#hanamaki takahiro x reader

[nanamis-bigtie]

impromptu rendezvous

↬ hanamaki takahiro x fem!reader ↬ masterlist // ao3 version

cw: smut, friends to lovers, reader has breasts, vagina & is rather feminine, drunk sex, piv sex, creampie, sex on couch, long-term platonic relationship goes romantic really quick summary: through the years of close friendship you have never felt anything romantic towards hanamaki…but have you really? you feign being drunk to escape an overwhelming party and when he takes care of you, you can't bring yourself to refuse his help. instead, you keep the game rolling until you find yourselves alone in your apartment word count: 4.8k a/n: commission for lovely @antique-remains ❤ thank you so much for your support and trust, i loved working with you and your ideas!

"My, my, aren't you a good wife?"

Matsun's sarcastic comment has Hanamaki's eyebrows twitch with irritation, but he doesn't stop nor retort. He's had his good dose of alcohol too, shoelaces of your boots tangling between his fingers as he's kneeling on one knee between your legs, leaning slightly to the right. It puts strain into your own knee but you don't mind; you like the weight of his body and its warmth, especially now, your mind foggy and overwhelmed. It's familiar and personal, great comfort amidst the chaos and noise, and the crowd filling the apartment a little much for your limits.

You didn't hate the party—no, you were always looking forward to Matsun's—but it strained you far past what you expected. You didn't make it easy for yourself either, pouring too much into yourself and too fast. And tomorrow's morning classes be damned, you were ready for even more, but Hanamaki was right there, with his overshielding that was sometimes getting on your nerves, but so needed right then. Gently but firmly, he moved your glass away and excused you both from the company. Soon, you've been herded towards the hallway, packed into your jacket, having your purse shoved under your arm, and sat down for him to deal with your boots.

You're not that drunk to not be able to take care of yourself but once he's dropped to his knees, you've felt it's best to keep your mouth shut and just let him. Wouldn't be the first time either and you know better than to argue against his care—but you can't pretend you don't like him like this now, with his flushed cheeks between your legs, eyebrows knit in focus and their little twitch at Matsun's teasing behind his back. The urge to thread fingers through his hair is real and persistent; you know how soft it is, and you know the smell of his shampoo would linger on your fingers for quite some time but, again, you're not that drunk. Such a move would be shameless even for your long and close friendship, and feigning daze right under Matsukawa's nose could as well be a straight confession of feelings.

Nothing could escape those knowing eyes, even what you haven't dared to admit to yourself. No, it's better to play stupid and limp, and to nibble on your bottom lip, watching Makki on his knees for you, letting him dart you up and wrap arm around your waist once he's dressed himself, ready to lead you outside and to your apartment.

"You're gonna be okay?" Matsukawa is dead serious now, holding the door for you two and lingering there even as you make it past the garden and pavement to your Uber ride.

"We've been worse," Hanamaki scoffs, no offense taken though. "Get back there and don't drown yourself in beer."

"Sure. Don't break your legs or something."

Your place is only a couple of blocks away but in your current state it would take forever to get there on foot. You would still try though, too dazed to think of a ride, but what do you have Hanamaki for, if not for being your brain in times like these? It would be enough to pack you into the car and trust the driver with the delivery, but he took a seat next to you and let you lean against him.

Matsun's not there anymore to judge and tease you so you grow bolder, as bold as you can in presence of a bystander right under your nose. The crook of Hanamaki's neck is tailored for the shape of your head; you nuzzle up there and close your eyes, to ease the dizziness caused by car's vibrations, yes, but first and foremost to soak yourself in his scent. It's duller under the lingering smell of the party, of the crowd, smoke and that sharp, teasing aftertaste of beer and vodka, but you can still catch a glimpse of him. His cologne is subtle but persistent, like him, but there's the shampoo and shower gel combo you will always recognize after countless times of finding it in your own bathroom after he's spent a night on your couch. 

And under that, deeper, there's him, the natural scent of his body, embarrassingly familiar for the distance you, despite everything, still keep.

It's the scent you've known for the longest and, in prospect of over ten years of your friendship, it's so funny how offensive you found it at first. Always in a hurry, from volleyball club to precious hours reserved for friends, barely squeezed into his tight schedule, he skipped a shower here and there, and as he never smelled bad to you, for some reason it irritated you how much he stood out for your nose and how it distracted you.

You've drilled a habit of keeping his hygiene always on point. But now, in the confines of the small car, with the rough edge of his jacket nuzzled up to your cheek, you wish you could smell more of him, if only a little.

Friends, even the best kind, don't cram their noises into their necks during their shared Uber ride, the sobering part of your brain is trying to point your attention to that, but you ignore it. And Hanamaki doesn't mind it, even wraps his arm around you shortly before you reach your destination, way too late for your liking. But the hold soon returns, first helping you out of the car, then keeping you straight up the stairs and into the elevator, finally leading you to your door.

"Even a blind person could rob you," he mutters, fishing the keys out of your pocket with ease. The lock clicks open with half of a turn, and he sighs, concerned and amused alike.

"Shut up," you mumble, hanging on his shoulder more than needed. "No one has robbed me before."

"Fortune favors fools, eh?"

"You're calling me stupid?" You withstand when he's trying to push you past the threshold—well, as much as your wobbly legs can, heels not helping your case. You're having a taste of upper hand only because Hanamaki lets you, you know it from the playful flickers in his eyes; he's squinting and tilting head to side as you're pulling him two steps back into the corridor—just for him to set you into your prior position with a single pull.

"I'm calling you drunk and too light-hearted." He's finally done and tugs at your arm until you lose balance—and fall straight into his arms, then over his shoulder as he's tripped you, and picks you up with ease.

"I'm gonna scream!" You kick and wiggle, but he knows your tricks too well to let you slip out.

"Sure, scream, princess." Covering you with one arm, he shuts the door behind your backs. "Show me what those little lungs can do."

You're carried into the living room, then thrown onto the couch, seemingly with no care for your state, but you know Makki could be far less gentle, if he really wanted to pay you back for your little games. Your mind is fuzzy more from hanging over his shoulder than the landing itself—but still not fuzzy enough to stop you in your tracks. You shamelessly stretch legs, one foot playfully slotted in his hand; he rolls his eyes but undoes the boot, then the other, then helps you out of your jacket and carries everything to the hallway.

He's mapped your apartment better than your current, overly absent roommate has, and you're ready to bet he's actually spent more time here than her through all those years of crashing on your couch. In no time he has a bottle of water and painkillers for you, a heated blanket is pulled out of the cabinet and thrown over your legs, he even helps you with your skincare duty, bringing you make-up removal wipes.

"You could have carried me straight to bed." You didn't want to sound whiny or disappointed, but it does come across as so; you curl your shoulders, unsure of his next move and for the first time since what seems forever unable to read his expression. Hell, you're unsure of your intentions and reason behind the weird longing, your mind free of thoughts, just waiting for his reaction and feeling weirdly shy, as if you were stripped naked and left for his judgment.

Hanamaki indeed seems to judge you, his head tilted to the side just a little, eyes narrowed much like a cat's a moment before the final pounce. He often does so, an old habit of analyzing the court before a move rubbing off on every aspect of his life, but you haven't paid any particular attention to it until now, when his focus is piercing you inside out.

He can strip you of your confidence like no one, years of your friendship a blessing and a curse alike.

"That's a forbidden territory," he finally settles on ignoring the topic, not dwelling on but not quite letting it die right here and now either. "I ain't that much of a pervert to walk into some girl's bedroom just like that. Especially with a girl ripped to the tits."

"I'm not some girl to you, ain't I?" You huff and pout. "Haven't you said I'm almost like a sister?"

For a moment there's a weird look in his eyes, maybe pain, maybe disappointment, but it's quickly replaced by his good old teasing demeanor, "I wouldn't walk into my sis' bedroom either. Sorry, you either sleep here or crawl there on your own. Good luck."

Hanamaki makes a beeline for the door, ready to slink off but when you call out to him by his name, he immediately freezes and looks over his shoulder, as if you pulled on an invisible leash around his neck.

"You're not staying?" You shimmy into one corner of the couch, leaving the other half for him. "We can order Chinese. And— And maybe watch something. On Netflix or—"

"You are aware how it sounds, right?" He says but he's already throwing his sneakers and jacket off, closing the distance between you in a few wide steps. Couch dips under his weight as he's thrown himself straight at it with a loud groan, your side bobbing under you as a result.

You barely hold a yelp in your throat. Why are you so tense suddenly? You've already been way closer than on two sides of the same couch, the distance between you now wouldn't be anything weird even for people who barely know each other.

When you think about it now, your sobering mind slowly connecting the right puzzles, there is some emotional distance between you two lately. You can't pinpoint when exactly it's started; you've been slowly tiptoeing away from each other, building an invisible, thin veil in between. There's still comfort and familiarity you don't share even with your female friends but it's not the same as it used to be.

For a try, you dare to straighten your legs and rest them on his lap. Makki doesn't budge but palpably lingers with the next move; finally, he cups your feet between his big hands and massages them. You don't really need a relief for them but it's a little ritual you two have developed since you've started wearing high heels.

"Chinese then?" You draw a circle with one foot, playfully avoiding his touch.

"I won't fit a single thing more," he makes a tortured face just at the thought. "I've drunk too much."

"You don't look wasted."

Hanamaki snorts and throws head back, his face out of the range of your vision. You watch his Adam's apple bob when he swallows his laughter, your mouth dry in a way you've never felt for him. Or maybe you have but it's been easier to brush it off without alcohol clearing your mind with a sadistic precision. You're stripped bare by your own chain of bad decisions, nowhere to hide and no way to pretend anymore.

"Neither do you." He tickles the sole of immobilized foot and holds you through the spasm, merciless despite the tenderness of his hold. "You're not that drunk as you try to act, hmm?"

His fingers trail along the side of your foot and ankle, then up your shin, towards the sensitive area around your knee, a thin layer of your stocking in no way able to protect you from incoming tortures. He keeps you on the edge, fingertips hovering over the point you know it will have you scream, cry, and beg—or worse, if he tickles you for too long.

Warmth creeping straight into your core has nothing to do with this anticipation though; it's intense but not rapid, and you take it for alcohol running in your veins at first, at least until immense need for being touched overpowers everything. The urge to squeeze your thighs and trap his hand in between is strong, anxiety squeezing your lungs even stronger, the mess of thoughts and emotions in your head devastating.

It feels...wrong, to react to his touch like this. You're holding the blame for alcohol messing with you, despite being called out on it and despite your body sobering up with each draft of air. No, it surely has to be the drunkard speaking through you, otherwise you would have to admit—

(To admit it feels wrong, but you need it, you need it so bad you might cry, if you won't get it from him.)

Hanamaki grazes the ticklish spot, impatient for your answer, and this time you can't hold a yelp any longer. It's dangerously close to a moan, your heart skips a beat when your eyes meet but he only cocks an eyebrow, waiting, either missing your reaction or ignoring it.

"I had enough," you admit in a whisper, afraid the trembling of your voice will betray you. "Needed to get out but explaining it all to Matsun—"

He chuckles, amused and understanding. Matsukawa could be a pain in the ass with his overzealous nosiness and you surely were drunk enough to find it troublesome.

"You could have at least told me." He tickles you again, forcing you to laugh and jerk up. His hand slides towards the inner side of your leg and doesn't budge from there. 

You don't move, either, a little ashamed how easily you caved and accepted the crumbs off the plate. Warmth in you is pulsing, not a wave anymore but the first flicker of fire that's bound to explode if you won't extinguish it right here and now.

"Didn't want to sit here all alone." You throw head back, saving yourself at least the torture of his gaze looking for yours. You wish you didn't throw the blanket on the floor as soon as he threw it at you, you could hide under it and soak back into your excuses and lies.

"You could have told me that too." Hanamaki is unwavering, his thumb rubbing circles into your stocking. "Instead of playing... Whatever it is. Dragging me here like some drunk rando you keep tabs on, letting him seduce you."

You can't read whether he's teasing you or being dead serious—and it's terrifying. The last thing you want is to hurt him, to have him reject you and close the door not only to whatever is happening between you two now but also to your cherished friendship. You love him, as who doesn't really matter. You need him more than just the physical craving, peaking after months, if not years of repressed yearning. 

You would never forgive yourself, if you lost it all because of drunk carelessness.

"What if I said I wouldn't mind being seduced by you?" You finally break, all cards on the table. Keeping you both on the edge is the worst outcome, you would rather take the ultimate rejection than toying further with his trust and creating distance you two would never close again.

He sucks in breath through clenched teeth, a few seconds of silence unbearable for your poor, fluttering heart. Weight of his fingers against your thigh grows, he nearly sinks them into your flesh before he speaks, his voice so tense it's almost breaking, "Please tell me it was you who said it, not booze messing with me."

"I wouldn't mind being seduced by you." You repeat and adjust your position, looking straight at him now against the urge to hide your face in your hands. Embarrassment is not a word you two share in your dictionary, but the vulnerability of the moment drives you insane, each passing second feeling like burning hot liquid metal poured straight into your heart.

You watch him wipe his face with a free hand, watch his chest bob with a deep, desperate breath. Eyes closed shut, Hanamaki collects racing thoughts; you see his eyebrows twitching in intense focus, a small bead of sweat dripping down his temple. It lasts a few heartbeats, it feels like hours, surely for the both of you, years of experience in reading each other no relief on this completely different ground.

"You have no idea how many times I've dreamed about it." When he finally speaks, his voice is hoarse and guttural, speaking straight from his core and stripped bare. "Since the last year— Fuck, I don't know for how long, maybe from the beginning... I feel like I always wanted you—"

He hides face in both hands now and groans, frustrated with his own helplessness and tongue tied with the remains of a drunk haze. Both of you have lost the majority of it at this point, though, at least at the mental level.

"I suck at confessions." He finally admits the obvious and you both collapse into giggles in relief. "I'm much better with my hands."

They're both at you again, exploring your legs with more punch to it. Makki follows the seam of your stockings, up and under the hem of your dress until he reaches the lacey welt and toys with them. He takes his time stripping you of them, teasing and testing, relishing in the feel of your bare skin slowly revealing itself for him.

His fingers are warm, but you still shudder when he cradles your ankles and glides up your calves. You spread your legs for him, but he doesn't reach further, for now satisfied with little twitches and goosebumps covering your skin. He's making you pay for your little lie, you realize with an impatient mewl, and he wouldn't mind having you pull the rope towards yourself, but you let him have his way. You feel guilty, after all, for the quirk of tonight and the silence of numerous months. He can have this moment of triumph.

He's bored with it faster than you thought.

"C'mon, baby girl," he tosses your legs away and pats his lap, a faint teasing smirk on his lips.

You don't need to be told twice.

You roll your dress further up and straddle him. Not until now you realized how tense and hot and heavy you've been, your starved and sensitive pussy twitching just at the brush of his jeans. Thin layer of your panties could as well just not exist, you grind on him for relief—irregular, sharp moves of hips, soon cut by both of his arms wrapped tight around you.

Makki kept himself in shape, you note with satisfaction feeling his muscles tense against your waist. You know of his gym routine, of course, but it's a whole different world when you can touch and appreciate him in his whole glory. You sink your hands under his t-shirt, trace his abs and chest to your liking as you lean for a kiss, at first shy, then sliding your tongue in with ease.

You've imagined it before, but the reality is nowhere close to your fantasies. He's good, he's so incredibly good despite the aftertaste of everything you've poured into your throats before and the clumsiness of the first shared kiss. You're ready to drown in it, forgetting about the whole world, even about the dull pulsing between your legs—if not for his hands relentlessly at work, one kneading your ass, the other unzipping your dress and sliding it down your shoulders.

"Can I?" Hanamaki whispers against your lips, his eyes half closed and glossy. He traces the clasp of your bra and undoes it immediately as you nod.

Dress is rolled down your waist, bra—thrown behind the couch. Makki leans back to see you better, mouth slightly agape at the sight. He squeezes your breasts with both hands, feeling their shape against his palms, swallows hard.

"You're so hot..." He mutters, close to choking on his own words.

You press into his touch, chase the closeness as you grind against him with the right rhythm and pressure now. He welcomes you with a needy groan, his face shoved into your neck, sucking and nibbling, and even daring to bite.

"I'm sorry," he kisses a beeline towards your chest, hot breath grazing your perky nipple.

"You're not sorry," you pull him closer, fingers threading through his hair.

"Yeah, I'm not."

Makki's tongue is divine against your skin. He sucks on your tits with fervor, at first tries to tease, but quickly forgets himself, encouraged by your breathy moans and nails scratching his scalp. He's soon answering the rhythm of your hips too, the front of his jeans bulging, surely tight for his hardening cock. It takes you a few tries in the confines of his hold, but you finally open his belt and zipper and help him out of his briefs.

He groans in relief but doesn't stop sucking, just bucks into your hand when you give him the first, testing stroke. You follow the wordless request, build up a decent rhythm for him even if he doesn't make it easy for you with the work of his lips and fingers. Holding you firm with one arm, he reaches between your legs and returns the favor, fingers toying with your slit.

"So wet for me already?" He tries to tease, his voice on the verge of a needy moan under the relentless ministrations of your hand. His eyes roll into the back of his head as you swipe your thumb against his sensitive tip. "Fuck, that's right... Right here, baby."

You love the way it rolls off his tongue, this casual, endearing pet name he's sometimes used before just to fuck around with you. It's sweet and desperate, drenched with need as he's rutting into your palm, for a split moment forgetting about you and mumbling it again into your breasts once catching himself on being sloppy.

You're honestly no better, losing your mind whenever his fingers toy with your entrance. You want him inside, so badly it tears you apart, but you know you're going to forget yourself as soon as you get what you want. His cock pulsing in your hand doesn't make it easy for you, it's like a torture at this point, torture you want to—have to—endure for him. One finger in, two, three—you clench your teeth and squeeze him tighter in your hand, on the verge of begging him to ruin you, fighting against it, soaking in immense pleasure of having your slick walls caressed exactly how you need it.

"Not gonna— Fuck, last long if you—" Hanamaki peels himself off your chest, puts everything he still has in him into pushing his high away. "Lemme— Lemme take care of you first."

He guides you to lean against him, hands against his chest, hips angled to reach your sweet spot better. Focused on self-control, you missed how he's been relentlessly looking for it, testing, observing, attentive despite his own need trying to take over.

"T-there..." You help him as much as your trembling thighs let you, arching your ass into his hand. "Don't stop now."

"I won't."

Toes curling and pleasure turning your body into spasm, you almost lose the perfect balance at the crucial moment. But Makki is there for you, holding you close and right, helping you ride your high until the last delicious second. You slump against him, blessed, exhausted but nowhere close to being full; you mewl with protest when he pulls out of you.

Makki cocks an eyebrow, surprised and hopeful at the same time, "Do you still wanna—"

You glance down at this dick, beads of precum glistening at its tip, and put the last ounce of power left in you into lifting your hips once again. He mutters something about lack of protection, neither of you listen, sanity all gone with a single swipe between your folds.

"Gonna be slow—" You can see in his eyes how much it costs him, to be mindful of your weakened, overstimulated state instead of throwing you on your back and fucking you stupid. You would take it, you would take everything, but his restraint tastes the best now.

He keeps his word, filling up inch by inch, holding you to ease strain for your trembling knees. Before your head falls into the crook of his neck, you catch a glimpse of his expression, blissed out from the simple pleasure of your wet pussy squeezing him tight. He whispers your name like a prayer, cradling you close and fully impaled on him, savoring the moment before you force your bodies to move again.

You start first but you can bounce on it only a few times before he has to take over, holding your hips for you. He stays true to his promise; even when his arms start giving up and his upward thrusts grow sloppy, he stays gentle and sweet—as much as a man drunk of you can when chasing his high. 

There's no rhythm to it, more than anything you just sway together, but just being full of him is enough. Thighs flush to him, you soak into him, chest to chest, your face in the crook of his neck, his breath heavy and moist in your ear. He throbs deep in you, close to release since the moment he's sunk into you, but stubborn to endure a little more, for another thrust, for another frantic budging of your hips, for another twitch of your pussy around him. He struggles to praise you for it too, his voice dying on him whenever he tries though, leaving him with just a string of groans and pieces of your name in between, over and over again.

He's trying to say it one more time when it finally hits him. His arms tremble and he sinks you onto his cock one more time, spilling his seed deep inside. You hold him through it, nails digging into his shoulders through the t-shirt, almost crying in your own overstimulation. 

Hanamaki wraps himself around you as well, soaking into your dry sobs, one hand soothingly petting the small of your back.

"You did so well, baby," he rasps into your ear, kissing the trail of sweat next to it.

You did so well—like back in high school when you broke your dominant arm and struggled to take notes with the other. When you got drunk for the first time and he held your hair as you were leaning over the toilet. When you broke and cried after a hard exam in your first year. When you finally got rid of your horrible ex.

He's praised you so many times before. But none sounded as sweet as the one now, in his embrace, breathing in air full of his scent, sharing the warmth of your sweaty bodies.

Still connected, you lean together to the side and collapse into the couch. It's uncomfortable, especially for Makki and his long limbs, but you both have reached your limit, and even a risk of being eventually caught by your roommate doesn't prompt you to move.

"You were right, should have carried you to the bedroom," Hanamaki sighs heavily against your neck and cradles you closer, as away from the edge as you both can fit.

"I'm always right," you chirp with confidence and prompt yourself for a pinch or nudge you would get in return, but he just laughs and guides your head to rest in his palm.

"Let's leave regrets and consequences for tomorrow." He says after a moment of silence, long enough for you to think he's dozed off. His lips are pressed close to your skin, his voice barely audible. "I don't wanna think of anything else other than you finally in my arms."

[fatherbrat]

thinking about makki as a fratboy. he’s as sleazy as they come. can’t find it in himself to commit to a damn thing, except for making you come. it’s the only reason you always find yourself back at his disgusting fraternity house, naked and sweaty in his bed. 

“please, hiro. no more, i can’t.” you try to move, a part of you even tempted to kick at the man in front of you—anything to get away from the vibrator he’s got pressed against your clit. 

“shhh, yes you can,” he says, an amused expression settling over his face. “just one more, mkay?”

you can only manage a nod, breathing deeply as you try to fight the next set of tears that are beginning to form. you bite your lip in a futile effort to hold back a scream, failing when he plunges two fingers into you, vibrator still buzzing against your poor clit. 

makki just shakes his head, raising an eyebrow as he tells you to shush. “you want the whole house to hear you? do that again and the next one won’t be the last.”

your eyes widen and you clamp your mouth shut. he laughs, pumping his fingers in and out of your pussy at increasing speed. your body goes slack and you can almost taste the relief that rolls over you when you climax, a single squeak escaping your throat. 

you’re too exhausted to be annoyed when makki flops down onto the bed next to you, sighing heavily as if he’s the one that was just given 6 orgasms back-to-back. 

he pats your thigh playfully, glancing over to give you a self-satisfied grin. “when you can walk again, we can go get food.”

this time you find the energy to roll your eyes.

[sfznyxio]

-ˋˏ WILDEST FANTASIES ˎˊ

SYNOPSIS. you are irresistible and a source of temptation, especially in his imagination.

CHARACTERS. oikawa tooru, hanamaki takahiro, matsukawa issei, iwaizumi hajime

CONTENT. f!reader. canon-compliant, post-timeskip (2021). smut. 1.8k wc. rewrite of wildest fantasies at my old nsfw blue lock group blog @/bllk-after-dark, moved to haikyuu for an age-appropriate cast. reader is in a relationship with all except makki. seijoh 4 imagine how they would fuck reader. other warnings vary for each section and will be listed there instead because uh, it’s a lot.

VERA. sorry, the power of horny took over. i never read the manga, so i went with the seijoh 4 as the scenarios suit them the most. i struggled with makki and mattsun, so they may seem ooc. i guess I'm celebrating kinktober with this fic lol.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. OIKAWA TOORU

breeding kink, creampie, edging, fingering, jealousy (toward a teammate and kageyama), marking

mine is written on your skin with invisible ink. oikawa fumes at a player from his team talking to you, seemingly enjoying his company when he sees you laughing. he doesn’t experience rage often, but it can get worse when the infamous “king of the court” from the opponent team strikes up a conversation with you.

“what’s with the silent treatment, tooru?” the drive to the hotel is tense, and he treats you like a ghost. he also feels similar, for different reasons. when the two of you arrive at your room, he pins you down on the door with arms above your head and cunt on his knee. lust clouds his eyes as his tongue battles against yours and teeth nips at your throat, leaving a trail of bruises in its wake. 

“craving attention from him, out of all people when i’m here? i’m hurt.” you gasp at the friction of his knee on your cunt. his fingers slip inside, pumping them agonizingly slow as punishment. “think he can fuck you like this? hah, want everyone and that brat to know you’re mine.”

to prolong this type of behavior, you decide to instill delicious images in his head. “oh, how are you gonna show me off then? you’ve already done the hickeys. but what about a ring on my finger? or your cum out of me? or perhaps, a baby in me?”

oikawa pulls his fingers out when you’re nearing an orgasm. the impulse to buy a ring with his salary and propose you live, fuck you in the locker rooms to mark you with his cum, and knock you up so that guy can mind his damn business. he spends the entire night ramming his cock in you to make sure it takes.

“there you are! i had to ask one of your teammates where you were, but he’s so nice that i lost track.” oikawa is back at the court, dazed from his daydreaming. you didn’t notice him blanking out as you’re busy geeking out about his plays. “watching a match live was so exciting! i finally got to see your sets up close. one of the guys from the other team was your underclassman, right? i think he’s good too!”

he shuts you up with a kiss, and the audience reacts in a domino effect. the cameras pan to the two of you; his fans freak out that he is actually taken, and his teammates — as well as him — are in pure disbelief. you wonder why he did that. he looks proud of himself so you say nothing. “there. now the whole world knows.”

𝄞༉‧₊˚. HANAMAKI TAKAHIRO

begging, mutual masturbation, nipple play, phone sex, thoughts of oral sex (f!receiving), toxic relationships (with reader’s ex)

relief washes over him hearing that you broke up with ex over the phone. hanamaki never liked them to begin with, nor does he understand what you see in them. being the good friend he is, he remains civil, painfully. though it’s not as painful as suppressing his sinful thoughts about you squirming under touch, however.

“hey, makki. can you do me a favor?” he loves your voice. you saying his name is his greatest weakness. though it’ll be better to have you moan it in his ears when he rails you into a begging mess. now he feels guilty for harboring these feelings as he promised to only play as the ‘good friend’. but promises break eventually. “can you make me forget about them?”

the lines of friendship blur into indescribable tension. you express your frustration over lack of spice in your sex life, rambling about how badly you want to be fucked on someone’s mouth. the cries of your breasts and clit aching to be touched makes his cock to strain in his pants. sex isn’t a topic you confide in with your friends, but it does not matter now. you called him to forget after all.

“to tell you the truth, you’re driving me crazy,” he sighs with his head on the board while he pumps his length. labored breaths and whimpers are heard on your end. “what if i tell you i’m jerking off to you now, wishing i was inside that pretty pussy of yours? and what about you, wishing my mouth is there too and on your pretty tits to claim what has been mine in the first place?”

“i’m yours, always yours!” your whines turn into squeals, which has him cum on his hand. his body slumps over the edge of his bed, catching his breath alongside you. if you’re here, he would leave more proof that you are forever his with your ex nonexistent in your world. yet it’s all white noise. the entire time he has been spacing out, so you were waiting for an eternity for him to say something.

“hello? earth to makki?” hanamaki realizes the dried stickiness on his hand from his cum. he has been mindlessly jacking off to your voice. “i asked if you could do me a favor but i’d rather stop by your place to cool off. is it okay if i come over?”

“yeah. see you.” you thank him before hanging up. hanamaki tosses his phone away, contemplating what he has done. never, ever will he do this again and vows to not speak on it. all he can do is to maintain his role to comfort you through your breakup. he will do whatever it takes to prove he is indeed the better choice. there will be the day where you’re his for the taking.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. MATSUKAWA ISSEI

body worship, lap dance, lingerie, riding, sex toys (vibrator), strip tease, voyeurism

speechless is his reaction to you clad in lace lingerie. matsukawa develops a strong urge to impale you on his cock that is strained in his pants, just like how his arms are at the sides of his seat. for now he can only ogle at your body, a temptation for him to give into his desires, along with your alluring expressions.

the lingerie surprise tips him over the edge. he follows your fingers trail from your breasts to your clit, agonized by the drag of one of them along the lips back and forth. he grips his seat so hard he could feel the bones of his hands break. oh how he wants you so badly, but being the menace you are, you insist to stay patient until the end of your performance.

“not yet. keep your eyes on me.” you lift his chain to face you, with your mouth ghosting over his. how can he also enjoy the sight when you are torturing him with the sway of your hips, the flex of your thighs, and the bra straps hanging off your shoulders? and when you grind on his bulge with a vibrator in you which is your source of pleasure instead?

he finds himself matching your rhythm with an arm around your waist and the other cradling your head, kissing you as if his life depends on it. as clothes fly left and right, he yanks out your vibrator coated with your slick and finally plunges you onto him, having you seated for his show. how the tables have turned. now you’re the one being tortured, pounded with quick upward thrusts from him.

“now for the grand finale.” despite your protests to slow down, he wants to relish your body which is contorting in pleasure through the mirrors. a multitude of thrusts later, he reaches his climax and feels you clench, making sure you didn’t miss a single drop. it’s a shame that time goes by fast, because he sure wants to see your body arch for him over and over again.

“you know, it’s rude to stare without saying anything.” loud noises flood his ears. matsukawa is at the mall with you to help you buy new clothes to spice up your wardrobe. though when you mean by ‘spice up’, he does not expect to see you in lace lingerie at the fitting rooms. “so, uh… what do you think?”

matsukawa thinks that you may have a hidden agenda to seduce him, or just trying out the lingerie for fun. he marvels at how it suits your body, making you nervous. an idea pops into his head and whispers into the shell of your ear. “hm, not sure. why don’t you buy and put it on tonight for me so i can see it better?”

𝄞༉‧₊˚. IWAIZUMI HAJIME

aftercare, consent, insecurities, loss of virginity, missionary, petnames (baby), praise

sorry is your automatic reply when iwaizumi hints at wanting sex. you’re a virgin, so thoughts of being unable to satisfy someone experienced are rooted into your head. on the contrary, it’s a massive turn on. since it is your first time, he wants to make it extra special. he’s more excited than he should be so he tries to tone it down to not scare you.

you stare at him like a lost puppy as your partner reaches for your face. he smirks at how entranced you are when his fingers glide to your chin and then over your lips. he kisses you hard that you’re out of breath and pushes you to the bed. you begin to breathe normally again as he takes off his shirt, making his heart flutter, knowing that his body is for your eyes only.

“you can keep going,” you tell him when he checks up on you. with the slight encouragement of his hand drawing circles on your skin, you take off your shirt as well so he can explore more of your body. the two of you eventually strip yourselves bare while devouring each other with tongue and spit.

“squeeze if you want to stop.” your hand is intertwined with his, getting ready to signal for the sake of your safety. he penetrates you slowly, cock buried to the hilt inside, blabbering about how you’re taking him so well and swearing he’ll cum sooner than expected. the pitch of your moans is rising higher and higher. you hate how your sounds it seems by crashing your lips on his, but it tells him that he has done his job right.

“shit, baby. you’re absolutely perfect for me. how is this possible— agh,” iwaizumi hisses as he spills inside you. you’re now exhausted, sensitive from the caresses on your curves and kisses on your hands. this is what he would like to happen, however the next time he blinks, you’re lying beside him fully clothed.

“haji? you’re not saying anything.” you avert your gaze from his. you’re ashamed of literally pushing him away, believing that he’ll take offense judging from his silence. “i didn’t mean to do that. it happened so fast that i freaked out. can we start over and… start a little bit slower?”

“sure. let’s take things a little bit slower.” iwaizumi kisses your forehead to reassure you that you haven’t done anything wrong. somehow you’ve become bold, initiating the kiss and sneaking your hands under his shirt unconsciously. you retract from the sudden move, but he gestures to you to keep going. he’s so weak for you; he’ll do anything to make you happy.

[teamatsumu]

all eyes on you. (seijoh 4 x reader)

warnings: pure smut, not even an iota of plot, swearing, fem!reader, voyeurism, fingering, masturbation, implied group sex, slight degradation

word count: 1k

tags: @keiva1000 @kindnessspreads @msbyomimi @sleepyxxhead

“H-Hajime,” Your voice trembles and breaks, body arched and wound up tight. Your nails dig into his forearms enough to leave marks, but you’re not sure he minds, considering his fingers only speed up inside you and he moans deliciously in your ear.

Iwaizumi has your back against his chest, and your legs hooked over his. He spreads his legs, simultaneously spreading yours, his unoccupied arm wrapped tight around your waist to hold you in place and keep you nice and open for the three pairs of hungry eyes that are trained on your naked, sweaty body.

“Touch her clit,” Hanamaki whispers, his hand working over his own exposed cock. He is leaning back on the couch before you, looking more bored than anything, but his eyes are sizzling with heat, unblinking, and his hand on his cock is urgent. Your breath stutters, and you’re not sure if it’s because of his words or because Iwaizumi chooses that moment to curl his fingers inside you.

“Don’t tell me how to please my girlfriend.” Iwaizumi grunts back, free hand reaching up to cup at your breast almost possessively. Nevertheless, his fingers slide out of you with a wet squelch and reach up to toy at your engorged clit. Your legs jerk and you gasp at the change in sensations.

“Don’t get snarky, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa’s voice does not match the playfulness of his words. It is husky and low, and he too is playing with his erection. The head is deep pink and weeping with precum, proudly showing just how aroused he is. How can he not be? With the show Iwaizumi is using you to put on.

“She loves it so much, see? Look how pretty she looks.” Oikawa continues, voice turning softer now, more teasing. It almost doesn’t feel like a compliment. Like he is demeaning you, but it only turns you on even more. You can’t believe this is something you enjoy, the jeering way he was talking about you. Iwaizumi never did that. You whine, eyebrows creasing.

“She likes that.” Matsukawa somehow sounds just as sharp and teasing as Oikawa. He has been quiet this whole time, only watching. He hadn’t even undressed, choosing to instead stick his hand in his pants and slowly stroke over himself. Deep down, you longed to see his cock too, knowing because of the jokes the boys made over the years that he was more than well endowed. But you are too shy to voice your desire. You are already doing something you couldn’t have imagined in a million years.

“You assholes are lucky you’re even watching this.” Iwaizumi quipped. “Don’t be ungrateful.”

He keeps his fingers moving on your clit, unwinding his other arm from around you to fill up your empty hole again. You gasp and arch again, one arm reaching back to grip tight on his hair while the other continues clawing at his skin.

“Tell me how you feel, baby.” He coos, knowing you are getting closer.

“Tell us how you feel.” Oikawa interjects, grinning when Iwaizumi shoots him a glare. His hand speeds up, anticipating your release and wanting to reach his high at the same time.

“I-” You weep, tears escaping your eyes to coat your cheeks instead. “I- Hajime!”

“Sshh, I’ve got you.” Hajime kisses the skin just below your ear, a spot that he knows is sensitive. “You’re doing so good, baby. God, you’re so fucking beautiful. Everyone’s looking at you. You’re so sexy.”

“You are, Y/N-chan.” Oikawa speaks again. “Can’t believe I’ve never seen you like this before. Been missing out.”

“Wish it was me,” Hanamaki chimed in. “Wonder what your pretty pussy would feel like on my cock.”

“Watch it.” Iwaizumi warned, but you moaned loudly, clamping down hard on his fingers. Matsukawa snickered.

“You’ve got a whore on your hands, Iwa.” He commented. “She fucking loves the thought of it. Isn’t that right?”

He leans forward, hand moving faster and faster inside his jeans. His words shock you, he is so crass. But it sends a current zipping down your torso, settling like heat in the pit of your stomach. Iwaizumi rubbed hard against your clit, curling his fingers against your spot.

“You want their cocks?” Iwaizumi groans into the shell of your ear, picking up on how aroused you are getting. “You little slut. You’re not satisfied by just me. You’re not even satisfied by them watching. You need them to fuck you.”

You wail as you come, body winding tight as electricity runs up your spine and clutches tight at your lungs. You try to close your legs, to stop Hajime’s hands as they continue to abuse your sloppy pussy. He doesn’t let you, though. His legs hold yours in place as he watches your body writhe. There are groans and curses, as one man after another cums after you, reaching their limit at the sight of your undulating torso, your curled toes, your jaw slacked and your tears still flowing.

Iwaizumi finally pulls his fingers out, running his drenched hand over your sensitive cunt. You jump and whine, trying to push him away, but your weakened limbs are no match for him. He brings his hand down, spanking your pussy and making you yelp.

“Behave,” Iwaizumi nibbles at your earlobe. “Be nice. We have guests.”

Your eyes finally find your audience, their flushed cheeks and hazy eyes. You immediately notice the white that coats their cocks, their hands, some traveling up their bare fronts. You flush at the sight, and you feel something in your core stir again.

Iwaizumi pats your thigh, closing his legs and encouraging you to move. He manhandles you to face him, bringing your focus down to his still rock hard cock. Your breath hitches at the little smirk on his face.

“C’mon, baby. Take care of me. And if these idiots wanna keep watching, they’re welcome to.”

No one moves from the couch, straightening to eye the show you will put on next.

[box-of-roses]

♡.﹀﹀Chapstick﹀﹀.♡

Characters: Tsukki, Kageyama, Hinata, Makki, Mattsun, Iwaizumi, Sakusa, Atsumu

Warnings: None that I can think of <3

Synopsis: What chapstick I think the different Haikyuu characters would use

Tsukki

Strawberry

Probably not one to just have chapstick on him at all times so he steals yours

When you first notice he’s been stealing your chapstick you can’t help but smile

Everytime you kiss it tastes like strawberries now because he’s started carrying his own supply of chapstick so you kiss him more often (not that he would admit that)

“Kei, have you seen my chapstick?” You ask as you start looking around the room. You were sure you left it in here. Not on the table, not on the couch…where could it have gone?

“Yeah, I have it right here. You really need to be more careful where you leave your things dummy.” He rolls his eyes and holds out the chapstick to you. You notice a sheen across his lips though and smile a little. 

“Did you use my chapstick?” 

“And if I did? What are you gonna do about it?” You laugh a little and lean into his face. 

“My lips are a little chapped if you don’t mind.” With that you kiss him and while he’s still in shock take your chapstick back. “You know if you wanted to use it you could’ve just asked.”

Kageyama

Milk Tea

He unlike some others on this list would keep chapstick on him

You’re the one who steals his chapstick

He gets the same flavor every time and goes to one specific store because it’s the only one that carries that flavor

“Tobi, take me with you!” You cling to him. He rolls his eyes and shrugs a bit to get you up and walking by yourself. 

“Sure, you can come with me. Maybe you can get some of your own chapstick while you’re at it.” He teases and gives you a smile. You shove him playfully.

“Then where would be my reason to kiss you?”

“Maybe you can just kiss your boyfriend?” He raises an eyebrow at you and opens the door to the store for you. 

“Nah! It’s more fun this way.” 

He gets jealous when you do in fact find a chapstick and stop kissing him when your lips get chapped

He 100% hides the chapstick so you have to come to him again

Hinata

Cake

Another one to steal your chapstick

It was a random one you had in your bag so you just gave it to him from your stash

Definitely only uses cake flavors now because it reminds him of you

Hinata looked around everywhere for the small tube of vanilla cake chapstick you had given him. He was upset that he couldn’t find it. Where was it? He looked everywhere before he gave up. He was sulking on the couch when you returned home. “Y/N, I’m sorry.” He sniffles.

You rush over to him and sit down in front of him. “Oh, Sho, what’s wrong?” You cup his face.

“I lost the chapstick you gave me.” You start laughing. 

“Is that it?” You smile and rummage through your bag before pulling out another chapstick. “I have more, you know.” You hand the chapstick to him. Birthday Cake. 

You noticed he liked the cake flavors so you kept a stash with you at all times incase he happened to lose another one

He found the chapstick he lost the next week, turns out he left it at practice

When you lose your chapstick though he’s there proudly offering the one you gave to him

Makki

Hot Coco

Got it on a whim

Now during Christmas time he stocks up because you told him you liked how his lips tasted once

This doesn’t mean he doesn’t like playing tricks on you though

Remember that trend where people were kissing their partners with lip plumper? Yeah he 100% did that to you

Makki smiled as his plan was coming together. You were going to come home any minute and he was the picture of a doting boyfriend. Sitting on the couch waiting patiently for you to return so you could give him a kiss. 

When you do finally walk through the door you smile and rush to your boyfriend. He’ll never get over how your face lights up when you see him. It’s probably one of his favorite things, that he can make you happy just by being there. You immediately go down to kiss him. After a few minutes though your lips start tingling. Your eyes narrow at him. “Makki. Did you put lip plumper on?”

“Are my kisses that electric to you honey?” He says with a shit eating grin on his face. Well, that answers that question. 

It’s okay though, you get back at him 

You two keep each other on your toes but there’s no denying that when you kiss him and taste hot coco you fall in love all over again

Iwaizumi

Mint

A traditional man

Not against changing flavors if you give it to him though

He always has one on him, a habit he picked up from Oikawa

Definitely teases you though when you first kissed him and recoiled because you weren’t expecting mint

You had finally worked up enough nerve to kiss Iwaizumi. You lean in slowly but once your lips touch you jump back. Your lips tingle and you’re not sure why. Iwaizumi starts laughing though. “My lips are so tingly!” You whisper-yell and put your hand over your mouth. It’s then that you notice the smell of mint. “Hajime! How could you,” you push him back a little. 

“Sorry my love! I didn’t know you would react like that!” This time though you’re prepared when he kisses you again. The tingling of the mint fades away quickly and it’s replaced by the warmth of his lips

As a result his kisses are cold and then warm

You learn to love the cold and find it refreshing, especially if he’s coming back from his morning run and you need a kiss to wake you up

Pair that with his mint toothpaste and you’ve got a recipe to wake you up and get ready for the day

Mattsun

Blueberry Poptart

He tries to find the weirdest flavors he can

He just also really likes the Blueberry Poptart flavor though so it’s the one he always comes back to

It’s a hard flavor to find but he thinks it’s worth it for the smile you make when you notice the flavor

Chapstick game with his collection

Mattsun thought with his collection of wacky flavors it would be fun to play the chapstick game. A good excuse to kiss you as much as he wanted to without any other reason. Of course you agreed so here the two of you were, sitting on your bed with chapstick splayed out on the blanket. 

“So, do you want to go first?” You ask as you look at all the options. Mattsun smiles and nods. 

“Yeah, sure. Close your eyes though. No cheating.” He could care less about if you cheated or not. He just wanted to kiss you for hours. Hence why he brought out his full collection of 60 different flavors. You were going to be here for a while.

It was the chapstick you were wearing on your first date when he kissed you (That’s why he comes back to it) 

You two also definitely play the chapstick game again whenever either of you want to kiss each other without a good reason

Sakusa

Cherry

Another simple man

He just wants his lips to be hydrated

Enjoys your smile when you kiss him and realize it’s cherry though

There’s nothing sentimental about it you just like the taste of cherry chapstick

Your first kiss wasn’t anything spectacular. The both of you were nervous but weren’t sure why. The two of you had kissed other people before so why was it so nerve wracking this time? Sakusa is the one who gets his head together first and cups your face. He pulls down his mask and smiles softly at you. “Are you ready?”

You nod your head with a shaky smile. Both of you lean in and it’s a very nice kiss. It’s gentle and you’re not sure why you were so worried before. The both of you pull away with a smile. “That wasn’t so scary. We were just being silly. Also, the cherry is nice. I like it.” You say and lean back in for another. He lets out a small chuckle and leans back in too. 

Will only try a new chapstick if you’re the one wearing it

If he really wants to try it he’ll give you a quick kiss before standing back up and acting like nothing happened

Atsumu

Fanta

Another weird chapstick connoisseur 

He just really likes Fanta so he keeps some on him wherever he goes

He has at least 6 of them at a time; One in his gym bag, school bag, pants pocket, jacket pocket, one at home on the counter, and one on the bedside table

Also on that enjoys the shocked look on your face

He had only just started carrying around chapstick after he learned your lips could get sunburnt. Needless to say when you kissed him goodbye that morning Fanta was certainly not what you were expecting to taste. He just stands there smirking as you lick your lips confused. “Is that…Fanta? Do you have Fanta chapstick?” 

“Guilty as charged.” He says and leans against the door frame. “Want another one?” You roll your eyes but pull him into another kiss. 

“Not what I was expecting but it’s not bad.” 

Switches it up with other soda flavors

Loves surprising you but that doesn’t mean you can’t surprise him too

You find a Pepper chapstick and rewrap it so it looks like the Fanta one

Payback for all the times he’s pranked you

I hope you guys enjoyed! Once again an impulse post 💀 let me know if you want a part two with different characters!!! <3

masterlist

rules

[sachirobabe]

Haikyuu characters and arguments

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ᡣ𐭩 •｡

Pt.1 Pt.2

Characters: Iwaizumi Hajime, Hanamaki Takahiro, Suna Rintarou, Miya Osamu, Hirugami Sachiro, Kozume Kenma

Main masterlist

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ᡣ𐭩 •｡

[luvnami]

its hiro missing hours

hanamaki takahiro loves your pussy. it's gotten to the point where you're five orgasms in, and he's still begging you to cum for him.

"please, pretty girl? just one more."

"that's- ah! what you said just now!" your voice comes out in a broken whine as hanamaki pushes the vibrating dildo against your g spot. "h-hiro, i can't- no more!"

your thighs tremble around his head. the soft, pink tufts of his hair tickle your sticky skin as he kisses your clit.

"yes you can, you've cum more than eight times before. this is nothing. just for me? please?" he pouts, though you can't see it.

your half-lidded eyes roll back into your head as hanamaki thrusts the dildo in and out of your sloppy cunt. your poor, abused clit throbs. yet, each nudge against your favourite spot makes your womb melt. you barely even fathom your next high creeping over the edge as you rut your hips into hanamaki's face.

"guh- mmph! hiro, m'close! feels so good!" you babble, back arching off the bed.

his lips suck on your clit, tongue lapping on the underside of it as you cum for the sixth time on his mouth. hanamaki humps the bed desperately and his weeping cock squirts all over the sheets. a gush of fluid dampens his face, but he moans through it, his brain going blank as your pleasure doubles as his.

"f-fuck," he gasps. "fuck. you're so good to me. thank you, thank you, baby."

he kisses your inner thigh, pulling out the dildo as you try to catch your breath.

"we're stopping at three next time," you huff, but make grabby hands towards your boyfriend anyways.

his ears would've perked up if he were a dog. hanamaki eagerly dives into your embrace, snuggling against your face and peppers your hot cheeks with kisses.

"four?" he offers.

you pause. "we'll see."

[zetsubo-billy]

𝚃𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴

genre(s): ¿comedy?, nsfw but no smut, college!AU — all characters are 20-ish y/o

pairing(s): eventual hanamaki takahiro x reader, eventual matsukawa issei x reader, eventual hanamaki takahiro x matsukawa issei

summary: frustrated after an argument with your now-ex-fuck buddy, you find yourself asking your two best guy friends the forbidden question

content warnings: sex talk, that’s literally it, that’s the fic, reader has a few stray horny thoughts, one (1) joke about feminism, sexual tension, a lot of mentions of oral sex

word count: 2.2k

MINORS AND AGELESS/EMPTY BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT! DO! NOT! INTERACT!

“Okay, but, do you guys think girls taste weird?”

You have no idea why you say it. Usually, you let Mattsun and Makki have their lively discussions of recent sexcapades while you listen passively. Maybe you’ll laugh at them here and poke fun at them for something silly there, or just nod along. You never pipe up and tell them about your own experiences, no matter how many times they grill you about the guys they’ve seen you with, but the past week has made you reach your breaking point. You couldn’t stop yourself.

“What?”, Makki asks as his and Mattsun’s conversation reaches a sudden halt, tilting his head at you from where he sits on the other end of the creaky old sofa in their shared apartment. “Like, your pussies?”

Heat flashes up your neck and you quickly look away from him, busying yourself with fingering at the hem of the woolen blanket you bought him and his housemate as a housewarming gift. Your pussies. He means girls’ pussies in general, you’re sure. It’s not like you have several vaginas. But it still felt oddly targeted. Then again, you’re the only one in the apartment with that anatomy, so of course it’s a little bit targeted. He sure wasn’t talking to Mattsun, at least.

Makki and Mattsun’s intense eyes seem to burn holes into your being as they both stare at you. Makki, expectantly, and Mattsun, curiously. Your mind spins as you try to focus on how to answer. “Well… yeah”, you mumble, embarrassed. You shift in your seat, pulling your knees closer to yourself.

Absolute silence fills the boys’ living room for a few seconds. You’re just about to wave your question away and say that you were just kidding, it doesn’t matter what they think and wow that was a stupid question, when Mattsun speaks up.

“Not really”, he says in his deep voice. He sits in between you and Makki, the (sometimes) calm between two storms, in the middle of the couch. One of his arms is stretched out along the back of the sofa, behind you, while he scratches lightly at the back of his neck with his other hand as if in thought. “I mean, there’s not really another taste like it. But it’s not weird, no.”

“Yeah, no other taste like it”, Makki agrees, leaning over the armrest on his end of the sofa. “I love it. It’s not weird, it’s just… purely her. I think it’s hot as fuck that everyone tastes different.”

A heat starts to boil deep in your gut at the same time as it blossoms in your cheeks. You hope they don’t notice. “R-really?”, you ask, and you internally curse yourself for stuttering.

“Yeah, really”, the strawberry blonde continues. If you look at him, you know he’ll be grinning teasingly. “Why’re you asking?”

Dread starts to mix in with the warmth in your stomach, and you shift again as you pull the blanket closer to yourself. It’s not at all cold in their apartment anymore, though. Now you only have the blanket for comfort, like a toddler who’s grown too old to have a pacifier but doesn’t want to throw it away.

“Oh, uh, no reason”, you mumble, hoping they’ll let it go.

“Really?”, Mattsun pipes up, and you can hear the smirk that’s plastered across his stupidly handsome face as he speaks. “No reason at all that you suddenly decided to talk to us about sex after we’ve been trying to get you to open up since high school?”

Curse him and his attentiveness.

“Mhm”, you force yourself to answer. The blanket isn’t comforting anymore but suffocating, the warmth of the wool combined with your flushed embarrassment — and let’s be honest, a little bit of arousal — and the way Mattsun and Makki are looking at you makes it too hot in the living room. You tug the blanket off, throwing it at Makki. “No reason, let’s forget about it.”

Makki’s volleyball reflexes allow him to easily catch the blanket in his hands. He balls it up and shoves it in between the sofa cushions. “No reason, huh? You sure about that?”, he asks, and this time you do look at him. And, what do you know, he is grinning just as stupidly just as you thought. “Not even a little bit of a reason?”

You shift in your seat, looking away from him again, but you don’t answer.

Cold, long fingers brush against the hot back of your burning neck and you shiver almost violently in your seat as you snap your head around to look at Mattsun. He’s looking at you with his deep brown eyes, and just the way he looks at you makes you shiver again. He wets his lips with his tongue before speaking up, still gently caressing the back of your neck with his fingers. “Don’t tell me that guy you go out with tells you he won’t eat your pussy ‘cause he doesn’t like the taste.”

You swallow thickly and avoid his gaze, shaking your head. “No reason, is what I said. Let’s just forget about this whole—”

“Uuuugh, god!”, Makki cuts you off exasperatedly, making you jump slightly in your seat. “I fucking hate guys like that! They act like they’re saints for fingering their girlfriends, like, a third of the times before they fuck, but then they still expect to get sucked off every night!”, he continues, letting his head fall back against the sofa. “Fucking assholes. They’re the reason we still need feminism.”

Despite yourself, and despite the odd conversation, you can’t help but giggle at his last sentence. He’s… not exactly wrong. “I’d argue the reason we still need feminism is because of the patriarchy”, you tease, and watch as color drains from his face. “But I guess you’re right, too”, you finish as Mattsun’s gentle touch at the back of your neck moves to your hair, playing with a few loose strands. “And there are so many guys like that. Hell, I’ve never been with a guy who wasn’t like that.”

And then you remember that they’re not your girlfriends ranting about sleazy men but your childhood guy friends.

This is the first time in a long time that the three of you have managed to fit all of your schedules together since you started at different universities, different majors, different after class activities and different weekend jobs to pay the rent. They still live together, and presumably see each other every day, while you live with two girls you met in your first year in college. You swallow thickly, embarrassment eating away at you again as you, once again, pull your knees closer to yourself and shrink away from Mattsun’s hand in your corner of the sofa. “Umm, forget I said that.”

“No way I can forget that”, Makki quickly answers, and there’s a tone in his voice that you’ve never heard before.

Before you really know what’s happening, he’s flying up from his seat and kneeling on the floor in front of you while Mattsun follows you into the corner of the sofa to be able to start tracing shapes over the back of your neck again. Makki’s hands are gentle and warm as they land on the tops of your bare knees, resting there. “You’re telling me, the god of pussy-eating—”, Mattsun snorts at that and the strawberry blonde sends him a glare, “— that you’ve never been eaten out?”

You feel suddenly cornered, as if they caught you doing something bad, as if they’re about to scold you. “Uh… well… not exactly…”, you mumble, eyes flitting between Makki and Mattsun before settling on your own nails as you start to slightly pick at your cuticles, nervous. “No, I have, I just… never came from it. Max says I take too long and… that he doesn’t… like how my, uh… how I taste.”

When you look up again, Makki looks just about ready to murder your now-ex fling, and you feel the way Mattsun tenses up beside you as he momentarily stops playing with your hair.

“Tell me, how much do I need to pay you to let me kick his ass?”, Makki grumbles, hands balling into fists where they still rest on your knees.

You smile sheepishly. “Well, um, nothing. I broke it off with him this morning after we got into a really bad argument. It started out about oral, actually, but then it just sort of… spiraled… and then I told him to fuck off.”

Makki’s jaw drops while Mattsun heaves a humored sigh. “So that’s why you got into this conversation from the start”, the taller one states, his fingers tickling you behind the ear. You shiver and try to shy away from his touch, but he doesn’t let you.

Again, you’re reminded of the heat in their apartment. You’re only wearing a pair of sweatshorts, old and ratty and something you wouldn’t be caught dead in around any other creature of the male species but Makki and Mattsun, and one of their soft t-shirts with a worn print that you stole several years ago — none of you remember which one of them it originally belonged to since they usually swap t-shirts back and forth, and they stopped pestering you about giving it back a long time ago.

“Well… yes?”, you find yourself saying.

Makki’s hands unclench and grip your bare knees gently, drawing your attention back to him from Mattsun. He’s grinning up at you, and there’s a darkness in his eyes that makes your stomach flip. “So… you want us to give you an oral orgasm?”

Your jaw drops as you stare at him, wide-eyed. Admittedly, you had considered the both of them in that light, several times, over the years. I mean, look at them. Over six feet tall the both of them, athletic, fast and with nice features. It should be illegal to be so physically gifted. Horny teenage curiosity and more recent dry spells had led you to long nights with your hand between your thighs, imagining how one of their hands would feel in its place; or better yet both of their hands.

Their fingers are thicker, longer, than yours, so they would undoubtedly reach deeper. Stretch you wider. But how would they go about it? Would they be soft and careful? Hard and rough? Would they be different from each other?

Of course the two would be different. But how different? Would one of them be fast, the other slow? Or would it be the softness-contra-roughness that differs, rather than the pace? And let’s not get started on the question of their size. You’ve seen them lounge about in sweatpants sometimes, it doesn’t happen often, and every time you have to force your eyes up to their faces. You know it’s a stupid assumption, but they have big hands. And large shoe sizes. It’s only fair to assume that—

Mattsun’s large hand lands across the back of your neck, squeezing lightly to get your attention. It’s such a simple gesture, yet you feel like you melt into the palm of his hand. “Hiro asked you a question, sweetheart”, he mumbles right into your ear. He’s so close you can feel his breath against the side of your face. “I think he’d like an answer.”

Only then do you realize that you got lost in your own thoughts for several moments. How long? You don’t know, but you don’t dare to dwell on it. You swallow thickly, raising your gaze from where you’d zoned out while looking at Makki’s hands on your knees until you meet his eyes. He’s smirking that usual cocky smirk of his, but his eyes are swimming with something you’ve never seen in him before. His hands are warm on your knees, and you shiver in your seat as Mattsun squeezes gently at the back of your neck. They’ve literally got you cornered on their shitty old couch.

“U-um, could you repeat the question?”, you stutter out, hating the way your voice wavers and sounds so airy.

But Makki grins, squeezing your knees in his hands. “Sure thing, babe”, he says teasingly. “I asked if you wanted me and Issei to eat your pussy until you cum.”

Oh. Right. That.

Your jaw drops again and this time around, they both laugh. Not meanly, not at your expense. They just laugh lowly, and you feel like the sound makes your entire being vibrate.

“I— umm, I mean, I, hah…”, you stammer, trying to get out a complete sentence.

“Only if you want to. And it doesn’t have to be both of us, you can take your pick. Promise we won’t be mad”, Makki continues, squeezing your knees gently. “Right, Issei?”

Mattsun huffs in agreement, his palm still heavy and warm and comforting against the back of your neck. “Right”, he echoes his friend’s statement. “If you're not comfortable, neither of us want it. Don’t pressure yourself.”

Makki nods along, and starts talking about something that you only half-hear because your mind is reeling. They don’t want to pressure you. They’re waiting for your word. But the way they pose it, it’s like they expect you to say no. It’s like they’ve already given up, even though you haven’t even answered yet. Or, well, technically you have, but that embarrassing stutter of a reply you gave just a moment ago doesn’t count. Not really.

Just as Makki leans back slightly, about to get up from the floor as his hands lift from your knees, your hands dart out to grab his wrists. His eyebrows shoot up as you firmly place his hands high up on your thighs, but he still grins.

“Well, self-proclaimed god of pussy-eating”, you start off teasingly, and he rolls his eyes at you as Mattsun chuckles beside you. Makki’s eye roll is cut short as you suggestively spread your legs slightly, his gaze zeroing in on where your pussy hides beneath your bottoms. “Do your worst.”

[captain-hawks]

too bright—

as the heavy grip of sleep loosens its hold, you blearily open your eyes partway, hand reflexively lifting to cover your face at the unwelcome intrusion of sunlight pouring over you.

however, several problems stack up in your immediate vicinity all at once:

your bedroom doesn't get morning sunlight like this.

your fingers are currently trapped in the loose grip of a hand that doesn't belong to you.

and your face is buried against something warm that smells suspiciously like matsukawa's body wash—what the fuck.

rapidly blinking to regain focus, you lift your head to find yourself curled up against your roommate, who's softly snoring on his back. shirtless. black hair mussed against the pillow and glinting in the morning sun.

pressure flexes against your fingers, which are resting on matsukawa's chest and entangled with—

you belatedly notice a messy head of pink hair on matsukawa's other side, a leg thrown over his thigh, and you realize that it's hanamaki's fingers that are laced with your own.

how much did all three of you drink last ni—

"hiro?" you whisper.

"hngg—"

"issei?"

"i forgot how early you wake up," matsukawa mumbles, voice rough with sleep, thumb feathering gently over your bare shoulder.

hanamaki yawns, chin resting on matsukawa's chest as his eyes slide from you to him. "hi."

matsukawa lets out a tired, amused huff. "coffee first. please."

[heich0e]

18+ minors and ageless blogs do not interact!

"oh, good"—takahiro's familiar head of strawberry blonde hair pops up over the back of the sofa as you step through the door, toeing off your work shoes in the narrow entryway of your shared apartment—"you're home!"

he pushes the gaming headset he's wearing off his ears, leaving it and his controller abandoned on the couch as he pulls himself up over the back of it. his long legs carry him quickly across the width of your modest home, and before you know it he's upon you—taking your bag from your hands and helping you free your arms from your coat.

you laugh a little at his eagerness as he impatiently tugs your outerwear off. "yeah, i'm home."

"thank god," he replies solemnly, setting the bag you take to work with you off to the side. he takes your hands in his and uses his hold on them to tug you forward towards him. he peers down at you, 186cm of man with the most deceptively soft flutter of his lashes. "sit on my face?"

"takahiro!"

your protest is half chastising and half a giggle, and when you try to pull your hand from his to swat at his chest he just twines your fingers together and holds you tighter. he pouts a little at you in the wake of what he interprets as refusal.

"baby, i've been waiting for you to get home for hours," he tells you pointedly, pulling you a bit closer so your bodies are flush against each other. his hands slip nimbly to your hips, simultaneously pawing at you and pressing you as close to his body as humanly possible. you don't miss the press of something firm in his sweatpants as he holds you against him—nor do you doubt the veracity of his statement in the wake of the sensation.

"at least let me shower," you barter with him, pressing weakly against his chest in a halfhearted attempt to escape his insistent touches.

he shakes his head. "can't wait."

"hiro," you laugh, squeezing your eyes shut, "i just walked in the door."

"i know," he replies, dipping down and dotting a kiss to your temple. "you must've had a long day."

you hum in agreement, luxuriating for a moment in the soft press of his lips as they slip down to your cheek.

"so let me help you relax," he murmurs into your skin, his hands at your waist slipping further down to paw at the back of your skirt. he takes a little step back towards the couch, drawing you along with him like a dance. in no time at all he reaches the arm of the sofa, and he topples back, splayed against the couch cushions where you're sure he spent most of his day. he peers up at you, smiling wolfishly. "i've got the perfect seat waiting for you."

you sigh, but the sound is as fond as it is exasperated.

"let me at least take my tights off," you mutter. "you've ripped enough that i'm down to my last two good pairs."

he pushes himself up onto his elbows, his eyes alight with excitement. "be my guest."

you shoot him a wry look, shimmying your skirt up over your hips so you can slip your thumbs into the waistband of your nylons. makki's attention is rapt as you tug the tight, clinging material down your thighs—watching every inch of their painfully slow descent. once you've kicked them off in a heap on the living room floor, your hands move towards the zipper of your skirt.

"no, no,"—he stop you before you can begin to remove the garment—"leave that on."

you look at him with a brow drawn up in question. "why?"

he gnaws on his lip, his eyes flickering back down to the glimpse of soft, lace-trimmed cotton he can see peeking out from under the bunched up hem of your skirt.

"you look so hot in business clothes," he tells you, groaning brokenly as he squeezes his eyes shut in pleasure. "like a sexy teacher."

"you're a pervert," you remark, but you don't protest as he stretches forward and tugs you towards the sofa by the hem of your skirt.

"oh, definitely," he agrees cheerfully.

you shuffle forward on the sofa until you're straddling his face, and his hands find yours again—interlocking your fingers as you hover over him on your knees.

"hi," he remarks, a boyishly charming grin on his face as he peers up at you from between your parted thighs.

"hi," you quietly return the greeting with a light laugh, and he squeezes your fingers with his own. your legs are starting to burn from holding yourself up over him, but because of the way he's holding your hands you can't press them down into the sofa to support you.

your only option is to sit, or to suffer.

takahiro lets his head loll to the side, pressing a kiss to the soft skin of your inner thigh. he nips at you playfully afterwards, and when you hiss slightly in surprise, his tongue darts out and slides against the sting to soothe it.

"you didn't even ask me how my day was before you manhandled me over here, you know," you remark, but there's not nearly enough complaint in your tone for it to be sincere.

hiro hums, a placating, easy sound, and presses another kiss to your thigh. "sorry, baby. how was your day?"

"it was good," you say, your hips dipping ever so minutely closer to his waiting mouth. "how was yours?"

"it was okay,—" hiro answers, but his words are mostly breath.

you watch your boyfriend swallow thickly, like there's suddenly saliva pooling in his mouth. his eyes are fixed to the little damp spot you feel inking across the cotton of your panties, but they flicker back up to yours—hungrier now than they were a moment prior—before he speaks again.

"—but it's about to get way better."

[pinkykats-place]

Aoba Johsai x Reader Insert

Tumblr Haikyuu Fic Recs

Disclaimers!

None of the stories linked are mine.

Male and female reader inserts.

Some contain mature content.

GIF not mine.

Note: if you read and enjoy any of these stories - please like, leave a comment and/or reblog original post!

Feral Animal

Alpha! Kentarou Kyoutani x Omega! Reader

Summary: You just wanted to get the boys to practice on time. You weren’t prepared to deal with this.  Good thing you had a guardian angel- or should we say, dog.

Insecurities

Kyōtani x fem! reader

Summary: Kyōtani insecurities fuel his jealousy. What happens when he finds out you’re the new baseball team manager....

Angry confessions

Summary: You’ve tried everything to make Kyotani realise you like him but he thinks you’re joking.

imagine kyoutani and reader on a date and the rest of aoba johsai seeing them on a date

Kyōtani with a shy pastel gf (slight nsfw)

boyfriend headcannons- K. Kyoutani

Kyoutani Kentarou (Maddog)x fem! Reader

Summary: kyoutani and reader on a date and the rest of aoba johsai end up seeing them

Nail Appointment

Kyotani Kentaro x fem!Reader

𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐘 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐅 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐘 𝐁𝐘 𝐏𝐎𝐎𝐋 𝐁𝐎𝐘!

Hanamakki Takahiro x milf!reader

Loser!Matsukawa

wolf! matsukawa x bimbo!lamb!reader

NSFW || fem!body with fem!pronouns

I'VE LOVED EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU THAT HURTS

matsukawa issei x m!reader

Streets

Iwaizumi x reader

Summary: you give your bf head at the red light

They’re Beautiful

time skip!Iwaizumi Hajime x afab!reader

Nsfw fic

to have iwaizumi's love

iwaizumi hajime x chubby!m!reader

summary: iwaizumi really just thinks you're a great catch. the saying 'many fish in the sea' stops at you because he loves you, including your body—maybe especially your body

Jealous Boss Iwaizumi 

iwaizumi loves bimbos. he will treat you like the dumb little slut you are.

Iwa-chan, Panic!

Iwaizumi x male!manager!Reader

Summary: Iwaizumi is crushing hard core of Seijoh’s new manager.

iwaizumi got a lower back tattoo on his 21st birthday.

bunny oikawa who’s so cute and gets overstimulated fast

Being Sejioh's Manager

Aoba Johsai x Female Manager

Roster Hopper - Aoba Johsai edition

Fem!y/n x Aoba Johsai players (Oikawa, Iwaizumi, Matsukawa, Kunimi, Kyōtani) all separately

Summary: Y/n bets her friend she can sleep with the star players of Aoba Johsai (Univiersity AU) without any of them finding out.

Go Go Go Go Go Seijoh! Advisor's Affection

Mizoguchi Sadayuki x fem!Reader

Summary: L/N Y/N lands a job teaching history at the prestigious Aoba Johsai. What happens when a certain captain invites her to be the Seijoh Boy's Volleyball teacher advisor?

[strwbrryeyes]

𖦹°｡⋆ hanamaki as a best friend

⟡ cw: fluff, friends to lovers, matsukawa and makki fake dating, lmk if i missed anything

⟡ a/n: back from the dead ig i hate school. also im only doing the main four 3rd years for now bc yeah. i'll do any characters that i missed later on.

⟡ best friend series: matsukawa, iwaizumi, oikawa, || masterlist

best friend hanamaki who you met in your first year of high school when he was sat in your seat when his seat was actually the one next to your desk.

best friend hanamaki who you got closer to when he was constantly asking for your notes. you didn't really mind though because he would get you sweets in return.

best friend hanamaki who introduced you to the rest of the aoba four one day after you kept asking him who his "boyfriend" was. apparently it was all four of them.

best friend hanamaki who got bonked on the head by you, oikawa, and iwaizumi. matsukawa actually acted all lovey dovey with him. jokingly of course.

best friend hanamaki who in your second year said that he was finally going to take his own notes. he did so for a week before he returned to asking you for them.

best friend hanamaki who would skip practice sometimes to go grab ice cream with you. this earned him a lecture from the coaches and even oikawa who just acted dramatic and told him that he was grounded.

best friend hanamaki who you and matsukawa would poke fun of after he got his haircut. during a sleepover one time matsukawa drew a pp on his forehead.

best friend hanamaki who chased you both down when he woke up the next morning.

best friend hanamaki who invited you to his volleyball games so he can brag to everyone else that he had someone watching him.

best friend hanamaki who invited you out to dinner after games they lost because oikawa always ended up paying for everyone's meals (against his will).

best friend hanamaki who didn't want to go to college so just moved in to an apartment with you and matsukawa since you both were going to the same school.

best friend hanamaki who got bored of being home alone during the weekdays so he got a job. multiple actually. mans hated working.

best friend hanamaki who would ocassionally take naps in your and mattsun's rooms while you were at classes.

best friend hanamaki who realized his feelings for you when he realized how much he adored the scent of your room and of you in general whenever he was near you. not in a creepy way though, he just found it comforting.

best friend hanamaki who told mattsun about his feelings one weekend while you were away visiting your family.

best friend hanamaki who internally died when the first thing mattsun said to you when you came back was "makki's in love with you"

best friend hanamaki who took a while to process what just happened before finally telling you that it wasn't a joke after you thought it was for aminute.

best friend hanamaki who dramatically hugged mattsun instead of you when you said you had feelings for him too. this was because he probably wouldn't have told you himself.

best friend hanamaki who properly asks to be your boyfriend after mattsun goes for a walk to give you guys some space.

best friend hanamaki who is now boyfriend hanamaki who staged a 'breakup' with matsukawa when he came back because his heart now belonged to another.

[izufeels]

⭑.ᐟ — texts with takahiro hanamaki

[nectardaddy]

B.I.L.L.S , t. hanamaki

american hero. . . b.i.l.l.s. by towa bird

If I had a dollar then I wouldn't have to bother 'bout the bills. I'm so tired of paying rent.

pairing : hanamaki takahiro x f!reader

cw/notes : poverty/financial insecurity, conversation about/wishing for "what could be" (and a deep dive into the feeling of wanting), use of the pet name "sweetheart," humor as a coping mechanism, language, eating used as a metaphor, lots of metaphors in general, established long-term relationship, I am genuinely very proud of this fic so if you got tagged out of the blue that's why <3

word count : 2.6k

The apartment was dingy and run down, a muted tone of gray that submerged the entire cramped space into desolace. A desolace that bled into the other rooms, through the floorboards, through every nook and cranny of the compact unit - through the bones of the pair that inhabited it. Pictures and posters littered the drab walls. Old developed pictures and various music flyers stuck to drywall with bits and pieces of scotch tape - real frames were far too expensive - as they tried desperately to combat the dreary aura of the space. 

But it was difficult to fight against such longing; around every corner being yet another issue that would only ever be resolved with the one thing the pair didn’t have: funds. Air conditioning that went out every other month, as the landlord was too stingy to really fix it and complained with every call and maintenance request about the issue. Mold in the air vents, water pressure that was just short of a small stream, a lock on the door that barely bolted with a small chain lock that was used as a "replacement" that didn't really do anything. It reeked of dust and mildew, a musty smell that lingered no matter how many candles were lit and blown out. And trial and error to shut the, horribly painted, bedroom room; over the months they learned to turn the knob and slam rather than just slam. 

It was a constricted, at times uncomfortable; limited space meaning old cardboard boxes stayed within the living area or bedroom - mementos gathered dust that all but covered the unit entirely. Memories shoved in a box that would barely ever see the light of day, or simply, didn’t want to. Such a place didn’t deserve such warmth. A god forsaken space didn’t deserve the radiant coziness that came with trinkets and baubles, didn’t deserve the framed pictures - that would crash to the ground anyway, as the drywall often crumbled and fragmented - and surely didn’t deserve the mellow residents who resided in it. 

Both home from work, and both exhausted beyond belief, they sat together on an old, thrifted loveseat. A gaudy flower pattern that was stained and smelled of cigarettes from the latter owners, but a place to sit nonetheless. The man shuffled through a slew of mail, the woman, with her eyes closed and trying not to fall asleep right then and there, sat next to him. 

“I’m so fucking tired of paying this shit,” he grumbled before throwing the envelopes onto the rickety coffee table. A table that was discounted, dirt cheap, as one leg was cracked and wobbly. Oftentimes, it broke when too much weight was put on it, duct tape lined the connection between the leg and table itself. All it held was other envelopes - bills, an array of clipped coupons, and a long forgotten coffee cup, that’s rim was chipped and the handle cracked. 

“Then don’t,” the woman hummed in response, a cheeky reply to a serious notion. An exhaustion riddled in her voice that made him look over and sigh, heart strings pulled taut at seeing her weary form. “We can run away together and never have to see this shit hole again.” 

He stayed quiet for a moment, letting a pause settle between them. Allowed the sound of the fan in the far corner of the room to take over the silence he offered, the hum of it engulfed the room as it rotated to cool the entire apartment. “Maybe we should,” he sighed before a small smile pulled at his lips. “We can go off grid and everything, y’know they make shows about people that live like that, right? We could be famous.”

A breath of air passed through the woman’s nose as she chuckled, and she opened her eyes to look over at him. “You’re an idiot.” Even as she smiled at him, he couldn’t help but notice just how tired she looked. Her eyes were dark and hazy, unfocused even, as it seemed like all she wanted to do was close them again - to sleep. Her work uniform crumbled and wrinkled as she sat with her legs up on the small couch, too worn out to change upon coming, to what they reluctantly called, home. 

Home, to them, was coming back at odd hours. Never fully holding each other as the other had to whisk themselves away - to provide, to work. Times were fleeting, just as much as the money that came in. Gone within a second and drained from responsibilities. Every second together was taken with an ironclad grip, and sewn together with cups upon cups of coffee just to try and enjoy it all.

“Where would you want to go if we had the money to leave?” The off kilter question left his lips easily, without much thought put behind it. Because to him, that's all he ever thought about - leaving. He hoped one day he was able to scrape up enough funds, pack everything up, and leave the cramped unit all together with her by his side.

“Anywhere, honestly, this place sucks ass.” She groaned as she stretched her legs off the loveseat. A series of pops from overworked limbs hit his ears and made him frown - she didn't deserve to be this tired, not for this piece of shit apartment. Not for anything.

“I’m serious.” His normal, almost whimsical, tone went with the wind as he sat up a little straighter. He looked over to her with red tinged eyes, fatigued and strained, that swirled with an unforeseen worry.

“So am I.” A curt reply as she locked eyes with him. A realist, maybe a bit pessimistic to some, but the woman grounded herself in reality more than he. Didn't want to waste herself away with thoughts of what could be than what is. What could be was a sham, a figment of imagination she couldn't bear herself to think about often; as the thought of what is yanked her to the very pits of longing that she would later have to tear herself out of. 

“I know where I’d want to go.” A dream he hadn’t told her before, he wished he had the money to surprise her with it. But that day was far off in the distance, a mere glimmer of a memory, and he cracked under the pressure of wanting to share. At least this way, they could experience the dream together.

“Yeah? Where?” She closed her eyes again and let her head fall to his shoulder. 

“I’d want to go to Tokyo.”

She snorted at the thought, “spare me, Hiro, not this shit again.” A half hearted joke that landed a bit on edge, toed the line of snappy through drowsy laced words. A former wish she had heard before from him, a joke to only go to Tokyo to get piss drunk with friends. 

“No, not the bar hopping thing.” He assured and waved off the remark with a small chuckle. 

“Good, because you do that shit with Mattsun here anyway. You don’t need to drag me to Tokyo just for me to babysit you two idiots there.” Babysitting, truly, was an understatement to the woman. The thought made her cringe as she recalled past memories of his dear friend passed out in their bathroom, head in the toilet and completely out cold. 

“I want to take you to Ueno Park to see the cherry blossoms one day.” His voice was a twinge quieter than before, a bit breathless as he couldn’t believe himself for finally saying the dream aloud. Deep brown eyes shifted over to look at the woman, whose head still rested on his shoulder - completely silent.

The comment had her at a lack of words, letting another silence pass by them once more; but it lingered far too long. A silence that, as moments passed, began to have a weight to it and started to suffocate her. Every inhale became shallower than the last, and she couldn’t find it within herself to take a single breath more of the humid, musky air the apartment provided. She felt herself tumble into the gaping hole of wanting, needing, craving - pure, unbridled hunger for more than what is. A ravishing feeling that took her by the shoulders and shoved, falling head first into the empty, hollow feeling of what could be.

What could be was far from reality, what could be couldn’t happen.

She lifted her head from his shoulder and looked over at him, eyes a bit wider than before and lips parted through means to say something - nothing ever came. “You told me three years ago you wanted to do that.” Quiet words answered her unspoken question and she sucked in a breath. She remembered telling him that vividly, could recall the day to a tee as it held importance to her.

It rained that day, poured down onto the street as they ran back to their shared apartment - a better one than what they had now. Steps taken hastily, hand in hand, as he practically dragged her through the downpour with a laugh. Both forgot an umbrella, so they ran through the rain getting more and more soaked with every step. It wasn’t far from their unit, the pair only went down the street to a convenience store. But the storm they tried to outrun inevitability caught up with them, so the leisurely walk back home turned to a sprint.

Upon their return, they found themselves sprawled out on their bedroom floor. Their clothes drenched from rain and water puddled onto the hardwood underneath them. A silly action, to lay on the floor wet. But neither minded as they giggled and laughed with one another, enjoying the other’s company. 

Strawberry blonde hair stuck to his forehead and he raked a hand through it. A chuckle left his lips from an earlier conversation before he looked over at her once more, “if you could go anywhere in the world, where would you want to go?”

“What kind of question is that, Hiro?” A teasing tone laced within her cadence as she locked eyes with him. Bright and hopeful, full of love, and not an ounce of exhaustion swirling within them.

“One that I’m curious about, obviously, so indulge me.” The whimsy in his words was easily apparent, one of which she got used to quickly. And there was a sass in the timbre of his voice that muddled with care, a juxtaposition to his usual standalone brassiness. 

“What’s yours?”

“This isn’t about me, it’s about you.”

He watched the woman smile before she averted her eyes to the ceiling, scrunched her brows in thought a moment before she looked at him once more. “Probably Ueno Park, in April, to see the cherry blossoms.”

“Are you serious? Anywhere in the world, and you want Tokyo?” He never looked away from the woman throughout the conversation, and when she met his gaze once more he smiled. 

“Did you ask just to make fun of me, asshole?”

“No, god no.” He laughed, lips pulling into a silly smile before he took her hand in his own. “I’m just trying to figure out where I should ask you to marry me one day.”

The inescapable feeling of want consumed her, leaving nothing left behind as she was swallowed whole. A swirling sensation in her stomach that sickened her, made her ill to think about too long as all she could do was stare at him. “Takahiro.” Her words fell to a whisper as eyes flickered between his own, desperately trying to gauge the situation but to no avail. “You can’t be serious?”

“As a heart attack, sweetheart.” The smile he had started to falter, and the concern that saturated her eyes made his heart sink. But through that concern, the smallest, most miniscule, glimmer of need shone through. Even through tired, bloodshot eyes and a tinge of cynicism, she wanted the dream just as much as he, if not more.

“Hanamaki,” she breathed. “Be real for a second-” But she was cut off as he turned to face her, the old loveseat squeaking under the shift of weight, and he took her hands in his own

“I am being real, so put that name away.” Erring on defensive, put a care behind it that she couldn't ignore. A rare seriousness in his voice that made her swallow hard. “I’m taking you to see those damn cherry blossoms at some point, and when I do I'm asking you to marry me.” 

She opened her mouth to say something but promptly shut it, not knowing what to say to the man. But she felt as the ravenous feeling turned to a starved, almost primal, one. Felt her stomach twist into knots at the thought - she wanted to swallow the notion completely. Needed to feel the crunch and snap of it in her mouth, wanted her teeth caught in it, needed it to be consumed until nothing was left. She abstained from could be for too long and needed to devour the concept entirely. 

But could be wasn’t what is. What is left a bruise, tender and raw, that left a rotten taste in her mouth. She felt the urge to spit out the thought as it circled within her mind like a vulture, ready to dive within a split second. “But-”

“We will, I swear.” He cut off her protest and squeezed her hand. But to no avail, as she only looked at him with a sense of apprehension.

“But we're-” 

“I know, I know,” he sighed. Brown eyes slid over to the envelopes on the coffee table, bold red letters catching his attention that made him close his eyes. “Believe me, I know.” A disheartening belief that caused him to take a deep breath before opening his eyes again to look at her. He brought a hand to her cheek, pale fingers gently brushed over her skin with a warmth that was inviting, loving, and selfless. He gave her a small, out of sorts, smile, “but I want to do this. For you. For us. Hell, because we deserve to do something nice. I want us to have something to look forward to other than the same, shit ass, walls everyday.” 

She paused a moment, let his words sink in, before she bit down hard on the concept and refused to let go. “Ok,” she nodded carefully. “Alright, we’ll go to Ueno Park one day.” Could be tasted sweet and savory, mouth watering to think about. It eased a craving that deflected from what is - so just this once, she let herself free fall into it. “Do you even have a ring to ask me with?” 

His smile pulled into a grin at her question, and he chuckled. “Would you say yes to a ring pop?”

With a paltry laugh, she leaned into his hand that was still on his cheek. “As long as it's strawberry, then absolutely, you dumbass.”

“Strawberry it is, sweetheart.” 

However, he didn’t really need the sweet, confectionary ring. In one of the many old cardboard boxes within the living area and bedroom that collected dust - a particularly well kept, small box hidden in the back of their tiny, shared closet - was a ring he bought three years ago. Bought shortly after the conversation was had, when he still had the money to stretch. Stuffed between memories that would barely ever see the light of day, because a place like this didn't deserve such warmth.

But the warmth was willingly given anyway, whether the pair knew it or not.

series taglist (open, send an ASK) + a few moots bc I am genuinely very very very proud of this

@causenessus @softpia @renardiererin @kodzu-ken @phoenix-eclipses

@wyrcan @honeekyuu @wakashudou @wolffmaiden @eggyrocks

@dailyakira @cupidsblonde @mollyrolls @wolffmaiden @zumicho

@jadeoru @sandwhitches

[sunfish-studies]

Small Talk

✄・・・ Crisp Leaves [Aoba Johsai Manager Series]

➜ Pairing: Aoba Johsai x Manager! Reader

➜ Warning: none

➜ Notes: Manager in this story will be portrayed as a girl. She will be tall, around 170.5 cm.

↷ SUMMARY ↶

Yes, they were wondering about your almost nonexistent love live.

“Hey, [Nickname]-chan, I’ve been thinking about this really hard,” Oikawa drawled after swallowing his favorite milk bread, cheek resting on top of the desk.

“Knowing Oikawa is thinking hard, must be something stupid,” Hanamaki commented.

“Why did you say that so casually!?” sure enough, the slander managed to revive the captain from his slump–shooting out from his seat almost instantly.

Currently, it was lunch and the third years were hanging out at Iwaizumi and your class–pushing your desks together and pulled up a few chairs to accommodate five people at the same time. While you packed your own lunch and Oikawa brought his milk bread, the rest was taking a short journey to the cafeteria for food.

“I couldn’t help but agree,” Matsukawa added, hurting the boy’s pride even further.

“[Nickname]-chan!” of course, the best way for him to be out of this misery is to call out for your help.

“What is it?” you decided to indulge him this time because the captain seemed to be invested in this certain topic each minute passed.

Oikawa pointed at you before moving to gesture Hanamaki, Matsukawa, and Iwaizumi along with him including. “You are surrounded by boys.”

Furrowing your eyebrows in confusion, you answered nonetheless. “…I can see that.”

“A lot of boys for more than three years!”

“Well, I am the manager of the boys’ volley club if you forget.”

“What are you on about?” Iwaizumi deadpanned, not liking how this certain topic stretched out–the ‘ridiculous alarm’ in the back of his head was ringing, signaling that indeed this conversation went from least normal to weird in an alarming rate.

“Don’t you see, Iwa-chan!?” Oikawa gasped dramatically, pointing towards you in earnest. “[Nickname]-chan is surrounded by boys for more than three years! You bound to like some at some point! Why have I never heard about this!? I thought I’m your best friend!”

There’s a pregnant silence before Hanamaki broke it by remarking, “You really are a moron.”

Oikawa pressed a hand upon his chest, faking as if an arrow just stabbed through his heart–not believing this sort of betrayal. “I’m hurt Makki!”

“But he does have a point,” Matsukawa, with his saving grace, decided to take this into his account for once. He looked at you for a moment and hummed. “I mean, everyone has been through that phase somehow. Wanna share?”

“Thank you for making my point valid!” Oikawa harrumphed in triumph, which earned him a disgusted gaze from Iwaizumi.

You sighed in resignation, finally getting into conclusion. “To put it simple, you want to know about my nonexistent love life?”

“I’ve seen you getting confessed to by a senior so it’s not really nonexistent.” Hanamaki commented, pulling up a lazy smirk as he rested his chin on his palm–successfully dragged out another resigned sigh. And how did he even know that was beyond you.

“Well, what do you want to know?”

“Did you have a crush on someone during middle school!?” Oikawa exclaimed–the ruckus he caused managed to gather pairs of curious eyes diverting their gaze towards their table, and received a heartful smack on the back of his head courtesy of Iwaizumi.

“I did.” Your quick answer without a hint of hesitation made the four taken aback–definitely not expecting it. They were more ready with lots of stutter, reluctancy to reply, and flaming red engulfing your face as you confessed to them–the usual routine if someone ever dug other’s deepest secret.

“That was fast,” Matsukawa remarked, shoulders eased up a little. True, even though you’re practically under the spotlight of sudden interrogation you didn’t feel the need to be nervous or flustered–which kind of intimidated them a bit. Contrast to it, they were actually the ones who were tense with whatever answer you had in store–maybe this is what you called an anticipation.

They would declare themselves a hypocrite if not once they thought of you as someone who’s not attractive–considering you were getting attentions from others especially during official matches. They’re the opposite gender so of course they took it to their mind at some moment.

“So, who is it?” Hanamaki asked, rising a brow.

“Tooru.”

“…Please tell me you’re joking.” If short-circuiting is capable to happen in one’s brain, then Iwaizumi had that undoubtedly. You? Had a crush on Oikawa during middle school? At this moment, snowing in tropical regions would likely be more possible than your statement. Even Hanamaki and Matsukawa found themselves rendered speechless by your revelation.

“Sadly not,” all of his hope was crushed in an instant. You then directed a bored stare towards the said mentioned person. “To be honest, I’m questioning myself too. Do my taste really stooped that low?”

“Y-You’re mean, [Nickname]-chan!” Oikawa protested. “But it’s nice knowing my charms works on you!”

“Thank goodness you’ve opened your eyes for the truth, [First Name],” Matsukawa sighed in relief, incurring another series of protests from the brunette and a satisfied firm nod from Hanamaki.

“I’m assuming you’re not currently?” the pink-haired boy added which earned him a nod.

“I’m over it, it’s an old story after all,” You took a short second for swallowing before continuing, smiling playfully. “Knowing he’s vowed his unending loyalty to volleyball, I know when to back off.”

“You are a good person,” Hanamaki hummed in understanding. It’s difficult to recover from heartbreak or backing down from a certain feelings, you managed to do that for Oikawa earn another respect point from him. You thought of the brunette thoroughly unlike the girls he’s been with, you respect and fully support him instead of telling him to tone down his ambitions for aiming higher in volleyball.

“That, I can agree.” Unexpectedly, it came from the mentioned captain. His playfulness vanished as he moved to rested his chin on top of the desk. There’s solemn reflected on his eyes which you couldn’t quite decipher; was it guilt?

“If you’re thinking on apologizing then don’t,” Stating firmly, you placed your chopsticks down to emphasized. Because there’s nothing for him to apologize. Not with things which wasn’t in his control to begin with. “I can’t choose to who to like, and it’s my own decision anyway. If I felt hurt, it’s on me. You’re not responsible for any of it, Tooru. Besides, either it’s romantic or not, I still love you.”

People would take it as cringe worthy or too dramatic in modern era such as currently. However, that’s how feelings worked; sometimes extremely hard to put into words, sometimes it didn’t even need to be vocalized. Your words held honesty–no matter what, you cared for Tooru, Hajime, and the others immensely.

“[Nickname]-channn!!” As usual, there’s fake waterworks involved as soon as Oikawa successfully comprehended. As usual, he bolted from his seat to threw himself on you. Though, you keep it to yourself when you took a notice on how his hug was firmer than the usual playful ones.

Then there were more hands joining in; one settled on your head, one resting on your shoulder, and a little finger intertwined itself with yours. It was quite a sight to see, but you couldn’t care less.

You love your boys.

[luvnami]

playstation controller - matsuhana x fem!reader

an | based on this image, for my dearest @rrazor <3 happy birthday cw | anal, fingering, oral, mdni 18+, 700+ wc

there’s something incredibly erotic about watching matsukawa fuck hanamaki.

you sit with hanamaki’s head in your lap, letting him hold onto your soft thighs as matsukawa wrecks him from behind. 

“does that feel good, ‘hiro?” your thumb strokes his cheekbone. 

hanamaki thinks you look like an angel. he cranes his neck up to stare at you, pretty and illuminated by the bedroom light, replying with a slight nod. 

“y-yeah, fuck. feels so good, issei,” he groans when matsukawa’s cock grazes a particularly delicious spot. 

matsukawa’s tan skin is covered in a light sheen of sweat, his fluffy eyebrows drawn together. no matter how many times the three of you have sex, it feels so mind-meltingly good that he might as well be a born again virgin. his hands dig into hanamaki’s hips as he fucks him at a steady pace. the room is filled with the sounds of skin on skin, and stuttered groans from both males. 

hanamaki nuzzles into the flesh of your lower belly. he likes it, calls it your cute lil’ pooch, despite your protests.

“baby.” he presses a kiss to your hip. “wanna eat you out. please?”

you hum. matsukawa moans at the thought. 

“someone’s greedy today,” you muse, but open your legs anyways, letting hanamaki eagerly dive into your warm pussy. 

he’s gentle. he’s always been that way, always been that kinda guy, to hug you from behind and lend you his cardigan when you’re cold. conversely, matsukawa’s charismatic. he walks on the side of the pathway that faces the road, and tilts the umbrella towards you when it’s raining, even if he gets soaked. 

hanamaki swirls his tongue around your clit and you whimper. your legs part even wider, fingers threading through his short hair. matsukawa picks up speed and his hands explore the expanse of hanamaki’s naked skin, making the male beneath him tense. matsukawa’s thumbs fit perfectly into the divot of the dimples by his lower back. almost like a playstation controller, he thinks. 

hanamaki’s saliva mixes with your slick and he’s so hard, the head of his cock is redder than his flushed cheeks. he eats you out like a man starved, anyways. you gasp when his fingers push into your swollen pussy.

"'h-hiro!”

you tug on his hair and hanamaki nearly cums there and then. he’s so easy when it comes to you. matsukawa thrusts into hanamaki hard and he makes a surprised noise, head bumping between your legs. 

“fuck, sorry,” matsukawa pants. 

hanamaki’s nose and mouth are drenched with your juices, his pupils so blown out you swear he’s pussy-drunk. matsukawa’s so close. his cock throbs with the need to cum inside, but he wants to see the both of you finish, too. he slips a hand over hanamaki’s hard-on and tugs, his other hand holding his hips up. 

hanamaki keens. his mouth returns to sucking on your clit, flicking at it with his tongue as his fingers thrust into you. the vibrations of his moans around you make your legs tremble. 

“s-so close, 'hiro. fuck, feels so good,” you cry. 

one more thrust against your g-spot and you’re cumming, humping into hanamaki’s face as he moans and shudders. he cums all over matsukawa’s fist and the brunet follows soon after, gasping and bucking his hips as he paints hanamaki white from the inside. 

the room stills, all three of you riding out your highs and catching your breath. the smell of sex fills the air. 

“shit.” matsukawa’s chest heaves. 

hanamaki lies where he is, unwilling to move from his slumped position. his cheek is pressed against your inner thigh. you move his bangs out of his eyes and he hums, leaning into your touch. 

matsukawa pulls out and leans down to kiss hanamaki’s lower back. his thumbs ghost his back dimples again. 

“‘hiro, you’re like a playstation controller, you know?” he grins.

hanamaki looks at him over his shoulder. “what the fuck, dude.”

you stifle a giggle. 

matsukawa moves his thumbs this way and that, the rest of his fingers digging into the flesh around hanamaki’s hips as he pretends to be playing forza on his ass. you laugh even louder when hanamaki kicks at matsukawa’s knee and the both of them collapse over one another, effectively suffocating you beneath their bodies. 

“can’t believe i got my pussy eaten out before gta six,” you say.

hanamaki gives you an annoyed look. matsukawa snorts.