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lamnwar · 6 months ago

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Come here, old man ♡ // Harasawa Katsunori x Fem! Reader

MDNI 18+

A/N: ABSOLUTELY not requested, this is ridiculously self indulgent and I got so into it that it's like... 6.3k words on how much I need that man 😭😭 @sennkawaa @chaotic-nick I did us harasawa girlies a service with this one, hope yall enjoy it <333

Context: a chance encounter with a hot old man makes you loose your sanity.

Warnings: age gap (around 20 yrs assuming reader is in university), alcohol consumption but they have sex sober, aomine being a bitch during his 2 sec of screentime, handjob, oral (f! receiving), mention of unprotected sex but they wear a condom, implied praise kink (reader), coach harasawa is kinda desperate (poor man hasn't got good pussy in months 😔)

Never in your life did you think you'd sleep with a guy old enough to be your dad, yet here you are – caged under the basketball coach's surprisingly toned body, his wavy locks falling in your face.

It's honestly nothing but the result of an unexpected chain of events. What were you, but a simple girl with too much sweetness in your voice and lust in your eyes? Nothing, absolutely not a single star in the sky, could have foreseen such event. While you do appreciate older guys, it never crossed your mind to go after someone who could easily be your senior by twenty years. The single thought of being with a man closer in age to your parents than to you is enough to draw you away from such big age gap. But all that, all that you trusted to be an unmovable preference of yours; it all went down the drain the moment you laid your eyes on Harasawa Katsunori.

It started with a simple invitation from your university friend. Ever since meeting Satsuki Momoi during orientation, you learned of Tōō High School’s basketball team in their prime – the players, their best matches, and their greatest opponents, almost as if you attended that school yourself and was on the bench during every match, witnessing the plays of Tōō’s basketball team. At some point, you got to meet Daiki Aomine, the prodigious player who was at the centre of most of the things Satsuki told you about her former team. He was quite a sight – tall, dark, and handsome, almost hot enough to make you see past his nonchalance and laziness. And in the following months, you came to meet most of the team – or at least, those who were playing during Satsuki’s time as Tōō’s manager.

A special bunch, you noticed, asking yourself how sweet and soft Satsuki got to spend almost every single one of her high school days surrounded by these guys without going insane. Yet, you couldn’t help but stare at them with softness in your eyes, the bond between these boys being endearing. Growing apart, yet never forgetting each other – their recurrent meetings for a shared meal or drink, and for some reason you’d be there because they grew to like you enough not to mind your presence. Never in your life would you have imagined being hanging out with a bunch of big dudes, fairly intimidating ones at that, only to find out that they were no less of goofballs as any other guy their age. You always watched them with a faint smile on your face, quite like an outsider that knows too much about them.

So it was not much of a surprise when they invited you, in a collective feeling of nostalgia for their high school days, to watch Tōō play at the Winter Cup’s semi-finals. You said yes, although you wished you could have witnessed the boys on the court instead of these new players, but it didn’t feel right to turn down the invitation just for this reason. But all that didn’t matter anyway, the moment you stepped foot in the court. You stood back, blown by the ambiance – the cheers, the squeaking of the shoes on the wooden floor, the balls bouncing on every surface. There you were, in Tōō’s tribune with alumni, mind blown as if you were attending some high-level sports event (wasn’t it just high school basketball?).

“Oh look! It’s us!” exclaimed your friends, as their former team walked in from the lockers.

Your interest piqued, you looked down, meeting the sight of yet another tribe of giant teenage boys, surrounded by the kind of aura that made it clear that this was serious business for them. But your eyes quickly trailed to the man leading them, as if your eyes were meant to see him, and only him. Time ceased, granting you with eternity so you could take in every feature of this gorgeous man. From his wavy locks to the way his striped shirt was so neatly tucked in his dress pants. The tall, slender figure of a man who looked mature, yet so fine that you couldn’t wish that he was younger. No, there was such a charm in the small wrinkles in the corner of his mouth, and the slight bags under his tired eyes that were looking up at you…

Wait. Was he looking at you or is it your brain seeing what it wanted?

“Coach, over here!”

Ah, that made more sense. It wasn’t about you, you were merely a member of the public like others, just standing between his former players. You watched, processing your embarrassment, while he smiled politely in the direction of your friends. You would have melted in place if that smile was aimed at you, but it wasn’t. You sat, looking anywhere but at him. Nothing would kill your soul like him catching you staring like a creep. But the minute he diverted his attention back to his actual players, you couldn’t help the urge. Something about that man, so calm yet commanding, it made your stomach churn and twist.

And so you couldn’t keep your eyes off of him the whole forty minutes of play. Eyes diverting from the court every once in a while, just to see him stare at the game intensely, eyebrows furrowed as you guessed that he was thinking about the next best strategy for his players – not that they really needed to change anything to the way they played, if you referred yourself to the score board. When the final whistle blow, a jaw-dropping 108-65 for Tōō got the whole gymnasium on fire, the first one to express their joy being your friends. Hell, even Daiki smiled, showing a bit of care for his former team. Naturally, you looked back at the gorgeous man at the head of this whole team. He had the slightest smile tugging at his lips, but you guessed that winning was no exception for him. It was impressive.

“Girl, you comin’? We’re going to the lockers.”

You jolted at Daiki’s voice. Not just because he wouldn’t usually talk to you, but mainly because it made you realise how much you’d cut off from reality just to stare at your new crush – if you could only call it that.

“Can I come?” you asked, hesitantly. You weren’t a Tōō alumni like your friends, it felt a bit out of place to meet the team in their locker room.

“If I’m telling you, dummy.”

“Daiki! Don’t talk to her like that!” Satsuki scolded the blue-haired man, before turning to you with the sweetest smile, “of course you can tag along.”

And so you did, totally unaware of were that would have led you. You followed close behind Satsuki, feeling like you would when you were just a kid, attending some function with your parents and hiding behind their frame in shyness. It wasn’t like you, but the idea that you may fall face to face with the coach had you feeling out of your habitual state, like a silly teenage girl experiencing her first crush. But that alone would not be much of an issue – no, it probably was more on the fact that he was old enough to be your dad (well, he’d be a quite young dad if it was the case, but still!). And you couldn’t bring yourself to telling Satsuki – let alone any of the boys – how you felt about their former coach.

A guilty attraction that followed you to a nearby bar you all went to after, the middle-aged man unable to refuse the invitation out of nostalgia, or maybe because he couldn’t pass the offer for a nice glass of whiskey after a championship match. You sat at one end, thinking of yourself free of any awkward interaction with him from that position; oh honey, how wrong were you. It was ridiculous, really. It turned out that a bunch of basketball players needed an awful lot of leg space, prompting them to move around so everyone could be comfortably seated. Almost as if you were the main character to a cliché story, you ended face to face to the man you were trying so hard to avoid.

“It feels weird that you’re all old enough to drink now” he contemplated, swinging the honey-coloured drink in his glass.

Ah yes, right. He knew your friends when they were young and angsty. He was probably a big part of who they were now – the young adults you befriended without thinking much about it. And here you were, a mere stranger at a table of old friends, out of place but not deigning to leave. Somewhat, the thought of him being a mentor to these boys warmed your heart. Something about men being nurturing was oddly attractive to you.

“But I haven’t introduced myself to you, have I?” you blinked, wondering who he was talking to.

It is you, idiot!

You nodded your head, gulping your drink. What were you? Some fool who didn’t know how to talk? He let out a breathy chuckle at your face (probably).

“Katsunori Harasawa, coach of Tōō Academy’s basketball club.”

You repeated the name to yourself, muttering it as you hid your lips behind your glass of liquor. You liked the way his name rolled off your tongue, like a song. He had a pretty name, almost as pretty as he was. You sat there, smiling as you introduced yourself – but there wasn’t much to say. You were a student, Satsuki’s classmate, daughter to normal parents, raised in a quiet neighbourhood. No one extraordinary, not even a fan of basketball. But strangely, it didn’t matter all that much to him.

As the glasses emptied and refilled again and again, and you were way too far gone to even care about how you could be perceived, you might have seen him smile. An ever so charming smirk painted on his rose lips, ones he’d moisture with a gulp of whiskey. He’d let the hard liquor drop down his throat without wincing, and that’s how you knew he was a man way out of your league. It didn’t matter how nice he was to you, despite having no prior ties to you; or how nice his laugh was, when his former players would talk shit. Katsunori Harasawa was a man way beyond your scope, someone you’d admire all night hiding behind your glass, while your heart would pound the minute he looked your way.

And the next morning, all that felt like a dream. A weird hallucination of your infatuation for Satsuki and Daiki’s former basketball coach. Maybe you imagined him – he was way too much to your taste to be real. And yet, your mind kept wandering all day, at the most random times. Thoughts of that dark strand of hair he’d twist around his fingers when yesterday’s match was a tad too stressful, while you brushed your teeth. Thoughts of his nicely fitted white shirt and the tie he’d tug loose when you were out for drinks, while you ate your lunch. Thoughts of his sharp eyes and the small wrinkles that would appear when he smiled, while you were sitting in your 2PM lecture. Thoughts of his fine features, the ones you could stare at for days without ever getting bored of them, while you were buying some eggs.

Just thoughts of him, all day, haunting you to the point where you were questioning your own sanity. It’s not like you, not even in the slightest. For all the people you’d been attracted to in your life, no one had occupied your mind quite like coach Harasawa. And you wondered, what could it be? Was it the fact that he was out of your reach, someone to admire from afar? Or the fact that you couldn’t process your attraction to someone easily twenty years your senior? A swarm of obsession, the kind you were breaking your mind to understand. The kind that distracted you from reality, as you aimed on your way to the station, not even realising that the sky was getting darker. Too lost in your inner turmoil of trying to rationalise your thoughts and feelings, to feel the droplets of rain fall on your skin. It took you being almost entirely soaked, bag pressed against your chest in a poor attempt of protecting its content from the water as you cursed yourself for not checking the weather app before leaving home.

“Need a ride?”

You blinked, not sure if you were hearing well. Usually, you’d walk away in a hurry at any man who would drive next to you asking if you’d want to hop in. And for a brief second, you wondered if it wasn’t just your mind hearing what it wanted to hear.

But it wasn’t. Behind the droplets of rain that fell before your eyes was the man of your thoughts.

“Coach Harasawa..?”

“Come on, you’ll get sick if you don’t get some cover.”

You silently went over to the passenger seat, settling there while you watched the drops on your skin, sliding down to the car mat and leaving a dark puddle under you. The heat of his car was somewhat comforting, till you were reminded that it was his car.

“Do you live far from here?” He asked, eyes focused on the road ahead.

“Two stations away” you spoke, surprised by the sound of your own voice.

It was weird to talk to him, considering how you were thinking till just now that he might have just been a sweet creation of your imagination. But he was very real. You could see him blink, and the way the air conditioner would blow softly on the thin hair on his forearms.

“Come and dry off at my place, then I’ll drive you to the station.”

As all kinds of thoughts rushed through your mind at a speed that exceeded one of your words flow, you tried to decline the offer. It was not right, in anyways, to follow him home. At the back of your head came back the multiple times in your childhood when your parents would tell you not to follow a stranger anywhere. You grew up skittish and with fairly apparent trust issues, at this instant, it wasn’t the case anymore.

“You don’t have to but thank you.” You replied, unable to look in his direction without feeling flustered.

“I can’t let you take the train all drenched, it’s the least I can do.”

You couldn’t argue against him. He was right, in some way. And honestly, you wouldn’t mind drying off a bit. The way your wet clothes were clinging to your body was uncomfortable to say the least, but that wasn’t even the worst. It was the way your makeup was erased by the few drops that fell on your face, and the way your hair got frizzy. And you had to be seen by him in that state. Not that you’ve been the kind to care all that much about your appearance, but it didn’t feel right to look like a mess next to a man who was so well groomed.

And it didn’t feel right either when you stepped in his apartment �� so neat and simple, yet homely. It matched him so well, giving the aura of something way too classy for someone who, at the end of the day, was no more than the coach of a high school basketball team. You let your drenched shoes at the door, soggy socks leaving trails behind you as you took each step hesitantly.

“Wait, I’ll give you a towel. Would you want a change of clothes, too?”

“Huh? No need, I’ll head out right after anyway, I don’t want to be a bother.” You urged, clearly out of place in his home.

Your presence felt invasive; you were no one to him. Not a friend, not even a former student. He’d only met you last night, wasn’t it absurd to ask so much from him? For all you knew, he didn’t even remember your name, maybe just your face. He was probably being nice and caring out of his habit of taking care of unhinged teenagers.

“It’s spring, y/n. Evenings are still cold.”

You sighed, a part of you warmed by his words. He sounded like a doting mother, which contrasted with his rather stern look. It was getting harder for you to say no, so eventually, you folded and took the t-shirt and sweatpants he handed you, walking to his bathroom, hoping that you were the only one hearing the thumping of your heart in the silence of his apartment.

It felt surreal, you thought to yourself as you undressed and patted your skin dry. The kind of coincidence you’d only see in a cheesy romance story, far from realistic or even logical. The materialisation before your eyes of the man of your thoughts alone was way too good to be true; but being here, at his? That was beyond your comprehension. The way his pants were barely too big for you reminded you of his small waist, the one held by the sinch pair of slacks he was wearing when you saw him yesterday. Even today, he was wearing a rather formal attire, even a tie. A purple tie that was now hanging loosely around his neck when you walked out of the bathroom, seeing him standing over some papers. It was such an ordinary sight, but every single little detail about it caught your eyes as if you were looking at an artist’s magnum opus.

“Thank you for the clothes and for lending me your bathroom” you said, with a slight polite bow.

It was weird and awkward, and somehow, it made him smile a bit.

“No problem at all.”

He was nice, too nice. Part of you hesitated to be too blunt, scared of appearing rude or too prying to him, but you had to ask, because it might just be better to be honest.

“If I may, why are you helping me out?” you asked, unable to look at him in the face. “I mean, I’m not your student or… anything, really.”

You simply saw his slim fingers on the dark wood of the table, as he put down the papers he was so seriously analysing. You felt bad for a second, heart beating in at an anxious rhythm while you longed for a reply.

“Huh? It just felt right. Besides…” he sighed, pulling a chair out for him to sit on it. “My players like you, don’t they?”

“Is that reason enough to invite a girl you barely know to your place?”

You followed your words with a short gasp, realizing that you’d spilled your thoughts with no second guessing. Crazy enough, in this situation where you had been overly cautious, this might just be the first time you were honest.

“Aren’t you a blunt one?” he raised an eyebrow, following by a quaint chuckle. “Can’t argue with you on that one, though. It isn’t quite my most rational decision, but I’d argue that I still know you a bit.”

“Is that so?” you mused, resting yourself on a chair.

“You’re quite talkative when you drink, you know?”

The flustered look on your face drew a light laugh out of the man’s lips, but to your opinion it was far from amusing. While, yes, you were well aware of the fact that you had a tendency to run your mouth when inebriated, your biggest issue was certainly the possibility of you saying something you shouldn’t have last night. And as you expected him to elaborate on that – potentially digging your grave – he simply got up, pouring himself a glass of whiskey.

“Care to accompany me?”

You chuckled nervously. “I mean, should I? What if I end up saying too much?”

“What do you think that is, some interview?” he clicked his tongue, a glass landing in front of you. “It’ll warm your insides, trust me on this one.”

“Talking just like a dad.”

He scoffed, the sound making you feel just as warm as the liquor that flowed down your throat. He was nice, as much as you wanted to question that, he undoubtedly was. You didn’t feel like letting your guards down yet, but maybe you were too vigilant. Maybe it was the first impression you had of him, when he walked on the court last evening, suit pressed and face stern – dark eyes scanning the court and the way he commanded a bunch of overly energetic boys. Or it was what his relationship to your friends – a mentor or a father figure, someone they trusted and loved years after last being under his care.

So how could you not be scared of him, even in the slightest? How could you not be terrified at the idea of being stupid in front of him?

Well, eventually, you weren’t. Not once you’d emptied your glass, asking him for seconds. You were getting too comfortable, but it started to feel just right the more you got accustomed to being here, alone with him. Comfortable enough to get in his kitchen, determined to give back for his kindness in some ways.

“I’ll make us snacks, can’t drink on an empty stomach my parents say” you hummed, after getting his permission to rummage his fridge.

“How many drinks do you expect to share with me?”

“Hm?” you pouted in reflection, patting yourself as if you were trying to gauge something, “till I’m fully dry, I guess. But I’m only halfway there.”

“You know what? I don’t mind the company.” He nodded, pouring the both of you another drink. “It gets boring being alone sometimes.”

“Don’t you have a girlfriend or something?” you asked as you prepared a plate of appetizers, but you were quick to answer your own question. “Ah… I guess you don’t, if I’m here alone with you.”

Your words escaped your mouth without much thought or intent behind them, leaving you both in a lingering silence. For once, he was the flustered one – almost as if your words were projectiles hitting him right where it shouldn’t. You figured you were better off not adding to it, retreating in silence as you walk back to the dining table, nervously sipping on your drink.

“Is that an issue to you?” His voice broke the streak of quiet, forcing you to glance in his direction.

“I don’t have the right to any opinion on your private life.”

He shook his head, a soft chuckle coming out of his lips, “it’s alright, you can think what you want. And by letting you in my house, I’ve kind of made you entitled to judgement, haven’t I?”

“That’s one way of seeing it.”

“So? I feel like you’re an honest one but that you’ve been holding back” he remarked, and you couldn’t argue against it in any way.

He had you figured out, which was no surprise coming from a man whose job was to strategize and read people. You suddenly felt vulnerable, a sense of loss taking over you; yet you weren’t playing any games. It was mostly you, putting things in your head and reacting at the way things unfolded in what felt right – or so you would conclude, after a long series of thoughts that with retrospective, was based on speculation.

“You want my opinion on the fact that you’re single, that’s it?” You cocked an eyebrow, for some reason embarrassed by the request.

“It’s more that I know that you want to say something but you’re not doing it.”

You let out a breathy laugh, taking a sip of liquid courage. Ah shit, I’m gonna say it.

“I’m glad that you’re single. Here, said it.”

You took your breath, heart beating like crazy that you even said it. It wasn’t even a confession, but it wasn’t nothing either. Your words travelled straight to his head, the meaning so clear that you couldn’t even lie your way out.

“I figured.”

The calm with which he expressed himself was unsettling. You were a mess, unprepared and with no exit plan. No one prepared you to this, to the humiliation of your crush, who was significantly older than you, figuring out your attraction for him.

“Ah…” You groaned, slumping on your chair, “this is humiliating.”

“It isn’t. Not at all.”

You didn’t dare look up, but he was there. He was standing, leaning towards your chair. His voice was soft, like a feather that caressed your ears.

“I don’t understand.” You let out, in clear confusion.

“It’s frankly flattering that I caught your eyes. I’m overworked and I dress fancy to tell a bunch of teenage boys how to play with balls. I’m not really a prized bachelor by standards.”

You chuckled, genuinely amused by his words. In some ways, it made you feel better, more at ease in this instant. But you’d argue that he was wrong in multiple way. Katsunori Harasawa was a suave man, one that had such delicacy in his self that you wouldn’t even care about any of the defaults he found for himself.

“Don’t ask me why I like you, I just do.” You looked up at him, meeting his sharp dark pupils, and it made your heart jump.

You couldn’t tell why, but it felt right in that moment to lean in to leave a soft kiss on his mouth. You could cry at how soft his lips were – the taste of honey and cinnamon from the whiskey you were both drinking, and the scent of his perfume coming to you from the proximity of your bodies. And to your surprise, he kissed you back. He did, cupping your face gently and tilting it to the right angle so he could get a better taste of your sweet mouth.

And now, here you are. You can’t even make a sensical thought, not when his warm hands are travelling down your body, lifting your shirt up with urgency. His touch gets you dizzy – too far gone to even question what you are doing. All you’re able to do is tug on his hair, soft whimpers leaving your lips as you cover his face with kisses of all sorts. He laughs softly – how sweet are you, an adorable little thing in his hold. He stands back, taking in the sight of you. Your messy hair, his t-shirt rolled up above your gorgeous breasts, those pretty eyes that look up at him with the kind of need that he hasn’t seen in years.

“Pretty…” he mutters, lips trailing down your neck to your chest, leaving traces in their wake.

You blush – you feel silly, all flustered by the words of a man, when you are the one who initiated all this with a kiss. But you can’t deny the way his hands and lips touch you, proof of the years of experience he has on you. He is smooth in his transitions, the wet kisses you were feeling on your neck mere seconds ago now marking your chest. His breath is hot against your hardened nipples; he is so close, but he still doesn’t get to your sensitive buds, no matter how much they beg for his attention. No, coach Harasawa vows to take his sweet time with you. Your desperate sounds are nothing but a nice song to his ears, the soundtrack to his ministrations that exalts his senses and his cock. You can feel him hard against your thigh, the simple sensation driving you insane.

You squirm, desperately kissing him as your own hands slide down his torso, untucking his shirt from his pants and clumsily unbutton them. His skin is pale and warm, like a tropical beach, and it makes you melt, the way he feels under the pad of your fingers. You trace the outline of his muscles, proof of the carrier as a professional player that he mentioned yesterday. You had no reason to doubt him, but you were far from imagining that his body would have still been toned. It is a delicious mix of softness and firmness, one that you want to cling to.

“Can I touch you, coach?” you ask, tone too innocent for the kind of demand you’re making.

He stands back, unbuckling his belt as he clicks his tongue.

“Don’t call me that, it’s what the boys call me.”

“Are we on first name basis, then?” you question him, helping him out of his pants.

Your palms rest over his bulge, taking in the size of it. Akin a sun, it is a life beating in your hold. He hisses, sensitive – your touch is delicate and curious, and he could melt at the way you look at him with so much need.

“I think it’s totally appropriate given that your hands are on my penis” he replies, following his words with a soft laugh.

You would never peg him for a jokester, but apparently, he has some humour. You giggle – although flustered by the bluntness of his words. He is, indeed, in the hold of your hands, as you stroke him gently. He is a man of composure, but your touch could easily make his resolve waver.

“Katsunori… aah! It’s weird calling you that” you groan, looking away. The way his name rolls out your tongue feels weird, but he couldn’t disagree more.

Every word that falls of your lips is the prettiest sound to be in the man’s opinion, especially his name. It feels intimate, the way you say it. He shivers, grabbing your chin to kiss your lips softly.

“You’re doing a great job pretty, keep going and I might fuck you right away.”

“Ah? I thought you were more of gentleman.”

He chuckles, fingers tangling in your hair and tilting your head back, planting an eager kiss on your lips. The honey and cinnamon taste of whiskey on his tongue melts you, reducing your entire self to a simple being of pleasure. You’re so cute like that, he thinks, a nice girl that wants him, simply. He’s found himself warmed every night by the arms of solitude for so long, that your presence – your body, so close to him – feels like a breath of fresh air. Here you are, the first ray of sun after a cold winter, with your eyes sparkling with admiration and lust, and your hands, soft and warm as they stroke his cock.

“I am a gentleman, but you do make it hard for me to behave like one.” He smiles, fingers delicately angling your face towards him. “You look at me like a starved woman, how long has it been for you, hm?”

You pout, the sight of you like that making the blood course through his body to his hardened cock, throbbing in your hands. He’s right – you haven’t had sex in quite a few months, probably explaining in parts your insatiable thirst for the man; but he shouldn’t have put you in the spotlight like that! You would love to huff and puff, making a fuss for the way he’s got you figured out, but he doesn’t even give you the time to.

Once again, you can’t explain how you’ve found yourself in this predicament. He’s got you on your back, breathing heavily as he rolls your panties down your legs. You want to hide yourself at the sudden exposition, but you fail to. His hands prop your legs open, kisses trailing all over your thighs. What a sight, one of your glistening cunt begging for attention, and Katsunori Harasawa can only think of making it his. Every part of it calls for him – for his fingers, for his tongue, for his cock.

“I’m gonna taste you, is that ok with you, doll?” he asks, breath fanning over your erect clitoris.

The question is unnecessary, the answer is evident. You nod eagerly, a small hum coming out of your lips.

“Ah, ah… wanna here a clear answer.” He urges, leaving kisses on your inner thighs.

You groan, face buried in the palms of your hands as you feel yourself blush like a silly girl. He’s a man, you figure, your weak sounds are nearly not enough for him.

“Yeah... it’s ok” you finally say.

It’s all it takes for him to give you what you crave – at last. His tongue laps at your slit, tasting your sweet nectar and you writhe under his ministration. Your fingers tangling in his wavy locks, pushing them away from his face to look at him as he devours you. It makes you smile between your soft moans, the way this man eats you out with a kind of passion you’ve never experienced. Little do you know, that he hasn’t been with someone for so long. It’s more due to circumstances of life than anything else, but he is indeed a starving man. Seeking touch and warmth in ways he himself wasn’t aware of, until this very moment where he has you writhing under him, your essence on his tongue. He hums at the taste – sweet, like the rarest honey, and your fingers tangling in his hair. He rejoices in the melody of your cries, the wordless pleas for more. What a sweet thing you are, a puddle of desire in his hold.

“Fuck, gonna…”

“Yeah? Let it out, doll.” He coos, pacing his tongue like you want him too, willing to take you to a place of ecstasy.

You whimper, feeling an impending explosion coming. How long has it been, since a man last made you come so fast? It’s blinding, a mirror reflecting white as your thighs threaten to close around his head. He holds them still, watching you unfold as he gives you a last teasing lap – more for him than for you, in all honesty, just so he can get a last taste of you. Under the music of your pants, he stands back, watching you. You’re a sight like no other – naked on his bed, the hills and valleys of your body, an endless land all for him to explore. His cock hard in his hand as finds a condom in his cupboard – it expires in two months, he’s in luck. At the back of your mind, though, you have the dirty fantasy of doing it raw, feeling him in the tightness of your cunt in the most intimate manner. It’s wrong, you are aware of it, but something about the man before you makes you irrational.

“Hey, I’ll push in, alright?” He whispers in your ear while you feel his tip tease your entrance.

“I can take it” you nod, your odd confidence drawing a soft laugh out of his lips.

The flushed look on your face speaks a thousand words, but your resolve doesn’t budge. You hiss at the feeling of his head in between your walls looking at the man over you. His eyes are focused on you, but his mind can only think of the warmth of your pussy. It takes everything in him not to push in his whole length – coach Harasawa isn’t usually a patient man. But with you, he must be. Every second counts, so he can feel more of you.

“You’re doing so good f’me…” he mutters, a sense of pride at the way you take in every inch.

You struggle to keep in the noises that threaten to leave your throat, too embarrassed – who moans from just that? He hasn’t moved yet, but you feel overwhelmed. Maybe it’s that whole situation. The warmth of his body, the scent of his cologne, the locks of hair that tickle your forehead, his grip on your hips. You don’t know, and you don’t care to know either. All that really matters is the way he slowly fucks you, as if you were made of crystal.

“Yeah, feel good?” you mewl.

“Of course, pretty” he sighs, catching your lips in a kiss, “you feel heavenly.”

His praise sends a jolt down your body, cunt clenching in response. He grunts, not expecting your walls to hold him in such a tight grip, and it makes him dizzy.

“You like it when I compliment you, hm?”

You nod, the sparkles in your eyes making his cock twitch. He strategically holds back in his thrust – you feel way too great for him to risk ending this too soon. But that languid pace drives you mad. You buck your hips to meet his, a needy whine leaving your mouth. He laughs; the message is rather clear.

“Calm down, doll, I’ll fuck you right. Here…” he coos, pushing deep enough to knock the air out of your lungs. “Shit! You were made for me, weren’t you?”

He chuckles, drunk on you. It takes a few more thrusts and more of your desperate sounds before his resolves finally breaks. You hold the sheets, mind going blank when he finally gives you what you crave. His thrusts – deep and powerful, make you twitch and squirm. He holds your body tight, in fear of you slipping away; but you aren’t going anywhere. As you sense your orgasm coming, you whine. It’s too soon, it can’t be!

But you are too far gone. Your pants and moans mix with his groans and whimpers, the symphony of your encounter sending you over the edge. Praises fall in your ears – such a pretty thing, taking me so well… good girl, come for me.

“I’m right here, make me proud.”

It’s all it really takes for you to unleash your pent-up arousal, body shaking as you’re washed over by the wave of your orgasm. He fucks you through it, relishing in the way you cling to him. It doesn’t take long till his own release approach. He stills, head buried in the crook of your neck as he lets go of all inhibitions. You gasp, overwhelmed yet head empty.

From that moment onward, Katsunori Harasawa is all you have in mind.

#hmmmm the grip that man has on me is INSANE #that's 2 month worth of work bc yeah #hoping to rally more people to the harasawa nation with this one #harasawa katsunori #knb #kuroko no basuke #harasawa x reader #knb x reader #harasawa smut #knb smut

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aomine-ryo · 1 year ago

Note

Omg omg Ryo, that’s not a request but like, I’m literally so thirsty for some smut with dilf coach Harasawa - GOD THIS MAN IS SO HOT WHO ALLOWED HIM TO BE THIS FINE?

Imagine some sports reporter writing a piece about Too Academy rapid growth to national level and in the end getting steamy with our dilf… 🛐

Harasawa’s so fine I had to write this. It’s a long one asw but I had to for my fav dilf coach <33

Scenario: Harasawa Katsunori getting with fem!sports reporter! reader (nsfw)

Harasawa Katsunori was at his limit. There were certainly ups and downs that come with being a coach for a national-level high school team, but today was definitely one of the downs. Nothing was going right at today’s training. At first, he managed to lose the training schedule for that day, and realised it only five minutes before it started. So of course, training was delayed for about ten minutes as he and Momoi looked for the damn thing.

When they finally found it in one of his desk drawers (he did not remember putting it there), they could at last begin the practice. But when they got back to the court from his office, he was happy to find that the team was warming themselves up with a few practice shots— all of them except Aomine.

“Where the hell is Aomine?” Harasawa’s agitated voice echoed the gym as he asked no one in particular. Everyone stopped what they were doing out of sheer fear as they looked around with clueless shrugs. It was rare to see Harasawa in such a state, he was often calm and collected, so this shift filled the gym with tension.

“Haven’t seen him at all, Coach,” Imayoshi answered for everyone.

Harasawa sighed and looked over at Momoi, “Any idea?”

She shook her head no. “I’ll try looking for him.”

“Thank you, Momoi. Let him know he’s on cleanup duty after practice whenever you do drag him over,” Harasawa said sternly as he stepped on the court to try and get on with his training. “You’d think there would be at least some level of discipline two weeks before the Winter Cup…” he muttered in annoyance.

He carried on with his training schedule for the day, trying to calm himself down with some sort of normalcy, but it seemed like the universe was against him today. The team was forgetting the simplest drills and missing shots they could normally make with their eyes closed. And Sakurai’s constant apologising wasn’t making him feel any less frustrated. And when he finally got them to play somewhat better, Aomine strolled into the gym fifteen minutes late, souring his mood all over again.

“Did Momoi tell you you’re cleaning today?” he asked as soon as he laid eyes on him.

Aomine just nodded his head in response, seemingly afraid to say anything. Momoi must have told him about the nasty mood as well.

“I have half a mind to bench you for the first game against Kaijo if you keep this up,” Harasawa said sternly, rolling the sleeves of his dress shirt up.

“My bad, Coach. Won’t happen again,” Aomine said almost immediately. It was rare to see Aomine put down his pride and apologise like this but everyone knew he would hate to miss a match against anyone in the Miracles.

The addition of Aomine to the training disrupted the flow they were beginning to get into. While Aomine’s shots and movements were perfect as usual, the team just wasn’t coordinated at all. About an hour later, Harasawa had just accepted that today just wasn’t a day where he could implement any new tactics. It was just a day to improve their skills and eliminate errors so the training plan for today was just rendered useless.

Harasawa split them into teams and had them play a practice game amongst themselves, watching over them for a bit before heading over to the bench to sit down next to Momoi with an exhausted sigh.

“It’s just an off day, they’ll be better tomorrow,” Momoi said reassuringly.

“I certainly hope so,” Harasawa replied dejectedly, taking a sip out of his coffee cup.

Just then, one of the doors to the gym creaked open, with you entering dressed in a neat white blazer, black slacks and dainty black pumps. Harasawa’s attention was immediately turned to you. He had completely forgotten about the visit you had scheduled for your article about the team. As you approached the bench, Harasawa and Momoi both stood up to greet you.

“Hi, I’m Y/N, the sports reporter for Tokyo Basketball Weekly,” you smiled politely, holding your hand out for Harasawa to shake.

Your hand was soft against Harasawa’s calloused palms. He felt like he needed to be careful not to accidentally crush your fingers given his awful mood. “Harasawa Katsunori,” he introduced curtly.

“Hi I’m Momoi Satsuki, the team’s manager,” Momoi said as she shook your hand.

Based off of introductions alone, you sensed that Harasawa was as cold as his appearance would make him out to seem. It wasn’t the first time you’d dealt with non-chatty interviewees though, so you didn’t think too much of it.

“Before we get into anything, do you mind if I just took a few photos of the team practicing?” you asked holding onto the camera that hung around your neck.

“Of course, go ahead,” Momoi nodded, Harasawa just humming in approval.

The two of them watched as you moved closer to the court to try and get a few pictures. “I completely forgot she was coming today. I don’t know why I even tried to have a proper training— just distraction after distraction,” Harasawa mumbled to Momoi once you were out of earshot. However his dark blue eyes never stopped following your every move. Something about you was very interesting to him, he’d like to think of himself as a man who cares about more than just looks, so he’d convinced himself it was your demeanour. But you had only really uttered two sentences, so that was a bit of a stretch.

You began to make your way back over to the bench, content with the photos you had gotten so far. “I don’t want to interrupt their training, but I’d like to have a few words with the team— namely the captain and the ace, Aomine,” you informed both Harasawa and Momoi.

“That’s okay. You can speak to them. They’re supposed to have a water break now anyways,” Harasawa said, standing up and blowing the whistle to grab everyone’s attention. “Everyone, grab some water. You’ve got ten minutes to rest and then you’re back on it,” he announced before looking over to you, straight-faced. “Is ten minutes enough?”

“Sounds good,” you nodded with a smile. You were too intimidated to budge for more.

“Imayoshi, Aomine, grab your bottles and come over here. This reporter wants to interview you,” Harasawa called out, everyone’s eyes now turning to you as you gave them an awkward wave.

You began to ask them the questions you had prepared earlier, using your phone to get their voices recorded for later and jotting down notes as well. You were aware that Harasawa was listening in on this interview, which you didn’t really mind other than the fact that you could feel his eyes staring into your soul.

Once you had gotten what you needed, you switched the recording off and gave Imayoshi and Aomine a polite smile. “Right that should be about it then, thank you so much, and good luck for the Winter Cup,” you said, the two of them heading back onto the court to continue the rest of their training like they were instructed.

You turned to Momoi, “Could I have a few words with you as well please? I’ve heard you’re quite an important part of this team.”

Momoi immediately got flustered, a wide smile spreading across her face. “Me?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at her sudden nervousness. “Yes, of course you. I need to interview you too, Mr Harasawa. Do you mind if I get to you once I’m done with Momoi?”

Harasawa gave you a small nod, “Go ahead.”

You chatted with Momoi for a bit, going through the questions in your notepad but also just generally having a casual conversation. She was an interesting one, and she definitely knew how to keep a conversation going so you did get quite carried away with her interview in terms of time. Eventually you did realise you had been speaking to her for about twenty whole minutes according to the recording on your phone and you instantly panicked.

“Oh we’ve been talking for a bit too long now,” you said frantically as you looked over at Harasawa. “Do you mind if I keep you here a bit longer, Mr Harasawa? I completely lost track of time.”

“I really don’t want to stay here longer than I need to today,” Harasawa let out an exhausted sigh. “Why don’t we just do this over a couple of drinks somewhere else?”

You checked the time on your watch. It was almost 7 pm and a nice hot tea didn’t sound all that bad. Besides, there was something about Harasawa that you couldn’t say no to. “Are you sure? I can try and wrap it up quickly—“

“Yes I’m sure. You don’t need to rush yourself,” Harasawa said, his tone still agitated even though he was trying to be polite.

“Alright. Where would you like to meet up? I can catch a train or something—“

“A train? Don’t be silly. I’ll drive us there. Let me just grab my coat from my office,” he cut you off once more. He began to walk off, instructing the team to begin packing up as he did so. “And no one help Aomine with the cleanup! It’s all on him today!” Harasawa called out before stepping out through the gym doors.

You watched as Aomine groaned in despair while Wakamatsu began to laugh at him, Aomine shooting him a dirty glare as he did so.

“Right come on, Y/N, let’s go,” Harasawa said when he popped in with his coat a few minutes later. “Momoi, make sure Aomine tidies up properly. If he doesn’t, it’s laps tomorrow,” he said, making sure he was loud enough with the last part so Aomine could hear.

“Yes Coach,” Momoi nodded before looking over at you with a smile. “Nice meeting you, Y/N!”

You waved her goodbye and stepped out with Harasawa, walking over to the parking lot in silence. You don’t know what it was, but you were afraid to say the wrong thing in front of him. Maybe it was his cold gaze? Or the fact that he was 6’2 and towered above you?

“Sorry for taking up so much of your time,” you said, shutting the passenger-side door as he started the engine.

“You don’t need to worry about that. It’s either this or go home to a box of leftovers,” Harasawa said, earning a small giggle from you.

The drive wasn’t too long, but almost no words were exchanged and that made it feel like an eternity. You pretended to go over your notes out of sheer awkwardness as the music from the radio filled the car. You could’ve just asked him the interview questions, but that would leave you with nothing to say when you actually got to the place. Sometimes Harasawa would hum along to the song, which you did find quite endearing given his cold demeanour.

Once he parked the car, you stepped out, pulling your blazer tighter to fight the cold air. You followed Harasawa as he stepped into a warm, intimate pub. It was at this point that the difference in your ages was apparent— this wasn’t what you thought of when he said ‘drinks’. Harasawa walked over to the bar, “Could I get a whiskey neat please?”

“Of course Mr Harasawa. And for the lady?” the bartender asked, both of them looking over at you.

“Um, I’ll get an espresso martini please,” you replied, saying the first drink that popped into your head.

“Coming right up,” the bartender nodded as he got to work.

“Do you come here often?” you questioned as you took in your surroundings. It certainly was a nice place: dim lighting, cute posters and wall decor, rustic furniture.

“Yeah, I live across the street. I’m here every now and again,” he shrugged. “Well actually, I’m here whenever the team drives me up the walls— so yeah, often.”

You giggled in response and a faint smile appeared on his face. The smile definitely brightened up his appearance tenfold. “Well, that’s how it is with teenagers,” you chuckled. “Surely they’re not too bad?”

“They’re an interesting little group. I’d hate to give it to them, but they do have a special little place in my heart,” Harasawa said, the look in his eyes getting softer as he thought about it.

You had to hold back an ‘aww’ in response. You certainly did not peg him for a sentimental type. Moreover, you didn’t peg him to have any emotions at all. “That’s quite sweet actually. I might have to add that you’re a softy in that article,” you joked.

“Please don’t. I wouldn’t hear the end of it if you do,” Harasawa chuckled. The bartender handed you your drinks and the two of you thanked him, Harasawa instructing him to keep a tab open as the two of you took a seat in one of the booths.

Harasawa took his coat off, setting it on his seat before taking a sip of his whiskey. He let out a sigh of relief as he leaned back, seeming to have finally relaxed. “Okay, I’m ready for your interview now.”

“Perfect,” you beamed as you took out your notepad and phone, hitting the record button before asking the first question. The interview went on for a while, Harasawa’s mood seemingly lightening as it went on— perhaps it was the whiskey. Either way, you did begin to grow more comfortable talking to him when he began to throw in some sarcastic comments here and there, making you giggle every time.

Harasawa took a break to order you two a second round of drinks at the bar and you took the time to organise your notes as he did so.

“Here you go,” he said, placing another espresso martini in front of you and taking a sip of his whiskey before sitting back down.

“You know what? I think we’re almost done,” you informed him as you double checked your notes.

“Well that’s good, today’s been absolutely exhausting,” he sighed, brushing the dark curls out of his face as he leaned back in his seat.

“Just one question: are there any teams you’re looking out for in the Winter Cup?” you asked.

“Hm, obviously we’re trying to take it one game at a time, but I think all the teams with the Miracles are certainly worth noting. In particular, Rakuzan— they’re quite a formidable team, I think we’re focused on getting to a position where we can challenge them. Seirin is also always a wildcard, I don’t think anyone in the tournament is underestimating them after last year, so that game should also be quite interesting,” he answered.

“Yeah that’s true, I think Seirin has been a popular answer to that question. They’re definitely a strong team,” you replied, a silence filling the air for a moment as you scribbled notes down before stopping the recording. You let out a sigh, “There we go, all done. Thank you again for taking the extra time to do this.”

“Don’t mention it. It’s nice chatting to someone other than the bartender here,” Harasawa said, not shying away from making eye contact with you.

“Well I don’t want to take up any more of your time, I’m sure your wife must be waiting on you,” you said, taking a big swig of your drink to try and finish it faster.

“There’s no need to rush. And there’s no wife to worry about. You don’t need to chug your drink,” Harasawa chuckled, admiring your concern. You were far too polite, it was almost cute.

Finding out that he was single shouldn’t have excited you. Especially since he was about a decade older than you and someone that was in your field of work. “No wife? That’s a bit of a surprise,” you replied without thinking.

“A surprise? How so?” Harasawa questioned, a smug look taking over his face as he watched you panic in search of the right words to answer with.

“Well, um, I mean, I just didn’t think someone with your looks was single, you know?” you said, avoiding all eye contact as colour rose in your cheeks.

Harasawa grinned widely as he took another sip of his drink, each moment of his silence killing you more and more. “I’m flattered,” he said simply, basking in your embarrassment almost like it was a power trip. “I just haven’t quite had the time to invest in a relationship,” he shrugged.

“Ah right I get that. You know, I got out of a relationship recently. He was way too immature even though we were the same age. He wanted me to focus on my work less so I had to call it quits,” you rambled as you tried to move away from the fact that you called him attractive, except you were now just digging a deeper hole for yourself.

You had Harasawa’s full attention, for better or for worse because your brain was in panic mode. The dark haired man loosened the tie around his neck, noticing you take a nervous gulp as you watched him do so. He didn’t show it, but he was quite pleased to know that you were single too. Maybe it was the drinks, but he finally admitted to himself that it wasn’t just your demeanour that made you attractive— he loved how nervous you were with him. For someone whose job is talking to people, you certainly seemed to be a rambling mess at this moment.

“Too immature, huh?” Harasawa repeated your words. It was almost like you were throwing yourself at him. “Well, someone as beautiful as you deserves to be treated right, so that’s probably for the best,” he said, observing as you grew more and more flustered.

“Stop, you’re too kind,” you giggled nervously. You did your best at avoiding eye contact with him even though you could feel his gaze piercing through you. You took note of his dress shirt. It fit him awfully well. The fabric laid loose on his torso, save for his chest, but hugged his shoulders and biceps perfectly snug. Your eyes trailed down to his toned forearms that were on display, your mind unable to stop itself from picturing what his body looked like underneath all that.

And it wasn’t like Harasawa didn’t notice you looking at him like that. You were practically undressing him with your eyes. Surely you weren’t that much of a lightweight? He checked the time on his watch. It was quite late; the pub was going to close sometime soon. “Do you live around here, Y/N?” he asked, finally changing the topic.

“No, I think I’m a few train stations away. Might have to catch one to get back,” you replied, emptying your glass.

“I think this place is closing soon. You’re welcome to come over to mine to sober up a bit. I can drive you back home after,” Harasawa offered. While the main concern was your safety, he did also want to be with you in a more private space, just to test the waters.

“I really don’t want to impose. I’ve already taken up too much of your time,” you refused politely. You were in a state where you couldn’t trust your own judgement— you had half a mind to rip his shirt off right there, who knows what nonsense would spill out of your mouth when you were in a room alone with him.

“I insist. I haven’t had much to drink, it won’t take too long for me to sober up to safety,” he said as he began to put his coat back on, almost as if he knew that you would say yes— not like he was taking no for an answer anyways.

You sighed. It’s not like you were exactly opposed to the situation, you just didn’t know what you’d do. But you also knew better than to argue with Harasawa, knowing the kind of mood he was in earlier today. You tried to get him to let you pay for the drinks, but he wouldn’t even let you do that. As much as you appreciated how much of a gentleman he was, he was certainly a stubborn one.

The two of you left the pub and walked across the street, entering his apartment complex and taking the elevator up to the top floor. When you entered his apartment, you were rather impressed by how spacious it was— especially for Tokyo. Moreover, it was extremely well kept, practically spotless. The decor was rather minimalistic, it certainly was missing a woman’s touch, but it was nice nonetheless.

“Oh wow, this is such a nice place,” you said, taking your shoes off and walking into the living room.

“Make yourself comfortable. Can I get you a glass of water or anything?” Harasawa offered, hanging his coat on the rack by the door.

“A glass of water would be great,” you replied, taking a seat on the dark leather couch.

Harasawa joined you on the couch a minute later, handing you your glass of water as he took a sip out of a glass of his own.

“So how long have you been working at this magazine?” Harasawa asked, interested to know more about you now.

“Well, I got this job immediately after I graduated university and that was about a year ago, I think,” you replied, trying to think back to the exact date.

“You graduated a year ago? So you’re what? 22? 23?”

You nodded, “23.”

You giggled at Harasawa’s baffled expression. “You’re making me feel like a dinosaur.”

“Cut it out, you look like you’re my age,” you laughed, playfully hitting his arm.

“I am well over your age I’ll tell you that for sure,” he said, setting his empty glass down on the coffee table.

“If I saw you at a bar, and I didn’t know you, I wouldn’t be able to tell. In fact, I’d probably even ask you out,” you said without thinking yet again.

“You’ve been awfully bold today, Y/N,” Harasawa chuckled, enjoying how red your face was getting. “I admire the confidence.”

You struggled to find words to respond with. It hadn’t occurred to you how close the two of you were sitting until now. You could smell his strong cologne, the scent somehow drawing you closer to him as you met his deep blue eyes. You saw them dart down to your lips and an overwhelming need to know what he tasted like took over your body.

Almost like he sensed it, Harasawa gently placed a warm hand on your cheek, leaning in to close the gap between your lips. His touch was delicate at first. His movements were deliberate as his tongue slowly slipped into your mouth. You normally hated the taste of whiskey, but the hints of it that were leftover from the pub had you savouring it on his tongue.

You felt a hand slowly trail down your body, eventually gripping your waist as he pulled you closer to him. Your arms instinctively snaked its way to his back, not being shy about having a feel for his firm muscles. Harasawa began to take over the control, his lips getting a little more aggressive as he guided your body down so your back was on the sofa. Without losing contact with your lips, he slid your blazer off, one hand finding its way under your shirt, cupping a breast and giving it a squeeze. You let out a small moan into the kiss and you could feel him smirk against you.

The dark haired man felt you grind against the knee he had between your legs, desperate for some kind of friction. He already had you wrapped around his finger. His lips began to move lower, leaving soft kisses on your neck, your heavy breaths making him ache for more of you. He pulled away for a moment, admiring how pretty you looked underneath him. You were exactly what he needed today.

Harasawa leaned in close to your ear, “How about we continue this in my bedroom?” he whispered, nibbling on your earlobe as he waited for an answer.

“Yes please,” you breathed out almost instantly.

Harasawa took that as his cue to pick you up, your arms wrapped around his neck as you straddled him, leaning in to meet his soft lips once again. He was gentle with the way he set you down on his bed, helping you take your top off and undoing your bra with just one hand. The act alone was enough of an indicator to how experienced this man was. You watched intently as he undid his tie, letting it hang on his neck as he began to unbutton his shirt. He took his time with this, he knew you were enjoying the show. You were so fixated on his movements that you couldn’t even tell he was watching you drool over his body. You couldn’t be blamed for it, as you expected, underneath the shirt was the body of what you could only describe as a Greek god��s. His shoulders were broad and you had never seen collarbones as well defined as his were. As your eyes trailed further south, you noticed a bit of his dark chest hair, another brutal reminder of how much older he was. And you swore you could lick a whole meal clean off his abs.

Harasawa hovered over your chest for a moment before leaving light kisses all over. Eventually taking a nipple into his mouth, sucking on it as a hand began to unbutton your pants. You didn’t even know what to focus on anymore as you felt his hand trace over your panties, earning ragged breaths from you as your hands gripped onto his hair. He couldn’t help but smirk at the feel of the wet fabric as he pulled away from your breast and looked down into your eyes, “Already soaked? You flatter me a bit too much, Y/N,” he said softly, the sound of your name rolling off his tongue sent shivers down your spine.

Harasawa slipped your pants and underwear off in one swift motion. Taking a moment to admire your exposed body before he shuffled down, holding your legs open with either arm as he took a slow lick in between, earning a loud gasp from you.

He slowly began to work his tongue in between your legs, absolutely devouring your taste as teased your entrance. The grip you had on his hair was tighter than ever and the soft moans that escaped your lips was more than enough incentive for him to keep going. He soon brought his fingers into the mix, taking a moment to trace your skin before pushing a finger into you. Harasawa looked up at your heaving chest with contempt, his pants getting tighter with every sound you make. He soon added a second finger, slowly fucking you with them. The mere thought of having you wrap around his length when you’re this tight and dripping was enough to make him groan.

He slipped his fingers out of you, gaining a whine from you for the loss of contact. Harasawa quickly undid his belt, pulling his underwear and pants down just enough to relieve his throbbing member. You perked up at the sight of it, you were now sure he was sent straight from the Gods because on top of his gorgeous body, he also had a cock that was a size that could absolutely ruin you. You sat up and leaned over, your tongue kitten-licking his tip as your hand reached to wrap around his base.

Harasawa’s dark eyes looked down at you in pleasure. He didn’t even have to ask you to do this. He groaned as you licked up and down his length, teasing him before you wrapped your lips around him, bobbing your head as you tried to take more and more of him in. “Oh fuck,” he mumbled, grabbing a fistful of your hair to get it out of your face.

He eventually hit the back of your throat, impressed by your lack of struggle as he slowly rolled his hips back and forth. Your mouth was absolutely divine. If he wanted to, he could easily finish with your throat alone. But he had to sustain himself, with the long day he’s had, he needed much more than this to relieve himself.

He slowly pulled your head away from him, watching as you caught your breath, a trail of spit stringing to your lips. “Look at you. What an absolute mess you are already,” he smirked, staring as you wiped the drool off your chin with the back of your hand. It was no use though, you knew that your mascara was smudged and the drool had dripped down to your chest— you just had to accept the state you were in.

Harasawa flipped you over, your ass pointed in the air towards him as your hands held your weight up. You couldn’t help but look back, watching as he lined his length up with your hole. You felt him brush against your entrance, sliding the length of it along your wetness. You moaned in anticipation, aching to feel him inside of you, but all he kept doing was tease you. “Please,” you begged, pushing your ass up further in search of some kind of relief.

“For someone so polite, you’re rather impatient, Y/N,” Harasawa said simply. He was aching to feel you around him just as much, but there was something so exquisite about watching you squirm with desperation that made his cock twitch.

“I need you so bad, Mr Harasawa,” you pleaded.

You were quickly given exactly what you were asking for upon the words leaving your lips. Harasawa shoving himself into you in one swift motion, eliciting a scream of pleasure from you. He couldn’t resist when you asked him like that. He stilled his hips for a moment when he bottomed out, giving you time to adjust to his size so that the pain would subside. A few seconds later, he couldn’t control himself any longer, he had to move. He began to roll his hips back and forth slowly, his body brimming with pleasure with how tightly you wrapped around him.

The sound of your sinful moans paired with the sloppy sound of your wet hole filled the room as Harasawa began to pick up his pace. You still hadn’t fully adjusted to the sheer size of him, but the feel of him stretching you open like this was absolutely heavenly. You felt his big hands grip onto your waist, holding you still as he fucked your hole, each thrust hitting a spot that was so deep that you didn’t even think it was possible.

Your arms quickly gave out under you, your face burying itself into the mattress as each hand grabbed a fistful of the bedsheets, trying to brace yourself for Harasawa’s relentless pounding. He slowed his thrusts down for a moment as he took a hold of your hands, bringing them behind your back as you felt him bind them in place with a fabric. Upon looking back, you realised he’d tied your hands together with his tie. The inability to grip onto the bedsheets somehow enhanced the sensation tenfold, feeling him drag in and out of your walls, filling you up like you’ve never been before.

“What a good little girl, taking me so well,” Harasawa grinned as he smacked your ass, earning a yelp from you, his deep voice bringing you closer to your edge. The pent up frustration was showing in his movements, each thrust harder than the last.

The dark haired man could feel you trembling underneath him— you were close. If your shaky legs weren’t enough of an indication, he felt your walls begin to clench around him, your pussy somehow feeling even more irresistible than before.

“Cum for me, Y/N,” the words came as a surprise to you. How’d he know you were close? All you’d been doing so far was moaning like a fucking mess. Nevertheless you gave into his instructions, your orgasm hitting you harder than it has ever before, rendering your body completely weak as it washed over you.

Harasawa gripped onto your waist tighter, trying to hold your limp body up as he chased his own high. Your orgasm had you sopping wet— even more so before, and the older man was savouring every moment of it. The squelches, the helpless little moans, the view of your gorgeous body in front of him; presenting itself as a vessel to be used to relieve his frustrations— you were absolutely perfect.

He felt himself near his climax, his movements becoming sloppier as his breathing became ragged. “Fuck I’m gonna cum,” he grunted, his thrusts increasing in pace, eliciting your overstimulated moans.

“C-cum in me, Mr Harasawa,” you squealed as he bottomed out inside you with a groan, his cock twitching as a warmth began to fill you up.

Harasawa brushed the hair out of his eyes as he slowly pulled out of you, watching you collapse onto the mattress without him supporting your weight. It had been a while since he felt this much pleasure from another person. The sight of your pathetically weak body in front of him filled him with a sense of pride, knowing that he was the one that brought you to such a state.

He pulled his pants back up and flipped you back over, lifting you up to rest your head on a pillow while he cleaned you up. He put your panties back on you before settling down in the bed space next to you. You looked up at him with a satisfied smile, your eyes filled with lust for the older man. “That was amazing, Mr Harasawa,” you said breathlessly as he tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear.

He let out a light chuckle in response, “You know, I’d normally tell you to just call me Katsunori at this point, but Mr Harasawa just sounds so good coming out of your mouth,” he grinned, fingers tracing over the skin on your chest.

You hummed in satisfaction upon hearing those words. “I look forward to seeing you at the Winter Cup,” you said as if you weren’t still laying naked on his bed.

“Why wait until then? You’re welcome to drop by here any time,” Harasawa said softly, knowing that he could definitely make use of you for the stress building up to the Winter Cup.

A smile took over your face at the invitation, “I might just take you up on that, Mr Harasawa.”

#kuroko no basket #kurokos basketball #knb #kuroko no basquet #harasawa katsunori #touou academy #aomine daiki #momoi satsuki #knb x reader #harasawa x reader

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