#his post timeskip hair is so nice!!!

[silverselfshippingchaos]

HIS ARMS... GOODNESS GRACIOUS..

[revasserium]

love bites

kenma, tsukki, kageyama, hinata; 2,025 words; fluff, slightly suggestive, mentions of hickies, no "y/n", fem!reader, whiney!kageyama, dom!hinata, tsukki being... tsukki, post timeskip!characters

summary: these hickeys like the remnants of our love, footsteps on the sea-soaked sand, a line of demarcation -- here is where our story begins.

a/n: i just rly wanted to write about hq! babes and hickies...

kenma.

the first time it happens, it’s a mistake — a brief moment of vindictiveness manifest in the way he whines and nuzzles into your neck before opening his mouth and sinking his teeth into your skin. when you gasp, your head tipping back, kenma pauses, pulling back, his mind already cataloging this very interesting new piece of information for later use, but his eyes have yet to catch up — his body has yet to catch up with the sight of you, cheeks pink, lips parted, eyes slightly glazed over as you stare ruefully up at him, a hand coming up to press over your mouth as you frown.

“w-what was that for?”

kenma hums, sitting back with a pout, “you were the one being unfair.”

you scowl, “how was i being unfair? you lost the game fair and square — the stakes were loser does the dishes.”

kenma sniffs, his nose crinkling at the thought, “but we have a dishwasher — it’s literally in the name —”

“but the nice wine glasses can’t be put through the dishwasher!”

you push yourself up onto your elbows even as kenma slumps back on the sofa, groaning loudly. still, he lets his head slump to one side to stare at the rapidly darkening patch of skin at the junction of your neck and shoulders. there’s something that feels dangerously like desire calcifying in the pit of his stomach and he weighs the pros and cons of leaning forward to give you another good bite.

really, dinner was great, dessert was better but — this.

suddenly, he understands what his teammates had always meant when they’d said they could keep on eating forever, even when their stomachs were full to bursting, even when they thought they’d be ill.

“stupid wine glasses…” he murmurs, leaning forward to prop his chin on your shoulder. you laugh, a soft, breathy thing as you reach out to tug a strand of hair from his low, messy bun.

“but the wine was good, no?”

kenma hums, letting his head loll back and forth, his eyes flickering down once more to the round ring of red now rising against your skin. he allows himself a tiny grin, leaning forward to press a kiss over the tender flesh. he makes note of the way you gasp, soft and expectant, the way your body seems to tense and then go laxed beneath his hands.

“yeah…” he whispers, smirking as he sinks delicate fingers into your hair, gently shifting your head to one side to allow him more access, “guess it was good…”

he presses another kiss to your neck, just slightly below the reddening hickey.

“g-guess? that was — a-an expensive bottle…”

“hmmm…” kenma trails his lips down over your shoulder, tugging lightly at your shirt, the wide collar falling away easily. when he finds yet another patch of unmarred skin, grazing his teeth over it, he feels the way you reach up to fist your fingers in his hair.

“’zume… don’t think you can get out of doing the dishes like this…”

kenma laughs, letting his breath puff out against your skin seconds before he opens his mouth and takes another soft bite. he doesn’t miss the way you whimper this time, doesn’t mistake the hitch in your breath for something like surprise when he knows better — and he knows you best of all.

“not trying to get out of doing it… just… we never specified when the loser has to do the dishes so…” he licks his lips, glancing up at you with a bright, devilish flicker behind his eyes, “i’m just taking my time with the meal. nothing wrong with that, right?”

tsukki.

it is a normal thing, for you to wake up in the morning and find remnants of the night before scattered across your skin like sand dollars littered upon a stretch of beloved beach. and tsukishima is never apologetic — ever.

if anything, he looks upon his work with pride, smirking as you tug at the collar of your shirt, tutting.

“tsukki… i told you not to bite so hard…”

“hmm… sorry, i must’ve forgotten,” he props a cheek on his hand, peering at you over his glasses, his tone the farthest thing from apologetic, “heat of the moment and all.”

you shoot him a reproachful look in the mirror and watch as his grin widens ever so slightly.

“the girls are the museum are gonna have a field day with this.”

tsukishima shrugs, slumping back into the bed with a loud, long sigh.

“dunno why girls have such a weird fixation on other people’s boyfriends. ‘s not like it’s any of their business.”

you tug listlessly at the collar of your button up shirt, resigned to the fact that you’ll never be able to hide the marks properly as you heave another sigh.

“it’s just how we communicate — it’s like… how guys sometimes just need to like… punch it out — or whatever.”

“or whatever?” tsukishima almost chortles, rolling over onto his stomach again. your schedules at the museum only overlap 2 days a week, and the rest of the days, either he’s off or you are. it’s a miracle the pair of you were able to meet in the first place, let alone hit it off like you did.

“yeah. i don’t know how guys communicate,” you say, even as tsukishima swings out of bed to come up behind you, looping his arms around your middle.

“we… don’t, really,” he admits, in a customary deadpan, propping his chin on the top of your head with obscene ease. you frown up at him, tilting your head back till it hits the middle of his chest.

“you’re gonna make me late again.”

“so?”

“so — unless you want me to get fired —”

“they’re not gonna fire you. you’re too good at… cataloging maps, or whatever it is you guys do in the cartography department.”

tsukishima spins you around his arms, pressing you lightly back against the mirror. he considers you for a moment, with eyes just sharp enough to pass for academic interest, but you see the darkness misting its depths, the pressure in his fingertips as he leans in to seal his lips over yours in a kiss that could only be called searing.

you break away gasping, only to feel his lips trail fire down your neck seconds before —

“t-tsukki — !”

he pulls back with a satisfied smirk; you can feel yet another bruise blooming along your skin.

“there. one more thing for you and your girlfriends to bond over, hm?”

kageyama.

it is a deliberate thing, the first time. but kageyama remembers the strange gravity, the tug just behind his navel, the persistent itch of curiosity as he leans forward to sink his teeth into your skin.

he likes the way you hiss, the way you go soft in his arms, the pair of you already a pile of tangled limbs on the massive sectional in the living room, the lights dimmed, half a bottle of red wine yet un-drunk on the coffee table.

“tobio… what —”

he hums, burying his face in your shoulder, fingers digging into your sides.

“… something i wanted to try…”

“hm?” you gently card your fingers through his hair, quirking your head to one side.

“it’s just —” he pulls back, a deep blush prickling his cheeks as he looks anywhere but at you, “something… i’ve wanted to try. for — a while,” he admits, looking shockingly small for a internationally renowned volleyball player, hunched over on the couch like this, his lips stained dark with wine.

you giggle, leaning up to tilt his chin back towards yours.

“sure. you can try whatever you want.”

you lay back, stretching out beneath him, pliant and willing, and kageyama goes still for a solid four seconds before he narrows his eyes, an un-namable hunger clawing at his insides as he pulls you beneath him and groans into your skin.

he likes the way the colors seep the surface of your skin, likes the way it’s so obvious against the bright of your collarbones. he spends all of the following day in an intoxicatingly good mood, to the point where his teammates are understandable suspicious. but he just tells them he slept well, that he had a good dinner last night, that wine was really, really delicious.

and that thanks for the recommendation.

hinata.

brazil has changed him, in more ways than you can count, but at the same time, in some ways, he is just, just the same.

“s-shou-you!”

“mmm —” he whines sucking a deep hickey into the junction of your neck, his pupils blown wide as he pulls back, lips split into a too-pleased grin, “what is it? did i hurt you?”

there’s the barest hint of a tease in his voice, and anyone else might’ve thought he’s completely serious, that he’s actually worried. and in a sense, he is — he’d never want to actually hurt you. but he also knows that — to a certain degree, you revel in this kind of pain.

you chew on your bottom lip, shaking your head.

“no… it’s — it’s okay.”

“yeah?” he sounds entirely too happy with himself as he reaches forward to thumb at the damp spot on your skin, “ah… that one’ll be pretty. just like you!”

he laughs, his joy so pure and infectious that it makes you blush. you look away.

“shou…?”

“hm? what is it, pretty girl?”

he bends back down to press a light kiss to your collarbone, peaking up at you with those would-be innocent eyes.

“don’t… don’t tease me.”

hinata laughs, that self-same, joyous sound.

“but i like teasing you!” he says, with no hint of malice, not a single sliver of shame.

you can only cover your eyes with your arm, turning your head away.

“aww, don’t do that —” he says, coaxing your hand away before pinning both of them above your head with a single, fluid move. your breath hitches.

“don’t hide from me…”

it’s too much to hope for that someone with eyes like his would miss such a thing. you watch as the dark, lightless centers of his eyes grow ever so slightly larger, threatening to overtake the honeyed ring of his actual iris.

“can’t… can’t help it…” you look away, feeling the waves of indomitable heat, wave after wave, washing through you, collecting at the base of your stomach to twist into something deeper, something harder.

“can’t help what, hm?” hinata laces your fingers with his; distinctly, you can feel his thighs flex on either side of your legs, locking you in place. the summers are hot in rio, but you can’t help but wonder if more than half the heat in the room might be coming from the pair of you alone.

all around him, the air wavers like a reflection in pond-water —

“shou… just —” you lick your lips.

“ah…” there’s a soft whine curling at the edge of his voice as he leans down, “you’re not playing fair at all…”

desire pulses like a heartbeat inside you.

“shouyou, please,” you beg, trying to wrest some semblance of control back from him but he’s having none of it. he pins your hands to either side of your head, his bed more than wide enough for the pair of you, with room to spare.

“mah… you gotta be a bit more specific than that,” he says, his voice almost casual as he noses into your pulse point right beneath your jaw. you hold your breath and a second later, the harsh sting of his teeth rakes through you, chasing pleasure down your spine.

“m-more —” you choke out the word against the heat of his lips and you feel rather than see him grin above you.

“yeah? i think i can do that for you.”

[effetsecndaires]

— 𝐭𝐨𝐤𝐫𝐞𝐯 𝐦𝐞𝐧 + 𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬. (𝟐)

➺ INCLUDES: taiju shiba, hanma shuji, ran haitani, rindou haitani, keizo arashi (benkei), wakasa imaushi, izana kurokawa, (all of legal age, timeskip or bonten) x fem!reader

➺ CONTENT WARNING | this post contains explicit porn links!! you may need to have a twitter account or change your privacy settings to be able to see them. Please do not interact if you are under 18.

➺ NOTE | You ask, I deliver :) the links will probably disappear after a little while but i'll do my best to replace them or find similar ones when that happens!

➟ TAIJU.

Taiju’s fingers are so much thicker, so much longer than yours, always reaching places you can only dream of reaching yourself. He doesn't do sex before marriage but he'd be damned if he were to leave you frustrated and unsatisfied when you're whining and begging so prettily for him.

↳ LINK ↲

➟ WAKASA.

Wakasa doesn't like to rush things. He’ll work you to orgasm nice and slow — his cock tucked underneath the rough lacy fabric of your lingerie as he thrusts his hips forward, his cock dragging between your folds while his thumb gently rubs your clit in time with his movements, his breathing uneven and shaky from the pleasure building up.

↳ LINK ↲

➟ HANMA.

Hanma loves being in control, and he loves to put you in your place when you start acting a little too bratty for his liking. There's nothing that thrills him more than watching you squirm and beg, his fingers furiously pumping in and out of your pussy, lewd squelching sounds accompanying the pathetic little sounds coming out of your mouth while his other hand tightens its hold around your throat, teaching you a lesson.

↳ LINK ↲

➟ IZANA.

Izana isn't exactly gentle with you. He’ll hold you by the throat, pull your hair and force your head back as he fucks you like you’re his own personal fleshlight, your neck arching painfully as he keeps you in place - knees firmly planted into the mattress for more leverage. But the pain is always worth it when you feel the sloppy press of his lips onto yours, reminding you of how much he loves you.

↳ LINK ↲

➟ BENKEI.

Benkei always pulls the strongest, most powerful and body-shaking orgasms out of you. He's rough but never too much, just the right amount that turns you into a moaning mess, your eyes rolling back in your head. His thrusts are firm and rough, loud “plop” sounds echoing inside the room while the pair of panties he stuffed in your mouth serves to muffle your moans.

↳ LINK ↲

➟ RINDOU.

Rindou eats you out like he's paid to do it — always making sure you're nice and comfortable before he dives in and makes a complete mess of you. He’ll slide his tongue whatever way he pleases, up, down, or side-to-side; tasting every inch of you and swallowing everything you have to offer.

↳ LINK ↲

➟ RAN.

Why would you own so many toys of all shapes and sizes when you have your very own loving husband at home? You better hide them well unless you want him to dedicate a few hours of his day to edging you and overstimulating you until you pass out on his lap.

↳ LINK ↲

[luvnami]

im rewatching s4 and hes so, so cute. set in post timeskip, reader has tiddies. ageless/minors dni (18+)

“rintarou.”

“hm?”

it’s a saturday and suna’s looking forward to his free day tomorrow. he’ll hop on overwatch tonight with his friends (an unfortunate genji main), then spend tomorrow bingeing that romcom drama you’ve been telling him about. he’ll order takeout. chinese food (you're definitely craving it, he can tell), and have your legs tangled with his on your two-seater sofa in the apartment you share. 

it’s the dream life, really. 

suna sits with you in the bath. he’s between your legs, because he likes it when you massage his shoulders. you know it’s also because he likes laying his head on your boobs, though it’s not like he’ll ever admit it. 

“i wanna eat chinese food tomorrow,” you say. 

suna slides deeper into the tub so that his head rests against your chest.

“mm… sounds good.”

your fingers smooth out his wet hair. suna’s kept the same hairstyle since highschool, though it’s a little shorter. you think he looks like a freshly roasted chestnut. 

you make use of the bath water and part suna’s hair neatly down the middle. you then pinch the ends together on either side of his head, forming an exaggerated imitation of that chestnut shape you love so much. 

“what are you doing?” suna mumbles, half his face submerged in the water at this point. 

his eyes are falling shut. shit, the bath is nice and warm, and you’re soft and your tits feel nice. 

“nothin’.”

your giggles reverberate across the bathroom walls as you continue playing with his hair. 

suna closes his eyes.

[dollysilena]

IMPERFECT FOR YOU (18+)

you, doing a friend a favor, have to tutor miya osamu. but instead of learning about chemistry, he’s more interested in learning about you.

WC: 5.8k (send an ambulance)

WARNINGS: explicit drug (marijuana) usage, dubcon (sex under the influence), mentions of female anatomy and female identifying reader, use of ‘baby’ as petname, this is severely under-edited i’m so sorry

TAGS: frat/popular!osamu x nerdy/unpopular!reader, f!reader, porn with (some) plot, college au, post-timeskip, smut, hair-pulling, cunnilingus, petnames, reader has anxiety somebody pls give her a hug, if you get a magnifying glass osamu has a corruption kink

NOTE: i needed a palate cleanser so i can get back into writing so thus this was born. i intend to make this a mini-series (maybe?) or maybe just blurbs/headcanon series, who knows! let me know what you guys want <3

“Absolutely not.”

“C’mon,” Your friend whines, folding her hands together in mock begging, giving you the best puppy eyes she could muster even throwing in a quivering lip for her dramatic performance. “He’s a perfectly nice guy!”

“So what you’re telling me, this guy–” You begin, dumping a sugar packet into your coffee.

“Who I’m tutoring.”

“Right. The guy you tutor, who never comes to class–”

You stir your coffee. She nervously chuckles.

“Who is on the verge of failing–”

You stab your straw into the cup. She lets out a tense ‘mhm’.

“And needs to pass this final to avoid being on academic probation–”

You raise the straw to your mouth. She nervously fiddles with her fingers.

“... Needs to be tutored by me instead?”

You take a sip of your coffee as your friend shrinks into the booth seat. 

“Well, you didn’t have to put it like that,” she grumbles through a slurp of her drink.

You should have known that when your best friend offered to take you out to your favorite cafe, on her, she was up to something. And you knew that when she bought you your favorite muffin, she was going to be asking you something ridiculous. The last time you were offered a free muffin, you ended up having to pretend to her parents that you were dying in the emergency room so that she could sneak out to her hookup’s place. 

The plan almost worked until they came to visit you out of concern, only to find you both not there. She was grounded for another two months.

You turn to her.

“And why can’t you do it?” Your friend was supposed to be the one tutoring him, so you were confused about why it suddenly had to be you instead.

“Because,” She grumbles as if it were obvious. “I’m already busy trying to pass my own exams, that stupid research paper for Professor Takeda is driving me crazy, babysitting my piece of shit brother–”

Translation: I’m in over my head.

“Besides, everyone knows you’re a genius and you’ll pass no matter what, so why not take on a charity case in your free time, huh?” 

She grins at you, not bothering to hide her obvious attempt at fluffing your ego to convince you.

“Does this guy even have a shot at passing?” You sigh, taking a sip of your latte. “I mean, if he doesn’t bother to come to class, how much effort do you think he’s gonna put–”

“He’s a smart guy, trust me! It’s just… y’know how college is.”

Right, he’s a college guy. He was probably knee-deep in parties instead of his textbooks.

“Why’s it on you to let this guy pass? I mean, it’s not your problem–”

“Well, his brother sorta said if I’d help him, I’d be invited to all the frat parties on campus this semester…” There it is.

She trails off but still stares at you with pleading eyes, and you notice her sliding her muffin towards you.

“You’re not gonna let up on this, are you?” You ask as you inspect the blueberry-crusted pastry now on your plate. 

“Nope,” she replies, popping the ‘p’ and grinning with her coffee straw dangling in her mouth. “Does it help that he’s super cute?”

You sigh again and pinch your nose bridge. She takes your lack of response as a victory.

“Great! I already told him that you’d come by tonight. I’ll send you his address and phone number–”

“You told him I was coming before you even knew I’d agree?!”

“Well, what else were you gonna do tonight? And don’t tell me you’re gonna watch that shitty soap opera again.”

Again, you don’t have an answer. Maybe because she’s already said it for you. But it’s not shitty! It’s romantic, moving, thrilling– okay, yeah, you’re starting to hear yourself. Maybe you shouldn’t stay in tonight.

“Fine, where does he live?”

“You have to be fucking kidding me.”

At no point did your friend mention to you that the address she was sending you to would be a frat house.

You thought it was odd that the address was in the dead center of campus– but you figured that whoever you were tutoring happened to get an apartment with a great location. It should’ve been obvious to you that this area would be Greek life housing when you realize all the houses on the block were way too nice to be afforded by a typical college student. You have never stepped foot on this end of campus. Well, you hadn’t, until now.

You should’ve stayed home, nose-deep in the romance novel weighing down in your bag. But now, you’re standing on the front porch of one of the most popular frat’s on campus.

“I’m gonna kill you,” you sneer into the phone pressed to your ear.

“Quit your yapping! It’s not like there’s a party going on or something.” You could practically see your friend rolling her eyes through the phone.

You anxiously dart your eyes throughout the house exterior. It’s massive, obviously well-funded based on how nearly every window seems to be polished, and definitely better than the shitty dorm you lived in a few blocks away. You couldn’t help but dread imagining how many frat brothers lived inside.

“I’m gonna leave–”

“Hey brat, put that down!” She screeches to presumably her younger brother on the other end of the line. “Ugh, gotta go. Have fun!”

“Wait!--”

She already ends the call before you can say anything else, and you fume at her contact information staring back at you. Seriously, if somebody axe-murdered you here, you’d make sure to haunt your friend for the rest of her life.

You weigh your decisions– a part of you wants to bolt back to your dorm, imagining the comfortable blanket and pillow resting on your bed practically awaiting your return, or you could not chicken out and actually fulfill the promise you made to your friend.

Damnit, you knew you had to pick the latter. You’d feel really shitty if you didn’t.

Besides, you’d never hear the end of it if you ran out with your tail between your legs.

You ready yourself to knock on the door, admittedly through a few deep breaths first, and as your fist is about to meet the wood of the door, it swings open from the inside. Had you been a second quicker, you probably would have tapped your tutee in the face.

Except, now that you’re looking at him, he’s quite tall. It would be more at his chest than anything. His broad chest was covered in a tight black shirt, with strong shoulders… In fact, you couldn’t even see his face if you were simply staring forward. 

“Ya the tutor?” He states simply, breaking your train of thought.

You look at him to notice that there’s a face attached to the chest you were staring at. You look up, and dammit, your friend was right. He was super cute.

His hair is dark, with heavy gray eyes– bored and lazily staring at you, dumbfounded on his doorstep There’s a series of tattoos snaking beneath his shirt and piercings you couldn’t even begin to count– you nearly forget that you have to respond.

“Uhm– yeah, that’s me,” you reply, trying to regain your mental footing. “You’re Osamu, right?” 

“Mhm, come on in,” he says, sticking his hands into loose gray sweatpants…. You should really stop staring. Or at least pretend you have a semblance of class.

You step inside and slip off your shoes as you briefly inspect your surroundings. The frat house is above all else, what you expected. Minus for the fact it actually seemed clean despite the typical frat stereotypes you heard– though, you’re sure their cushy funding got them cleaning services. There’s no way a bunch of college guys living together could keep a big house like this clean without some help.

However, that makes you take note that there is a lack of frat brothers in the frat house.

“Are ya just gonna stand there and stare or come inside?” Osamu remarks and your spine grows twice as stiff. You nod quickly and follow him inside and he leads you to what seems like a living room area– some couches and chairs around a TV and coffee table.

Osamu gestures for you to sit and you cautiously sit down, as if the couch had a trap door, leading you to fall into whatever scary basement sat beneath the house.

“Where’s–” You clear your throat, hoping you can keep a firm voice. “-- the rest of your brothers?”

“All of ‘em left on a trip for the weekend, somethin’ ‘bout a party at another school, but I gotta stay back and study for this damn final.”

You quickly pull out the textbooks and notebooks from your bag and place them on the table to ignore Osamu, who takes a seat beside you. He makes you unbearably nervous like you’re about to drop on a rollercoaster. But Osamu is… He’s… stoic? No, that’s not right. Maybe calm was the right word. You wouldn’t know– you’re anything but calm right now.

No, because, quite frankly Osamu looks like he was plucked straight out of one of the daydream sequences you fall asleep to. And you feel like your heart is about to burst out of your chest from how fast it was racing.

“So, you need help with medicinal chemistry?” You notice your voice is an octave higher than what it usually is.

“Yeah, I missed too many classes and now I don’t have a fucking clue what’s going on,” he sighed, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. Whatever you do, do not look at the way his arms are flexing or the distinctive veins charting throughout his forearms.

“We can start–” you flipped through your textbook to avoid staring at his arms any longer, “with the chapter on structure-based relationships–”

“Yer not who I thought Yuki would send.”

“I’m sorry?” You sputter back, and you think that your glasses pivot off your face. You were taken aback, did he think you were somebody else? Was he expecting someone else or?--

“She’s one of my brother’s friends. And my brother… Well, I don’t think ya would hang out with the likes of him.”

Oh, that’s what it was.

He was disappointed that you weren’t… someone more interesting, like your friend, or the people he knew in his frat, or…

It doesn’t matter. You should’ve expected this. After all, you’re just the tutor he has to tolerate for a few lessons until he passes his final. 

But still, you feel some sort of rejection. You couldn’t blame him, his Friday night was being wasted on some nerd who couldn’t even look him properly in the eye because she wasn’t used to being near cute guys, let alone one of the most attractive guys she had seen in, well, ever.

“Don’t look like that, I think that’s a good thing.”

“I look like what?” Your hand flies to your face, instinctively going to hide it.

“Like I kicked yer puppy,” he muses. 

You look back at him, and you see that he’s almost amused by your nerves. Your cheeks burn and you feel the need to wrap the cardigan you had on tighter around you, as if the wooly cotton would act as some sort of shield. But Osamu’s still right beside you, and you feel as if he’s intercepting some sort of barrier between you. But he sits still next to you.

“I like it, ya seem chill, and better than the damn morons I’m always ‘round. Yer a nice change of pace.”

A nice change of pace? You didn’t think that anyone would find your company… enjoyable.

“Please,” you laugh. The idea of you being chill momentarily makes you forget about your nerves. If only Osamu knew half the thoughts racing through your mind. “I’m a goody-two-shoes, and definitely not chill.”

“What, ya a good girl or somethin’?” 

You falter. You glance back at him and notice that his eyes still haven’t left you.

“What?” You say, but it comes out more like a squeak. You’re not dumb, you could hear the indication ever so slightly tinged in his voice.

“Ya just interest me, I guess. Wanna know ‘bout ya.” You hear slight amusement in his tone. 

“So tell me, what makes you a goody two shoes?”

“I, uhm–” You barely are processing an answer with the way his dark-rimmed eyes bore at you. “Well, I haven’t ever smoked–”

“Weed or–?”

You shake your head. “Neither.”

“Ya drink?”

“Sometimes. Not often. I don’t go to parties or anything like that, and drinking alone is kinda depressing so–”

He snorts. You aren’t sure why you were answering his sudden questions, you were just here to tutor him in chemical structures. But something about his presence beside you is commanding and you feel the need to comply.

“Maybe we can change that sometime.”

You barely compute what he just said before he turns to the textbook in front of you.

“So what’s this ‘bout structure activity?”

Osamu’s smarter than what you expect for a student possibly facing academic probation. Honestly, you question if he had ever needed you in the first place. He’s quick to pick up on the topics you lay out, and he probably could have self-taught himself most of the material if he applied himself. 

Or showed up to class, but you keep that thought to yourself.

“That’s pretty much all of chapter five,” you say, closing the textbook in front of you.

“I honestly think if you just kept studying on your own, you don’t need me to tutor you, I can send you some videos too if you’d like, but I think that you’re fine–”

“Nah, I’d prefer if ya came over.”

He says it simply in a lazy drawl. But for you, it sends your brain into overdrive. You feel like a computer whose code has an error but keeps trying to run its system. 

“Oh– Alright– I can come around sometime next week then.” You barely maintain to keep your composure. You just needed to be on auto-pilot until you got home, where you could properly freak out in the sanctity of your own room.

“Ya okay with late nights? Stupid frat schedule keeps me busier than I’d like to be.” He asks.

You nod your head. “Mhm, I’m fine being over late.”

“That too much for ya?” And there’s a lazy smile across his lips. “Ya got a bedtime or something?”

You give him another small laugh. “No, I usually stay up late anyway.”

“Ya stay up late? Doin’ what?” 

There it is again. That sliver of amusement in his tone, as if he knows something that you don’t. But he keeps his calm demeanor, the one that makes you question if you’re just reading too much into things.

“Reading, watching shows, y’know, the normal stuff.”

Reading the stack of romance novels piled in your dorm until you see the sun peak through your blinds, watching soap operas until the screen asks ‘Are you still watching?’ because they assumed you left it open when in reality you’ve watched about five hours worth of television, dreaming, and wondering if someday you could attain even a fraction of the romance you see in fiction.

Yeah, the normal stuff.

At least for you, anyway. But hell would freeze over before you admit that. 

Especially to Osamu, who you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of a flutter in your chest for.

“That’s all ya got planned for Friday night?” He hums, fingers absentmindedly twirling a pencil in his free hand.

“Yup,” you reply, softly. Great, now he probably thinks you’re a loser just like everyone else. You should have just told him you were going to head to a party, like any other normal college student your age.

“Ya wanna do somethin’ with me, then? I’m bored as hell being in this house all alone.”

For a moment, you think that you hear him wrong. Certainly, a guy, as hot, as intimidating, and– and so many things you’re not, and certainly couldn’t match to, was offering to hang out with you. No way, this doesn’t happen. Not to girls like you.

“You wanna hang out with me? Like right now?”

“Would ya prefer a different time, then?” His tone though, doesn’t suggest that he wants to reschedule. It’s painfully sardonic. It seems like it would be now, or not at all.

“N-no. I’d…”

For once, you have a chance to not have a nose in a book. To not spend your weekend alone wondering if that was going to be the rest of your college life. You have the chance to do something for yourself. 

And something as simple as hanging out with a cute guy on a Friday night could be the start of that.

You sit up straighter and hold your head up. Something is tickling in your chest as you look back at Osamu, finally meeting back those eyes that couldn’t seem to stop studying you.

“Yeah, I’d like to.”

Something is screaming inside you. This is unfamiliar territory. This is foreign. Leave now. Abort mission. But you shove it down, you weren’t stopping while you were already ahead. New is good, you told yourself. But you still feel the urge to bolt out the door to cower under your covers.

You had put all your school supplies back into your bag and nestled yourself into the corner of the couch, making yourself as small as can be. Osamu said you two could ‘watch a movie and chill’. You could do something as simple as a movie, right? 

“Ya comfy?” He asks.

“Yeah, thank you,” you say quietly, as if speaking up would take up more space in the room.

“I can tell that yer nervous,” he comments. It was that obvious, huh?

“Yeah, I don’t…” you pause to collect yourself, “usually do this.”

“Hang out with guys only after a few hours of meeting ‘em?” He laughs, relaxing himself on the couch.

“Hang out with guys,” you mutter under your breath.

“What’d ya say?” He says, looking over at you questioningly. It seems he heard you.

“I don’t hang out with guys, at all,” you replied, tone clearer now, “much less cute ones–”

Shit, shit, shit. You didn’t mean to say the last part.

“Ya think I’m cute?”

You wondered if you sank deeper into the couch, that’d you’d disappear completely.

“I mean, yeah– you’re attractive, of course.” He has to know that, right? A guy like him definitely knows he’s attractive. “And usually… guys like you don’t hang out with… people like me, that’s all.”

You’re not sure where the sudden gust of courage comes from, considering you were so anxious moments ago– but the question spills out from your mouth before you can think twice about it.

“Why’d you want me to hang out with you?” You ask suddenly, turning to him.

“Maybe ‘cause I think yer cute,” he states simply as if it were an easy answer, leaning back and looking back at the TV.

You haven’t been paying attention to whatever movie Osamu turned on– What was this? Some slasher flick?-- Something with a girl shrieking at the top of her lungs while obviously fake blood pours out of her. It’s ridiculous and you would laugh if there wasn’t a weight weighing on your mind– the weight is also sitting right next to you.

No, you can’t notice the terrible special effects when you know Osmau is beside you– warm and taking up the majority of the space on the already small couch you’re both sitting on.

You can’t help but have your brain go into overdrive over what Osamu said. Did he just call you cute and then drop the topic? What were you supposed to do? Just watch the movie and just not address it? Is this what guys did? Is that how you flirt?-- you have a lack of answers. Mostly due to a lack of experience.

You spend the first thirty minutes of the movie wondering if you were just imagining Osamu slowly inching towards your half of the couch. By the time the first half of the movie is through and the killer is on his third victim, you decide you’re right when you realize that Osamu’s thigh is ghosting yours.

Now you really can’t deny it. 

A part of you thinks Osamu wants to be closer to you. 

But also, he could just be doing it subconsciously.

It’s probably the latter, but maybe…

“I can hear yer heartbeat from here,” Osamu practically chuckles from beside you.

“What?”

You try not to stammer it. You fail, anyway.

“I can tell that yer nervous, relax. I don’t bite.”

No, you’re certain that Osamu doesn’t bite. But you know that he’s close to you. Which could be worse. In fact, that is worse.

It’s worse because your senses are going haywire from how close he is.

You can tell he smells good. He smells better than whatever cologne sample you’ve ever smelled in a store or magazine. He smells like– what’s the term? Musky? Woody? You aren’t sure, you just know it’s slowly becoming your favorite scent.

You can feel his body heat, warm and consuming. You can hear his breaths– low and steady. You focus on all these other things to ignore the fact he’s boring his dark eyes straight into you.

“I got something for ya,” Osamu suddenly remarks. “Stay right there.”

You barely process what he says before he removes himself from the couch, and heads out of the living room.

Your brain isn’t able to overanalyze like it usually does because Osamu is back in about a minute. Your defenses are still up. What could he possibly have for you? Your mind is sprawling with questions as Osamu plops himself right back beside you.

“C’mere, this should help yer nerves,” Osamu hums, as he wraps an arm around your waist to pull you closer to him.

You don’t ignore the way you feel his hands skimming over the sliver of exposed skin between your sweater and jeans, like hot coals brushing against you.

 “Ya never smoked before, right?”

“No, I’ve never…” You realize that what he was holding in between his fingers was a freshly rolled blunt.

“Would ya like to try?”

You couldn’t lie, you’ve always been curious to try, especially since your friends were always talking about how ‘amazing’ it made them feel and how it would do wonders for your nerves. 

You look at the blunt between his fingers cautiously and peek back at him.

“It’ll be okay, I got ya, nothing to worry yer pretty little head about.” 

Pretty. Did he call you pretty? He has you?-- Fuck it, you needed something to put out the fires of your nerves.

“Okay, let’s do it,” you nod meekly.

“Attagirl,” Osamu grinned lazily. You don’t even bother to think about that comment, either. If you did, you’d be dead in a minute.

You watch as Osamu digs around the coffee table for a lighter, which is conveniently laid out on the table, as if ready for this moment. You watch as he flicks a flame to the blunt. He languidly takes a hit, and the smoke that hits the air is pungent. You’re glad there’s a window cracked open so the smell doesn’t collect in the room. 

You should be studying his motions to mimic them for when it's your turn, but instead, you drink in the fact that he looks oh so fucking attractive. 

He leans back on the couch, and you watch the way he tips his head back to blow out the smoke into the air above. You study the way veins flow through his neck and the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he exhales. You feel– fuzzy, warm. Are you high already? There’s a heat creeping from your chest, and you think you feel dizzy.

Yeah, you’re high. Totally. That has to be it.

When Osamu takes a look back at you, you avert your stare to your lap– reminding yourself that you’re acting odd. Cool girls don’t gawk at a guy smoking a blunt, they would– Well, you have no idea what they would do actually because you’re not cool.

And that’s obvious from the way you look at the blunt in Osamu’s hand like he’s handing you an unpinned grenade.

Osamu clocks in on the terror painted on your face. It’s so obvious somebody ten miles away could probably sense the nerves emitting from your body. You’re hoping you aren’t giving the deer-in-headlights look you usually have.

But you definitely are.

Osamu’s face softens at you.

“Do ya still wanna try? Ya don’t have to if ya don’t wanna–”

“Nono! I wanna try it.” you nearly jump at Osamu’s words. You’re a lot of things– nervous, nerdy, probably weird if you asked the guy who sat next to you in chemistry, but maybe that’s because he’s seen you write in three separate color-coded planners before. 

“Alright,” Osamu chuckles as he watches you take the packed roll from him.

But you’re not a quitter.

There’s a sudden adrenaline rush for you, almost like you’re taking a shot of tequila. You pinch the blunt and raise it to your lips before taking a hit– your very first.

You make sure not to inhale much. You’re already on the verge of coughing from the taste alone. You pull it away, letting out a meek cough, as smoke expels from your mouth. It tastes shitty and gross, like you expected. But you feel good? 

“Not bad,” Osamu muses, and you realize he was watching you the entire time.

Osamu looks at you. He’s been looking at you a lot tonight, you realize.

But that doesn’t mean anything.

“I have no idea how you don’t cough,” you say, as you pass the blunt back to him. 

“Taste bad?” He grins lazily. His arm is still around your waist. It feels good, too.

“Horrible.” It doesn’t stop you from inhaling more of the sour smoke.

“Look at ya,” Osamu chuckles. “Like it, don’t ya?”

You’re making Osamu smile, laugh even. And it makes your head spin even faster.  It’s so good.

Good, good, good. 

Everything feels so fucking good.

Osamu makes you feel good.

“What are ya mumbling about?” Osamu asks plucking the blunt from your fingertips, and you snap out of it. Well, almost, the feeling is still pooling in your chest, head– everywhere.

“I just– I feel–”

“Feel what?”

You start giggling. Doesn’t Osamu feel it too?

But maybe he does because he’s smiling at you. It’s not the same giddy heart-melting feely smile you have plastered on, it’s more relaxed. But you almost could see… a bit of amusement.

“Figures ya would be a lightweight for yer first time– probably shouldn’t have given ya the strong shit, but’s all I had.”

“I wanna do it again,” you sleepily smile waiting for Osamu to pass you the blunt. 

But he doesn’t. Instead, Osamu pauses to look at you again. This time he seems… inquisitive. He looks at the roll between his fingers, and you can tell that he’s calculating something in his head– then he looks at you.

“Ya wanna try something?”

His voice is low and there’s that tone of interest again. 

“Try what?”

“It’s a… different way to take a hit.”

It doesn’t take much to convince you and you nod at him. You just wanted more. More of the good feeling, more of Osamu.

You expect him to pass you the blunt, maybe with some sort of instructions, but instead, he takes another hit. You’re about to ask whatever question you had before Osamu reaches for your chin and takes it firmly.

Despite your brain being foggy, your brain is working overtime. Osamu is touching you– staring at you. And now his face is ghosting yours. You’re close enough to notice the slightest freckle ghosting his left cheek. Were you always this warm? No, you’re burning. There’s a fire sweeping in your chest, your head, your face– everywhere. You’re so warm– Osamu’s so warm.

And there’s a moment where you zero in. Osamu isn’t exhaling.

You realize what he wants to do.

The smoke inside his mouth isn’t for him– it's for you.

Your lip doesn’t even quiver in the way it usually does whenever you blurt out something nervously. Instead, your lips part invitingly, and you barely even register Osamu has closed the distance until his lips are brushing against yours and there’s a wisp of smoke pooling from his mouth to yours.

Osamu still had one hand steadied on your chin and the other was caging you into the couch corner. The further the smoke spills into your mouth, the more you sink into the couch. You barely even register there’s no more smoke to inhale because your back hits the seat of the couch, and Osamu’s on top of you.

“There’s a freckle on your left ch– mmph!”

Osamu’s mashing his lips into yours in an instant. You didn’t even think there could be any more room for Osamu to close in– he was already so close to you– but you were wrong. 

The kissing– it’s sloppy, depraved, even. Your glasses press against your face painfully from how quickly Osamu pounced on you, so you pull them off your face, not even caring where you throw them. You both feverishly want more, more, more. Osamu’s grabbing at your hips, his hands big and pawing at you. Your own hands are mapping the outline of his shoulders through his shirt. Osamu’s large body dwarfs your own, his weight resting on you. Your hands feverishly grabbed at him as your lips chased after the feeling you’ve been relishing– the good feeling– the feeling is pouring straight into your lips like rushing water and you’re drinking it in. It marries itself with the dizzy euphoric feeling clouding in your mind. So, so good.

He’s everywhere– you feel him everywhere. Your head is spinning. Osamu’s lips– coated in saliva mixing with your chapstick, pull you in even further. You don’t even know how you’re breathing, you haven’t gone for air in what feels like years.

But Osamu, selfishly, wants more. And so do you. So you don’t protest when you feel him rut his hips directly into yours– the throbbing bulge in his pants hitting that sweet spot you weren’t even aware was wanting for more. You moan feverishly against Osamu’s lips, the sound barely spilling out against him.

Osamu pulls himself off your lips, burying his face into the crook of your neck so you can feel every rugged heavy breath against your skin.

“Fuck, baby.” He’s panting, his hips grinding deeper into yours. The sweatpants he’s wearing, the jeans you have on, it’s too many layers. You’re unashamedly pawing at Osamu’s pants, begging for him to take them off so you can feel more.

“‘Samu, please,” you whine. You don’t even think of the nervous, shy, girl who walked into the apartment a few hours ago. She had been replaced with someone more desperate, unashamed in being so greedy for more.

Osamu doesn’t need to ask what you’re asking for, before shrugging off his pants and kicking them off somewhere on the floor. And in a moment, he’s unbuttoning your pants and pulling them off you like it’s burning you. Osamu’s already dark eyes– grow even darker at the sight of the wet spot growing on your panties and your sweater riding up your stomach.

“Please, please,” you cry with moans of his name in the absence of movement.

“Tell me what ya want,” Osamu pants.

“Wanna feel good.”

“Fuck,” he groans, before lowering his face to meet your stomach. He trails wet, firm kisses along your stomach, trailing down until his face is centered with your dripping cunt– clearly begging for more the way it clenches when you feel his hot breath ghosting the outside of your panties.

You absentmindedly grab at his hair, pushing him further to your aching cunt, encouraging him to continue– practically pleading the way you attempt to grind your pussy into him.

Osamu yanks off whatever panties you had on, and you swear you hear fabric ripping. But you couldn’t care less when you feel Osamu’s tongue languidly lick a stripe against your slit before beginning to circle your clit.

Your back arches off the couch and your wanton moans fill the empty air. You hope that Osamu’s didn’t have thin walls. But when Osamu suddenly slips a finger into your– it’s suddenly the least of your worries. 

The combination of Osamu’s tongue suckling at your clit and his now two fingers pumping in and out of you sends you into ecstasy. Every nerve in your body was vibrating as your head clouded between the weed running through your system and Osamu buried in his pussy eating you out like his life depended on it. Fuck what you smoked, Osamu was the real drug.

There’s a moment where your nerves pinch together– and everything in your chest collects, all those funny feelings turning hot and heavy in your lower stomach, before you cum. And you cum, hard.

You grab Osamu’s hair at the roots with a moan– no, scream, almost reflective of the horror movie actress you were making fun of earlier, as you coated Osamu’s face with slick. You don’t even realize how much it was until Osamu raises his head and his mouth reflects glossily.

You’re swimming in the hazy cloud of pleasure for a while, until your breathing steadies and you’re settling into the couch with heavy pants.

“Not bad for yer first time, right?” Osamu chuckles, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“What?” H-how did he know–

“Yer first time smoking?” Osamu smirks as he pulls himself up so he can sit on the couch.

“Oh, y-yeah,” you mumble, pulling your sweater down so you can cover your lower half.

You avert your gaze from Osamu, embarrassed by the lack of clothes you had on. You felt a tinge more sober now– enough to realize that it was way past the time you thought you’d stay. The movie credits weren’t even playing anymore– the TV had just gone into sleep mode. Osamu notices this too when he takes a glance out the window.

You think about what he said. Your first time was good. And maybe… Maybe you should try having more firsts.

“It’s late, ya shouldn’t be walkin’ home at this hour–” So that’s why…

“Ya wanna just crash here?”

You let Osamu take another first.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

LIKES, REBLOGS, COMMENTS, & TAGS ARE APPRECIATED + HELP ENCOURAGE YOUR LOCAL WRITER (ME)! ♡

[lssugaluv]

Things he says to you while doing the deed. 🤭

• Haikyuu x fem reader.

• Haikyuu + Headcanons.

• MDNI 18+

• Synopsis: He loves to praise you all the time, you deserve it. But he also knows how much you love dirty talks, especially when doing the deed. Each character has a different small story.

• Ushijima -Dominance.

• Kuroo - Smartass, Teasing.

• Iwazumi - The man is just so in love.

• Suna - Loves your taste, attached and in love.

• Osamu - Exes who are still in love.

• Daichi - Jealousy, dominance, petty.

• Contains: Timeskip HQ characters (all 21 or older), s3x talk, some cursing, dominance, small sex stories, oral s3x, some degradation, body praise, mentions of slight choking, pet names, temptation, teasing, pettiness, jealousy, some fluff (it’s not an Lssugaluv post without fluff.)

• Characters: Ushijima, Iwazumi, Daichi, Suna, Kuroo, Osamu.

• I choose these guys because I can just see their dominance in bed.

• Please let me know if you’ll want to see other characters.

Ushijima:

• “Look at me.”

• You will never ever get used to his girth. As many times as you’ve done it with Ushijima, the stretch is always something you can never get used too. Especially when he’s gone for a while due to his games and tournaments.

• Ushijima has you nice and wet making sure you’re prepped for his girth to rip you apart. As soon as you feel the tip in you squeeze your eyes shut.

“Open your eyes. I need you to look at me.”

As soon as you open your eyes, his are burning straight at you. He then continues to insert himself in you as you can’t help but gasp with widened eyes. He grits his teeth causing his jawline to pop out even more, groaning a bit, not breaking eyesight. He bottoms out and your arch your back , filling in the gap you two had. He loves to see you become a hot mess just for him.

Kuroo:

• “I Can Tell That You Want Me.”

• Oh, your favorite smartass. Kuroo and yourself were best friends with benefits back in high school. And you decided to lose your v-card with him a week after you guys graduated high school. You later on in time became a thing. You two work at the same place now and live together.

• Kuroo can be such a tease. Especially when it comes to pushing your buttons or getting inside your pants. No one at work actually knows that you and Kuroo are technically high school sweethearts. Not that you wanted your relationship to be a secret, but more because sex at work is always 10x better when kept in the DL. Plus, everyone at the office thinks you two are enemies, since you two tend to bicker a lot. Also, you guys agreed that if people find out, that’s fine.

Today you left 25 min after he did because you slept in, plus he had a big meeting right at 8 a.m that he couldn’t miss. You went to work in a sage green long sleeve that has fur on the collar and end of the sleeves. You paired it with a black mini skirt and see through leggings under. You didn’t have time to do your hair so your did a messy bun and paired it with accessories.

You had the whole office practically drooling for you. That was until your man spotted you. His hungry gaze couldn’t get off from you. You catch him staring from afar and text him.

You: “Do you need me to send you a selfie so it can last longer?”

Kuroo: “Damn, hot but always an asshole.”

You giggle at the message and look up to him and blow him a kiss.

You pass by him and purposely drop your pen in front of him. You bend down and he sees your gorgeous ass cheeks. He makes sure know one is around to pull you in and have you sit on his lap. Your back is facing his torso, rough hand on your neck, lips next to your ear. The other hand tightly around your waist, making sure you’re securely on him.

“I can tell that you want me baby.” He whispers into your ear, following a gentle bite.

“Can you really?” You slightly moan, pushing your ass into his now growing boner.

“Meet me at our spot in 5 min.” ❤️

Iwazumi:

• “I just can’t control myself when I’m around you.”

• You met Iwazumi through Oikawa last year and right away caught his attention. He is an ass to Oikawa but man does he love you. You guys finally decided to work something out and started to see each other. You wanted to start slow with him but life had other plans.

• Iwa is a man of consent. No matter how many times you’ve guys done it together already, he will never not ask for your consent first.

He came over after a week of not being able to see him due to your university’s schedule. As soon as you opened the door you noticed he had a boner already that was IN NEED of your attention. He pinned you to the wall at the entrance of your door. He had his hands all over your ass, mouth stuck on your jaw and neck.

“Baby, please, I need you.” You pant out after a steamy make out session.

“I’m sorry baby, we haven’t seen each other, and I know you want to catch up. But I just can’t control myself when I’m around you. Once you say yes, there’s no way I’ll stop.”

You nod your head yes as in giving him consent. You literally almost fold in half when he told you that. He picks you up in princess style and takes you to your bed, the rest was history.

Suna:

• “I love the way you taste. Never get tired of it.”

• When you first met Suna, he looked like a guy who just had no cares or worries in the world. Like you couldn’t break him, so you had no idea what he would think of or what type of hobbies he was in. Now you two have been dating for a year, and for some reason, every time he comes back from a tournament, he has to be buried in between your legs.

You were watching your favorite show when you hear a click on your apartment door. It was Suna who opened the door. He rushes to take off his shoes and leaves his bag and rest of his belongings at the entrance.

He doesn’t even say say hi to you when he right away pulls your pants & undies down and leaves you in your tee shirt with nothing on the bottom. You turn flush red from your face trying to push him away.

Without saying anything, he looks at you and pushes you down to the couch, his mouth connecting with yours. His tongue wrestles with yours and out of no where you feel a finger on your clit. He kisses your neck and then stops. He sits back up and taps on your thigh for you to do the same.

He puts that finger in his mouth, getting a taste of your delicious slick. His eyes almost stayed in the back of his head with that intense eye roll.

“I love the way you taste angel. I’ll never get tired of it.”

You turn even more red from embarrassment, and cover your face. He spreads your legs wide opened using his calloused hands. He wastes no time as he starts to lick your clit up and down, up and down. The warm sensation of his tongue making you almost cum right then and there. You use both your soft hands to palm his brown locks, and boy does he love that. He moans while eating you out, because he did miss your taste.

Daichi:

• “Don’t tempt me.”

• You have known Daichi for years. You two met in middle school and you know he can be a huge hot head. You know he can also be very territorial. Yet he is a huge sweetheart and very respectful. Now, after many years of dating him and being by his side, you are at a police academy ceremony, celebrating his new position as captain.

You are wearing a beautiful navy blue satin down. You look like a precious diamond, and of course Daichi is on protective mode. You see he was busy speaking to a small but important crowd during the cocktail hour. So you decide to go pour yourself some champagne.

As you were about to pour yourself some champagne, a big man stole the bottle from your hand. “If you’ll allow me too Miss.” He had such a husky tone. You turn to see a tall, handsome police officer who had a piercing on his right ear, a small yet curled mullet and gorgeous blue eyes. You stay in shock wondering how a handsome guy like him came across you.

You stood there frozen in place as he pours champagne into your cup. He then places the bottle back into its spot on the table and whispers something in your ear. That is when reality hit you when you felt a burning gaze heading right your way. You are completely flushed for your face, as you turn to see your boyfriend about to shoot the place down.

One thing about Daichi is, when he gets upset, it’s very hard to help him calm down. Another thing is, his aura is felt dozens of miles away when something/someone he loves is being taunted with. The tall male felt the same presence you felt and decided to casually walk away. He looks at Daichi as he walks towards him and places a hand on his broad shoulder. “Sorry man, didn’t know she was your’s.”

You quickly rush to the bathroom trying to disappear. When you hear the door knob twist and it was Daichi. You were looking at him through the mirror when he goes behind you. He places both strong arms around your small waist, chin on your shoulder. He takes some times to breathe in your beautiful scent. He whispers, “Darling, you know you look beautiful tonight?���

He places a small kiss on your jawline. “What did he say?” He then places another kiss , this time on your shoulder. You turn red all over again, “n-n-nothing.”

He sees this guy made you into a stuttering mess, which irks him even more. “Darling, I’ll give you one more chance, what did he say?” His warm breath next to your ear makes you so wet, you feel your about to drip on the floor.

Your silence was irritating him. “Darling, don’t tempt me.” His tone of voice drives you insane as he lets go of you and turns you around, lifting you up on the counter. He lifts up your gown as he unzips. He knows you want it, but since you don’t give him the answer he wants, you also don’t get what you want.

He rubs his angry dripping tip onto your clit causing you to be a moaning mess. You become impatient, wanting him to fill you up. You move your hips to line yourself up but he pulls away. “Oh no baby. I asked you a question twice. You didn’t answer and I told you not to temp me.” He caresses your cheek and gives you a passionate kiss. “Sorry baby.” He says as he puts his penis away and leaves you there a throbbing mess. “I’ll wait for you outside.” As he pecks your lips one last time.

Osamu:

• “Nobody understands your body like I do.”

• You and Osamu dated for a few years until a year after you both graduated from university, you two decided to part ways and stay friends. Due to his now growing business and your traveling job, you never saw each other which created unwanted distancing. You thought you both fell out of love, which you both never did. Osamu never wanted to part, but he has always respected your decisions and didn’t want to force you to stay.

You were invited to a party by your coworkers. You didn’t want to go but of course they forced you out. They wanted you to go out there and meet new people. You were in a cute black romper with your luscious locks nice and wavy.

At the party, you had about two drinks and were talking to your coworkers. A hot guy comes up to you and invites you to a drink. You are talking and all and that’s when you lose your mind seeing your ex boyfriend across from the balcony. “O-Osamu?” You think to yourself, completely shutting out the guy’s conversation. You excuse yourself to the bathroom and decide to leave the party and just go home. Seeing him after a year really threw off your whole vibe. And you couldn’t help how freaking sexy he looks now.

As soon as you enter your front home’s entrance, you hear a knock on the door. You open it thinking it was your coworkers to take you back to the party. Without knowing it was Osamu. Your eyes completely widened and you stay glued on one spot.

“What are you doing here?”

He walks into your home and hugs you.

“I’m glad I saw you. I really miss you.”

You couldn’t help but grow teary eyes. “Osamu.. I can’t-“

He cuts off your sentence by kissing you. He starts off with two small pecks and sees you don’t stop him. You wrap your arms around his neck as he wraps his arms around your waist. He then kisses you, inviting his tongue in your mouth. He gains a sexy moan from you, knowing you’re already as horny as he is.

He pulls away gently to look at you. “Did my baby miss me too?”

You continue to kiss him to answer his question but then you go back to your senses. “Wait. We are broken up. We can’t do this.” You let go of him. He grabs you again, this time gently spreading your legs apart, brings his hand down to your underwear, moving it to the side. He slides one finger in, rubbing your clit in small circles.

You moan, hiding your face on his neck, taking in his scent you missed so much. You feel his finger slip out and you look up at him a bit frustrated since he stopped. You look at his finger that he’s holding up to your face.

“Ya see that angel? You’re completely wet. And it’s just for me.” His finger was completely soaked in your juices.

You become embarrassed and try to deny how crazy he has you. You try to deny that you miss him and his touch as well. You try to deny that you still love him.

He picks you up and takes you to the couch. He starts kissing you all over again, gently removing your clothes. He kisses your shoulders, your neck, your collarbones, your breasts, your stomach, your thighs. He kisses every part of your body. You feel like you’re about to cum, that’s how much you miss him. He undresses himself, showing off his gorgeous body. Now the two of you are completely naked.

He has you in the missionary position. He inserts himself in you, causing you to arch your back, moaning loudly. Your small hole is so tight, you cause him to groan onto your neck as he hugs you tightly.

Osamu starts to slowly pump in and out, in and out. Allowing to adjust to his size, it’s been too long.

“Ya think I don’t know ya baby? As soon as I saw you at that party, I knew you missed me.” His face a blushing mess. “Ya think ya can resist me? Ya think I can resist ya? As soon as ya kissed me, I knew ya wanted me.”

He thrusts himself hard in this sentence. Hitting your g-spot so delicious that you came after the last word.

“Nobody. Understands. Your. Body. Like. I. Do.”

[kiesbrainjuice]

— FAV HQ BOYS WITH THIS TREND !

pr : timeskip!bokuto x fem!reader; timeskip!suna x fem!reader; timeskip!kageyama x fem!reader; nekoma!kuroo x fem!reader; timeskip!atsumu x fem!reader.

syn : you show your boyfriend a trending photo pose. After some playful banter, you both decide to try recreating the pose.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

wc : 3.5k

tw : no noya and kenma :(( suggestive talks and ends, fluff ! credit pic : srkork on insta

— BOKUTO KOTARO

The lazy Sunday afternoon stretched out before us like a cat in a sunbeam. Outside, the world was alive with the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant chatter of neighbors enjoying the warm weather. But inside our cozy apartment, time seemed to slow to a delicious crawl.

Bokuto Koutarou and I were sprawled across our bed, a tangle of limbs and laughter. The late afternoon sun filtered through our fluttering curtains, painting everything in a soft, golden glow. It caught in Bokuto's wild silver hair, making it shine like a haphazard halo. I couldn't help but marvel at how even in this state of complete relaxation, he managed to look like he'd just stepped off a volleyball court – his muscular arm draped over my waist, a reminder of the power coiled within his laid-back frame.

We'd spent the morning in a whirlwind of activity – a impromptu volleyball match with friends that had turned into a picnic, which had then evolved into a competitive round of frisbee. By the time we made it home, we were pleasantly exhausted, content to lounge in comfortable silence.

Now, we were both absorbed in our phones, sharing the occasional meme or funny video. Bokuto's laughter, when it erupted, was like a sudden thunderclap – loud, infectious, and impossible to ignore. It never failed to make me smile, even when I had no idea what had tickled him so.

I was idly scrolling through Pinterest, looking for new recipe ideas (though knowing full well that Bokuto would eat anything I put in front of him with the same enthusiastic gusto), when a particular image caught my eye. It was edgy, provocative, and unlike anything we'd ever tried before.

"Bo," I said, gently nudging his ribs with my elbow. "look at this. It's pretty nice."

He rolled over, nearly crushing me in the process, his golden eyes bright with curiosity. "What's up, babe? Found another cute owl video?"

I shook my head, angling my phone so he could see the screen. "Nah, it's this new photo trend. Check it out."

The image showed a couple taking a selfie, but with a twist. The guy had his arm around the girl's neck, pretending to choke her in what was meant to be an sexy, edgy pose. It was provocative, to say the least.

Bokuto's eyebrows shot up, disappearing into his messy fringe. "Whoa, hold up! Is he trying to choke her or something? That's...weird!"

You couldn't help but laugh at his reaction. You could see the confusion on his face. Bokuto was usually up for anything, but this clearly threw him for a loop. "No, no, it's not real choking," you explained. "It's just for the picture, to make it look sexy and l possessive."

He scratched his head, his expression a mix of bewilderment and amusement. "I dunno, baby… It looks kinda weird. What if I really choke you with those strong arms of mine?"

You turned to face him, your eyes twinkling with mischief. "Come onnnn, Bo. You could look sexy and scary! You're like a big, cuddly owl."

He puffed out his chest, trying to look offended but failing miserably. "Hey! I can be sexy and scary when I want to be!"

You laughed, poking his cheek. "Sure you can, tough guy. So, do it for me!"

Bokuto's face scrunched up in thought for a moment before breaking into a grin. "Alright, let's do it baby! But if i choke you, we're deleting it and I’m killing myself, okay?"

You grinned back, relieved. "Deal. And hey, if it doesn't work out, do not kill urself please, Bo."

"If you ask!" he exclaimed, his eyes lighting up. "But even if you have the picture don’t post it!"

You couldn't help but laugh at his enthusiasm. "Of course I won’t, Bo. Let's start with this and see how it goes."

After your initial attempt, you had an idea. "Hey Bo, let's try using the mirror length for the picture.”

Bokuto's eyes lit up. "Ooh, yeah! We can see more of us that way!"

You scrambled off the bed and positioned yourselves in front of the mirror. It was then that you really noticed what Bokuto was wearing - one of his compression shirts that he usually wore for volleyball practice. The tight black fabric clung to every contour of his muscular torso, accentuating his broad shoulders and defined chest.

You couldn't help but stare for a moment. Even after all this time, the sight of him like this still made your heart race. "Uh, Bo? Have you always looked this good in that shirt?"

He glanced down at himself, then back at you with a mischievous grin. "Oh? Like what you see, huh?"

You felt a blush creeping up your cheeks. "Maybe. Just a little."

Bokuto flexed playfully, striking a pose. "Well, I did just finish a workout this morning. Gotta keep in shape for my number one!"

You laughed, shaking your head. "Alright, muscles, let's focus on the photo. Same pose as the pic?"

He nodded, moving behind you and wrapping his arm around your neck. This time, you could feel the warmth of his chest against my back, the firm pressure of his muscles through the thin fabric of his shirt. It was... distracting, to say the least.

"Ready?"You asked, trying to keep my voice steady as you held up your phone.

"Ready!" Bokuto replied, his breath tickling your ear.

You snapped the picture, capturing your reflection in the mirror. Bokuto's arm was around your neck, his intense "game face" expression in full effect. But what really stood out was the contrast between you both - his powerful, athletic frame in that form-fitting shirt, next to your smaller figure.

As soon as the picture was taken, Bokuto's serious expression melted into a grin. He peered over your shoulder at the phone screen. "Wow! We look good, don't we?"

You nodded, a little breathless. "Yeah, we do. Especially you in that shirt. Maybe you should wear it more often."

Bokuto's grin widened. "Oh? I thought you liked my owl-print t-shirts better…"

You turned in his arms, looking up at him. "Let's just say both have their merits! But right now, I'm definitely appreciating this one."

You handed him the phone to show him the photo you took. his eyes opened wider and he felt quite aroused by the photo of you surrounded by his arm. “w-wow, you turn me on…”

But he tried to get over it and leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours. "Noted. So, another picture, or...?"

You smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck. "I think we've got enough pictures for now. How about we find something else to do…?"

Bokuto's golden eyes sparkled with mischief. "I might have a few ideas…"

As he leaned in for a kiss you chuckled into it…

— SUNA RINTAROU

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon. The sun was shining bright outside, and a cool breeze was blowing. In your room, everything felt slow and peaceful. It was the kind of quiet that feels good when you're with someone you really like.

Suna, your boyfriend, was lying on your bed, looking relaxed. His eyes were half-closed as he looked at his phone. The sun made his face look nice, showing off his sharp jaw and the small smile on his lips. You couldn't help but stare a little.

You were both doing your own thing, but still felt close. Sometimes Suna would laugh at something on his phone, or you'd say something small. It felt nice and normal. In these quiet times, you felt closest to Suna. He looked softer than usual, and you could see how much he cared even if he didn't say it.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

"baby," you said, breaking the comfortable silence. "look at this."

He rolled onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow. His eyes, usually half-lidded, showed a flicker of interest. "What's up?"

You showed him the picture on your phone - a couple doing the possessive choking pose with the muscular arm for a selfie. "It's this new photo trend. Kind of sexy, don't you think?"

Suna's eyebrows raised slightly, the most expression you'd seen from him all afternoon. "Huh? Interesting choice for a couples photo…"

You could see the wheels turning in his head as he analyzed the image. Suna was always observant, probably already picking up on details you'd missed.

"Wanna try it?" you asked, a hint of challenge in your voice.

He looked at you, then back at the phone, a small smirk playing on his lips. "You sure about that? I don't think you could pull off the 'dramatically choked' look. You'd probably start laughing."

You felt a blush creep up your cheeks. He knew you too well. "Oh, c’mon. I can be serious when I want to be!"

Suna sat up, his movements fluid and graceful. "Alright, let's see it then. Your ‘serious’ face."

You tried your best to look serious and dramatic, but you could feel your lips twitching, fighting back a smile.

Suna's smirk grew wider. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Very intimidating."

You grabbed a pillow and tossed it at him, which he easily dodged. "It’s your fault, your face makes me laugh! How about you show me how it's done?"

He shrugged, but you could see a glimmer of competitive spirit in his eyes. "Well thanks…” he sighed and raised his eyebrows ”And sure, why not. Could be interesting."

You positioned yourselves in front of the mirror. Suna stood behind you, his arm loosely draped around your neck. Even in this silly pose, you could feel the quiet strength in his lean muscles.

"Ready?" you asked, holding up your phone.

Suna nodded, his face transforming into an intense, focused expression that you usually only saw during volleyball matches. It was almost unnerving how quickly he could switch it on.

You snapped the picture, capturing your reflection. Suna's intense muscular arm bore into the camera, a stark contrast to your slightly flustered expression.

As soon as the picture was taken, Suna's arm relaxed back into its usual demeanor. He peered at the phone screen over your shoulder.

"Not bad," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Though I think we just proved my point about your serious face, baby."

You elbowed him gently in the ribs. "shut up. Not everyone can go from zero to intimidating in half a second like you."

He wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. "It's a gift," he deadpanned, but you could hear the smile in his voice.

You leaned back into him, enjoying the warmth of his embrace. "So, what do you think? Should we post it?"

Suna was quiet for a moment, considering. "Nah," he finally said. "Let's keep this one just for us. It's more sexy that way."

You smiled, turning in his arms to face him. "You know, for someone who acts so aloof, you can be pretty sweet sometimes."

He rolled his eyes, but you caught the faint blush on his cheeks. "Don't go spreading that around. I have a reputation to maintain. And look at you in my so-muscular arm…"

As you leaned in to kiss him, “I look pretty hot like that…”

— TOBIO KAGEYAMA

It was a rare day off from volleyball practice. You and Tobio were in your living room, trying to relax. The TV was on, playing a volleyball match, but neither of you was really watching. Tobio sat on the couch, his posture a bit stiff, eyes darting between his phone and the TV screen.

"baby," you said, gently nudging his arm. "look at this."

He turned to you, his intense blue eyes focusing. "What is it?"

You showed him your phone screen - a picture of a couple doing the possessive choking pose for a selfie. "It's a new photo trend. Kind of sexy, right?"

Tobio's brow furrowed as he stared at the image. "Why would anyone want a picture like that?" he asked bluntly.

You couldn't help but smile at his typical straightforward response. "I guess some people think it looks sexy or possessive, like me. Want to try it? Just for fun?"

He looked confused for a moment. "Is this important to you?"

"Noooo," you admitted. "I just thought it might be fun to see how it turns out. Be please baby!"

Tobio hesitated, then nodded with a sigh. "Okay. If it'll make you happy..."

You both stood up and moved in front of the mirror. Tobio proudly put his muscular arm around your neck, and started flexing to show off his muscles, which made you chuckle a bit.

"Tobio, can you hold less tight," you said, a hint of teasing in your voice. "I know already how you are muscular, don’t worry baby."

He adjusted his grip slightly, his face a mix of concentration and redness. "L-like this?"

"Perfect. Now pose for me, baby."

Tobio's expression immediately changed to his game face - eyes sharp and focused, jaw set. It was almost scary how quickly he could switch it on.

You snapped the picture quickly. As soon as it was done, Tobio dropped his arm and stepped back, looking relieved.

Looking at the photo, you couldn't help but chuckle. Tobio's intense muscular and flexed arm next to your slightly amused smile was quite a sight.

"What's so funny?" Tobio asked, peering at the screen while chuckling.

"Just us, baby," you said, still smiling. "We look so serious. It's kind of sexy actually, don't you think?"

Tobio's cheeks turned slightly pink. "It's... different," he mumbled. "But I like how you are in my arm like that..."

You felt a warmth in your chest at his honesty. "Me too, baby. How about we take a nice, cozy pic now?"

He nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Okay. But no more weird poses."

As you cuddled up to take a regular selfie, you kissed his cheek “I love you, Tobio.”

— KUROO TETSURO

It was a lazy Saturday afternoon at training camp. You were sitting on the grass outside the gym, enjoying a brief respite from the intense volleyball practices. Kuroo sauntered over, his trademark messy hair even more disheveled than usual, and flopped down beside you with a dramatic sigh.

"Exhausted already, captain?" you teased, poking his side.

He flashed you his signature smirk. "Me? Never. Just giving the others a chance to catch up."

You rolled your eyes fondly. "Sure, keep telling yourself that. Hey, check this out."

You showed him your phone screen - a picture of a couple doing the possessive choking pose for a selfie. "It's some new photo trend. Pretty hot, huh?"

Kuroo's eyes lit up with mischief. "Oh? Trying to tell me something, kitten? Didn't know you were into that kind of thing..."

You felt your cheeks heat up as he leaned close to your face, brushing your lips with his at the end of his sentence. "Tetsu! It's not like that. It's just supposed to be…artistic or whatever."

He chuckled, leaning in closer. "Relax, I'm just teasing. Though I gotta say, it does look nice for us. Wanna try?"

You blinked, surprised by his enthusiasm. "Really? You don't think it's too weird?"

Kuroo shrugged, his smirk softening into a genuine smile. "Hey, I'm always up for trying new things with you! Plus, it could be fun to mess with the team later."

You couldn't help but laugh. "You're impossible. Alright, let's do it and my arm is muscular, I could show you..."

You both stood up and moved to a nearby wall. Kuroo positioned himself behind you, his flexed arm draped around your neck. You could feel the warmth of his chest against your back, and it was... distracting, to say the least.

"Ready?" he murmured, his breath tickling your ear when he leaned down just to adjust right after.

You nodded, trying to keep your composure as you held up your phone. "Okay, try to look hot."

“Try?? I don’t even need to try!” He acted offended. Kuroo's expression immediately transformed into his focused game face, the one that always sent shivers down opponents' spines. It was almost unnerving how quickly he could switch it on.

You snapped the picture, then turned in Kuroo's arms to look at it together. The contrast between his muscular arm and your slightly flustered expression was striking.

"Well, well," Kuroo said, his voice low and teasing. "Looks like my arm is so hot, don't you think? Though I gotta say, you look hot under the collar there, kitten. Was it something I did?"

You elbowed him gently, but couldn't help smiling. "Oh, shut up. You're such a tease."

He laughed, pulling you closer. "You love it though, admit it, baby."

You leaned into him, enjoying his warmth. "Maybe. But don't let it go to your head. It's big enough as it is."

Kuroo gasped in mock offense. "My head is perfectly proportional, thank you very much. Anyway, now I can show to everyone that you’re mine…"

He kissed your lips with hunger, but you pushed him back gently. “Not here…”

He took your hand and brings you up, the silly photo forgotten for the moment.

— ATSUMU MIYA

The MSBY Black Jackals' training facility was quieter than usual, the usual squeaks of shoes on polished floors and the thunderous impacts of spikes replaced by a lazy afternoon lull. Most of the team had already left for the day, their energy spent on grueling drills and practice matches. The air still held a faint scent of sweat, mingled with the sharp tang of air salonpas.

You had been waiting for what felt like hours, alternating between watching Atsumu's extra practice through the gym windows of the lounge area and idly scrolling through your phone. It was a familiar routine - Atsumu pushing himself just a little further, always chasing that perfect set, while you patiently waited, a silent pillar of support. The sun had begun its descent, casting long shadows across the lounge area where you sat, when you finally heard the telltale sound of the gym doors opening and Atsumu's distinctive footsteps approaching.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

"Oi, still hanging around?" he called out, a smirk playing on his lips.

You looked up, matching his smirk. "Someone's gotta make sure you don't overwork yourself, the Pro Athlete."

Walking behind you to give you a shoulder massage for a few seconds and kiss you on the mouth from behind, he stopped by to sit on the sofa in the lounge next to you to cuddle slightly.

Atsumu plopped down next to you, peering at your phone. "Whatcha looking at? Better not be Tobio-kun's serves again."

You snorted. "As if. No, look at this trend."

You showed him the picture of the couple doing the possessive choking pose. Atsumu's eyebrows shot up.

"Well, ain't that something," he drawled. "People really do anything for likes these days, huh?"

"Says the guy who spent an hour perfecting his hair for his official team photo," you retorted.

Atsumu clutched his chest in mock hurt. "Your wounds cut deep, ya know that?"

You laughed, then had an idea. "Hey, we should try it."

"Try what? You wanna make out here, huh?" Atsumu looked skeptical but was ready to jump on you if you nodded, which you didn’t.

"The pose, dummy. Could be funny."

Atsumu's eyes glinted with mischief. "Oh? You want me to manhandle you for the 'gram? Kinky."

You felt your face heat up as you gently push his head of your shoulder to face him. "Shut up, 'Tsumu. You in or not?"

"'Course I'm in. Can't let my baby down, can I?"

You both stood up, moving to a clear wall. Atsumu positioned himself behind you, his flexed arm tight around your neck.

"Ready when you are, darlin'," he murmured close to your ear.

You suppressed a shiver. "Okay, press."

Atsumu's arm pressed your cheeks and flexed his muscles. You snapped the picture quickly before you could faint from blushing.

Looking at it together, you couldn't help but laugh. "We look ridiculous."

"Speak for yerself," Atsumu retorted. "I look dashingly hot."

You elbowed him playfully. "Your ego is showing, 'Tsumu."

He grinned, pulling you closer. "Ya love it though."

As you leaned into him, he carried you like a princess to the lounge sofa: he had locked the door…

pic :

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

tag : @haechansbbg

[miiyas]

op the way I'd do anything for a sakusa piece from u 🗣 preferably post-timeskip and maybe established relationship, BUT I'm open for whatever. you just write domesticity so well,,,,,, and sakusa is so habit driven,,, I need to see this pls 🙏

CHANGE IN PERSPECTIVE

you’re helping kiyoomi with his nightly hair routine

wc: 554, post-ts, a little ooc- i’m a little unsure of how to write for omi .., fluff, not proof read

kiyoomi has grown to likes his curls because you like them.

for the longest time, he’s only ever seen them as a a bit of a hassle, hair products mounting on the vanity of his bathroom as he consumes time just to make every curl perfect. he used to dream of how he would look like with hair that reflected the same style as his teammates — pin straight and easy to manage. but recently, he’s been thinking differently.

he’s been thinking differently because you like his curls. you like the way they bounce and shine, you like to watch him do his hair routine every night while you talk his ear off in your matching pajamas as he hums in response, mumbling an ‘oh yeah ?’ and occasional in puts of his own opinion and words.

on the special rare and intimate occasions where he doesn’t have the strength to do his hair after a long day of practice, sakusa melts into your touch as you carefully follow his tired voice and instructions as to how you should twist his hair in your fingers and how much product you should use.

he likes the way your fingers twirl around small strands of hair, making the coil form gently before moving on to a new section. he likes the way you hum out a soft tune, a song he recognizes as one that has been stuck in your head all week. and most importantly, kiyoomi doesn’t mind if you put the products in an unordered fashion on the vanity. the unfamiliar mindset of ‘i can fix it later’ has now grown onto him, cleaning up after your mess.

“hey, omi ?” your voice interrupts his thoughts, hands out of his silky hair. sakusa turns his body half way to see you inspecting a fully squeezed out bottle. “i think i’m gonna have to stop by the konbini tomorrow. this things out.” you hand the bottle over to your boyfriends bigger, more tougher ones. his shoulders slump as he struggles to push out any more product, brows furrowed in annoyance. with a sigh, kiyoomi rubs his tired eyes, revealing his verdict.

“we can cut the tube. where did you put the scissors ?”

you blink for a moment, a little surprised at his proposal. pointing out the bathroom door, you tell him that you’ll get one from the kitchen before taking quiet barefoot steps down the hall.

this is different.

kiyoomi doesn’t like getting his hands messy. he much rather purchase a tube roller to get the extra bits out rather than doing the extra work to dig at the corners of the dissected bottle.

but this is fun, he admits to himself. it’s fun to go through the extra work, to hear your laughter as you struggle to make a clean cut, to see that there’s no space on the small counter of the sink to put the two pieces of the bottle down along with the scissors.

it’s worth the mess, he thinks again. because at the end of the day, he can clean it up before he leaves for practice. he’ll wash the scissors real nice and put them back in the kitchen. he’ll throw out the empty hair product and give you an extra long kiss on the forehead in the morning.

[dumplingsfordays]

the phone call

pairing - Megumi x fem!reader

genre - smut

summary - you call Megumi one night in hopes of changing your relationship from being best friends to lovers and it ends very unexpectedly.

cw!: nsfw (sexual themes), mutual masturbation, pet names (sweetheart, baby), bffs to lovers, reader has female genitalia, swearing, timeskip to all characters 18+, one (1) mention of voyeurism + hair pulling + tummy bulge

note - back (sorta?) from my hiatus but I won't post content as frequently. sorry to all you beautiful people who submitted asks 😭😭 I'll make sure to do those fics asap b/c y'all are honestly lovely and overall really respectful and I appreciate it! thank you sm for being patient w/ little old me <33

art credit!

and as always, thank you for reading :))

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Quiet sighs escaped Megumi's lips in tandem with the soft breeze outside, whistling against the glass windowpanes. Moonlight drifted across his fair cheek like a silvery veil, making his pale skin glow slightly, and his long eyelashes, a trait that wasn't his favorite but one that almost every girl constantly pointed out with jealousy, fluttered when they met the edge of the light. And then, in the peaceful summer night-

Bzzt. Bzzt.

The raven-haired man sat up in his bed with sudden urgency, hand moving quickly to his phone on the nightstand and picking up.

"Hey, 'Mimi," your sleepy, half-awake voice came from the speaker. "Sorry to bother you but it's kinda important."

Upon hearing your voice, he relaxes - he lays back down and stares at the blank, white ceiling. "Yeah?"

"Uhm, I just wanted to talk to you about something..."

God, your sleep-laced voice was so gentle, sweet, alluring, even. He couldn't help but sneak a hand towards his abdomen to lay it on his stomach.

"Hey, 'Mimi, you there?" You ask all of a sudden.

"Oh, uh, yeah, I'm listening, don't worry."

You must be at your desk working, then, he thought, since you're up this late. Wait, no -- he heard the shuffling of bedsheets or something similar a moment ago. That was you, right? Were you also in bed? Did you also have the ghost of a smile dancing on your lips? Was your hand also laid down on your abdomen? Was it slowly creeping further and further down, until-

He shakes his head, rousing himself from his thoughts.

God, Megumi, what the hell are you thinking? They're your best friend, nobody thinks about their best friend getting off!

...Well, something about that scene was... arousing, almost, to him. The mere thought of you, laying on silk bedsheets and rubbing your clit to his voice, sent a shiver up his spine and he snaked his hand under his boxers. Well, guess he was doing this.

"So, um..." you continued, sighing, "I was thinking. I know that it's probably too late into the night to even be discussing this, but..."

"Yeah?"

He lets out a small grunt afterwards as his fingers come into contact with the sensitive skin of the tip of his semi-erect length.

"...are you okay, 'Mimi? Are you working out or something?"

"Ah, no, I'm just..."

Just, you know, casually touching myself to the sound of your voice. Nothing wrong with that at all. There's definitely nothing wrong with jacking off to your best friend's voice.

"Just, um. Moving my, uh..." His eyes glance around the room and lock onto the bedside table. "My table."

There's a small lilt to your voice as you laugh softly and clear your throat before speaking, and Megumi swears that he just got lightheaded from the rush of blood to his nether region.

"Okay... I was just thinking about, well... this. Our friendship."

He tries not to sound too strained and breathy when he replies, starting to slowly move his fist up and down his leaking cock. "What about it?"

"Well, I think that, um.. you're a really nice person. And I really like you. And recently, I was thinking about what it would be like if we, um..."

You pause, biting your lip. Should you really finish your sentence? What if he takes it the wrong way?

"You can say it. I won't judge, y/n."

"Thank you..." you laugh briefly and breathlessly, fidgeting with the skin on your torso. His words were innocent, but it was the tone in which he was speaking that made your thighs twitch slightly and your mouth dry up. Christ, Megumi always made you feel things that you knew you shouldn't be feeling towards a friend who probably only liked you as one. "I, well... I was thinking that it would be nice if we hung out at some point. Maybe, like... go out on a date, or something... I understand if you don't like me in that way, or if you're too sleepy to decide yet, but I just wanted to put that out there..."

His eyes widen a bit as he hears the word "date", and he subconsciously tightens his grip around himself, Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallows. So you were interested in him, too.

"I'd... I'd love to."

He forces down a quiet groan as he hears the pitch of your voice rise slightly in excitement. Unbeknownst to him, your hand slides down your lower abdomen, gliding across your upper thigh.

"R-really? You're not kidding or anything, right? I mean, like... please don't worry about making me feel good about myself or anything, just..."

You hear him laugh softly on the other end, which makes that spot between your legs throb even more intensely.

"Of course," Megumi replies, trying to sound as put-together as he can. "I won't lie to you about stuff like that."

Smiling, you sigh in relief and your hand comes into contact with your inner thigh. After a brief pause, he speaks up again, his voice a little deeper.

"So.. anything fun happen recently in your life? Any new books you've read, or interesting gossip you've heard?"

Your head tilts to the side as a scenario pops into your head at his words. Him, laying next to you, whispering into your ear as his fingers caress your--

"Nope..." you laugh, a little shakily due to the intrusive thought. "But there was this one thi--"

He makes a quiet noise of pleasure and you choke, your fingers finally touching your slick cunny and rubbing it gently.

"...M-Mimi, did you... are you...?"

"Christ, I'm sorry, I-- fuck. I'm sorry, y/n, I didn't-- God, I..." he sighs, regret clear in his tone as he apologizes. "You probably think I'm some creep or something now. Feel free to cancel the date, I don't deserve it anyway after all this."

You swallow and you feel your face redden in embarrassment before answering, whispering.

"Actually, I... I, um, I'm not mad. I-I'm doing the same."

"What?"

His reply is instantaneous, his voice a mix of nervousness, shock, surprise, with the undeniable tinge of arousal. You were going to be the death of him someday.

"I-I'm doing the same. I know it's weird, I..." you trail off, sighing. "I'm sorry too."

"Can we..."

Megumi's trembling all over now, his cock unfathomably hard and standing up at attention in his fist, which begins to pump up and down a little more rapidly. You can hear it very faintly from your phone and you practically gush at the sound.

"...can we, um... keep doing this? And talking? I just... I think that since you're interested in me and I in you, we can satisfy our urges, I guess..."

"Please," you shiver, voice getting softer and more desperate as he talks.

"Fu-uck..." he groans out, biting his lip and looking down at himself. He decides to finally remove his boxers and strokes himself under the blanket, leaning into his phone's microphone as he pants softly.

You, in your own bed, whimper at the expletive -- you knew his voice was attractive, but this? Him swearing, and in that rough yet pleading tone, too, made you unimaginably wet.

"Can you... can you describe it? Please?" you choke out, toes curling as your fingers press against your clit slightly.

You hear him groan at your words again before he replies.

"I-It's standing up real tall 'n warm, sweetheart... it's fucking throbbing, all for you... God, I just wanna bend you over and... shit... just shove my cock into your tight pussy..."

You moan quietly as you imagine the absolute filth of the scenario, how deep his thick cock'll reach inside you... he'll probably be thrusting into you so hard that people on the street will hear the rhythmic slaps of skin on skin from the window of your bedroom all the way up on the fifth floor. And, oh, God, what if he grabs your hair and pulls on it, twisting your back and pulling his face closer to yours to meet you in an intense kiss, teeth clacking and tongues intertwining in this passionate dance for control?

"You're gonna feel so good around me, baby... maybe clench as I play with your clit and press my hand to your stomach to feel that little dent of my cock... you're gonna feel so fucking warm and wet around me..." Megumi groans loudly as his hand does a particularly satisfying stroke around his length, smearing slightly sticky precum in his fist. "Christ, I can already imagine it... I'm so fucking close..."

"Me too," you cry out, rubbing tight circles around the sensitive skin and thighs quivering from the electrifying pleasure. "I'll feel so good, 'Mimi, so full..."

His fist travels up to his tip, continuing the up-and-down motion as he moans shakily. "y/n-- I-I'm gonna-- fuck, think I'm gonna come--"

You whimper in reply, toes curling and forearm flexing. At long last, that wave of heat crashes down on you both, him groaning shamelessly as thick cum spurts from the red tip and onto his fist, and you gasping for air, moaning as you reach your respective peaks. Your body trembles as you're thrown around mercilessly by your orgasm and he can tell very clearly by your voice -- it's high-pitched, desperate, and borderline wanton.

As you both calm down from your highs, the movements of your hands and arms gradually slowing down, you giggle breathlessly.

"This was... ah, certainly something..."

You hear his voice, deep and comforting as he chuckles, through your phone speaker.

"Indeed it was."

"...But we're still going on that date, right?"

Megumi laughs. "Obviously."

[roronoa-roro]

ᴘʀᴀɴᴋ #3 "ꜱᴇɴᴅɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ɴᴜᴅᴇꜱ" !!!

CW: nudes¡ suggestive language¡ mentions of sex¡

Pairing: (all post timeskip) suna, atsumu, osamu, ginjima x gn!reader

Network: @tokyometronetwork

ꜱᴜɴᴀ ʀɪɴᴛᴀʀᴏ

Guaranteed returns. All favors are returned x1000.

Send him a partial nude and you will get a dick pic within 3 milliseconds. Send him a thirst trap and an audio capture of him moaning your name is sent back.

Suna prides himself on his ability to collect quality material, so it's no surprise he's so very enthusiastic about this nudes exchange business.

Has pretty lights set up around his room just for the sake of clicking aesthetic dick pics.

There's even a special folder on his desktop dedicated to you. All these frisky pics and videos are stored there. He even names it his 'personal pornhub'

Comes home with hundreds of nasty fantasies filled in his head. Trust me he's created a very nice simulation of all the things he'd love to do to you.

ᴍɪʏᴀ ᴀᴛꜱᴜᴍᴜ

You just know this motherfucker is choking on his spit every time you send a pic that's even closely revealing.

This one time you send him a suggestive (only to dirty minded people) picture of your newly done nails holding your glass just for fun and next day videos of Miya Atsumu, star athlete clumsily fumbling with his phone are trending on the internet.

I'm really really sorry for this one but he totally responds in Adam Levine style😭😭😭 he's embarrassing you know it but you love him and that shitty replying style is something you and him have to work on.

He comes home all needy and whiny after that. Needs all the love and affection— much much more than usual.

He might not admit it but every time his phone pings and it's a message from you he pulls in a deep breath to stabilize his heart and be ready.

Atsumu is too much of an innocent boy for that cocky front he puts up.

ᴍɪʏᴀ ᴏꜱᴀᴍᴜ

Now this guy is a totally different story. Unlike his brother, although equally cocky, he has the guts to back it up.

You once sent him a nude while on a double dinner date just to see his reaction and this mf looked at the picture and smirked, licking his lip. Never tell him how flustering you found it you'd just be digging your own grave.

He's an observant guy, he knows all your preferences– from the food to the positions, so it's not a huge surprise to you when he sends you detailed, nasty, toe-curling replies.

Lowkey think he could run his own pornblog and we would still follow him like dick hungry bitches.

Sometimes, he would send you unprompted random messages while you are at work. Like sirrrr, you get it. He knows you very well but it's none of his business to ensure you're melting in your chair at work thinking about him.

But that's not all. The real nastiness starts when you return home, or his hotel. This man is filthy. And he's gonna pull you down with him whether you like it or not.

ʜɪᴛᴏꜱʜɪ ɢɪɴᴊɪᴍᴀ

You were sorely mistaken if you thought he was an innocent baby boy who had to be introduced to the art of sending nudes gently💀💀💀

He is the devil. This man laughs at you and calls you weak when you send him a partial nude.

The insult digs deeper when he sends you a beautiful, Pinterest worthy image of his pants pulled down just enough to show his perfect v-line. The sunlight kissing his pretty skin doesn't help either.

This ensues a nudes war. Who can click the better nude.

You both give each other occasional runs for your money. But it's usually him powning you most of the time. This guy has some serious aesthetics.

But the funny thing is, although you both forget the original intention of sending nudes, you both develop a cute and adorable sort of bonding activity out of it.

Lost the taglist so i won't tag anybody and this isn't gonna be a regular writing phase anyways so🙏🙏🙏 also drop some holy water in the comments and reblogs plej i need it I've been thinking very nasty thoughts abt a certain white haired sensei from naruto

[a-killer-obsession]

Whoops, you got hit by a bus, and now you're in the world of One Piece. But not everything is quite as you remember it...

General Tags: afab reader, she/her reader pronouns, isekai, monsterfucker reader, vampire!kid, werewolf!killer, wyrm!heat, minotaur!wire, everyone has a human form, smut heavy, unhealthy relationships, dubious consent, serious violence, spoilers for Wano arc, starts pre-timeskip. There will be a lot of more intense kinks, please check AO3 for all current tags.

Chapter 6 - Puppy

Killer gets pegged 😊

WC: 3.7k

Masterlist | AO3 | Chapter 1

A/N: in case you're someone who relies on the upload schedule to check in for chapters, there was a bonus chapter posted between tuesdays 😊 Be sure to read ch 5 then come back here ~

You woke up in Kid's bed, awkwardly laying across it, his heavy leg draped over you as he slept the right way up, snoring like a fucking truck. You couldn’t have been asleep for that long, no doubt woken by the snoring, so with the intention of going back to Heat's bed, you put all your strength into shoving his leg off of you. Unbeknownst to you, the venom Kid had injected you with had a healing effect, helping you regenerate your blood as quickly as possible, so the vampire could feed again quickly. It meant you felt none of the lightheadedness you felt earlier, in fact other than your hips hurting a little from Kid's harsh treatment you felt perfectly fine. Nothing a hot bath wouldn't fix though, which sounded like a nice idea right about now.

You threw on your shirt, wondering what had become of your pants, and quietly slipped out of the room. You considered using Kid's bathroom, but didn't want to push your luck with him. You made your way downstairs, about to open the door to Heat and Wire's bathroom when the door at the end of the hall opened, revealing Killer in his mask and sweatpants, his hair messy like he'd just gotten out of bed.

“What are you doing out here on your own, mouse?” Killer asked, leaning against his doorframe.

“I just left Kid's room,” you explained, “I was gonna have a bath before I went back to Heat.”

“You'll wake Wire running the bath this late,” Killer replied, stepping aside and beckoning you into his room, “come use mine instead.”

“Alright then,” you agreed. It didn't matter to you which bath you used, as long as you got some soothing hot water on your hips. You followed him into his room, not seeing much of the bedroom itself before the light from the hall disappeared as the door was shut. From what you could see, it looked tidy, decorated in blues and whites, with minimal decorations. He opened the door to his bathroom, flicking on the light and giving you another short look at the immaculately clean room before you followed him through, finding his bathroom to be a mirror image of the one Heat and Wire shared. Basic white porcelain amenities with tan tiles lining the bottom half of the wall and floors, the top halves tiled in white. The identical bathrooms each had a sink with decent counter space and drawers, a toilet, and a shower bath combo, the bath being large enough to fit someone tall and wide like many of the Kid Pirate crew were. For someone like you, that meant the bath was massive. Even for Killer, who was the smallest of the commanders, the bath was overkill. Not that you were complaining though as Killer went ahead and started filling it, adding oils and potions that made the water bubble and flooded the room with pleasant floral scents. Killer seemed like he was being extra nice to you, and you weren't sure why. In reality it was due to the fading scars of Kid's fangs that Killer could see on your neck. He appreciated you feeding Kid, knowing Kid would be in a much better mood tomorrow because of it, even if he didn't know that you didn't know you had done so.

Killer pulled down the toilet lid and sat on it as he indicated for you to get in the bath, so you slid off your shirt and sunk into the water, groaning at the pleasant temperature that Killer had gotten exactly right. You let yourself relax, enjoying a little the fact that Killer was definitely observing your naked body wherever the bubbles allowed him a window. “Do you want to join me, Kil?” You offered sweetly. He considered it for a moment, and finding no reason not to, stood and stripped his clothing, twisting his hair into a makeshift low bun to keep it dry. You pulled your legs up to make space for him as he slid in, the water almost spilling over to account for the extra displacement, and once he was settled you stretched back out, resting your feet on his thighs. He took one in his hands and rubbed it, making you sigh at the skillful massage.

“You know, you can take your mask off Kil,” you offered, “I know you don't trust me, but I have already seen your face. You must be getting awful condensation under there. Or I can close my eyes if you want. Whatever is most comfortable.”

Killer sighed to himself, feeling the uncomfortable dripping of sweat under his mask. He supposed it didn't matter much, since you'd already seen his face anyway, or at least you said you had. Either your story would be proven false and he'd never see you again anyway once they sold you, or you'd stick around and he'd get used to showing you his face at some point anyway. He hoped, since you had said he was one of your favourites, that you would be a safe outlet for him to explore the desires he had that required his mask to be off. Even something as simple as making out was not a luxury Killer usually had. You were so sweet with the way you doted on Heat despite his visual flaws, you didn't seem like the type who would make fun of him. And if you did, he could just kill you, so what did it matter? Perhaps it was worth the risk to feel his mouth against another's, or to be able to eat a woman out without needing to blindfold her.

With one last deep breath he reached back and unlatched his mask, sliding it off and placing it on the tile beside the tub, letting his messy bangs fall freely over his brows. You practically squeaked as you saw his unmasked face properly for the first time, his lips currently bare of lipstick since he'd previously been ready for bed. “My god, you're even more handsome in person!” You exclaimed, making him flush bright pink. You closed the distance between the two of you, sliding into his lap and pressing your breasts against his chest. “I bet your smile is even prettier in person too,” you purred, running your thumb over his lower lip, making him let out a small whine. He could tell you were being genuine, that this wasn't you just mocking him, and it made his dick twitch. “I can think of a few ways to make you smile too…”

“Yeah, like what?” Killer flirted back.

“Like, I could make you cum over and over until the only expression you can manage is a fucked out grin,” you replied, running your tongue along his jaw as you hand reached down between your bodies to find his cock. It was already hard as you grabbed it, making you smile mischievously. “Like that idea, do you? You're already so hard for me.”

“Fuck,” Killer growled as you started to pump his cock, focusing on the base while you brought down your other hand and rubbed your thumb over the sensitive head. Killer's head lolled back against the porcelain as you jerked him off, small groans escaping his mouth as you serviced him. You licked and nipped at his bared neck as your hands worked, leaving little red marks over his skin as he started to more openly pant, his cock throbbing in your hands as you moved faster.

“Does that feel good baby?” You purred. All he could give you in reply was a needy whine before he brought his head back up, looking at you with icy blue eyes that were black with lust before capturing your mouth with his, groaning as you forced your tongue into his mouth. “Good boy, Kil,” you purred as you pulled away, sucking on his ear lobe, “good boy, you gonna cum for me?”

“Fuck, yes, gonna- gonna cum,” he groaned, his hips trying their best to buck under your weight to fuck your hand faster. You took the hint and increased your pace, squeezing a little harder around his shaft. “Ah- fuck, mouse, ah, cumming.”

“Good boy Killer,” you purred, “good boy.” You slowed your pace but didn't stop entirely. As expected of his stamina, he hadn't gone soft yet, so you kept stroking him despite how overstimulated he was, enjoying the way he whimpered. “We're not done yet though baby, not until I see that pretty smile. Let's go to the bed though, shall we?”

“Mmm,” Killer replied, dazed from his orgasm but more than keen for another. You slid off his lap and stood, watching with amusement as he hungrily watched the water drip down your naked form. He shuffled forward and wrapped his arms around your thighs, pressing his face against your mound and looking up at you with pleading eyes.

“You want to taste me baby?” You cooed down at him, pushing his fringe out of his face. He nodded eagerly and nuzzled against you, but you pulled his hair hard, forcing his face away from you as you bent down a little to scold him. “You can taste me when you've been a good boy and given me what I want. Cum for me lots and show me that pretty smile, and I'll give you a reward. Can you be a good boy and do that for me, Killer?”

“C-can you call me puppy?” He asked with a whine, enjoying the way you pulled on his hair. You blinked in surprise at the request but certainly weren't opposed to it.

“Of course, puppy,” you replied, watching Killer's eyes light up and his cock twitch in response, “now be a good pup and go dry off and get on the bed, kay?”

“Okay!” He replied eagerly, almost knocking you down as he scrambled out of the tub and grabbed a towel. He grabbed one for you too before scurrying off to the bedroom, turning on a bedside lamp, knowing you wouldn't give him his reward till you got what you wanted. You took your time drying off, and when you came into the bedroom you were surprised to find Killer waiting for you with something in his hand. What looked like a series of attached belts, and a large dildo made to look like an enlarged version of a dog's cock, knot included. “Will you… use these?” He asked anxiously. He wasn't sure how far he could push you to indulge his kinks, but thus far you had shown you were more than willing to do whatever any of the commanders asked you to, so surely pegging him wasn't outside your comfort zone. Your mouth watered looking at him, his sweet handsome face waiting for you to reply, his cock red and needy. The great Massacre Soldier Killer, begging you to peg him. What a fucking day.

“You've been so good so far, I don't see why not,” you replied as you made your way to him, trying to hide how wet you were. If you'd slipped you were sure you would have just slid the rest of the way to the bed. “Come help me put it on, sweet puppy.”

Killer moved quickly to get the harness on you, tightening it so it fit like a glove. He was kneeling in front of you by the time he was done, showing you how eager he was by running his tongue over the silicone dildo and sucking on the end of it. “Look at you go puppy,” you praised, “you look so pretty with my cock in your mouth. I can't wait to see how pretty you look with your tight little asshole stretched around it.” You threaded your hand through his blonde hair, forcing him deeper onto the dildo, “Gag on it, puppy, show me how much you want it.”

Killer obediently took the cock as far as he could into his mouth, his eyes watering as he choked around the thick dildo, unable to take the knot in his mouth. “Good boy, pup,” you told him as you pulled him away, his lips releasing the silicone cock with a pop, “go lay on your back. You got lube for me pup?”

Killer grabbed a bottle from his sidetable for you before laying on his back, stroking his cock eagerly as he waited for you to touch him. Not in your wildest dreams did you think you'd get the chance to finger fuck, let alone peg someone as strong and proud as Killer, or call him puppy for that matter. It was frankly adorable, and it made your cunt ache. You weren't sure which of the two of you was more looking forward to him eating you out at this point. But first, you had a very needy puppy to attend to, as you knelt on the bed between his spread legs.

You coated your fingers in a liberal amount of lube, dripping some onto his asshole and spreading it around. Your other hand grasped his thigh, pulling him open as he fisted himself and hissed at the first touch of the cold liquid on his ass. You teased his entrance with your index finger before pushing it in, Killer immediately balling the sheets in his free hand and moaning. He was relaxed and willing, so it was easy to slide in a second finger, pumping him slowly at first as you eased him open. The dildo he wanted you to use was decently large, and your fingers were slim, you would need to work hard to work him open enough. You leaned down and sucked on his balls as you slid in a third finger and worked it to the last knuckle, sucking one marble into your mouth and playing with it with your tongue as your fingers moved faster. Finally you managed to fit in a fourth finger, working him wide open while he groaned and squirmed. You replaced his hand with your own, pumping him fast as you sucked on his balls, working his cock with your hand at the same pace you were working his ass until he cried out, his ass clamping around your fingers and ropes of cum spirting from his cock, splashing against your face and dripping over your fingers.

“Oooooh fuck,” Killer groaned as you slowly withdrew your fingers from his ass, running your tongue over your other cum coated hand and cleaning the remnants from his cock.

“You're being such a good boy, puppy,” you praised, making him whine. His cock was softening but it wasn't going to deter you, he didn't need to be hard for you to fuck his ass. “You got one more for me puppy? Ready for me to fuck that tight ass?”

“Yes!” He replied, “Yes, please, please fuck me.”

“You're so cute when you beg,” you cooed, saturating the dildo with lube and fisting it to spread it out, as well as adding more to his gaping asshole. You lined the tip up with his ass, more than excited to use the dildo on him. “So very pretty,” you slid in slowly, watching his whole body tense as he groaned and balled the sheets in his fists, his hips raising off the bed as you worked the dildo in deeper and deeper. “Good puppy, just like that, there you go.”

With slow, patient movement you were able to get the dildo up to the knot, the bulbous base pressing against his ass and stretching it a little further with each movement, threatening to squeeze inside. You stayed still as he adjusted around you, trying to treat him as you would hope to be treated, being careful and gentle, adding more lube when you felt necessary. “Good boy, just let me know when you're ready baby, okay?”

Killer groaned and nodded, panting already as he rolled his hips, beckoning you to move. You moved slowly at first, his cock slowly twitching back to life as you thrust in and out of him, “That feel good, pup?” You asked him. Killer couldn't answer in words anymore, too lost to his pleasure, his hands digging into your hips as he pulled you to fuck him harder and faster. His hips rolled in time with yours, fucking himself on the dildo as thin precum began to leak from his cock. He looked divine like that, the low light shining a warm glow across his well sculpted torso, his hair spilling out around him, his eyes closed and mouth open in a small ‘o’. You could tell he was getting close, his movements sloppy and desperate and his moans getting deeper and more akin to growls.

“The- the knot- please,” Killer groaned, trying to push himself further on to the strap. You pushed back against him, his vision going white as the bulb at the base of the dildo slipped inside his ass and his cock spurted a pathetic amount of cum, already spent from his earlier orgasms. His body shook, his thighs clamping around you and squeezing you as he whined. Then you got what you wanted, a fucked out smile spreading on his face as his eyes rolled back, just as pretty as you thought it would be, before finally his body went limp against the mattress.

“Don't pull out yet, please,” he pleaded. You stayed right where you were, letting Killer catch his breath as well as your own, having put your all into fucking him. After a while he gave you a nod, and you began to pull away, but he winced as the knot caught. You reached under and slid your pinky finger inside him, making him groan with the sting of the extra stretch, which was quickly remedied as you relieved the air pressure that was keeping the dildo trapped. With the suction finally released you were able to pull out, leaving his asshole gaping and clenching around nothing.

“Good puppy,” you praised, cupping his face tenderly and running your thumb over his cheek as he whined softly, “stay right there baby.”

You disappeared to his bathroom where you removed the strap, leaving it in the sink for him to clean later. You rummaged in his drawers until you found a handcloth, dampening it in the sink and returning to the bed where Killer was half asleep. He whined as the cool cloth touched him but allowed you to continue, wiping first the cum from his stomach and cock, before cleaning away the lubricant from his ass and thighs. You were about to get up to dispose of the cloth when he tore it from your hand, throwing it to the floor and rolling you to your back. Before you could protest, he was burying his face between your legs, his groans vibrating your needy cunt as he found how wet you were. He was pleased that you seemed to have enjoyed pegging him, and he ate you out as best he could to show you his thanks, sucking on your clit and lapping thick stripes up your pussy.

You gripped his hair hard, remembering from earlier how much he enjoyed when you pulled it, moaning as his whines sent another wave of vibrations through you. “Oh fuck, good pup,” you moaned, “what a thirsty puppy, drink up all you want my sweet pup.”

Killer moaned against you at your praises, dipping his tongue inside you and using the strong muscle to fuck you while his thumb rubbed your clit. His other hand reached under his chin, his middle finger rubbing at your asshole which was drenched with your dripping arousal. He pushed in just the tip, making your clit tingle pleasantly as he worked the three sensitive points simultaneously with his hands and tongue. “Oh fuck, just like that,” you groaned, pulling his hair hard, “yes, yes, fuck, good boy, gonna cum, fuck, fuck.”

His finger slid deeper into your ass and the extra pressure was enough to put you over the edge. You came with a scream as you gushed on his tongue, almost yanking his golden locks from his scalp with how hard you pulled. He withdrew the finger from your ass but continued to rub your clit hard, forcing an additional gush of release from you and making you see stars. You went limp against his bedding, shaking and panting, your whole body tingling with your orgasm as he gave one last wide stripe up your cunt. He crawled up the bed, kissing his way up your abdomen until he was looming over you, his mouth meeting yours. You could taste yourself on his tongue as he rubbed it against yours, your face getting wet as your cum transferred between your faces. Finally he rolled off you, laying beside you with a sated sigh. “Thanks,” he said softly.

“Mm, no need to thank me,” you breathed, “that was fun.”

“Please don't tell anyone though…” he said softly, a nervous tint to his voice, “about the… puppy thing. They'll laugh at me.”

“I won't tell a soul, Kil,” you smiled, rolling to your side to cuddle up against him, “it's nobody else's business.”

“Mouse,” Killer's tone turned serious, “your story, are you telling the truth?”

“Of course I am,” you replied, tracing his collarbone with a finger. The finger slid up his neck, catching on his chin and forcing him to look at you. “I would never lie to you, Killer. Never.”

Killer sighed softly and buried his face in your breasts, holding you tight. He desperately hoped you were telling the truth, feeling like he had someone he could be himself with. He'd be disappointed if they had to get rid of you afterall. Your heart was beating steadily though, no sign of fear or uncertainty, and he let that steady beat lull him to sleep, holding you close to him. He couldn't even remember the last time he slept unmasked next to a woman.

[Next Chapter]

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[vonabel]

sweet music playing in the dark (be still, my foolish heart)

Looking in on your relationship from an outside point of view could be confusing. This looks bad, reads depressing, but it’s everything you both need. Quiet companionship, silent affection, lingering love.

He'll wake you with kisses peppered over your nose, cheeks, across your eyelids. And then, after your eyes blink open, you'll turn to kiss him square on the mouth, tasting like beer and katsudon, and Izuku's mouth will water for it. On lazier nights, like tonight, Izuku won't bother taking you to bed.

Izuku Midoriya/Reader

smut, quirkless Izuku, teacher Izuku, reader is AFAB but has no pronouns, oneshot, post timeskip

1k words | complete

notes: this is my first time writing smut and i didn't like love how it turned out but my good buddy @jisokai read it and said it was good so i'm legally obligated to post it

ao3

♡♡♡

It's nearing one in the morning when Izuku finally fits his key into the lock of your front door. He can hear the drone of the TV through it, can smell the incense you've lit. Something akin to yearning boils in his chest when he shoulders the door open and sees you curled up on the couch.

You look tired, already dressed down in your sleep clothes, and you turn towards him as he shuts the door, leaning over the back cushion and squishing your cheek over folded arms. “Hey. How was your day?”

“Okay,” he exhales, dropping his keys on the little table in the entryway. His shoes come next, arranged nicely beside yours, then his bag and the mountain of ungraded tests he's got balanced in his arms. “My class had joint training with Shouta's. It's always nice to spend a class period with him.”

“Mm,” you hum, “I should go see him soon.”

“He'd like that,”

“Yeah, me too,"

“You're up late,” he muses, after a moment of quiet staring, and presses a kiss to your hair as he passes you to dig through the fridge.

“I got home late,” you reason, “There's a bowl in there for you. Made your favorite.”

He murmurs a thanks and you turn back to the late night news. Kacchan's face flashes over the screen, followed by Shouto's, and Izuku can't help the smile that works its way over his cheeks.

Looking in on your relationship from an outside point of view could be confusing. This looks bad, reads depressing , but it’s everything you both need. Quiet companionship, silent affection, lingering love.

Izuku will reheat his food and sit beside you while he eats. When he inevitably burns his tongue, too eager to wait for it to cool, you'll hide your snort of amusement with a sip of the beer you have open on the coffee table. One of you will put a movie on, both of you will fall asleep halfway through. Izuku will wake up first, when the credits roll, and he'll grin when he feels your drool seeping through his shirt.

He'll wake you with kisses peppered over your nose, cheeks, across your eyelids. And then, after your eyes blink open, you'll turn to kiss him square on the mouth, tasting like beer and katsudon, and Izuku's mouth will water for it. On lazier nights, like tonight, Izuku won't bother taking you to bed.

His fingers slip beneath the waistband of your sleep shorts easily, bullying their way between your thighs, and he sighs, petting and parting the hair there. The way you tremble above him when his fingers find your clit makes his cock drool in his slacks, twitching every time you exhale a sweet sound against his throat.

“Feel good?” he murmurs, lip tugged between his teeth like it’s his own pleasure.

“Yeah,” you sigh, rocking back against him. He hisses when you seat yourself fully in his lap, rutting yourself down against where his fingers press in and curl, where he’s hard in his pants. “Gonna cum. You’re gonna – ah – make me cum.”

“Whatever you need, baby,” he huffs, pulse racing while he watches you lose yourself, “Go ahead. Make a mess.”

And you do. He can feel it in his palm, slipping down his wrist while you grind against him. Your thighs shake where they’re spread to make space for his hips, and he curls his free hand over one to watch the way the fat there spills between his fingers. When the haze in your eyes clears, you meet him halfway for a spit-slicked kiss that’s more teeth and tongue than anything else. Urgency and desperation fuel you, he can tell by the way your own hands scramble to get his belt undone. He helps you push his waistband down just enough for his cock to spring free, fat and thick against the green sprinkle of hair beneath his belly button.

“Come on, Deku,” you tease, grinning when he knocks his head back against the cushion and groans, hips arching toward you, “Fuck me.”

“ Gonna –” he slurs and shudders when you pull your shorts to the side enough to glide over him. Bleary eyes open to watch where you’re connected, the way he disappears between your thighs only to reappear slick and shiny from you, “Fuck – gonna make you feel so good, baby.”

“Always make me feel good,” you breathe, thighs tensing when his head catches the hood of your clit. He presses his thumb against himself, heaving breaths turn to unabashed moans as he slides home. You hiccup above him when he bottoms out, the lingering orgasm still pulsing through your veins making you tighten around him, suck him in like it where he belongs.

The first bounce you give knocks the breath from his lungs. Teeth grit, he grips you so harshly you're sure to have Izuku shaped bruises decorating your ribs. His legs are loose behind you, twitching every time you drop back down onto him. He takes the pleasure as you give it to him, letting you go at your own pace.

With your head tilted back, you say his name over and over like a prayer – Izuku, Izuku, Izuku.

He sits up to lick and bite at the exposed line of your throat, careful to mark you in places you can cover. Sweet praise is murmured into your skin, spoken into the negative space between you. Again, he slips a hand between you to press a thumb against your clit.

When you cum, you take him with you. He holds you tightly against him, rutting up against you to ride it out. Moans and soft, trembling breaths are shared and swallowed down with open mouthed kisses.

“Love you,” he murmurs into your hair, because he does. He always has, always will. And you say it back quietly, because you do.

Moments later, when he has you perched on the counter in the bathroom, he’ll say it again after he starts the shower, just to watch the way you glow with it, with your still lingering pleasure, with him .

The yearning in his chest has simmered, settling to something soft and fond and in love. And tomorrow, when he wakes up to your sleep-warm face and realizes it's Saturday, and you both have the day off, he'll find his mind to be settled, too.

[ccupidxxo]

𝗡𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧 𝗥𝗢𝗨𝗧𝗜𝗡𝗘 | suna rintaro

↳ “you’ll look so pretty.”

• pairing : suna x fem!reader

• warnings : fluff, post-timeskip, established relationship

────────────── you were playing mindlessly on your phone, waiting in bed for suna to finish his shower. having just finished showering yourself, your hair is wrapped in a white towel and a face mask is soaking into your skin. he came home an hour ago, tired and sleepy from a long day full of training, the usual. suna didn’t say much, just gave you a sweet kiss and a quiet “hi baby.” you made him his favorite meal to try and uplift his mood, but other than that, you knew that all he wanted was to sleep.

the door to the bathroom opens and out comes your boyfriend dressed for bed with steam following his figure. you only give him a nonchalant glance before lifting the blanket as an invitation for him to slide in. he mumbled softly and snuggled into your boobs, his favorite pillow. absentmindedly, you start to play with his hair and you noticed it was softer than usual after he blow dried it.

“your hair is really soft, rin. did you wash it?” you asked airily, continuing to brush your hands nimbly through his hair.

suna mumbles into your boobs, “mhm, i used your shampoo.” his words would be incoherent to the untrained ear, but you easily understood— it was a skill you picked up after being his girlfriend for so long.

you didn’t mind his use of your honey shampoo, you used the floral conditioner a lot more anyways.

after a few minutes you started to braid suna’s hair gently, he didn’t seem to notice as he burrowed deeper into you. his big arms wrapped around you like a burrito. admittedly, you were starting to sweat with his excessive body heat. the fan above you was utterly useless, but your silk nightgown offered some form of relief. suna didn’t seem to care about the warmth of your body and stayed still, you wondered if he fell asleep already— he did seem tired.

the vibration of suna’s voice on your chest indicated he wasn’t asleep as he softly murmured, “you smell really nice.” as he threw the blanket off his body— taking notice of how you were getting warmer.

you kissed his head sweetly as a silent thank you, “i just bought a new chamomile scented body wash yesterday.” and continued to braid— suna seems to feel your fingers fiddling with his strands and brought his hand to try to pull it away from your hand.

he teasingly shakes his head, snickering into your boobs as you continuously tried to braid his hair. his earlier drowsiness dissipated as he found it amusing to tease his girlfriend.

when you finally got ahold of his head, you gently slapped his shoulder, “stop fussing and let me braid your hair, rin. you’ll look so pretty.” he obliged with a soft kiss on your right boob and stayed still.

when you feel his even breaths on your skin, you had finished with your braiding session. as a commemoration, you (in true suna fashion) snapped a sneaky pic before adding it into your rin album— it was cute blackmail. you snickered, imagining the look on his face when you show him (he’s gonna be so proud)

your boyfriend thought he was so sly. in the middle of the night, you felt the light of his phone snapping a picture of your sleeping face, what a dumbass.

──────────────

• ccupidxxo, i personally found this a bit boring but cute, i hope you enjoyed it. <3

↳ do not copy, steal, plagiarize, take inspo from without consulting, or translate my work.

[kokokoula]

drunk confessions

a/n: wow i haven't posted in a long while hahaha thanks for staying :) i'm so burnt out from exams please tolerate me🥲 again, not beta read, my beta reader is busy as heck because of a hellish sch system. also, i wrote all of this at 3am, i hope it's still readable TT (this is obvi in timeskip no underage drinking guys)

---

"i think i love you."

you rest your head on your palm, gazing at him with soft eyes and warm cheeks. you reek of alcohol; tsukishima doesn't seem to care.

the two of you sit by the bar at the far end, where the light jazz music gets faint. he's thinking clearly, only a bit red from a drink or two— or is it something else?— while you're flat out drunk. his eyes widen slightly at your confession, and pauses.

"don't say things you don't mean." tsukishima eventually brushes you off, pushing his glasses further up. despite that, his heart beats a little faster, and he hates it.

you splay out your arms across the countertop, burying your face in them. he takes the last swig of his drink. there is the distant sound of glasses clinking and a cheer.

"tsukki?" his name is a bit slurred as you turn to him again. your hair is in a tangled mess, locks of it falling over your eyes. he resists the urge to tuck them away and behind your ear.

tsukishima nudges your foot: a sign to continue.

"y'know, when i first met you, i thought you were an arrogant, self-centred bastard. i hated you." you state, fiddling with your empty shot glass. wow, and just when he thought things were getting intimate.

"where exactly are you going with this?" he frowns at you.

"we used to bicker about almost everything at school. i can't count how many times yamaguchi had to step in." you giggle, hiccuping at the end. you didn't seem to have heard him but he doesn't mind. he shakes his head, a small smile appearing on his face; you look so cute being lost in your own world.

"remember it was our last class, and it happened to rain that day? you laughed at me because i didn't bring an umbrella." yes, he remembers. tadashi was sick that day, and the both of you ended up getting lectured many times by teachers for your incessant arguments. he almost laughs at the thought of it.

"i didn't expect to find your umbrella in my shoe locker after you left, though. you said you had an extra when i confronted you about it but yamaguchi already told me you had returned home drenched." tsukishima's face starts to burn. shit, being reminded of how down bad he was—and still is— is embarrassing. he wishes he was much cooler about it.

"i couldn't accept that you were capable of being nice, let alone to me..." it's even more so because of you.

"...till i realised you're nothing like what i thought you were. you admit your own faults, are too hard on yourself, and incredibly encouraging of your friends in your own complicated way. hell, even to hinata and kageyama!" you're sitting upright now, your hands making exaggerated movements as you talk. you take a deep breath in.

"it's your fault that i can't stop thinking about you, and that i get so sickeningly happy when i see you. so shuddup, i do mean it when i said i think, no wait, i know i love you." you rebuke him, pointing your finger at him like an angry child.

you have done it. you've lit his face on fire with your words. he can't tear his eyes away from your piercing gaze.

tsukishima isn't the most affectionate person, but maybe it's the late hour, or the influence of the alcohol, because he reaches over to caress the back of your head and bring you closer to him. his lips softly presses against your forehead, lingering there for a few seconds before pulling away. he sees your eyes sparkle.

since kei believes actions speak louder than words, he hopes you know that this, everything, means something.

[dira333]

Bakugo x Reader, 6 parts, Timeskip AU

Not everyone is born with a Soulmark. But even if you are, it doesn't make things easier.

Warnings: None, Angst to Fluff.

Chapters are going to be posted daily - Masterlist

Part 4

“Be nice!” A woman chides loudly from the kitchen. Her skin and hair are pink, her eyes mesmerizingly dark. “Hey! Nice to meet you, I’m Mina. These idiots here are Kaminari and Shinsou and you’ll soon meet the rest of the Gang! Bakugo, can you help me with the Snacks?”

“Already on it,” Katsuki grunts next to you, finally managing to push Kirishima away. 

“What do you want to drink?” He asks, leaving for the kitchen as Kirishima leads you over to the Couch.

“Sooo!” Kaminari leans into your space the minute you’re sitting. “Do you just want to watch the tournament or participate?”

“Participate, of course.” You tell him. “Do you think I’m passing a chance to smoke Katsuki?”

Kaminari’s surprised, but only for a second, before he grins just as wide as Kirishima.

“Good luck,” Shinsou tells you in his smokey, deep voice. “They’re all competitive.”

“That’s the thing,” you joke as Kirishima pushes a controller in your hands for a first warm-up round of Mario Kart. “You make more mistakes when you can’t afford to lose.”

-

The apartment fills up fast.

Soon enough you’re pressed into Katsuki’s side, Kaminari leaning heavily into you on your left, not yet getting the hang of the fact that he just needs to move the controller and not his body too.

“And Kaminari’s out!” Iida declares, ever the referee. He did participate, although he lost the first round.

“Man!” Kaminari leans further into you. “That sucks.”

“Yeah,” you agree easily, trying to push him off. “And I need to pee.”

“Oh!” He grins. “Sucks to be you then. You’re not getting up.”

“Let her get up!” Katsuki snarls. “You’re not a child!”

“But I just lost!” Kaminari defends himself before his eyes light up. “I have an idea-”

“No!” Mina yells through the room. “Don’t you dare! You said she has to work late today!”

But whatever she’s trying to do fails as Kaminari stretches out his hands with a grin, eyes closed as if he’s focusing until, in a flash of bright light, a woman appears in his arms.

She doesn’t look amused, yet not surprised either.

“I could have been on the toilet,” she argues as Kaminari all but drapes himself over her, lips pressed against her temple.

She sighs, waving half-heartedly. “He lost, didn’t he?”

You must have been looking a little out of it because Katsuki leans closer, breath ghosting over the shell of your ear when he speaks.

“She’s his girlfriend. The one I mentioned.”

“Oh, so he’s Duncef-” Her eyes cut to you, hard and questioning. “Kaminari,” you correct yourself with an apologetic smile and her frown loosens.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Mina claps her hand, pulling your focus away. “Toiletbreak now if you need one.”

You get up, taking your and Katsuki’s empty glasses with you. He moves to stop you but you throw him a look that has him stay where he is. Someone whistles low but you choose to ignore it.

You stop cold when you return to the kitchen, not expecting the head of green hair or the warm smile.

“Izuku?”

“Oh, hi!” His smile turns a little sheepish. “What’s your name again?”

“Oh, you… you don’t know me yet. I live- I’m Katsuki’s… roommate.” You bite your tongue at the awkward self-introduction, try to busy yourself with refilling your drinks.

“Ah,” he says, leaning back in his chair with a sigh. “They don’t know I’m in here, right?”

You laugh, startled yet again. “I don’t know, I just came from the toilet. Why?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he tries to wave you off, but you’ve already spotted the dirty bandage around his left hand.

“Did you hurt yourself?” You ask, stepping closer.

“Shh!” He tries to silence you, flushing when you move to grab his hand.

“You’re totally hurt,” you call out. “And that’s not even a fresh bandage.”

“I know, I know,” he pulls away. “I just need a minute to gather myself before I step in there.”

“Fine,” you huff, realizing with a start that it’s none of your business. Or should it be? 

You move back to the drinks you’ve been preparing, now much too aware of his presence.

How do other people do this? Just ask about Soulmates and Soulmarks as if it means nothing? 

“Do you…” You bite your tongue but the worlds have already slipped out.

You turn to get a better look at his face, your back turned to the door.

“Do you have a Soulmate, Izuku?”

His surprise is evident, his face flushing adorably. Did Mitsuki already call him? Would she do such a thing? Is this-

“Why do you want to know?” Katsuki’s voice runs like ice down your back.

His face is void of emotion as you turn toward him, though his brows have furrowed again. You don’t dare to smooth it out this time, not with how cold his eyes are.

“Just making Smalltalk,” you reply, cringing at how shallow it sounds.

If he heard it, he doesn’t answer, because his eyes zero in on the dirty bandage around Izuku’s hand.

“You idiot,” he snarls. “Did you get hurt again? Let me see!”

You flee the kitchen as the brothers squabble, not at all ashamed to slide into the open space between Shinsou and Ojiro.

Shinsou’s eyes lock onto yours and you swallow tight.

“Izuku just came in,” you say, taking a sip of your drink. “I thought I’d give my place to him.”

“How nice of you,” Shinsou drawls and you know he doesn’t believe you, not the least bit.

- x - 

“Asshole,” Katsuki snarls as he pulls Izuku into the living room. It takes him only a second to notice that you’ve switched places but he bites his tongue and takes his seat, pushing his knee into Izuku’s side when the other guy can’t get comfortable right away.

“Does everyone have his drinks?” Mina asks, eyeing him with a knowing grin. He bites down on his tongue again. Great.

Now everyone thinks that you and him have something going on. And it’s not like that, he wants to tell them. Not because he’s not interested - god, if only he wasn’t - but because you’re clearly not.

He’d be a fool not to notice your interest in Izuku.

It used to be different, he thinks with no little amount of guilt. People used to fawn over him, discarding Izuku. But the tables have turned.

“Let’s start the next round, Izuku, are you play- oh, of course.” Mina rolls her eyes as he waves his freshly bandaged hand. “I should have known.”

Katsuki almost misses the signal, too distracted by the whole situation. 

He can see Shinsou leaning over to whisper in your ear from time to time, his grip hardening around the controller every time. 

But everyone would make fun of him if he lost this soon into the tournament and what excuse would he have? That he’s jealous?

You’re good too, never risking too much, playing it safe where needed.

And maybe you’d have made it to the finale round if the door hadn’t opened, Momo stepping in with an exhausted wave.

He sees the way you flinch at her sight because he’s got one eye on you instead of the screen - he’s almost through the Finish Line anyway - but he misses what that Flinch causes. 

Your Princess Peach knocks into his Bowser, pushing the two of you so far off course that the rest of the Party races past.

He’s too surprised to even curse, watches as he’s put back on the road only to realize that if he lets you win now everyone will know that he cares. They will know and they will pity him when the truth eventually comes out because it always comes out.

Katsuki’s never been the emotionally smartest guy in the world, he can admit that to himself. Still, he feels guilty as he pushes his Kart past yours over the Finish Line.

You lose this round and thereby drop off the roster.

“Well,” you laugh and Katsuki wonders if he’s the only one who hears how forced it sounds. “I did get a few of you, at least.”

“You did good,” Ojiro congratulates you, rubbing a hand over your hair. 

“Yeah, that was a sick move, trying to knock Bakugo out of the game,” Kaminari cries, face buried in his girlfriend's hair. It’s almost impossible to tell where she ends and he begins, but so far that’s nothing new.

“Whatever,” Katsuki grunts, putting his controller down to take a sip. His back is aching from how tense he is. Kirishima throws him a look that he ignores. Shinsou’s lazy smirk is harder to ignore. No one knows what that bastard is thinking at any time of the day. Honestly, he’s surprised no one’s dragging him for the fact that he almost lost. Or the fact that he’s so calm about his near loss.

“Oh,” Momo’s voice cuts through the noise like a velvet-covered knife. “Izuku. You’re hurt?”

Izuku blushes a red so vibrant Kirishima’s hair pales in comparison.

“It’s- uh, it’s nothing, Yao- Momo. Just a cut.”

“I treated it,” Katsuki hears himself say, voice gruff. “He’s fine.”

Momo’s eyes flicker up to him and then back to Izuku.

“Do you have a moment?” She asks, back stiff. “Or are you playing?”

“N-no, I-I’m fine.” Izuku almost swallows his tongue trying to answer, tripping over himself as he gets up. “Go ahead.”

“It’s just work stuff,” she promises with a smile though Iida is probably the only one who’d believe such a blatant lie. And even Iida’s eyes darken with sympathy.

“Well,” Mina claps her hands, trying to get everyone’s attention. “Next round? We still need to get rid of a few of you if we wanna have a winner. Or is anyone defecting? Ojiro, looking at you this time!”

“Not carsick yet!” He claims with a laugh. “I promise!”

And Katsuki could win this, he knows. He’s done it before.

Though it’s hard to focus with his mind elsewhere. You, awkwardly squished between Shinsou and Ojiro. Izuku and Momo in the other room and all that drama that comes with that. His own role in this, whatever it is. You. You again.

He manages to outdrive Shinsou but Ojiro beats him in the next race. 

“Did you see that?” He asks, almost pushing you off the Couch in his excitement. “Did you see that?”

“I wasn’t focusing,” Katsuki grunts and you lean in, worry in your eyes.

“Headache?” You ask and he nods, embarrassed that you’re seeing through him this easily. “Told you you should have gotten that frown off your face,” you tease him and he can almost forget that moment in the kitchen or how your eyes followed Izuku out of the room.

That is until Izuku comes back.

-

“I’m sorry you didn’t win,” you tell him later in the car. You’re sitting much too close for comfort, he can smell the fruitiness of your drink on your breath when you speak, but he can’t very well ask you to sit in the back.

“It’s fine,” he huffs, turning the corner. 

“Is it?” You ask. “I thought you were very competitive.”

“I am,” he insists, before swallowing harshly. “I mean, I don’t have to be, all the time.”

“But you are, right?” You ask again. “That’s what you are. Competitive. Aiming for the top.”

“What if?” He asks, voice coming out harsher than intended.

“I’m just…” You fall silent for a second. “I’m trying to get to know you better, Katsuki. Is it hard for you to be Number 2?”

He presses the brake so hard that the safety belt cuts into his shoulder. There’s a gurgled gasp from your side that tells him you’ve suffered a worse fate.

“Cat!” He breathes out, swallowing again. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” your voice is raspy. “Shit. Did you hit it?”

“Hit what?” 

“The cat, Katsuki!” Your eyes are like flashlights now, lighting up parts of him he doesn’t want to see.

“I’ll check,” you unbuckle your seatbelt but his hand’s holding you back.

“I’ll do it,” he says, stepping out of the car for nothing at all. There is no cat and he wants to throw up.

-

“Let’s get home,” he says as soon as he’s back in the car. 

If you can hear how unstable he’s feeling, you’re not addressing it. But you’re also not picking up the conversation where he left it, and he’s thankful for that.

His mind is too full and too empty all at once. 

He barely registers your smile as you bid him goodnight, though he feels the touch of your hand as you brush past him like a branding iron.

Sleep’s not coming soon, he realizes a few minutes into lying down.

Instead, he thinks of Izuku.

Katsuki can still remember his Soulmark, the intricate pattern of it almost dancing over the pale, freckled skin of his friend’s shoulder.

Izuku had been so proud of it, too, he remembers. Born without a Quirk, but born with a Soulmate. 

How often had he asked Katsuki to paint it for him so he could memorize it. How often did he pull his shirt off in the middle of the Bakugo’s living room, asking “Aunty Mitsuki” and “Uncle Masaru” to check if it was still there.

He lost it during the war. 

And it’s Izuku, so of course he pretended to be okay about it.

“I have all those pictures, Kacchan,” he’d said, like it was nothing.

But it wasn’t nothing.

The mark on Katsuki’s left buttcheek burns like fire and he has no doubt this fire is fueled by guilt.

And maybe it would have been okay, in a way, to lose that Soulmark. If his Soulmate hadn’t been Momo too.

Katsuki sits up, tries to breathe.

It’s unfair, all of it. And it’s not even happening to him, though he wants to scream at the Universe with all the anger he’s ever felt.

What good is it to win a war, to come out alive out of this hell, to find love only to lose it like that?

Because Momo and Shoto had been dating, a tentative love strengthened by the horror they went through together, when the first Fake Soulmarks appeared.

More often than not Shoto spent the night at his place, trying to find reprieve from the madness.

Was he allowed to love Momo when a Soulmate existed? 

Was he allowed to still love Momo when they had already ended what hadn’t even gotten the chance to fully bloom? When he’d broken it off only for his Soulmate to turn out fake?

And then, to fully hit home the realization that Soulmate’s are more a curse than anything else, Izuku and Momo had realized that, lost or not, her Soulmark matched his.

Katsuki can’t help but think about his own mark, his own person attached to it.

Are they in a relationship already? Are they waiting for him or building their own life, convinced he’s never going to show up?

And what if he dares to- what if he’d dare to… love you?

It doesn’t matter, he tells himself, trying to find a comfortable position. You’re not into him.

He’s resting on his back now, cold sweat pooling at his hairline.

His heart is racing, no matter how slow he’s trying to breathe.

In and out. In and out. In and out.

Katsuki tries to think about you, safe in the other room. Probably sleeping curled up like a kitten, a sight he’s only caught twice so far.

Usually, that thought calms him down, though tonight it doesn’t work.

His breath is coming in sharp inhales now, almost gasping for air.

His heart, racing like he’s running for his life, has started hurting.

Is he… Is he having a panic attack? Or is this something worse, his borrowed heart finally running out of time?

He gasps your name, breathless, raspy, trying to get out of bed.

His phone tumbles out of his grip and his knees hit the floor hard. He’s dizzy and the darkness isn’t helping. Where’s the door again?

“Katsuki?!” Your voice is panicked too, but maybe he’s imagining it. Maybe this is just a dream.

Dream… Yeah, dreaming would be nice. Katsuki closes his eyes, letting the darkness swallow him.

-x-

You’re not usually one to dream in vivid detail. And despite trying to explain it multiple times, you can’t really find words for the difference there is between your usual dreams and those trying to lead you toward your Soulmate.

More often than not it’s just this pull, nothing else, that stays with you well into your waking hours.

Tonight though, with your mind reeling, you can’t help but push back.

What good do these dreams do? They just remind you of something you don’t have and maybe never will.

And even… And even if Izuku is your Soulmate, does it matter?

You’d rather not accept this bond and stay where you are, a friend, nothing more, but at Katsuki’s side.

So you push against this pull, take one step, two steps, three steps into the other direction.

It strains your heart in a way you hadn’t known, to the point you feel breathless with agony.

And then you wake up, gasping for air, dizzy, your chest heaving.

Did you just reject your Soulmate? Or did you just buy yourself a little more time?

You climb out of your bed, aiming for the kitchen for a sip of water, when you hear your name.

Katsuki.

You stumble through his door, his hair glowing in the dim light falling in from the hallway.

“Katsuki?!” You catch him as he falls into you, his heavy body tackling you to the ground as he goes slack.

Panicking, you try to remember all those First-Aid Courses you had to get through.

First, recovery position. Somehow you manage to get him onto his side.

He’s heavy and warm, his shoulders so unbelievably wide. 

“Come on, come on!” You beg him, “Wake up!”

You can barely see him through your tears, but you can feel it, the first deep breath he takes, shuddering and shaking.

Then another. And another.

“Katsuki?” You ask, face pressed against his chest, curling into him. “Are you alive?”

“What else would I be?” He asks, voice gruff, though you can hear the fear still coating his words.

“I’m taking you to the Hospital, okay?” You tell him, though not yet moving, too afraid he’ll pass out again any second.

“Yeah.”

“What happened, anyway?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he explains, his hand now curling heavy around your body. “Felt like a panic attack at first. Might have been a heart attack instead.”

“You’ve got those often?”

“No. But that’s not my first heart, so I’m no expert on it.”

“Not your first- Katsuki!” You whine, tears leaking into your words. “What?!”

“Long story.” He huffs out a breath. “You good?”

“Yeah.” You pull up your nose. “Yeah, I’m good. Don’t worry about me, just freaking out about you.”

-

The ride to the hospital is silent, Katsuki’s left hand heavy on your knee. You put it there, glared at him when he argued.

“I need to be sure that you’re still alive, okay?!”

“Okay.” He falls silent, huffing out a cough every time you squeeze his hand.

You follow him inside this time, always two steps behind him until it’s time for his examination.

“I’ll wait outside,” you tell him, squeezing his hand one last time.

It probably only takes them half an hour, tops, but the time just won’t pass.

You’ve got half a mind to call his parents, not just because of this health scare but because they’d know, right? They could tell you who your Soulmate is and get this mess sorted out.

Katsuki looks pale when he walks out, paler than he was walking in.

“Everything okay?” You ask and he nods, though you don’t really believe him.

“Hungry?” You ask once you’ve made it out, the coldness of the night finally settling in.

He laughs. “Not really.”

“Tired?”

“Exhausted. But I’m not going to be able to sleep anyway.”

“What did they say?”

He swallows tightly. You know because your eyes are focused on his Adam’s apple.

“My heart’s fine,” he huffs out. “Well, as good as it can be, second-hand. I was freaking out about some stuff, so it’s probably a panic attack. It could also be-” He trails off, hands clenching into the fabric of his trousers. “Well, whatever it is, I’ve got some drugs that I need to take now.”

“What kind?”

“Oh, just some antidepressants.” He laughs but it doesn’t sound amused.

“Katsuki…” He turns his head, though his eyes avoid yours. “What do you need right now?”

His breath comes shaky. He doesn’t say it, but you can read it in his eyes, so you wrap your arms around him and squeeze as hard as you can.

His head sinks heavy onto your shoulder.

Does it look stupid, to hug in your sleepwear in the dark parking lot of a 24-hour clinic? If so, you don’t care. There’s no place you’d rather be right now. Not when Katsuki needs you.

[vagabond-umlaut]

two shots of ristretto, please!

One must have heard of espresso, but ristretto? No?

Well, translated to 'restricted' in Italian, ristretto is another version of espresso, but of a sweeter and more intense quality than the latter— though, you reckon, there's no entity in this world, sweeter and more intense than that white-haired, blue-eyed enigma-turned-menace of yours.

▸ yakuza heir! gojo satoru x uni classmate! fem! reader; TIMESKIP; dad! gojo satoru x mom! reader; FLUFF AND HUMOR GALORE; popularising the headcanon that gojo is so terrifyingly gojo for everyone, except his crush; the said crush's smart & not dense, for the first time in my stories; there is yakuza so there's a gun and there's a tiny bit of violence; brief appearance of utahime, shoko, suguru & nanami; POST-TIMESKIP: the most adorable twins ever, sachiko and sachiro, are back, with tons and tons of fluff!!!!!

▸ belongs to the series 'tang!' — same universe as the work 'every rose and its 'twin prickles'' — but you can treat this as a stand-alone fic if you wanna!

▸ i know i described the reader to be smart and stuff, but the thing is: she is smart, of sorts, that is. and the post-timeskip portion is tooth-rottingly fluffy but not for satoru; sachiko & sachiro will never let their papa get some loving from their dearest mama... AND this is 4.4k wc long— idk how i wrote so freaking much! anyways, whatever it is–

▸ i don't own the characters, the image or the divider used. please don't plagiarize or translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

Gojo Satoru was born with three things.  

His name. 

His looks.  

And, of course– the baggage certain to tag along with the above two. 

Cup of coffee languishing in the frost of your ignorance, you lock gaze, the first time, with the famous infamous scion of the Gojo’s, an awfully stormy morning at the café your friend works at.  

Said friend looks halfway on the path to sweet, sweet dreams, resting her head on folded arms on your table — smiling, you tuck a wayward strand of hair behind the shell of her ear, and return to your sly spying on the group seated couple of feet away. You think you see Gojo look at you yet another time — it must be an error of your eye, you reckon, given how he's giving a sharp grin to the man across from him, in the very next instant.  

Yeah, that's what it is. No one can possibly switch from shooting that level of thoughtful gaze to that level of feral grin in that short span of time. Yeah, it must have been a mistake of your silly eye.  

Anyways, whatever it is, to say you hate drawing attention to yourself will be the greatest understatement of the century— so you decide to look away for a beat, to avoid even the faintest hint of suspicion, eyes going back to the chemical reactions strewn across the mess you call notes— only to snap back to the white-haired boy, widening in horror from the click! then the scene crashing onto your brain.  

Gojo chuckles, eyes flitting from the gun aimed at the space between his eyebrows to the man holding it. "Aww," you register him croon, that self-sabotaging dumbass, "resorting to such cheap violence so quickly, Zenin-san? Grew tired of a civil conversation already? Tsk. What a pity." 

Another time and you think you'll consider this precise moment to be when you wake your friend up and slowly sneak away into the kitchen then out, via the back door. Another day and you know you'll consider this very second to be when you return your focus to your assignment on carbohydrates, all the while hoping you or your friend won't be cast into a brawl none of you are a part of— 

Too bad it isn't another time or another day, though.  

Biting back a grimace, you shut your laptop and rise from your chair with a loud clatter. 

"Forcing someone isn't really a nice way to make a deal, y'know," you hum, walking over to their table and plopping down onto the free seat next to Gojo, "what is better is to explain the pros and cons to the one opposite to you and try to convince them. Gently. And if that doesn't work, manipulate the hell out of them. But this?" you shoot the metal gun a disappointed glance, shaking your head, "this is a method even I know I shouldn't use to get my rival to agree to something, though I'm not from a criminal background." 

The man– Zenin, you correct yourself; the second largest yakuza clan right after Gojo's family, your memory supplies after a beat – gives a slow look from the weapon to you, a scowl appearing on his features. And barks – voice, a disgusting grating noise to your sleep-deprived self.  

"Who the fuck are you, girl? And why the fuck are you interfering in this?"  

You pause. Okay, this wasn't what you were expecting when you first strolled out here. You were expecting a yell, a scuffle; worst case, the gun aimed at your precious brain. But this? One question about your identity, and the other about your reason for approaching them? You haven't prepared yourself for this! 

Frowning, you cast a glance to your left, only to find the white-haired boy stare at you, staggered, with wide eyes and flushed cheeks; then at your friend who's snoring away like she doesn't give a damn about napping at work; then at the man glowering at you.  

You sigh, rubbing your temples. 

"Who the fuck I am... that's for me to know and for you to find out,” you answer, smirking, before growing serious again as you rush to explain, upon catching a murderous glint in the man’s eyes, “I mean, c'mon, y'all are the yakuza. This should be a piece of cake for you, shouldn’t it?"  

The man's glare only worsens in result; stamping down the apprehension in your mind, you continue, "And as for why the fuck I'm interfering in this—"  

You abruptly fall silent.  

Offering the boy beside you a panicky glance.  

Wondering what the hell you can say in reply. 

Should you say, "I've been listening to you threaten the poor boy for a good thirty minutes now, saying he's gonna face dire consequences, or some shit like that, if he doesn't share the area in the east with the Zenin's or refuses to marry their third daughter— who I'm pretty sure, y'all have made into nothing but a maid, a cook and a broodmare. Poor girl, being spoken of by her own family member to a stranger boy, as if she isn't a human being but something with no life or ambition. But, hey, how you raise your kids is honestly your own problem and I’m not here to drill some lesson into your head– though I guess, folks like you could really use some. Anyways, whatever the fuck it is, I'm here because I JUST CAN'T SEE ANOTHER BEING FORCED TO DO SOMETHING AGAINST THEIR WILL. AND I’M GONNA PROTEST AGAINST IT AS LONG AS I’VE A BREATH LEFT IN MY LUNGS." 

The inner-you tsks at the outer-you.  

You groan inwardly, shifting to the next plan already.  

So, must you say, "Gojo's my classmate, who has been sitting behind me since the first class of the year, and very weird to say, but I have also been finding him here at this coffee shop, every day I visit since that day, sitting at this specific table and scribbling in a notebook for hours at end— and, yeah, way weirder to admit out loud, but I guess I have also formed some kind of attachment to him? 'Cause of which, I feel, I get worried when I see him being actively threatened? And, yes, of course– all the while I totally ignore that he's next in line to a notorious criminal family or the fact that he's never even noticed me once before today." 

Another click! bounces off the walls into your ears, making you draw away from your mind back to the situation at hand. You settle for offering a shrug.  

"Why I'm here is because Gojo is one of my acquaintances and I just can't seem to stand someone being forced to do something against their will." 

Your statement earns a mocking laugh from the man, but before you rush to defend yourself and the fact you spoke the truth, a calloused palm rests on your forearm. Gojo's gaze flits from you to the gun still pointed at him then back to you. You feel a mild tremor in his fingers when they meet your skin. Good heavens, Gojo must be really scared, huh? 

His careful voice reaches you, a far cry from the haughty tone he was employing with the Zenin fellow earlier, "It's best if you leave now. Go take your friend and go away. And don't come back here. At least not until sometime later, yeah? Things are gonna get a hell lot messy and I don't want you to see that." 

For the first time in many days, the buzz of caffeine in your veins weakens, giving way to the thrum of worry you feel at Gojo’s words. Has this bastard already accepted his fate!? Hell no! Not if you can help it!!  

You give his arm a light pat. 

"While I leave you here, all alone, huh?" Shaking your head, you click your tongue. "Nope! Not gonna happen, mister. My parents raised me way better than that. Besides, you might not be knowing me but I've been knowing you for a while now, and despite what everyone says of you being the crown prince, or whatever, in the underworld — I ain't leaving you here, with your life at the mercy of a person who doesn't even have a shred of respect for others' freedom of choice and stuff." 

A noisy yawn sounds in the background, soon followed by a noisier series of snores. Gojo's mouth opens and closes a few times, like a funny fish, before he inquires, voice brimming with disbelief, "You... have noticed me? Since when?" 

You blink, then chuckle. "Of course, I have. Since the first day, if I'm being honest here," you reply, then add as a hasty after-thought, so that he doesn't see you as a weirdo, "I mean, it's tough not to notice you, y'know? Not when you're—" 

A deafening crash interrupts you in the middle of your sentence. You look away from the boy to find the man standing now, face contorted in a mix of fury and desperation while he shifts the gun's muzzle from Gojo to you, then back to Gojo, words leaving him in a harsh yell. 

"THE GIRL NOTICED YOU 'CAUSE YOU'RE THE GOJO SATORU AND YOU'RE HANDSOME AS FUCK. NOW, CAN YOU PLEASE SHUT THE FUCK UP, BITCH? AND YOU — YOU SICK, SPOILT GOJO BRAT– YOU SAID YOU DON'T HAVE A MINUTE TO SPARE? BUT HERE YOU ARE, CHATTING YOUR LIFE AWAY WITH THAT GIRL—" 

A second deafening crash reverberates through the small shop– and you think you see your life flash before your eyes– but not before the man drops to the ground, most probably unconscious and hopefully not too damaged to lead a functional life, and very earnestly not dead. The gun clatters to the ground beside him. You turn to your classmate, eyes wide. Gojo returns your gaze, unblinking and slack jawed. 

Heart thundering in your ears, you hurry to explain yourself, "I–" 

"You smashed that plate on that guy's head." 

Gojo’s blunt words bring you to a still, making your eyes drift to the fragments of the unlucky glass plate, to the unluckier but-totally-deserved-it Zenin, then back to your classmate. A little more awe on the boy’s face and you think his jaw might hit the floor.  

You nod slowly. 

"Yeah, but as self-defence. I mean, you saw how eccentric that man was acting, right? I had to do something to protect both of us," you explain, looking away from the pair of blue eyes watching you closely, to your friend who still seems to be lost in the land of sleep (how much exactly did she drink last night, huh?) to your grey sneakers, voice growing mumbled with every other syllable you utter.  

"But that doesn't mean you've to feel some sort of debt towards me or anything. I too was kind of at mistake then, I guess... what with me rambling so fucking much when there was a literal gun at your head. I should have acted with more tact then – if I had done so, then maybe this mess could've been avoided. I mean, I've never seen these things before in my life, y'know? Except in TV shows, that is. Yet, this foolish me here thought she could just swoop in and save you like some sort of a hero..." 

Sullen, you trail off, face growing warm from embarrassment whilst your mind devises a plan on how to clear up the mess you created, many thanks to your foolhardy nature, when a muffled laugh reaches you. Gojo's eyes twinkle in enjoyment at the bewildered huff you give him.  

"You did save me like a real hero back then, y'know," he says, grinning a wide grin – before it disappears, making way for a much reserved, much shyer(??) version. A giggly voice within you whispers he looks just as sweet as he did with his cute dimples. The boy continues, carding a hand through his mess of white hair, with a casual glance at the man, "And, as for the mess you keep mentioning, don't you worry. Gun shots create more mess than a plate smashed on the head. And if I can clear that within a minute– this won't even take me a full second, Miss Hero. Don't you worry for this at all. But, yeah, thank you." 

Now, you don't really know if it was the sincerity in his voice as Gojo thanked you, or the fact that he has to clean up the mess you made in the first place, or the stunned feeling so clearly visible in the blue colour of his irises when you admitted to noticing him— whatever it is, you find yourself not wanting to leave anything unsaid between you both.  

Moreover, the realization that lives are considered extremely low-on-value in the world of crime, so much that guns are whipped out at the tiny disagreements or boasts are made on how quick a gunshot mess can be cleared by them — this realization doesn't make things any easier for you. 

Giving the injured man and your napping friend a momentary glance, you return your focus to Gojo, whose eyes are now narrowed at his mobile, and speak those words weighing heavy on your mind right now.  

"I really noticed you since the first day, Gojo," you say. The boy pauses his typing, confused gaze darting to you. "But not just 'cause you're the Gojo Satoru, or 'cause you're really pretty — which you totally are, by the way— but mainly because you had ambled into our first class, on the first day, a magnificent hour late, with your two friends— and my first thought seeing you was, what sort of a fucking entitled brat is this guy, sauntering in as if he owns the entire place." 

A beat passes before the boy erupts into chuckles, though the tense quality of them doesn't escape your notice. Pocketing his mobile, he shoots you a small smile. "And what about noticing me after that? It was just my name and looks which kept your attention hooked onto me, wasn't it?" 

The question– the mumbled way it was asked, more so– sends you into a brief bout of musing silence. Gojo's eyes remain trained on you the entire while — quite contrary to the innumerable adjectives you've heard to describe them: oceanic blue, sparkling blue, mesmerising blue, kind-of-startling blue– you think they're just... blue. So blue, you wonder if there's anything as blue as that gaze peering down at you.  

Perhaps not. 

Lips curving into a smile, you hum, "Yes and no. Yes, 'cause that was the main reason why my eyes kept trailing you whenever we were in the same place. No, 'cause they were the reasons only until I realised what kind of person you are, and how very different you're from what I first thought of you. I got new reasons after those." 

"Mind telling me those new reasons?" 

Gojo's nervous question widens the smile on your face. Casting your friend a glance — goodness, how many drinks did she really have at the party she went to last night — you reply, making your voice light and friendly, "Your personality made me curious. You are old money, with good looks to boot— you're literally the heartthrob of every girl on campus! Still, I've never seen you with anyone from them— never with anyone outside your group of three friends — though, I got to admit, the blond boy looks nothing less than constipated for a week, when he talks to you." 

That last comment draws a chuckle from the white-haired boy. The tightness in his shoulders seems to relax a bit, you note with relief. Face still carrying the same smile as before, you continue speaking.  

"And the second point which made me curious was how different you behave in different places. Your voice rings across the cafeteria every day during lunch yet you stay so quiet here for hours at end. You once said you've never been much of a book person, yet I always see you in this shop, immersed in your notebooks. And– what has struck me the most of all is the way you tend to go out of you way to annoy others – I've been sitting in front of you in class for a good three months now, yet you've never ever irritated me in the slightest. Kind of strange, ain’t it?" 

Stunned silence comes as the answer to your question, what with the addressed classmate of yours, rooted to his spot on the ground, blue eyes as round as the plate you had smashed on the man's head some time ago and the expression on Gojo's face, almost as if you've grown a couple of heads in the while you have been chatting with him.  

Or more like monologuing, now that you think about it.  

This guy is always so chatty with others: he was even then with that gun cocked to take his life — then why the fuck is he so unspeaking right now, eh? 

"Oh God, Satoru, I can't believe your plan of lurking in the places she goes to, to catch her eye, worked out!!" "Are you asking her out right now, bro?" "Can you all please move? It's raining like hell outside and I'm not really keen to get my leather jacket wet, thank you." 

The noisy rumbles of rain and thunder stream in through the opened door, before the latter is closed again, snapping you out of your internal monologue, a bit too sudden and harsh for your liking. Three pairs of eyes regard you with an utmost curiosity — you return them a blink before dragging your eyes away and looking at the boy a good foot away, only to find him resolutely staring at the overhead lights. Two pretty long (and pretty weird) seconds pass before you finally decide to tear your gaze away from him to the rain-soaked glass window of the eatery.  

A face with creased brows and warmed cheeks greets you from your reflection.  

Screwing your eyes tight shut in an attempt to ward off an annoying headache you can feel build up, slowly yet steadily, you let out a sigh.  

Friendship with the Gojo Satoru seems good enough but romance with the Gojo Satoru... that doesn’t seem half-as-good, right? 

Right? 

"Wrong." 

Your son's insistent voice, coupled by the tiny fist he slams down on the table, breaks you out of your reverie and you turn to find Sachiro wearing a frown, tears brimming in his eyes– eyes which move away from his father and sister to you, pinning your drowsy form beneath the weight of their moisture.  

Stifling a weary sigh, you place the menu card back on the table and coo, "Aw, Sachiro! What's wrong, baby? Are Papa and Sachiko saying mean things to you again? Are they still teasing you regarding today's incident?" 

Although, you suppose to yourself, catastrophe might suit what happened today, way more than the word 'incident'— what with the shrieks, cries and yells resounding through your flat in the short time you took to get ready for your Sunday lunch at a restaurant. Rubbing his eyes a little, the little boy scoots closer to you and nods weakly, wrapping his tiny arms round you. Pressing a kiss to the top of his head, you direct a stern look at the two sitting across from you.  

Sipping on the welcome drink, Sachiko just shrugs back at you.  

"I'm not the wrong person here, Mom. He is," your daughter explains, pointing a finger at her brother, then retracting it at your frown. Your husband snickers from beside her. “Yeah, sweetness, it’s Sachiro who’s wrong. Getting confused on when’s your birthday is no small mistake. Besides, our darling little munchkins taunt me the entire time if I ever make a mistake, no? Can’t see why they can’t stand a taste of their own medicine, then.” 

The sobs muffled into the cotton of your dress grow in intensity and misery. Sending her father a vicious stink eye, your daughter moves to observe you and her brother, a cute little frown on her face.  

"Okay, fine," she relents after a short beat, returning the lemonade to the table, "Guess I was a little wrong. Maybe I shouldn't have teased him so much, along with Papa, for messing up the date of your birthday. I also should not have said, he doesn't love you, some time back."  

A very weighted moment passes. The little girl jumps off her seat and reaches your side of the table, tiny arms reaching out to wrap around her brother. It takes a minute, and a small nudge from your side but soon enough, your two kids are hugging each other; Sachiro, a wailing mess, whilst Sachiko, being the older of the twins that she is, keeps saying 'sorry's' and patting his head, the exact same way their father does to them in times of their grave distress — when they throw a tantrum and get a nice long lecture from you, that is.  

Fond smile creeping onto your lips, you tear your gaze away from the two adorable angels of your life to your husband.  

Relieved to find him sans any teasing smile, you receive a gentle look from him, his hand reaching out to interweave his fingers through yours. You let him with a content hum, basking in the simple domestic joy seeping in through the sweetly scented air of the restaurant. A pair of plush lips press to your palm; biting back a giddy giggle, you throw the owner of said luscious lips a meaningful wink.  

Though... you doubt how much of your meaning could be conveyed to him... given how the two of you jerk back from each other a mere instant later, at the loud clearing of a throat from Sachiko and an angry 'Papa! Go away!' from Sachiro.  

Stomping back to her chair and settling into it with some effort and a huff, you watch an extremely pissed shadow form over the little girl's face, worsening as she twists and cranes her neck up to face her father. You really, really think your husband must not chuckle in this way in the face of such a thunderstorm— not when your daughter is shooting daggers with her gaze; and certainly not when your son is shooting that gloating smirk at him.  

Another time and you think you’ll look at that glare and at that smirk, then proceed to be on cloud-nine, realizing your children, despite being xerox copies of their father (both in looks and manners), did inherit certain features from you as well— something which a terribly competitive voice inside your head claims, is a great win— now, however, is decidedly no such time.  

Not when the person you’ve loved for these many years and know, will continue to do so for an eternity, looks one step away from being tormented to death– by none but the two milk-toothed lights of both of your lives.  

You watch Sachiko’s frown deepen, more than should be possible for someone her age, then begin. 

"Papa, I'm sorry but I have to break our deal. Sachiro is right. We two are the strongest duo of twins in the multiverse — we can't let you break our team this way. So, what if my brother makes a mistake? He's a young baby and babies are allowed to make mistakes, aren't they?"  

You wonder if she truly understands she was born a mere six minutes prior than her brother... and not six whole years, as appears to be the case right now. Holding back chuckles, you spare the person, addressed in the ‘not-really-apology' apology, an amused glance, then nod your head solemnly at her words.  

"They are, baby. They so are," you agree in the very next instant, then ask, a genuine inquiring inflection to your tone, "But what deal did Papa make you agree to, baby? Sounds pretty serious to me, to be honest." 

"Oh, it wasn't anything, sweet cheeks," your husband begins with an awfully nervous-sounding chortle; too bad, your daughter is quick to beat him to it. Throwing him a smirk, you can only describe to be devious, she looks back at you and grins. "Two weeks back, Papa found me in the living room, late at night, staring at shooting stars through the windows. And I found him walking away from the kitchen, eating a giant chocolate bar. Papa said you’ll be very mad because we didn’t listen to what you said, so, we should make a deal and become a team to keep this a secret from you." 

"Papa made that deal– only to divide us. So, our strong team can be destroyed and he can easily defeat us and keep you all for himself, Mama," your son chips in, puffy eyes narrowed into a very hard glare. Your daughter agrees vehemently from the opposite side.  

Your eyes drop to the glass of lemonade before you; you try your best to stifle the yawn.  

This fight over your affection has been going on since the time your children turned four or so... and despite them nearing an age of six in few months, no end can be seen in the horizon, to this war raging within your home...  

And as for the matter of Sachiko being awake way past her bedtime? You reckon you can't really do much on this, other than repeating the rules and the reasons behind each one of them– especially of punctuality and an adequate sleep– to her, like you did the last time... though, you think of toning your lecture down a little this time, considering it wasn't a video game but a meteor show she had stayed awake for... besides you too used to be — okay, no, wait, what??? 

Your husband's sheepish grin collides with the incensed glare you aim his way over the table. Letting out a frustrated huff of an exhale, your face turns away from his, choosing to stare at itself in the clean glass windows instead — too, too mad to acknowledge that white-haired, blue-eyed menace of yours, whining apologies with a pitiful gaze.  

You screw your eyes shut and let out a sigh. 

Being married to the yakuza king, Gojo Satoru, is a story, you deem, it couldn’t have been better, but being married to the sweet fiend, Gojo Satoru?  

Oh, sweet– no, strike that, you fucking hate that word—  

Oh, sour heavens above.  

That's a different story altogether. 

▸ if you've reached this point and still love me and/or my writing, istg I LOVE YOU SO FUCKING MUCH. writing something inspired by one's self-ship is so satisfying but so difficult, ngl. A BIG TYYY TO YOU WHO IS READING THIS LINE RN AFTER READING THIS MONSTROSITY OF A ONESHOT *sniffles*

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