hitches when you see that he reaches a few inches past your belly button. “you’re little, baby,” his voice sounds both amazed and concerned. “think it’ll fit?”

you nod, “mhm.” you’ll make it fit.

but still, souya’s apprehensive — he’s scared of breaking you, he doesn’t want to see you in pain, even if it is just for a second. so you let him drip a trill of spit from his pretty lips down onto your clit where he uses his fingers to lubricate them with it and your slick before he’s pushing them in again. “s-souya, please—“ you want him . . horribly.

however he’s just shaking his head and forcing one of your legs up higher so that he can watch your soft walls drag across the length of his digits each time he pulls them out. “be a good girl for me, ( ♡ ).”

he only ever says your whole name when he’s upset or serious, so you know to only whine and keep still, letting him push in a third finger. “ooh, look at that,” he whispers, entranced by your cunt. “jus’ swallowin’ me up, makin’ me a mess, aren’t you, beautiful?”

it’s a slow process that ultimately feels bittersweet. you want more, but you can’t deny that this feels good, too. when he’s scissors you open enough, you watch him pull his fingers out, lift both your legs and slip his cock between your lips. “o-oh,” your mouth falls agape when he starts to slowly rock his hips.

“that’s it,” he breathes, fingers pressing into your jolting hips that shudder each time his tip bumps your clit. “mmm.”

his precum is leaking steadily and mixes loudly with the mix of cum, saliva, and slick smeared all over your pussy. “souya,” your back arches and eyes snap shut. you can cum like this. the pressure of it all feels just right.

“pretty fuckin’ pussy.”

he sinks into you when you least expect it. your eyes quickly bulge back open and it feels like words are stuck in your throat as you’re left staring, mouth agape at his cock slowly pushing inside of you, inch by inch. “a-awe.” souya’s entire body trembles once he reaches the hilt. the way your pussy stretches and pulses around him is vulgar — squelchy, bubblegum pink walls working in tandem to massage and suck in all he gives, greedy for more. his fist doesn’t compare, his fleshlight doesn’t even come close. “oh fuck.”

you’re already so dumb.

when he slowly pulls out halfway and pushes back in, a cute, pathetic squeak leaves your mouth as you reach for his shoulders to hold onto. silvery, pale moonlight shines against your skin, bathing you in an iridescent glow. souya finds himself kissing you, unable to help it as he carefully begins to move. “so fuckin’ pretty,” he whispers into your gasping mouth. “drive me crazy, baby . . all these months, for so long.”

your squeaks and hiccups spring from your mouth in time with his thrusts. he makes you wrap your legs around his waist, holds them together by your ankles behind him with one hand, cups the back of your head with his other, and starts to fuck you the way you deserve to be — fast, nice, and deep.

you’re a teary faced mess. you can feel him nudging the barrier of your cervix and your toes curl from the mix of overwhelming pain and pleasure that has your ears ringing. “s-shit,” you sob out, little hands gathering into frustrated fists. “souya, please.”

“please what?” he asks breathless, a cocky smile playing on his lips.

the man above you is . . different. he knows what he’s doing — only your first time together and he already knows how to play your body like a fiddle. you try to glare at him, but you’re left to melt into his arms when he suddenly pushes in deep and rolls his hips to massage his crown against that tender bud of nerves. “oh my god.”

“i know,” he murmurs. “i know, baby.”

you don’t need to tell him. he knows you feel good, can see it in the way your eyes roll back and how tight you hold him. he adores you. “takin’ me so good.” you both look down between you to watch his cock, glossy with your juices, push in and out of your sloppy pussy. “that’s it . . . fuck.”

you’re sniffling when he pulls out, slips from the bed to stand at the foot, and pull you closer by your leg. he’s grinning at you over his bottom lip, eyebrows lifted. “c’mere. flip over for me.”

he’s going to kill you, you’re sure of it. but, you do as told and dip in your back to form a deep arch. souya could’ve almost came from the sight alone. “shit,” he whines with you when he pushes in again, it’s like the first time all over. he doesn’t think he can be careful with you in this position, he doesn’t want to.

to his surprise though, you start to pull your hips away until the tip is only sheathed then drop back down and it’s his turn for his eyes to roll back into his head. the meat of your ass ripples from the impact of his pelvis hitting it and he can’t help but grab a nice handful of it for him to hold onto while you fuck him. “j-jus’ like that,” his head falls back. “fuck.”

you moan when he starts to meet you halfway; one of his hands glide up the length of your back to grab you by the front of your throat and forces you to lift you up on your hands. “a-awe!” your eyebrows furrow and eyes snap shut when he starts to pound into you, nice and hard, letting your pussy squelch and drip around him, down his balls to the duvet. his grip around your throat tightens, making your inhales thin and strained, but it’s all so good.

you grip the comforter tight and keep still, feeling him lift a leg, place his foot on the frame of your bed and starts to drill into you. your breath gets choked up and your arms give out from underneath you, just when he lets you go so that you can fall back into your arch while dragging in a big breath, “s-sou’ — ah! ‘mcumming’mcumming!”

it hits you hard. you’re entire body shakes underneath his when he bows over you to groan and fuck you through it, never letting up his pace. warm tears slip down the softness of your cheeks when his arm curls around your waist so that his fingers can tap and swirl your little clit around and ‘round, “gimme one more,” he breathes into your shoulder. “one more, pretty girl.”

how someone who almost had a fit upon seeing you with a bandaid on your arm one day from nipping your skin while shaving goes from that to purposely wracking havoc on your sensitive body just to watch you cry? you don’t know. souya’s a walking juxtaposition that you’re still not sure of how to approach or understand. “souya, i can’t,” you’re sobbing and reaching for his forearm, but he’s shushing you quietly and you love when he does that — when he coo’s and tells you ‘he knows’ and how the condescension tip toes a line of sweet gentleness.

“for me, baby? for souya? you can do that, i know you can,” he whispers while his cock practically rearranges your organs.

and you give in, even if you do whimper and bury your face into the comforter. “for you,” you sniff and pout. you’ll do it for him. “j-jus’ for you.”

he’s smiling. you can feel it against your skin. “that’s my girl.”

and so he pulls out, flips you back over, and pushes your legs up until your knees are leveled with your shoulders. you’re able to see the lewd way of how meanly your pussy sucks back in his cock, as if she were mad he even pulled out in the first place, how a ring of cream gathers at the base of it, how your tummy bulges with each push of him inside. your eyes cross on their own accord and you’re left to only hold onto souya’s wrists, nails digging little moons into his skin.

souya looks . . mean above you. his face reminds you of the time you first met — eyebrows furrowed, lips folded into his mouth, with his pretty curls jumping in time with his own rhythm.

you’re cumming again.

just from looking at his pretty face, at the back of your mind you wonder just how whipped you really are for this man.

souya seems surprised, but if anything, your orgasm only pushes him towards his own. his jaw clicks, “f-fuck,” his voice sounds strained. “baby, can i cum inside? can souya cum inside you?”

“yes!” you hiccup and curl your toes, needy for it. “p-please. wanna feel it, souya.”

his ‘o’ face is … beautiful, you think. you’ve seen it a dozen times on screen, however in front of you, pixels don’t capture the way the veins in his neck and forearm strain when his head tilts back, how tight he holds you, how the cutest, little whimpers trill inside the back of his throat. “ohhh fuck,” he whines, gyrating his hips in slow circles as his dick jerks and pulses inside you at each jet of cum he releases. “w-why do you feel so good?”

you giggle tiredly and massage his tensed arms with your hands until he’s releasing a large breath, relaxing, and lowering his head to fix you with a spent grin. “. . . shit,” is all he murmurs, voice lower than usual. he pulls out slow and you reach down to part your lips with your index and middle finger, watching him lean his head down to look at your pussy. “push it out f’me, baby.”

you clench and relax so that warm globs of pearly white cum can start to dribble from your hole and down to your perineum. the feeling makes you shiver. the sight makes souya release a breath of shock. “damn.” he dips his fingers in and you squeal and tense up.

“souya!”

he catches your pretty pout and leans down to kiss it off your lips. “sorry,” a blush spreads across his cheeks. “can’t help it.”

you nuzzle deep into his chest when he lays down and pulls you into him. “sleepy?” he asks quietly. you nod. you’re exhausted. you haven’t fucked anyone in almost a year, you forgot how tiring it actually is. and coupled with having three, soul stirring orgasms, you’re completely done for the night. “okay,” souya kisses your head. “. . . is it cool if i stay the night?”

“oh my god,” you groan. “duh, souya.”

learning to love is … frightening.

or so, you had thought. loving souya is easy, it comes easy. it doesn’t hit you out of no where like the movies portray, it’s a slow wave of emotion that has you brushing your teeth alongside him and catching his eye through the mirror one day and feeling your heart warm when he gives you a foamy, eye scrunching smile around his toothbrush.

you feel it in the way you talk to him, always so soft and gently. the way you touch him, when you tuck some curls behind his ears as if they were finely woven of gold so you can somehow get a clearer look of his face, the way you look at him.

and you feel the way he loves you, too. when he wraps his arms around your waist while you’re cooking and plops his chin on your shoulder, never needing to say anything — just submerging himself in your comfort. he had told you he’d been diagnosed with insomnia about a year back, but around you, his arms’ll be holding you nice and close with his face buried into your tummy before he’s asleep within a minute. you love him and he absolutely loves you, too.

[motuzi]

Okay, so I've never requested one like this, but can you do the Kawata Twins with their shared girlfriend?

She's the only one who can read their faces past the one anyone else is limited to seeing.

They take her to a party and some guy talks her up and she keeps talking to him to be polite, but she sees the twins and knows to leave with them right away.

They aren't mad at her, but jealous and feel the need to be sure she knows she belongs to them.

NSFW please❤

ASK BOX IS OPEN

Poly Smiley and Angry

They've always shared everything with each other as kids. Snacks, toys and now even you. But that was only for them. You were only for them.

Angry has his hands on your hips in a bruising grip while he holds you from behind. Absolutely seething at the memory of watching you smile at some nobody.

And Smiley? He's basically suffocating you with a kiss holding your wrists in his grip and not letting go.

You finally get a second to breath and wince in pain. "S-sou! You're hurting me!"

He takes his hands off you like he's been burned, he never wants to hurt you! Smiley, on the other hand, lets go of your wrists and grabs you by the throat.

"Cheaters don't have the right to complain~," he coos, "I thought Angry was gonna cry when he saw you. Make it up to him, ya?"

Smiley reaches a hand down and flips your skirt up for his baby brother. He can be nice too.

Souya only hesitates for a second, drinking in the pretty pastel of your panties before he's pushing them to the side to have some real fun with you.

Nahoya waits his turn and his kissing you with new fervor, his hand never leaving your throat, while Souya is fucking you from behind kissing your neck gently.

When Angry is done, Smiley doesn't even give you a chance to breath before he takes his turn too.

They're both pretty rough with you too. Niether bothering with a condom just wanting to mark and fill you as their own.

Souya carries a passed out you home, And Nahoya just keeps saying its your own fault, and that you should know better.

[motuzi]

hi hi! I rlly like ur work and it's my first time requesting. I was wondering if u could do a nsfw hc with nahoya and souya kawata? Ur work is amazing, ur doing good babes<33

hii!! tysm that means sm to me <3

content/trigger warnings: characters are aged up!!, afab! reader, p in v, oral, belly pressing, hand job, overstimulation, praising, daddy kink, boob play

NAHOYA:

he’d say he’s going to be gentle, but you both know he’s lying. he’s not exactly rough, but he’s not gentle either. his pace is fast and deep but he says he ‘tries’ to be gentler (the smile on his face says otherwise)

likes pressing your belly to feel how deep he is inside you. absolutely loves doing it. no one can convince me otherwise

i feel like he’d be the type to praise you a lot. just chanting praises while fucking you dumb. calling you his pretty girl, and saying how perfect you are taking him like this

probably has a daddy kink but is hush about it because he doesn’t know if you’re into that type of stuff. but if you are, honey, he will go crazy. he’ll want you to call him that 24/7

boobs man. he loves watching them bounce up and down while he fucks you. he doesn’t care if they’re big or small. he will love them and would probably suck on them whenever he has the chance

SOUYA:

souya is a sub but he leans more to the rougher side. he’ll let your ride him but his hands are on your hips and he’s guiding you. sometimes he’ll thrust his hips right up into you at a rapid pace because he’ll get a bit impatient

he won’t admit it, but he loves when you jerk him off and overstimulate him. making a complete mess of him. his seed spread all over your hand and his tummy. his face stained with tears because his dick is far too sensitive for this

a moaner. he’s really loud in bed. he’s not afraid to let you know just how good he feels in that moment. and his moans are oh so pretty— almost angelic

i feel like he’d prefer giving over receiving. yeah, he loves the way your mouth wraps around his dick, but he loves watching your face scrunch up in pleasure even more. especially if it’s because of his tongue

like his older twin, he’s a boob guy. he loves squishing them. he loves your boobs and not just in the sexual way. your breast are his personal pillow, and he often falls asleep with his head hurried between them

© MINARINNN 2023 - please do not plagiarize or upload my content on any social media platform.

[motuzi]

"just the tip."

t. mitsuya, s. kawata, t. shiba

Inspired by this post by @slttygeto.

18+ content ahead, Minors Do Not Interact

Warnings : 'just the tip' excuse, bottom!reader, hinted established relationship w Mitsuya, Mitsuya is kind but also incredibly horny, casual sex, secret pervert Angry, Taiju is a bully, Taiju has a horsecock, (barley) implied friends w benefits w Taiju, Taiju (barley) preps you

Takashi Mitsuya

"Mmm, Taka!"

Takashi Mitsuya was sweating.

He'd been the one to talk you into only letting him stick the tip in, swearing up and down that he wouldn't go any further, but he could feel you clenching around him, *begging* for more of his cock, and as the seconds ticked by he found it harder he found it to resist. Maybe just a couple more inches; that wouldn't be too bad…

"Ahh! Takashi!"

Your eyes snapped back to his in surprise as you felt him fill you completely.

'M sorry, baby."

He whined out as he began to thrust quickly.

"I could feel how much you wanted me, and I couldn't resist."

You felt yourself nodding along, barely able to think about much more than the feeling of almost being split in half by his heavy cock.

“This is okay, right? Doesn't it feel so good?”

He grunted, effortlessly pulling nearly all the way out before pushing back in.

“Fuck, baby, you feel so good for me. Like you were made for my cock.” 

As he continued, you couldn't bring yourself to be anything but in agreement.

He was right. He usually was when he had you under him.

Angry | Souya Kawata

Souya Kawata was a sneaky bastard.

Sure, he shared that with his brother, but while with Nahoya, you could usually sus out what he was thinking or planning, his brother was much better at hiding things.

So, you could be forgiven for not expecting things to go as far as it did.

It started with him offering a massage. This wasn't the weird part necessarily, as when you'd learned how to massage from an ex, you'd taught him and his brother as soon as you'd broken up, and offering them on a long day wasn't unheard of.

No, what was weird was how eager his fingers seemed to clutch at your flesh, especially your chest. As he spread the oil, you felt every stroke of his fingers on your nipples. 

You were also having a hard time ignoring how hard he was as he pressed against you. Eventually, as his hands slid between your legs, he finally made his intentions known.

"Please... I just wanna be inside you a little bit. Just the tip for a little while. Please?"

You thought about it. He'd done an excellent job with his massage, and you could feel his cock starting to throb. You shrugged. It wouldn't be too bad to reward him, right?

Of course, Souya Kawata was a sneaky bastard, and before you knew it, you could feel yourself being pressed into the mattress as his hips snapped into yours.

"Sou, what- mhm! -happened to just- ahh! - putting the tip-!"

The way he panted into your neck made your eyes roll back.

"Couldn't fucking hold back. Not when it comes to you.”

Taiju Shiba

Taiju Shiba was a bully at the best of times, and no one knew it better than you, his childhood friend.

It hadn't been as bad when you were young. He'd been the one to lead you into shenanigans, and you'd often followed, but he usually listened to you if you told him he was going too far. But he'd changed a lot when his mom died.

People called you his partner often because he was marginally nicer to you than most, and he'd gotten in more than one fight on your behalf. But you weren't sure if that was true. It felt more like you let him take his frustration out on you, and in exchange, he sometimes listened to you and didn't get pissed when you argued with him.

Of course, he never purposely laid a hand on you in violence. No, he had sworn he never would again after the first time he'd choked you a bit too hard, and he'd stuck to it. But when everyone drove him insane, burying himself deep in you was his only solace. So when he invited himself over, you knew what to expect.

He always started softly, only manhandling you into his lap and leaving his kisses and strokes where he could reach.

"Sweetheart, I need you. You gonna help me out? Just the tip. I swear. You trust me, right?"

You found yourself with your back pressed against the couch, whines and moans spilling out as his thick fingers stretched you out. Taiju was the only one you'd ever been with, and you knew firsthand that he wasn't overdoing his prep. Even just the head of his cock was so thick that it could stretch you out. Eventually, his fingers were replaced by the air, and as you watched him line himself up with your hole, you knew he was not going to stop at just the tip.

Sure enough, you were whining and clutching at him as he managed to push himself farther than the couple of inches he'd promised.

"It's not gonna fit! Taiju! It's too big!”

You felt his hands clamp down on your hips to hold you in place and groaned, knowing you'd have bruises there later. You looked up at him, recognizing the look in his eyes that told you that you'd be here for the next couple of hours, at the very least.

"It's gonna fit. I'm gonna make it fit.”

[motuzi]

random horny thoughts - hq (karasuno edition)

(･ω･)つ andy's notes: enjoy these filthy things while i pull myself out of writer's block jail

characters: ukai keishin, tsukishima kei, azumane asahi, yamaguchi tadashi, sugawara koushi, sawamura daichi, tanaka ryunosuke

cws: nsfw, smut, all characters 18+, cigarette smoking, oral (m receiving), dirty talk, daddy kink (ukai); dacryphilia, overstimulation, degradation (tsukishima); panty-sniffing, masturbation (azumane); praise kink (yamaguchi); exhibitionism, public sex (sugawara); oral (f receiving), a MUNCH (sawamura); premature ejaculation (tanaka)

ukai’s guilty pleasure is smoking a cigarette while you give him head, the rush of nicotine spiraling up his spine as your tongue greedily laves over his weeping tip. one hand gently rests on the back of your head, lazily stroking your hair while he rocks his hips up into your throat. “keep suckin’ on it just like that, pretty girl. you know exactly what daddy likes, huh?”

tsukishima gets hard when you cry (this is like canon at this point). his goal is to get you so fucked out of your mind you can barely talk, tears streaming down your face at the combination of overstimulation and degrading filth falling from his lips: “what, the little pillow princess can’t even take dick without cryin’ now?”

azumane has the nastiest panty-sniffing problem. first time he went down on you he sucked your pussy lips through your panties until you were shivering and screaming, fabric completely soaked through. after he ripped them off and pocketed them for later, it became a habit. whenever he’s away from you, he can’t cum without huffing your scent in like a fucking dog

yamaguchi cums at the mere suggestion of praise. the first time you wrap your hands around his cock and whisper how pretty it is, he's shooting ropes of cum all over your hands and up his tummy, stuttering out an apology until you shut him up with a kiss

sugawara loves to fuck you in public. not where anyone can see you, no—he doesn’t want anyone to be able to look at you when your mouth is slack with pleasure and your eyes are up in your head—but if he can sneak off to a closet at a party or duck behind a building to fuck you up against a wall he’s doing it. claps a hand over your mouth with a mischievous smirk when you’re too loud, "darling, I thought you didn't want people to hear us?"

sawamura eats pussy for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. he’s a giver, and nothing makes him harder than slinging the backs of your thighs over his shoulders and diving into your cunt. he’s sweet with it most of the time, threading his fingers with yours and lazily drawing circles over your clit, but sometimes he’s impatient to feel your cute little hole gush on his tongue and manhandles you up onto his face where he can lick you until you scream

tanaka almost always prematurely ejaculates if you’re making out with him on his lap. if you’re in a skirt and the slowly dampening heat of your pussy starts throbbing against him—man is GONE. he drags you over and over his cock, head thrown back against the couch, something almost like a whimper escaping his throat—"fuck angel - ’s not fuckin’ fair for ya to feel this good"

2025 © all works belong to @sugarwarachan. do not repost, translate, or steal any of my works. reblogs and comments always appreciated my lil bbs <3

[motuzi]

a pathological people pleaser

word count: 4.4k

warnings: smut || pt 2 to and i wouldn't marry me either

summary: Jinshi's getting desperate to bed you.

夏

Jinshi contemplates what kind of a ring to get you. He really does. He looks through the designs that had been initially made for your marriage, but he finds inspiration in none of them. You would suit a ring that's crafted with only the finest of materials, not a ring that was just bought from the streets. Though, you had been going out with Maomao more often with some guards to have fun and buy food. At some point, the palace chefs are going to need to learn how to make a roujiamo that tastes like the ones on the street and not the fancy food that you had grown used to having.

He calls Maomao and Gaoshun for help picking a ring, but ultimately neither of them come up with something that would suit you. (He even asks his mother, but she is no help either.)

So, he rots in the confinement of your shared office, head spinning as he sketches more and more ring designs. The one of the current empress is nice, but it is not something of your style. The one that his mother had received was pretty as well, but not something that he desired to put on you. Perhaps a simple jade ring of your size would do better, but it seemed too plain compared to the kind of treatment he was supposed to give you. A simple jade ring would be fitting for him, but not necessarily for you. He would give you gold, but he wasn't quite sure what kind of a ring design would fit you.

He's gonna age from this, he swears.

Yet, he continues sketching at it between his paperwork, frowning at how big of a demand there are for eunuchs. The lower ranking concubines were still desperate, he finds. Perhaps especially with the announcement of his marriage... not announcement. He was married, but with the revealing of his marriage, it seems some concubines are getting desperate for some sexual release. Jinshi... really is no better than they are. He finds that he can't sit still around you these days.

He's... desperate. Yeah. Desperate is the right word.

"Rotting in here again?"

"You know, I'm starting to think you're actually Diu from your actions." Jinshi grumbles from his desk, shoving the paper with the ring designs to the side, catching your eye.

"To be fair, I am him, and he is me." You pick up the paper, tilting your head at the ring designs. "Designing rings for me? How sweet of you. Why not just use one from the treasury?"

"You deserve a new one." He groans. "I wanted to design one for you."

"Why not just gold?" You hum. "And then thread a pearl and jade orb through them."

"A jade ring would be nice." Jinshi hums, staring up at the pin in your hair. "To match your pin."

"Whatever you design." You hum. "I'm sure I will be satisfied."

"It has to be perfect." He mopes. "Or else I will not forgive myself."

"That's rather harsh on yourself." You hum, reaching for his brush as you sketch a design. "I liked the ring presented to the empress."

"The blue gem?"

You tap your chin. "Though, the gold isn't my favorite combination." You finish your sketch, noting down the color scheme, and Jinshi blinks at the choice.

"You just want a plain jade ring?"

"For the wedding ring." You blink. "The westerners are quite intriguing with the tales they tell. The women there boast many rings."

"You went to the west?"

You shrug. "A season is plenty of time to explore."

"She went to a port city." Maomao speaks up from the door. "Gaoshun is asking for the report."

"I sent it to him already?" You raise a brow.

"The one regarding the ceremony in the winter."

"Ah." Jinshi's fingers slide down the stack, pulling out a booklet between all of it. "Here."

Maomao nods, pausing as she catches wind of the ring design. "How about a ring with the royal family's seal?"

"I'm not becoming crown prince." Jinshi grimaces.

"I am sure the emperor would allow it regardless."

"I don't want a ring like that." You pause. "though, it would be quite a statement to wear it on the pinky."

"You want a divorce?!" Jinshi cries, heartbroken as Maomao leaves the room with the report.

"No." You shrug. "I might if you keep putting off the concubines' requests."

Jinshi jumps in his skin as he goes back to the papers, and you glance at the ring you've drawn.

"Carve a jade ring with a phoenix for our wedding ring. I do not desire gold." You hum. "And you are to have a dragon on yours."

Jinshi looks up at you, eyes gentle as he drinks in your figure under the setting sun, summer wind rustling the leaves outside, heat not too much to handle either. There is something delicate and breathless about you to him. You are worth so much, yet he had to spend such little time compared to the age of the universe to prove that you are his only one. Time is suck a fickle thing when it came to the clouds and sky. He supposes that's more a reason to treat you well and make up for time lost.

"Is that all you want?"

"What else would I want?"

"How about a jade pendant?"

"With the royal family's seal carved into it?"

Jinshi laughs. "Why not my last name?"

"Sure, pretty prince."

Jinshi flushes.

秋

You have tea with Ah-Duo a lot during fall. The weather cools bit by bit, and you sit in your yard, peeling the sugarcane as she looks through the files, humming at your writing, each stroke nice and clean. She puts the papers down, a maid rushing over to take them to your study, and she glances at the sickle and cane in your hand. It seems you have found new talents outside of the palace walls. It fills her with a sense of warmth, almost.

"How do you feel about the new eunuchs?" She hums.

"Some of them are rather attractive." You hum, not paying much mind as you cut off a piece for the lady.

"Is that so? Yue would have a heart attack if he heard you say that." She takes the piece, popping it in her mouth as she chews, humming. "It's sweet. I like it."

"That's good." You laugh. "I had the chefs just hand me whichever one." You continue to hack at the crop with the sickle. "Jinshi would be fine."

"I doubt it." She hums, spitting out the dry cane into the bowl prepared beforehand by the maids. "He is rather protective when it comes to things he desires... you included."

"It is only recently that he has become protective over me." You hum, putting a piece into your own mouth as you chew. She was right. It is sweet. "Which is also why he refuses to become the imperial prince."

"You would make a great empress."

"I would." You chuckle. "I have been raise for the role, after all."

"Though, this is better." She smiles. "You are happier like this."

"Oh, well as empress, I suppose I would not do too much. Jinshi, though? That poor man."

"He would have quite the work set out for him." She hums. "Though, you would be there to support him."

"I suppose." You hum. "It would be better had you been ascended to the position of empress."

"What is done is done." She hums. "I find it more amusing that your talk with the emperor of letting me visit worked."

You snort. "I saw the chance and took it. It would be a shame to not host you at least once in a house that is now warm."

"I suppose so." She smiles. "Does it not hurt to cut the sugarcane yourself?"

"It does not." You hum. "My hands are stained with sugar, and I work up a good sweat. I find it fun."

"Fun?"

You snap the plant in half, handing the peeled half to Ah-Duo as you continue with the unpeeled half.

She bites it, humming. "It is good. Is there a reason to cut it? I no longer remember."

"It's so you can get the most of it." You offer her one of the knives on the table. "Be careful not to cut yourself."

"I will." She nods. "Have you learned anything else?"

"A foreigner showed me how to peel a pomegranate." You pause. "Oh, and I have developed a strange talent for peeling oranges. It is incredible how clean it can peel with the right tools."

She nods, popping a piece into her mouth.

"How are the children?" You tilt your head, cutting another piece to put in the central bowl.

"They are faring well." She hums. "They are children, after all."

"I suppose." You mumble. "Jinshi went a little insane on their family."

"Not to mention he had full right, holding the army seal." She chuckles. "I heard from the maids that the imperial court threw a fit upon the realization that you had been holding onto something so precious and had just casually given it to Jinshi in order to save a maid."

"Not just any maid at the time." You snort. "Jinshi's dear maid."

"Of course." She smiles. "Though, he had been in love you. He had simply pushed it down."

"Like father like son, I suppose." You mumble. "Has the emperor visited?"

"Not yet." She pauses. "Is he planning so?"

You turn your head at the sound of footsteps.

"Jinshi." You hum, smiling.

He steps over to press his lips to your forehead, smiling fondly at your juice-stained hands, only freezing when he remembers his mother is with you. "...niang."

Ah-Duo waives her hand. "How cute."

Jinshi flushes, and you chuckle, pinching his cheek.

"You needed something?"

"The emperor is coming for a visit, niang." He pauses. "To our residence. He will be visiting the tearoom."

You raise a brow at Jinshi.

Jinshi shakes his head at you.

"Very well." You grin, shaking Jinshi off of you as you peel the sugarcane with eerie accuracy, cutting the rest into bits for the late consort to enjoy. "You can take the bowl."

"None for me?" Jinshi pouts.

"The emperor matters more in this case." You shrug. "I shall send some maids to accompany you."

"Alone will be fine." Ah-Duo nods. "Thank you."

You smile as she leaves, and Jinshi takes her spot, pouting at the sugarcane she had left behind.

"I want a bite."

You take the plant from him, cutting pieces off for him, watching as he chews, reaching for his throat as he threatens to swallow. This fucking dumbass.

You pry his jaw open, ignoring the fact that your hands probably taste like some sort of sugar, ordering him to spit it out. He listens, dry cane spat into the bowl you've held before his mouth, and his spit slides down with hit, the poor male panting like some bitch in heat. You let go of his mouth, exhaling as you mumble. "Good boy."

The words ring in Jinshi's head and shoot straight to his dick, and he licks your fingers unconsciously, eyes half-lidded as he tastes the sugar on them. Wait.

fuck.

He was NOT supposed to do that.

You freeze as something brushes your knee, and you stare into Jinshi's eyes as he stares back up at you, blinking rapidly, praying you wouldn't point it out. The two of you meet eyes, and you back up, sitting back down as the two of you wait for the other to speak up. Jinshi refuses to speak up.

You break the silence. "I'll wait."

"Thank you." He mumbles, cheeks red in embarrassment as he rushes off to somewhere private.

This is awful.

冬

some days you wonder how long Jinshi went without sexual release.

It's a strange thought, really. So, when you and Jinshi are wedded and you're waiting for him on the wedding night in your shared bed, you don't know what to think. Alright, wedded is the wrong word. The two of you are rewedded, and you are dressed in the robes the late empress had prepared for the two of you to sleep together in. You think it's too little, but apparently it's supposed to rile Jinshi up. Speaking of Jinshi, you wonder how he's dealt with getting boners. He... can't sleep with someone because he's a eunuch, but he can't just leave himself hard forever.

Jinshi stares at you from the door as you're lost in thought.

Skin. You're showing skin. He feels rabid at the sight— as though he were some carnivore in the wild, grew before his eyes. He feels as though he would go feral if he were to get his hands on you, so he stands there, collecting himself. He can't scare you off. He finally has you in his hands again, this time treating you properly, and he can't just scare you off because he's wanted to touch you for ages but couldn't.

"Jinshi?" You tilt your head at him, and he musters up a smile.

"I don't want to scare you." He pauses. "But I fear the maids did a little too good of a job with you."

He offers you a drink, and the two of you down it before you lick your lips to speak up.

"Why? You want to defile me?" You lean forward, almost as if to emphasize your point, and Jinshi flushes red.

"I really wonder how you learned to flirt like that when you were Diu." Jinshi sits next to you, fingers pushing your hair back as he leans in. "This is fine, right?"

"Would be funnier if I were Diu right n-" You're cut off as Jinshi presses his lips to have you shut up. He loves you, but god, were you infuriating sometimes. It was as though the winter and spring without him had changed you into a different person— not that he minded. You're charming no matter how you act or react. Your hair scrunches between his palm and fingers, and you tilt your head to give him better access, passion and longing staining your face as he presses his lips to yours and his fingers bloody with something he's wanted forever. Some sort of twisted passion beats from his chest to yours, a whimper spilling past his lips as you thread your fingers through his hair.

He only pulls away when you soften against him, chest pressed to his as he feels your muscles tensing from the lack of breath.

"You still with me?" He moves his hand out, your hair slipping between his fingers as you hang your head to breathe.

"I sure wish you weren't good at everything you did," You keep your head hung, unraveling his robes with ease, palming his cock through the fabric wrapped around his waist. Jinshi's hips shift slightly for more friction, and your hand presses down on his hipbone, forcing him to still as you pull on the strand to free him, licking your lips at his length. "I don't think you're going to fit, pretty boy."

"We'll make it fit." He hisses out as you let the spit on your tongue roll onto the tip of his cock, smearing the precum with your saliva, your fingers smooth against his length as you spread it. Jinshi whimpers as you do, the ring around your finger cool against his skin, and you lean in to stare up at him through your lashes, biting your bottom lip as your hand speeds up. Jinshi whimpers, hand flying to wrap around your wrist and hold you still, and you tilt your head, yelping as he takes your lips pushing you back into the mattress. You lean into the kiss as he tugs on the bow, string coming out and top falling off with ease as his fingers brush your tits, thumb pressed to your nipple, humming into your mouth at the feeling of it hard. "Let me take care of you tonight." He huffs, pulling from you as he forces your tits up with his hands, pinching your nipple to catch a wince from you.

"Mean." You pout, no real annoyance on your face, and Jinshi busies himself with your chest, lips pressing a kiss to the meat of your chest, biting down— almost as though to mark you as his territory. It irks him some days that the maids still have lingering crushes on you from when you were Diu. So, his bites trail up from your chest to your neck, canines crazing over your pulse point as he bites down, hands sliding down to hold your waist as you crane your neck and whimper. Jinshi leans to force his chest to yours, and your fingers curl uncomfortably next to you as he sucks on your neck, purple blooming across your skin wherever his lips were.

"You're so pretty." Jinshi mumbles, finally pulling his lips off of you with a pop, staring down at you as you're suddenly aware that you are bare. You try to hide yourself but Jinshi makes work of his hands swiftly, holding your wrists together as he rolls his hips against yours experimentally. "I wonder how much of my reading is going to pay off."

"Studying through indecent literature? How sinful of you." You arch your back as he pulls your undergarments off, spreading your legs slightly as he slides his index finger down your slit, taking note of the slick threatening to spill out.

"I'd say this is worse, though." He slides a finger into you with ease, and you whimper as he curls it, nails slightly grazing your walls, making you gasp. "You sound so sinful like this. I sure hope you didn't let any other man see you like this."

"And if I did?"

"Then I'd suppose I'd just have to ruin their life." Jinshi straightens his middle finger as he curls his index out of you, sliding both into you at once. You shift slightly at the stretch. Jinshi curses under his breath at how tight you are. He doesn't want to break you your first night. So, he spreads his fingers in you slightly, thumb on your clit as he tries to loosen you. Instead, you flutter around him, only a light gasp freeing from your lips as he furrows his brows. He spreads his fingers, trying to make space for a third and get a reaction out of you. Instead, you don't react, simply shifting your hips to accommodate the stretch from his fingers.

"Am I bad?" He pouts, thumb finding your clit.

"No." You breathe, squirming from his touch.

"Am I average?"

"Jinshi, I have no idea. This is as much of my first time as it is yours." Your wrists fight against the grip of his hand, and he lets them go, lowering his face to your pussy instead, hooking your knees over his shoulders as he pulls you up. You back arches dramatically as he wraps his arms around your thighs, and Jinshi presses his tongue flat against your cunt, licking up as you jolt. He watches as your pussy flutters around nothing, and he slides his tongue in, moaning into your against as he tastes you. So this is what you taste like— some mixture of sin and lust, nectar that would put even the sweetest of peaches to shame. It would drive Jinshi to madness, he supposes.

Your fingers grasp at the pillow above your head, whimpering with each flex of Jinshi's tongue, and his fingers dig into your thighs, earning a squeal from your lips as you feel something tighten in your stomach. Your eyes widen as your nails dig into the sheets and your back arches impossibly more, tears in the corner of your eyes as Jinshi sucks at your orgasm, ignoring the mess of slick sliding down his chin and splattering onto the sheets. You turn red in embarrassment at the mess, but Jinshi pays it no mind, continuing to lap at your pussy, eyes digging into yours as he puts on a show for you. You look away from his eyes, opting to make a mess on his tongue instead, eyes rolled to the back of your head as a second orgasm crashes upon you. Jinshi drinks it up just as eagerly as the last, eyes half-lidded as

Your legs shake as Jinshi lets you down, fingers wiping the slick from his face as he pumps himself with it, and then sliding his tip beneath the hood of your clit to further coat his dick in your cum. You shift against his cock, grinding lightly into him as he chuckles. "Patience, beloved."

"I'd say you're worse than me." You heave, walls fluttering around Jinshi's length as he slides in. He notices the way your skin lifts with him inside of you, and he presses down on the bulge, blinking slowly. You gasp, stomach flexing out of instinct, pussy clenching around Jinshi with a hiss. Jinshi stays still, thumb brushing your clit to incite a reaction from you, earning him a lewd whimper. The sound shoots straight to his cock, head spinning as he slides his palm up your abdomen to your chest, pinching your nipple as he swallows.

"This is fine, right?"

"Insecure?" You roll your hips in affirmation. "I wouldn't have married you or let you catch me if it wasn't."

"Tease." He grumbles, taking your legs and folding them to your shoulders, forcing himself further into you. You moan, clenching around him as he moves, holding you down by the hips as he slams into you with each thrust, gasps slipping past your lips and colors in your vision as he moves. Flowers blossom in your lungs as you try to catch your breath, head spinning deliciously at the taste of Jinshi's lips on yours, a light fragrance from the rice wine he had taken mixing with the one on your lips, and you moan into his mouth, squirming from his touch. Your legs relax over his shoulders as he presses into you, fingers digging into the plush of your thighs, hair sliding off his shoulders to cage you in as you whimper.

The wind rustles the trees outside as you cum around Jinshi the first time, brows knit together and eyes closed as your face twists from the unfamiliar sensation, head thrown back and lips parting once the crash ended, and Jinshi stills, hand reaching to brush your hair to the side, cupping your face with his hand. "You alright?"

"Felt weird." You mumble. "Did you..?"

"No." Jinshi hums. "Would you like me to? Inside?"

"I don't mind." You whisper.

"Alright," He starts moving again, focusing on himself as your legs slide off his shoulders and fall into the mattress, hooking behind his pelvis as he thrusts, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as he pistons into you, your breath caught in your throat as you see white and stars, drool threatening to leak down your chin and choke you with your head thrown back and muscles tense. Jinshi pants into your ear as he feels himself get close, pulsing and ebbing inside of you with each roll of his hips, your name spilling past his lips in some sort of raw desperation and begging, only spilling into you once you call his name back through your cloudy haze, white painting your walls as white fills your vision, the same white visible in the air on the snowy trees.

His breath mixes with yours as he rests his forehead on yours, bare skin pressed to yours, sweat and cum mixing with your own, the two of you merged as one. In the distant past, you loved him until it physically destroyed you, and in the distant future he will love you until he is stuck in the same destruction that had dragged you away from him. Only then would he forgive himself, lips spreading into a gentle smile, eyes staring into yours as yours are closed, catching your breath as your chest rises and falls, vine of hickeys and bruises trailing down from your neck to your waist. Your walls flutter around him as you recover from another orgasm, skin flushed like peonies as Jinshi tilts his head to press a kiss to your shoulder.

"Still with me?" He presses his palm to your cheek, palm brushing your skin.

"Yes." You pant, grimacing at the squelch that sounds when he pulls out of you.

"I wonder if we'll be with child."

"I doubt it's this easy." You mumble, lashes fluttering. "Would you want one?"

"Up to you." He mumbles, reaching to the side to pour himself another glass of wine. "We do not have to worry about succession either."

"Oh, I've never been so thankful to have not ended up where I was supposed to." You sigh in relief.

"You do not want one?"

"Not my priority." You hum. "Unless you wish for one."

"You are my priority." Jinshi hums, offering you a glass. "Another?"

"No." You roll onto your stomach to stretch your back. "We have plenty of time as well."

"I suppose." Jinshi hums, holding his hand out for yours.

You give him your right hand, and he pouts.

"Your left. The ring."

You free your arm and hold it out, and Jinshi kisses your knuckles gently, eyes closed as he hums contently.

"We match." He smiles, lips curled into a gentle smile, eyes full of a warmth you had forgotten he was capable of. You smile, a laugh bubbling out of your chest as he fiddles with your fingers, some sort of domestic ambiance filling the room. And just like that, your anxieties fade away, and a smile makes way on your face.

"I love you." He hums, lips pressed to your forehead as he lays next to you, still holding your hand, his ring brushing against yours.

"I love you too." and you close your eyes, body relaxing into his, heartbeat one below the missing sun.

[motuzi]

kiryu so smitten with you, he acts like your boyfriend even though he has yet to ask you out yet

this boy is absolutely giddy to be around you in any way possible

creep hits on you? he likes putting his arm around your waist, pulling you close as he threatens the guy

can't reach an item on the top shelf? kiryu's there to touch your lower back as he reaches for what you want

need to go shopping? he's your personal assistant, stylist, and photographer

and one day when he does have the nerve to officially ask you out, you replied a bit confused

"you're telling me I've been in a committed relationship alone this whole time?!"

[motuzi]

brat tamers. guys that absolutely love seeing their pretty little girl acting all bratty when she's under them. he loves making you feel like you have some kind of control over him with your bratty behavior. he knows you do it on purpose because you love getting on his nerves just so he could put you back into your place. he grabs the back of your knees, bringing your legs up to your chest, holding you in an almost painful mating press as he slams his dick inside of you. one of his hands wraps around your throat, squeezing it just enough to make it harder for you to breathe. you're crying and nearly screaming his name, but he knows you love it.

"please.. p-please, no more! I-I can't take it anymore!" you cry, your eyes rolling back and your tongue slipping out as he pulls orgasm after orgams out of you even after you're far too overstimulated to think straight.

"can't take anymore, huh? aww, you poor thing, probably should've thought of that before you decided to act like a little brat." he teases, shoving his dick deliciously deeper into your dripping cunt.

"don't even try to pretend, you know you love this." and you do. that's why you keep acting like a brat even after promising you won't do it again.

although, let's be honest, he knows you'll do it again, and he loves that about you.

[ taiju shiba, ran haitani, rindou haitani, bonten!mikey, izana kurokawa, baji keisuke, hanma shuji, kokonoi hajime, nahoya kawata, wakasa imaushi + ur favs! ]

a/n :: omg I'm alive !! I'm so sorry for disappearing for- idek how long ㅠㅠ i js know it's been over a month now. I was thinking about writing another fic or more headcanons but I didn't really have motivation to write longer works so I just stuck with this lol, also this is probably one of my first times writing smut (if you don't include the chifuyu smut headcanons) and I honestly can't tell if it's good or absolutely crap soo- 🥲 bear with me I'm trying

[motuzi]

Thinking about an inexperienced Kenma, the poor thing never even kissed a girl, dragged to a college party by his roommate Kuroo just to get out of the small apartment for once- a scared little virgin kitty with a nervous look in his eyes, trying to avoid the height of the alcohol infused party at all costs. And you, the perceptive woman you are, you can spot that inexperience from a mile away, such a pretty boy like him shouldn’t go untouched for so long. Taking him upstairs wouldn’t be hard at all, you have a private bathroom in your room you could offer him. And the poor kitten, he’s such a virgin he can’t handle the sight of your panties strewn out on the floor of the bathroom without his cock straining desperately against the thin fabric of his pants. And the inexperienced Kenma, the poor thing, he’d be so shocked when you sit him on your unmade bed and free that thick cock so you can taste him. Poor Kenma- he’s so touch-starved that he can’t even handle how warm and wet your pretty mouth is, his tip full and his length heavy and twitching on your lips. Even a few squeezes of his shaft is enough to send him over the edge, apologetically spilling a hot load down your throat before he can even warn you. But the poor thing, the little kitten, he’s hard again just from seeing you swallow every last drop of his milk. You can make him cum again, surely, by letting him feel your tight little hole gripping his full cock. Poor Kenma, he can’t even look at you, his eyes screwed shut and his hips bucking against your rough ride. The desperate little kitten can’t even hold himself together, whining and whimpering with his mouth wide open, taking in the ecstasy of your cunt sucking him further and further in. Poor little Kenma would be practically milked dry by the time you’re done with him, stumbling back to the party on shaky legs. The poor thing would think about you all the time too, finding himself flushed and his cock heavy and straining. He would become addicted to you so fast.

[motuzi]

wip prison realm gojo

[motuzi]

yoichi isagi ʚ ɞ taking care of you whilst you’re drunk

cw. bambi!reader , just pure fluff

♡ bambi!reader m.list

‎ ♡

sighh just thinking about our sweetheart, fratboy!isagi taking care of you at a party when you’re so unbelievably drunk to the point you’re stumbling all over the place and your words are coming out in babbles.

he thinks it’s cute, seeing you like this. especially when you’re not much of a drinker, preferring to stay inside and have an early night, so it’s always nice for isagi to see you loosen up.

but when he sees you wayyy too drunk, he’s always the first to sit you down, rushing to get a cold glass of water from the kitchen and practically forcing you to drink it by coaxing you with his sweet words and gentle eyes.

he’s pretty tipsy himself, so he can’t really drive you home, and when he offered one of his friends to take you home instead, your whiny “noooo.. i wanna stay with you..”, just makes his heart thump against his chest.

he thinks you’re adorable and he’s kinda always had a little thing for you since he met you at the start of the college year. but, you just always assumed you were in the friendzone since he never pulled any moves on you (he just tries way too hard to be respectful)

so, when he carries you up to his room to lay you down, he’s making sure his hands don’t linger in the wrong places, being so gentle with you by holding you like a porcelain doll. this doesn’t go unnoticed by your drunk, overthinking self, pouting against his chest while he holds you bridal style.

just as he gets to his room, placing you down on his messy bed where your head drops back on his pillow with a loud, elongated sigh leaving your lips and catching him completely off guard, you ask, “why don’t you like me?”

he’s light a deer caught in the headlights, “huh?”

“why don’t you like me? i’m pretty nice, right?”

isagi feels his heart swell at your words, “i do like you and you’re very nice.”

“i know you like me, but why don’t you like like me?”, you pout, feeling your throat tighten up, the alcohol making you way more bold and sensitive than you already are.

“..do you like like me?”

you nod, not replying with words scared you’ll end up crying about this, something so trivial and embarrassing yourself in front of the most popular guy at your college.

despite your saddened expression, isagi couldn’t have felt more relief in the moment, he’d liked you for so long but never made a move purely because he was worried he might scare you off if he came across too bold, and you just never got his hints (he said your outfit was cute)

“i do like like you, always have, to be honest.”, he says, giving you a small smile, “and we’re definitely gonna talk about this in the morning so you better not get all shy on me.”

you smile, the saddened expression you had previously completely melting away as you felt those butterflies in your stomach.

he chuckles, ruffling your hair, “y’gonna be so embarrassed by this in the morning.”

© dollbrbie | don’t plagiarise or translate any of my work

[motuzi]

For Tonight

pair. isagi yoichi x fem!reader

genre. explicit. graphic smut, angst. aged up characters.

includes. sadistic ahh reader, switch!isagi. degradation, penetration, thigh job, rough sex, mating press, slursagi appearance. he’s bipolar.

synopsis. you’re kaiser’s sister, and isagi hates you even more than the german striker.

a/n. pure filth to feed my isagi brainrot. i promise ill get to asks soon 🫡

word count. 4.1k

Isagi despises Kaiser.

He hates his smug grin, his condescending remarks, and the effortless way he toys with his opponents like they exist solely for his amusement. So when he learned that his teammate had a little sister, he was prepared to feel the same about you.

And at first, he did.

You carry the same arrogance, the same infuriating attitude that made his blood boil and stomach twist. Every word from your mouth drips with malice, every glance taunting and distracting. You thrive on pushing his buttons, watching with delight as he digs his nails into his palms and bites his tongue until metal swirls with saliva. Manipulative. Sadistic. Everything he swears he hates.

Just like your brother.

So why is he here?

He doesn’t know what compels him to your door or how he ends up pressed against the wall, his breath coming in jagged puffs of air.

“You’re insane, Y/n,” he growls like you’re the one that forced him here. Like you whispered sweet incantations into his ears and strung him along into your little mouse trap.

You tilt your head, smirking. “You came to me, Isagi.” A finger under his chin forces him to meet your gaze. He grunts in frustration, eyes narrowed into dubious crescents.

“Or did you forget?”

Before he can answer, your fingers weave into his hair, curling tight before you yank. Hard. His breath stutters, wincing as sharp pain shoots across his scalp.

He hates you. Yet his body responds with an involuntary shiver, and his pants suddenly feel too tight.

Your smirk widens, eyes glinting with satisfaction. “What were you thinking?” You lean in, breath hot against his skin. “Showing up so late at night… all alone.” Your voice is slow, deliberate. The weight of each syllable lingers, trickling over him like a scorching lava fall, melting all sense of comprehension to ashes.

His cheeks flush crimson. He should leave. He should shove you off and hurl insults at your face. But he doesn’t. He can’t.

He has no reason to be here, and you both know it.

His glare sharpens, but his voice is quieter when he speaks. “You knew I’d come.”

He knows how it sounds, weak and feeble. Here, his pride means nothing. There are no placating smiles or delicate gestures of affection. Here, he is putty slipping in and out through the divots of your hands, docile and obedient and all yours.

You hum, fingers threading through his hair in mock tenderness, smoothing the strands you just tugged. “Of course I did.”

His mind is slipping, drowning in the sensations of you. It’s overwhelming. Depraved. And yet, he leans into your touch because he loves it. Loves the way you torment him.

“I hate you,” he mutters. Neither of you believe it, but it fills the silence. “I fucking hate you, Y/n.”

He’s flushed, irritated, and painfully aware of every nerve ending, every frantic beat of his heart. He doesn’t move when you nudge his legs apart and press your bodies together.

“What would Kaiser think?”

The question is a sharp, visceral reminder of his predicament. To think he’s letting his rival’s sister touch him like this. Someone he despises with every fiber of his being. That the same blood running through his veins courses through yours.

“So nervous,” you murmur, your lips grazing his throat. “Do I scare you?”

His breath catches. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know anything anymore.

”Speak.”

His fingers twitch, fisting the fabric of your shirt.

“I want you.” The words slip out before he can swallow them back down.

He hardly recognizes his own voice or the pleading tone he uses. It’s hoarse, desperate. But it rips through him like it’d been on the tip of his tongue his entire life.

You pause, and for a brief, fleeting moment, he thinks you might say it back. Might tell him you want him too.

But then you laugh.

A sharp, cutting sound that makes him flinch.

“I knew it.”

You give him a look of pure disbelief, enjoying the way he shrivels under your gaze.

“You like this, don’t you?” The condescension in your tone is unbearable. Your grip tugs him closer. “Look at you, trembling like a dog in heat. Masochistic piece of shit.”

You’re so cruel. So vindictive.

His hands drop to his sides, eyes clouded with shame.

“You know,” you continue, your voice dipping lower, almost sensually. “My brother works so hard to make us money. To make himself a name.” He nods. Kaiser always pushed himself to the brink, working tirelessly to maintain his position.

“And you—” your fingers ghost over his pulse, pressing just enough to make him shudder. “—are in his way.”

He swallows hard, trying to push down the desperate whines that threaten to escape. But when you lean in, your lips barely brushing his, his body betrays him once more.

“As his sister, I just can’t let that slide.”

His head falls back against the wall when your lips begin to ravish at him, licking and nipping the soft, unblemished skin on his neck. He wants to resist, to deny you, but his body is weak and aching. Each tug of your teeth and flick of your tongue sends a jolt of pleasure down his spine.

You smile. “Is there a single defiant bone in your body?”

He’s drowning in ecstasy when your lips press against his, vision hazy as his fingers dig into your waist.

It almost consumes him, how much he desires you. How much strength it takes him not to push you against the wall and take you hard and slow. Watch the way your fluids mix as his cock slips in and out.

He shivers.

“Please. Let me touch you.” He’s pleading now, eyes glossy and all you’ve done is kiss him a little. Pride be damned, he needs release now. So badly that he’s willing to submit for it.

His cheeks are a beautiful rosy red, completely flushed and at your mercy. He can tell how much you’re enjoying this from the sadistic glint in your eye.

“What a dirty little thing.” Your smile widens, voice dripping with a saccharine tone that makes his body churn. “You’re not in a position to ask for anything, meine lieber.”

Your hand trails down his abdomen nonetheless, tracing over his prominent bulge. His lips are swollen from the kissing, beads of sweat rolling down the sides of his face. He’s a weak, trembling mess as you palm him, unable to stop the strangled moan that escapes.

“Ever been touched here?” You ask. His brows crease and uncrease. The answer was written all over his face, in every draw of his breath and flutter of his lashes.

“No,” he replies, his voice barely above a whisper. He can’t deny it to you, can’t lie and pretend he’s experienced this kind of touch. Soccer has always been his top priority, and relationships were an unwelcome distraction.

Your hands slip under his shirt, grazing over every ridge of muscle he’s worked so hard to build and maintain. You leave fire in your wake, an addictive singe that makes his body arch into your touch.

He’s compliant when you take his hand and lead him further into your home, following along like a guileless puppy on a leash.

Expensive artifacts, valuable paintings, and the scent of newly bought leather. The place reeks of your brother’s money, and it screams wealth in an intentional, ostentatious way. He doesn't belong here. You’ve made that abundantly clear. But before he realizes it, he’s already standing in your bedroom.

Your legs swing over his hips, and he’s melting into the mattress in a haphazard mess of lips colliding. He’s breathless, eyes half-lidded and fixated on the way you’re perched over him.

“Touch me then,” you whisper, low and seductive as you guide his hands to your chest. “I’ll play nice.”

He obliges, hands beginning to massage and knead at the flesh. It’s soft, softer than he thought it’d be. He wants to feel it with your clothes off. With his skin against yours.

You let him slide your robe off, the satin material cascading down your limbs and pooling onto the sheets. You’re wearing nothing but your underwear, completely bare for his eyes to feast on. You planned this. It should irk him, but his mouth is dry, and all he wants to do is ravage.

He cups your breasts with his hands, drawing a sharp inhale from your lips. He’s mesmerized, captivated by the heat of your skin, the smoothness beneath his palms. Your eyes meet when he leans in to capture a pert nipple between his teeth, swirling his tongue around the areola.

“Hah… So this pretty little mouth of yours is useful.”

Just when he starts to think he might actually like you, you go and open your fucking mouth. He wants to wipe that look off your face and ruin the smug composure you wear so effortlessly.

You yank his head back, detaching his lips from your skin with a lewd pop! He glares at you, but it’s short-lived when you begin to tug at his shirt.

“Patience, Isagi.” You smirk. “I’m not done with you yet.”

He lifts his arms for you to pull his shirt up and off over his head. His skin is flushed pink, a thin sheen of sweat coating his bare chest. He can feel your gaze on him, drinking him in, and it only makes him more needy, more desperate for your attention. Your fingers trail down his torso, marveling as his abs involuntarily flex beneath your touch.

He wants to kiss you, wants to match your intensity, but he’s nervous and it shows. His technique is sloppy, tongue awkwardly swiping against your bottom lip.

You pull away from him, face filled with displeasure. He’s never seen you so disappointed, and it makes him want to sink into the ground.

“What are you doing?” You wipe the glistening strands of saliva from your lips. He flinches, chest tightening with humiliation. “You’re slobbering all over my mouth.”

“I… I’m sorry. I’m trying,” he mutters, looking up at you with flushed cheeks. He can’t stand the disapproval in your tone, the condescension.

“Stop thinking so hard,” you reply, fingers threading through his hair. “Just kiss me. Like this.”

He follows your guidance, lips moving in sync as he subconsciously tugs your body closer to his. You taste like sin, and he’s indulgence, greedily lapping at the fountain of youth.

“How—How was that?” His eyes are dazed, heart pounding against his rib cage as he speaks. He wants to be enough for you. Wants to surpass your expectations.

“Better.” You scoff. “But not good enough.”

Your eyes twinkle in amusement when his face falls, leaning forward to see it clearer. “You’ll never be good enough.”

His heart sinks.

He knows this is bigger than kissing, knows it’s part of your twisted game. But it stung nonetheless.

“You’re a terrible person,” he says.

“What does that make you?”

A willing accomplice. Someone who doesn’t mind, despite the hatred flowing from his lips.

Isagi lets out a strangled moan as you grind your hips together. He can feel everything. The heat of your body. The friction. Your touch.

“I’m… nothing like you,” he strains out between heavy breaths. An obvious lie.

You ignore him, fumbling with the zipper of his jeans. There’s plenty of time for him to object, to tell you he doesn’t want this and shy away. But he doesn’t. The tension lingers in the air, and he can’t deny that he craves you as much as you crave him.

He lifts his hips, slowly sliding the pants down and off. You waste no time removing the rest, his hard erection springing out of his boxers and slapping the skin on his lower abdomen. It’s embarrassing, the way pre-cum oozes from the angry red tip and slides down the sides.

You laugh in disbelief.

He came. Already. From kissing you.

“I didn’t even touch you.”

It’s humiliating. Disgusting, even. He can hardly believe it himself.

He can’t look at you, doesn’t want to see the way your face twists in satisfaction. He’s already made a fool of himself by knocking on your door.

But he can’t deny the arousal that thrums through his body when you smirk. It’s involuntary, how his cock twitches and the veins swell from beneath the surface. Part of him loves this. A dark, deep-seated desire that enjoys being belittled by you.

Your fingers wrap around his length, thumb gently gliding across the slit. His hips buck helplessly into your hand, already so overstimulated from just your touch, your body, and the way your eyes drink him in.

“Gonna cum again?” Your hand begins to pump slowly, stroking up and down until his knuckles are white against the sheets. He shakes his head no, but his breaths are flowing out of him, dick becoming painfully taut again.

He cries out when you pull away, leaving him on the precipice of release.

“Y/n…”

“You wanna cum?” You shift backward, spreading your legs open. “Do it yourself.”

His brows shoot up in surprise. You’re letting him use you? Him?

But then your legs press together, and it’s clear what you want from him. From this angle, he can see the curve of your ass and the subtle way your panties disappear between the crevice of your thighs.

Isagi groans, moving onto his knees and tugging your hips towards his. Your thighs have always fascinated him, and he almost comes undone when he slides his hard, throbbing cock between them.

He looks pitiful as he ruts back and forth, humping your thighs with his fingers digging into your skin. The material of your underwear catches against the edge of his mushroom tip, sending a jolt of pleasure through him.

“Ah… Y/n… please,” he whimpers, increasing the rhythmic pace of his hips.

There’s sweat dripping down his forehead, desperate pleas met with resounding silence.

You don’t even care.

When his eyes flutter open, you’re on your phone, looking more interested in whatever’s on your screen than his cock peeking in and out between your legs.

You were letting him use you. Like a toy.

And yet, the sight makes him more aroused, beads of white oozing from his slit.

He presses your legs closer together, thrusts becoming haphazard before he lets out a guttural moan and spills hot, sticky semen all over your abdomen.

You’re unimpressed.

You toss your phone to the side, giving him a bored, disinterested look. “Done already?”

“Come on, liebling,” you taunt, grinning. “Surely you can do better than that?”

He hates how you’ve turned a term of endearment into something so derogatory, so crude. It haunts him at night, creeps into his dreams as pretenses of affection.

Even when he’s vulnerable, even when you’ve stripped him bare and reduced him to nothing, you’re still the same asshole he’s always known. It shouldn’t surprise him. You were Michael Kaiser’s sister, after all.

But even then, a fire ignites in his chest. An untamed fury that only ever overtakes him during the heat of a match.

“You want better?” His eyes are blown wide with lust, unrecognizable as he lays you down, reveling in the way your back hits the mattress and your hair sprawls over the sheets.

You gasp softly as his finger hooks into your panties and tears it off with ease.

He thumbs apart your glinting folds, taking in the way your core flutters beneath his hungry gaze. You look good enough to eat, and he’s beyond the point of pleasantries as he drags a teasing finger down your slit.

He scoffs.

If you won’t shut up, he’ll just have to fuck the submission into you.

Inch by delicious inch.

“I’ll make you cry.”

“Shit! Isa—gi, mmph!”

Isagi has you folded in half, cock thrusting in and out of you at lightning speed.

You’re clawing the sheets, arching your back and holding on for dear life as he fucks you into the mattress raw.

He doesn’t slow, even as your legs wrap tighter around his torso, and you finally understand what Kaiser meant by an athlete’s stamina.

“Fuckin’ brat,” he spits, reaching down to pinch your swollen clit. You’re a sputtering, mewling mess as tears stream down your cheeks.

“Think you can…ngh… speak to me like that? Think you’re ‘nvincible?”

The intensity of his words burn with what could only be described as hatred. Pure, unadulterated hatred.

He despises you. So fucking much.

He pulls all the way out before slamming back in, dragging against every sensitive ridge inside your velvet walls. He’s a fast learner, already adapting to where you’d like him most.

“You’re jus’ like him.”

The way your expression twists in pleasure, the obscene squelching of your combined juices… it brings him more satisfaction than he thought.

“You think you’re so smart,” he gasps, beads of sweat dripping onto your soft, pliant body. “So cunning and manipulative. And I just…ngh… can’t stand your stupid, arrogant attitude.”

He buries his face in your neck, growling as he nips and bites at your collarbone. His kisses are sloppy, leaving behind angry red marks.

“Jus’ have to constantly test me, don’t you? Taunt me, get under my skin, mess with my head…”

You’re barely listening as he rambles on, his words brimming with obvious irritation. You feel it in every movement, every snap of his hips.

“Think you’re tough shit just ‘cause… your brother’s Kaiser?” He’s leaving open-mouthed kisses down your chest, an act of tenderness lost in reckless abandon.

“‘sagi!” You mewl, gripping onto his shoulders. “Jus’ like.. mm.. that..!”

“Yeah? That feel good? Ngh… you like that?”

He shifts his hips and you almost sob.

“Hm?” He grins, licking a long, wet stripe up the side of your throat. “This the spot?’

He angles himself, hitting the sweet spot that makes you see stars like it’s his goal to see you unravel.

“Still… ngh… with me, Y/n?”

Again. And again. And again.

Your eyes roll back into your skull, nails raking red lines down his skin. His cock is nestled snugly against your cervix, thrusting deep inside of you.

He smirks, a cocky, arrogant thing as his thumb swipes over your parted lips.

“You look so good like this,” he mumbles, staring down at you. Your makeup is smeared, saliva dribbling past your chin.

“Hate you..! Such a fucking dick. Good for… ah!… nothing…” You trail off, your words an incoherent, babbling mess. It’s a feeble attempt at regaining control, and he knows it.

He scoffs. “You talk too much.”

“Gonna shut you up.” He drags the hood of your folds back, thumbing at the engorged nub.

It makes your back arch, chest tightening. Gone is the arrogance and attitude, replaced with a submissive, primal desire. There’s a perverse satisfaction in seeing you so wrecked, shattered from his actions. He’s starting to think like you.

“Deeper! Isa—gi!”

He loves the way his name glides off your tongue like an illicit drug he can’t get enough of. It’s poison, the way you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer. Your touch is lethal—dangerous enough that he should walk away, but he craves the downfall, addicted to the slow, inevitable ruin.

“You… hahh… want me deeper?” He hooks your legs over his shoulders, pushing them even further against your chest. “Dunno if this cunt will let me.”

But he adjusts himself easily, pistoning into you with an insatiable drive.

You cry out his name, and he knows he’s found the right spot. The one that makes you twitch and sob.

“‘m gonna—!” You struggle to find the right words, but he knows.

He’s right there with you.

“Gonna what?” He circles the bundle of nerves just barely, watching as your body jolts in response.

“—cum!”

He’s mesmerized by the way his shaft sinks in and out of you, a ring of frothy white forming around the base.

He grunts, fingers digging into your thighs. “Come for me then.”

You don’t need to be told twice.

Your orgasm crashes over you violently, body convulsing as your nails leave crescent-shaped indents onto his skin. He’s still moving, eyes squeezed shut as he lets you ride out your high.

“Shit. So tight…”

A few more desperate thrusts, and then his breath shutters, hips faltering as he pumps into you.

You both stay there, panting as you hang onto the passion of the moment. Eventually, he withdraws, letting the creamy white fluids seep out of your spasming hole.

There are no snarky remarks, no passing taunts. Just the whirring hum of the ceiling fan and your ragged breaths.

It should satisfy him, should bring some sense of closure, but all he feels is nothingness. A deafening silence.

Was this your plan all along? To pull him in, have him at your mercy, and leave him with nothing? Will you tell Kaiser? Recount how easily he unraveled for you?

There you are, lying beneath him, naked and glowing in the aftermath. You look angelic, disheveled hair fanning your face like a golden halo. He could almost love you. Almost.

But it’s not real. Your eyes are sharp, calculating. You could never love anyone other than yourself. That’s just not who you are, and he knows it well.

You shift, propping yourself onto an elbow as he rolls off you, retreating to the edge of the bed. The space between you is cold, despite the passionate lovemaking you just shared. Your gaze lingers on the sculpted lines of his back, watching as he reaches for his discarded shirt and pulls it over his head.

It’s such a simple action, but you can see the fatigue in his movement, in every shift of his muscles. You don’t know what it is that consumes you at that moment. Regret, maybe? Sympathy?

“What are you doing?”

He startles at the sound of your voice, still hoarse and airy from earlier. His eyes have faded back into their natural deep blues, boring into you with stoic indifference.

Usually, you would mock him, slide your hands down his back, throw out an insult just to get under his skin. But you can’t. Not now. Maybe not ever again.

“Getting dressed,” he replies, easing into his jeans. “Need a demonstration?”

You almost flinch at his cutting tone. It’s unlike the hesitant, shy one you’ve grown fond of.

“Why?” You sit up as well, slipping on your silk robe.

He raises a brow. “I have practice in the morning.”

Perhaps you’ve pushed him too far, past the point of apologies. But your chest aches with something unfamiliar, a quiet desperation.

“It’s late,” you start, and the words keep spilling out, too heavy to swallow back down. You’re sinking, drowning in bitter consequence. “You can leave in the morning.”

The vulnerability that flickers in your eyes and the tender way your fingers curl around his wrist isn’t lost on him. You’re a brash, spiteful woman, tainted by money and influence. You have no space for him, no room for change. He has to leave before you corrupt him too.

So why do you look so small? So innocent?

Your fingers tighten. Just barely. “Don’t go.”

“But...”

“I’ll call Kaiser.” It’s quiet. Needy. You hate the way it sounds. Hates the bitter taste it leaves on your tongue. “I’ll tell him to excuse you.”

“Just stay here. For tonight.”

He looks at you for a moment, searching your face for any sign of deceit, but he finds none. All he sees is a little girl that’s never felt a warmth that lingered, like a dwindling flame in a raging storm. He can’t help but soften. Just a little.

After a while, he finally replies.

“…Okay.”

He nods, a quiet resignation settling over him. It’s a mistake, he tells himself. But there’s something in your expression that worms into his heart, slipping under his defenses.

“For tonight,” he echoes.

Isagi lies down beside you, the bed dipping under his weight.

It’s a mess of wrinkled sheets and scattered pillows, but neither of you care. You switch off the light, and he lets you drape the blanket over his tired body.

He knows that when morning comes, this will all be gone. He’ll slip away for practice and you’ll remain here, alone in your empty castle. He won’t let himself hope. Not for someone like you.

But for tonight, he allows himself to savor the warmth of your body against his, to indulge in this fleeting moment of intimacy. He wraps his arm around you, his chest rising and falling with each breath.

Just until the night ends.

[motuzi]

ALMOST THERE x yoichi isagi

summary . your boyfriend just loves ur thighs so much, thst he sometimes forgets about the rest of u !

wc . 0.3k

cw . SMUT MDNI , edging (unintentional) , thigh-fuckinf , uummm i donr rlly know what else

masterlist ౨ৎ

it’s no secret that your boyfriend loves your thighs. his hand immediately flies to gently grab and squeeze at the flesh when he’s sitting beside you or driving the car, and he just loves resting his head on your lap!

he also loves the way his cock slips between the plush fat of your thighs. his warm hands palming at your hips, his thick length just barely grazing over your pussy as he fucks your pretty thighs. his head tilts back, pornographic moans escaping his lips.

“y’feel so good,” isagi whispers breathlessly, leaning down to kiss your cheek sweetly. “love these pretty— mmmhg!”

he can feel your slick coating his dick, and ooh, it just makes him want to moan louder. his hips stutter slightly, breath hot against your neck.

poor isagi is so deep into this that he doesn’t even the notice the little whines leaving you! he’s teasing you unintentionally— you can feel him graze your sopping cunt, but he never ever slips inside!

he’s soo close, and just when you think he’s gonna finally fill you up, he pulls away and rubs his cock on your thighs. it feels so, so good— but not enough ! you need need him inside right now, and he just won’t open his eyes! why isn’t he noticing what he’s doing !!

“yoichi,” you mewl, hips shifting against him slightly. he just huffs, hands moving to squeeze your thighs. that’s when he notices the tears welling in your eyes, the way you sniffle so cutely.

“ah. sorry, baby.” he mutters softly, a shy chuckle leaving him. he kisses your jaw softly, rubbing the fat tip of his cock against your poor, neglecting pussy. “i won’t make you wait any more.”

© gakukitty please don’t copy my work , repost it and claim as your own , translate , or do anything stupid with it ! try and improve on ur own skills first ♡