takes1 - Tumblr blog

takes1 · 2 months ago

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feral!atsumu miya eating shy!reader up

back to back to back to back to back atsumu edit is stuck in my head. first time writing atsumu!!!! i made him a little intimidating, kind of sorry but not really

warnings. nsfw themes, primal themes, minors DNI

details. fem!reader / college au / reader has braces / atsumu is a creep / oral fixation kink!atsumu / needy!atsumu / friend-zoned!osamu / the twins are fighting / disrespect of personal space / narcissistic!atsumu / inconsiderate!atsumu / atsumu does not crush, he crashes / heavy petting / primal vibe idk how i got here? / 2.4k words

links. my masterlist. my ao3. more haikyuu.

Crushing on the nerdy metal-mouth Osamu kept around was bad enough.

Atsumu could rationalize you, jerk the feeling out then promptly forget, and borderline-deal with it the first three times he saw you around their place.

Yet, recently, it felt like you were over at their apartment constantly. He just couldn't get rid of you with finals right around the corner, and his brother being the hopeless dimwit who chose not to study on his own.

A welcome change to the status quo, because Atsumu couldn't get your pretty, shiny teeth out of his brain.

He tilted his head from the doorway, watching like a starved pack animal, as his brother made you laugh.

Your lips pulled back in that big, cute grin and he could see all the colorful little rubber bands stretch. His fingers twitched, then clawed against his palm. His jaw flexed under the heavy burden of his fixation.

Barely three seconds inside, and he couldn't stop his legs from coming to rest on the back of the couch. You smiled less, if at all, when he was close.

"D'ya like wearin' those?"

His oversized shoulders draped over top of the cushions, his tricep barely grazing your back just before you had the mind to move away.

"What?"

You fixed your hoodie, a tiny glance down at the comfortable clothes you chose for the ultra-casual occasion.

"Your braces," He rolled his eyes, but grinned.

It made him look like an asshole but that was not a new concept.

Osamu, in the middle of a practice problem, muttered something about how you shouldn't pay attention to him-- but how could you not?

He may have looked identical to your friend, but his energy was too imposing, too intriguing, for your secret tastes to just ignore. The way you entertained him was so subtle that nobody would have guessed you did it on purpose; you were too soft-spoken, your cards held too close to your chest, for anyone to assume you liked his curiosity.

"Well?" He leaned further in, forcing you to maintain your distance by scooting back into the arm of the couch.

"I..." You glanced to Osamu, to see if he would interject like he usually did when Atsumu started talking to you. He looked frustrated, but only at the paper under his mountain of eraser marks.

"No, they're- um... annoying."

"Well... I've worn them for years. They're expensive," You held respective fingers up to start counting all the reasons you disliked your braces, "Oh- It took forever to get used to the scratching-,"

"The scr-atching?"

His voice cracked, but it was spoken so incredibly soft that you didn't clock it.

"O-on the inside of my cheeks," You puffed out a laugh, unsure of what to make of his expression, "Brushing, flossing, that all takes longer. Um... I hate my smile- I can't eat certain foods,"

Atsumu always did this thing, where, when he got really into somebody: He would take a big breath, cross his arms, and follow a series of nodding and sighs that made it incredibly easy to tell when he was about to say something very inappropriate, or in the best of cases, 'make a move.'

And, after years of being present for the worst of these ideas, voiced in an egotistical -somewhat mindless fashion-, Osamu learned when to stop him.

The arms were crossed, tightening his already tiny shirt. You could hear the fabric groan under the pressure and tried not to stare. The sighs were already making you stop talking, because they sounded forced, and irritated.

"So...um...yeah..." You trailed, shrinking at his intense face.

He squinted, nodding, at you, but really, he was just making it look like he was listening.

It was quiet for a minute as he tried to recollect all his disgusting thoughts of his fingers, his tongue, other things in your mouth.

"Soooo, let's say, hypothetically--, y'know, you have like, a boyfriend-,"

Osamu slapped a hard palm over the side of his brother's face, not truly meaning for it to connect- but too fast in his heroic attempt to stop him.

It spiraled into a 'small' fight. You instantly moved away, swallowing a yelp.

"Dumbass!"

"Don't fucking hit me!!"

"You're disgusting!"

It felt like watching mountains throw giant, city-sized punches at each other.

They were both so heavy that they started rocking the couch back, forth, and back, and forth again. You had to get up and stand even further away to be guaranteed an ounce of safety.

Osamu pulled his twin so hard that he managed to get him rolled over the back of the couch. They then tumbled to the floor in a blind fury. The punches were less frequent, but they were still hurting each other.

Aran did warn you that they got into intense scuffles sometimes, but it all felt so out-of-nowhere. Had he cautioned you because they were this common and unpredictable?

You quietly collected your homework, minding a careful side-eye to the action, and began to shove your things into your bag.

"What are you?"

"What does that mean!"

"Can-you read minds or somethin'?! What'd I do?!"

Osamu pushed him hard by the chest, into the coffee table-- you flinched at the loud scraping sound, swung your bag onto your shoulders, and started a brisk walk to the door.

"Woah woah woah!" Atsumu's voice did nothing to make you linger.

"You're leaving?"

Osamu, more familiar, and sweeter, did make you pause.

Your face grew warm, your hands squeezed hard on your bag straps. You didn't want to turn around, but you found the strength, somewhere.

Quiet, as always, "You two seem...busy."

"We're not!" Atsumu shoved his head to the side as he stood up.

"I thought you were gonna stay the night!" Osamu punched his knee in return, and quickly made the distance while he was holding it in agony.

Now that Osamu was closer, you didn't have to speak so loud.

"Yeah- I," You glanced to his brother, warmer, "You didn't tell me he'd be around."

It wasn't a variable that Osamu ever thought to consider, just based on his torn expression.

You felt a bit guilty for making things weird, but it wasn't your fault some blond idiot couldn't stop badgering you about your biggest insecurity.

If you were going to pull this study session off, you didn't want any distractions. Atsumu was best confined to your fantasies, not interposed in your attempts to cram for the exam next week.

Still: There was no world where you would study alone if you went home.

"He's busy tonight anyway. Just in and out- don't worry about him," Osamu uttered, hands already in his pockets.

He even gave you a nothing-just-happened shrug.

Since the very second that they stopped rough-housing, their animosity had disappeared. Atsumu was tossing pillows back onto the couch.

Their sudden indifference left you pensive and insecure with your hand on the doorknob. Since you were the only one here unaccustomed to their dynamic, you were alone in dealing with the subtle aftershock of watching what you thought was a brother-versus-brother death match.

Were they not very angry with each other?

Osamu caught you glancing between him and his brother again, who was busying himself in the kitchen.

"Oh-h'yeah, we get into it sometimes. It's really not a big deal."

Since he seemed like such a trustworthy guy, you decided to stay as you had intended.

The remainder of your study session was nearly as he promised. Atsumu did leave again, headphones on, gym bag slung over his plush, bare shoulder, with keys twirling around his finger. He winked and clicked his teeth at you when he caught you peering over to the door, on his way out. That was about all, in terms of the rest of his 'meddling.'

You couldn't be certain if he was making fun of you, though, so you safely assumed the worst.

The cram session lasted until you found Osamu asleep, in the middle of writing. He had been repeating the same sequence for six minutes, a quarter of his paper filled with the start of a particularly confusing practice problem, the bottom corner soaked with drool.

Osamu was kind enough to offer you a place in his room, use his bathroom so you could get ready for bed, but something about the suggestion felt too... familiar.

You were only staying over because 1) it was so far away from your apartment, 2) neither of you were available during decent hours of the day, and 3) you didn't like your own roommates enough to be itching to go back. His spot on the edge of town was quiet, clean, and there was only Atsumu to mind.

So you stayed on the first floor, made a bed out of the couch, and used the freestanding bathroom to shower.

You were under the impression Atsumu wouldn't be back, so, the door was cracked.

The soft sound of a sink faucet running filled the silent first floor. Any reasonable person who was around might return later-- not skulk about the hallway, biding time, running countless scenarios through their mind.

He had to piss, but not bad enough to interrupt you.

You heard some floorboards creaking, so you opened the door wider in middle of brushing your teeth to peek out. Nothing was out there. Only a still, dark hallway, so you kept it open to let out the light and steam.

Atsumu studied you as you finished up, not attempting to hide again, from the doorway.

It was obvious you hadn't noticed him so he cleared his throat-- smug at how hard you jumped, how startled he got you.

"S-orry, uhm--," You tensed all over, hardly able to look in his general direction, "Were you waiting?"

You wore only an enormous t-shirt and fidgeted with it instantly. It wasn't even unnecessary, because he stared at all of you with a heavy, canted head.

Atsumu's lips pursed, the only unassuming thing on his expression, "Mm-mm."

He leaned on the top of the doorframe, hard as a rock, and pretty shameless about it, because he made no move to adjust himself. You shrank at how he lingered, how the air hung hot and heavy, after his honest admission that he was here for no good reason.

Your internal list of questions grew longer by the second.

Some were answered based on contextual evidence, such as: He was still wearing his gym clothes, and you thought you could see the bulge of keys in his pocket, so he must have gotten back in the last five minutes.

Assuming the best, he needed to pee before he went upstairs and you happened to be here. Assuming the worst, he- well- maybe just wanted to give you a hard time.

"Oka-y," You breathed, glancing down to the last step in your routine, "Well... I need to put new bands in, so."

He gave you nothing.

When you motioned to the bands you had for your braces, he didn't even follow. It started to feel predatory, how keen of a stare the guy had. The kind of intensity that made you careful to not make any quick or sudden movements.

Was he going to watch? Was something wrong with him?

It somehow felt rude to close the door on him, in his own apartment, so you didn't try that.

Your unsure glances, many in number yet useless in changing anything, were the only thing exchanged between you.

After a minute, when you were nearly done and towards the very back of your mouth, just getting used to his presence, it looked like he was going to cry when you checked him in the mirror.

"Are you-- ugh, Jesus- gross," You had to suck off the excess spit from the band, completely taken with embarrassment, but worried, nonetheless, "Are you... okay?"

He broke the wall trim- a big, loud, cr-ACK! that made you jump back.

Though it was loud, and scary, it did shake him out.

He blinked slow, with a sigh, and pried his own fingers from the door. He looked up at the future expense, but didn't seem remorseful in the slightest.

"I'm..." Atsumu was at a loss for the first time.

His eyes fell from the top of the doorframe back down to you, ravenous and deep, "I want you so fuckin' bad."

All out in the air, it stuck. It was too raw to be a joke.

Still, rubber bands pinched in between your fingers, speech impaired-

"Wow, okay, um- can-- Can I finish this real quick, though?"

There was that little tremble in his chin, as you hurried to place them further back, bent at the hips right against the counter to check their proper spot in the mirror.

He shoved his strained face in his bicep with a groan, breathing labored, while you shakily packed your things back in your night bag, applied some much-needed Vaseline, and washed your hands. It felt like ten minutes, but it was hardly one.

You lingered after wiping them off on a towel. Unsure, turned on, and violently nervous.

"You gon' come outta there on your own, or-," He ducked his head under the frame, an unfriendly grin on his jaw as he chuckled, "Should I drag ya out?"

A whimpery laugh caught in your throat. Was he trying to be funny? He sure as Hell didn't make you want to move.

You backed yourself into the wall. His fingers were light and gentle. Amused at your demeanor, he found himself having to pry the towel from your iron grip, and redirect your hands to his shoulders.

He didn't mind your nervous pushing.

"You're awful cute," He seethed at the smell of your conditioner and leaned down into the roots of your hair to get a better angle.

His thumbs pressed firm into your tummy, palms swallowing your waist, as his words buzzed against your skin, "You know 'Samu talks about you, right?"

Oh, Jesus- All you responded with was a closed-mouth sigh. You had a gut feeling about him, but did not want to find out this way.

If it wasn't for your weight on the wall, you were confident that you couldn't stand on your own. It was hot and pounding between your legs. He felt sinfully good and he hadn't done anything other than be proximate.

"Mmm."

His hand caught you from looking down and away, still so gentle, guiding you back to look at him. Your brow furrowed with the effort it took to do so.

You could now feel how rough his palm was, on your tender cheek.

"You don't like him the same way, do ya?" He asked, but it was hardly voiced that way. It was teasing; a mean jab at his brother.

The way he hung over you, looming down to get close, made it feel like there was nowhere else to go.

Your fingers filled with his damp shirt, face burning hot under the pressure, as he took his time, now that he had you right where he wanted you. All to himself.

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@integers @paradoxicalwritings @yuchacco @megapteraurelia

my masterlist. more haikyuu

♡ notes: im just making it status quo to not guarantee part 2's bc i disappear sometimes

♡ lmk what you thought! in replies or: inbox

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takes1 · 3 months ago

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Omg your Mattsun work just killed me 😫😫 your writing is amazing!!! I need a part 2 to see what will happen next? Does he actually like usss??

you're too sweet for mattsun p.2

thank you!!!!! this part two is a pretty wild idea i had, but i feel like it works. lmk what yall think :,) or if im just insane?

warnings. nsfw themes, explicit profession, minors DNI

details. fem!reader / angsty, sexy feel / college!au / jealous!mattsun / revenge trope / dancer!reader / complicated feelings / grinding / PDA / flirting / heavy petting / tohru oikawa is a hopeless bottom and hajime iwa is an overthinking virgin / 2.8k words / part one here.

links. my masterlist. my ao3. more haikyuu. shorter imagines

You were grateful that you didn't have Matsukawa's number.

He couldn't call, or text, to ask where you were for the next week of classes.

When you considered it for longer than a second, you figured that he wouldn't have done it anyway, but the delusion of forced space helped to make you feel less exploited.

He had no way of knowing that he was keeping you up and at that early class. You couldn't brave the walk by yourself. Knowing things would be different, you opted to take your free absences without hesitation.

"First call for booth 6. Sugar! They're yours," Your supervisor called from the entrance of the dressing room.

On the bright side, not attending your morning class gave you more time to rest for your part-time job.

You were typically stacked in the earlier hours of the night, so your call fit right in with the last of your mascara. College-aged guys, your smaller, cheaper demographic, weren't out as late as the regulars. The other girls were still lounging before they had to commit to getting done-up.

"Dunno how you do it, Sug'," Star chuckled at your little stumble as you fixed a heel strap, "You're always good to go at first-call."

She looked you over, nonjudgmental, but strict. She was the one to train you a few months ago and now she had taken the role of a mentor.

School didn't pay for itself.

This was the nicest gig around-- the older girls let you know that little fact right away; how lucky you were, how good you had it. You weren't a transfer, like many of them. Just a newbie with a short contract.

You grinned at the praise, eyes shining at her approval as she walked back to the couches.

The night hadn't kicked off yet, so you gave a quick check to the security cameras before you stepped onto the floor. It was a good, safe habit you had picked up.

Booth 6 had five customers. The one in the center was a very familiar face.

"Oh my gosh--," Your breath left you and did not return, "Ohhh- nonono, no..."

Work was a different world. Your world. He was not allowed to be here. He was allowed to be on campus - that's it.

"What is it?" Somebody called from the lounge.

"I- I know that guy," You called back, your worry now sounding ridiculous in your own ears when you said it out loud.

"Uh-ohhh! Ha-haaha--,"

"So what? I know half the guys that come in here."

Star came back, the only one who cared, but even as you pointed his face out to her, you knew there was no getting out of this. None of the other girls worked for undergraduate-level cash.

"Ex-boyfriend? What's the big deal?" She tilted her head at you.

"I know it sounds dumb," You winced, "But I had? Have? A huge crush on that dude, and he-- well..."

The dressing room was suspiciously quiet. Many ears were open, mouths were closed.

"He basically laughed at me and said I was 'too nice.'"

From the couch, shouts and screams ensued:

"What?!" Shared by many.

And, "He laughed at you?" Was the chief reason for concern.

Your quiet words had sparked a complete outrage, surprising you, because you weren't close with many other dancers besides the sparse few. It seemed rejection was a great rallier.

Another blunt warning from the door, "Ladies! We need a girl at booth 6 right now."

"Shut the fuck up, they can wait ONE minute."

"We're workin' on it- send a bottle girl, dumbass!"

Second-calls usually didn't spur a strong response, but this was an occasion.

Once again, you had to point out Matsukawa on the screen, and listen to a flurry of insults and mean-spirited jokes about him. Some were funny, but none of them made you feel good.

Star stood next to you, less impressed by your situation, patient and unfazed by the collective energy. But she saw how you still didn't feel supported. There was less anger on you than what would've been satisfying.

"He goes to school with you?" She asked, under the voices. The other girls were tearing into his outfit, pointing at him on the screen.

"He's in my history class."

There was a feint softening in her hard features, "When did this happen?"

You sighed, realizing you had wasted an entire week in your feelings, "Monday."

"And you haven't seen him since, right?"

You squinted at her tone, how it sounded crafty and light, and nodded.

"Here," She placed a hand on the back of your shoulders, "Come with me."

At first, you were scared she'd waltz you right out there and do something rash, but she stopped short at the door. It was to get away from the chatter. You could hear the music and feel the bass in your heels from the main floor.

You liked your job, as secretive as you were about it. It was fun, better than working fast food, or retail. Kept you feeling confident and active.

"If you let that boy intimidate you, in your element, when you're on that stage-- that makes you a joke. You might as well be working for the circus."

She stared forward, but you watched her, captivated.

"You like to dance, yeah?"

You nodded, enthusiastic, but still a little worried, "Y-eah."

"You still like him?"

A missed beat. You looked at the ground, then forward, then decided, "Yeah, I do."

"Then what's so scary about it?" She shrugged, "It's already different. He's here for a show. Go give'm one."

Star didn't linger to hear you out, to let you think on it, or argue. She just opened the door for you and trusted you could take something out the pep talk.

The lights were blinding, but only for a moment. Only for as long as it took to catch your breath, get yourself hyped, and into your work mindset.

Your song was on, and while you didn't necessarily believe it was fate, it was a little something extra to be profoundly grateful for.

You were grinning, and this time, it didn't fade as you rounded the back of the booth to say hello.

"Ooooohhhh my- god, wowwww..."

A pretty brunette sat at the corner, first to see you, quick to make you feel welcome.

"Hi there," You giggled at the way he sat forward for you.

The rest of them were an impressive pull of good-looking guys. Athletes, for sure. And tall, even sitting down. Matsukawa blended in so well that you were shocked you hadn't entertained the idea that he might have been on a team. He never talked about it, at least.

They had all been rowdy before you came around. Now, they were collectively slack-jawed, expectant but clearly new here, and getting their gluttonous fill of your tiny outfit.

You ran your hand through his extra-soft looking hair and didn't come up disappointed.

"What's your name?" You smiled down at him, picking his chin up from hip-level.

"Tohru," He breathed- a hitch on his exhale when you let him go with a light shove.

You held your hand out for the next one, "And you are?"

He had darker, spikier hair, close on the sides. He didn't meet your eyes, not once, and he practically whispered when he found his wits enough to take your hand, "Yutaro."

Poor little Yutaro stared at his palm after you let go, moving past Matsukawa entirely, to the fourth of their gang.

They all roared with laughter at your disinterest in their middleman. It gave you the feeling that none of them knew-- which was so much better than the alternative you'd replayed in your head. Maybe you weren't the only person Matsukawa didn't tell things to.

"Hajime," The strongest, most reliable looking one greeted you- too careful to look at only your face.

And, finally, Takahiro.

"I thought we weren't supposed to touch you?" He asked, an innocent enough tone through his words.

You flicked your wrist back before he could shake it, leaving him shocked and despondent, and turned on your heel to sit on your private stage.

"You're sooo right about that," You winked, a fake pout on your face as you lifted your legs up to turn around, rest your head on the panelling to watch him upside-down, "That was your only chance."

Generally, you didn't do much but flirt and laze around before you had an idea of what they were here for, how much they would pay you, what they liked the best. You enjoyed this position, heels kicking in the air, hands roaming the robust, cut-out straps on your body.

They all sat forward on their elbows -except for Matsukawa-, and though they were not right-side up, the view was immaculate.

"What are we supposed to call you?" Oikawa, the furthest away, sat on the edge of his seat.

You raised your brow, "Ohh, the bottle girl didn't tell you?"

Usually, that was part of their job to introduce you- but it must've gotten mixed up, or she caught wind of a potential switch.

Some very dumb, hesitant head shakes gave you a good laugh as you sat up smooth, rolling intentionally slow onto your tummy. You rested your chin on your knuckles.

It played out so well that you found yourself plumb in front of Matsukawa.

"Sugar -- because I'm so sweet."

The rest of his group loved it, repeating you, whistling-- he looked down at you, unimpressed, with an vague expression. You must have missed the initial and satisfying shock by entertaining the other company first.

Matsukawa bit the inside of his cheek, nostrils flared, eyes heavy-lidded as he leaned gradually forward like the rest of his friends.

His eyes were busy, but motionless, and dead-on yours. It could have been the turmoil of frustration. It could have been a heavy hurt. Maybe even a struggle of lust somewhere, or could he have missed you?

"Y'hear that, Iwa? Sugar," Tohru took a swig of his drink, then reached for his pocket.

He presented you with a generous few wads of cash.

It was a great way to break your concentration-- your eyes shined, flipping through the bills, listening attentively to his tipsy spiel.

"--Anyway, it's Iwa's birthday," He pointed to Hajime, "And we want him to have fun-- what will that get us?"

Fun. Birthday. You had danced plenty of times for occasions like that, for far less.

It was so much easier than you had built it up to be, upon first glance at the situation. You loved watching Matsukawa watch you. He didn't whistle, didn't say anything -even as his friends got drunker and bolder-, but he never looked away.

There was a long time that you expected him to get up and walk out the door because of how deep and still his frown was, practically carved onto his face. It never happened.

You were quick to learn that he was affectionately referred to as Mattsun.

"Can you do the splits?" Yutaro shook off the sting of a shot, wincing up at you.

You accepted a $50 and slid right into one. You had to laugh at how easy they were to impress.

"You think I would've gotten this job if I couldn't?" You joked, soaking in their playful cheers, the smell of fresh bills, the heavy aura you felt three feet away.

It was getting hard to look past him.

Sure, he had been picked on in the back for his 'unoriginal' style, but the other dancers were a tough crowd.

His dark shirt fit him well. He had on a nice leather jacket earlier for the rain, but it had been at his side for a while. His pants were a thick, expensive material, and not dissimilar to the ones he liked to wear around campus.

Despite his seemingly intentional stoicism, he was accepting any and all drinks that came his way. It was how his buddies were trying to 'cheer him up.'

So, you swung your legs back to the side, stood, and finally decided to get personal.

You straddled Matsukawa.

"Did you miss me?" You purred.

His jaw got tighter, his brow set in a struggle, nearly pained. He sat up straight and tall to meet you. He didn't touch, but he took his time looking at you up close, absorbed and broody.

"Is that a joke?" He admired you in an obvious, staggeringly pensive way. Like he could handle you.

You felt yourself blushing, despite dancing on him.

He didn't waste a second, but never rushed to speak, and didn't stutter, as you held his arms behind his head, "I'm not the one who's been ditching class."

Maybe you should have thought longer for a better opener.

You put a tiny bit of your weight on his lap as you moved.

It was a bratty, petty maneuver, because you couldn't argue with him. Not with the heat of his body so close to yours, not with his friends watching and hollering, not with how drunk you were on his calculated taste of attention.

And there it was, what you really wanted; his soft flinch.

One that brought his eyes down, interrupted his breathing, spurred the twitch of those strong arms under your too-loose grasp.

His head rolled in a somber, self-aware manner, thick neck flexing with a throaty and closed-mouthed groan.

"That's what I thought," You tried to spit it out like acid, but it sounded kinder with your uncontrollable giggle breaking in halfway through.

When you let his arms go, he kept them behind his head.

From here, you pulled that gold chain out from under his tight collar and fixed it, gentle, with a sigh.

You stared at the glimmer. He stared at how the lights danced so well off of your pretty face. He missed seeing the sun on you.

"Gold isn't your color," You muttered and slid off of him.

They made the session fly by, and you were feeling pretty energized by the time the club was in full occupancy.

Tohru motioned for you to come closer. The volume of the place had grown too much to try and yell from the side of the booth. You slid off of the stage and onto the main floor to hear him out.

His breath was sharp and spicy, like he had been sucking on Listerine strips between strong shots.

"How'much for a private dance?"

You rolled your eyes and snorted. Nobody had requested that with you, before. Again, most of your customers could barely afford entry.

Once again, your hand found its way back into his super-soft locks, this time craning his head so you could whisper without the chance of him trying to kiss you:

"You can't afford it."

Tohru's warm face lingered at the down when you let go. He was pliable and a little sweaty-- a dangerously good look on him.

He groaned and slumped back against the booth, "It's not for meee!"

You smiled at him, intrigued, and once again sat on your stage as he ruffled through his pockets and adjusted himself.

"This couldn't get'a birthday dance?"

He must've had at least the rest of your tuition in his hands. What the fuck was this guy's job? Was he not a student? He was the only one paying in hundreds.

You laughed, astounded, and unable to mask the shock of seeing so much money in person.

"Yeah! Iwa!!"

"Let's gooo!!"

The only person to look less excited than Iwa was Matsukawa. Everybody else made up for their lack of enthusiasm. Though, with the birthday boy, you could sense it was more uncertainty, if anything. With your messy acquaintance, it was always going to be more complicated.

You held Iwa very lightly by the hand, leading him to the private rooms, where it was a little quieter, a bit dimmer.

He eased when you whispered in his ear to reassure him that nothing explicit was going to happen.

Of course, you wanted to throw one last look to Matsukawa, but it would've been too obvious.

Matsukawa, on the other hand, didn't much care about the perception of his emotions- nor had he, for most of the night. He was profoundly taken with you and wasn't trying to hide it. It was only convenient now that he had a difficult demeanor to dissect.

The two of you walked out of sight, bringing him to stand and crane his neck around, chest swelled with hurt and worry.

But he took one look at the guards in the back, cursed, and planted himself down onto his seat with his face in his hands.

☆VIP☆

@integers @paradoxicalwritings @yuchacco @megapteraurelia

my masterlist. more haikyuu

♡ notes: can't promise a part 3, but it's getting crafted

♡ (i love getting inbox notifs) lmk what you thought: inbox

208 notes · View notes

takes1 · 3 months ago

Note

Come back we miss you and your beautiful writing

you're too sweet for mattsun

:( truuust i wish i could write easier with my schedule now :((( this one is heavily inspired by hozier's 'too sweet". also for my pookie bear meg who inspired me to write for mattsun

warnings. none, sfw

info. fem!reader / fluffy-angsty / college au / unrequited?feelings / crushing on mattsun / stoic!mattsun / soft!mattsun / friendly, or flirting? / tasteful hand thirst / 1.7k words / part two here.

links. my masterlist. my ao3. more haikyuu. shorter imagines

"How'd'you sleep so damn well?"

Matsukawa's gruff greeting brought a lightning-fast smile to your face.

At this point, you didn't bother stifling how much you liked him. You were comfortable living with your crush, being contact-acquaintances for as long as you got to sit next to him, being friendly because it felt good, living off of his quiet questions.

You were quick to take the step back, hand clasped to hide your excited shiver, to lean onto his desk.

A sigh was your qualifier, more than ready to speak to him, "How do you mean?"

The way he lifted his head to meet your eyes told you enough about how much sleep he had gotten, last night. His eyes narrowed at the morning light, streaming in from the window behind you.

His deprived brain chugged hard to formulate a response, but he never looked away from your face to collect his thoughts. You leaned a little forward, smile just barely not a grin, as you enjoyed being under his subtle and steady stare.

Matsukawa was at least partial to you. It was in the slow, comfortable lean against you if you had to sit next to another at assemblies. His relaxed, slow gaze during lectures-- the kind that didn't let up even when you acknowledged him. It was hard to tell what was platonic, and what was the chance of returned feelings.

Either way, you were certain you liked him more than he liked you.

"Y'always come in- I dunno- soooo," He sucked in a sleepy breath through his teeth, shaking his head, "Peppy."

'Peppy' sounded a lot like 'pretty,' and you had a six second break to get your heartrate back under control when he finally looked away, to take a long sip of his hot, black coffee.

Three silver rings on his right hand. None on his left. Thumb, ring, and index fingers.

He had those strong, wide fingers that made you wonder if those were standard sizes. Silver was his color.

"Mm-," He set his cup down, "D'you chug a couple of energy drinks before you come in here, or what?"

Your smile popped right into a grin, then a shy laugh at him- you couldn't quite find your voice, or your words, so you shook your head. You loved when he asked about you, but could never quite find your courage to keep a conversation rolling.

"No?" He smiled at you. Something in his face- something about him made you think that he knew.

Your grin wouldn't go away. Again, you shook your head, and he chuckled with you, maybe at how you couldn't reply. It felt like you were bathing in tender affection.

That was, in a way, kind of the answer. Morning person or not, you found it a lot easier to get out of bed for a 9 a.m. history lecture when you knew there was going to be a handsome guy sitting next to you.

The professor came in, you sat down, and began to get your notes out, breathing deep to calm yourself.

He tapped silently on your desk-- your eyes trailed up his chiseled forearm, unable to ignore it, and up to his face.

"Y'still good for the library t'night?"

You nodded to dismiss him. You had to face forward and lean onto your knuckles to cover your sore jaw.

He smirked at you again and took his hand back, after a moment.

There was plenty you didn't know about Matsukawa yet. You were trying to savor him, if that made any sense, by not going to find out too much at once (other than a futile search for an Instagram profile that did not exist).

What you did know was limited to five minutes before class and your study sessions in the evenings, after you ran into one another both looking for a study room one day.

That was at the beginning of the semester, and now midterms were closing in. It was getting more important to keep your conversations as limited to course material as much as you could, but never had it been so tempting to stray from the usual pattern.

Matsukawa dropped his bag from his shoulder, softly closing the study room door behind him.

The room instantly felt seven times smaller.

"Hey," He nodded to you.

It was about 10 minutes after. He was never prompt, but had never been this late before. You made sure not to let the doubt show.

"Sorry, I got kinda- held up--," He pulled out his chair, quick to take his laptop, books, and notebook out, "There was some sorority booth out on the patio. Charity shit."

His chain, thin and gold, swung out of his lower cut shirt, and you wondered if he knew not to mix metals.

"Anybody cute?"

He snorted at that, shaking his head to dismiss the question.

"What-uh, what chapter are y'workin' on? 'Cause-," He flipped through the index to find the title of a chapter.

"I'd like 10, if I can do that one."

You were thankfully working on 9, but it felt unimportant. You narrowed your eyes at him.

"Really?" You remembered passing them earlier, too; All quite pretty, very friendly. You knew this was pushing your luck, but your curiosity was too strong, "None of them were cute?"

His confusion lightened up as he rolled his eyes at you and dipped to find a pen in his bag. He could not have been less interested in talking about them.

"Mmm, I dunno (Y/n)," He shrugged and pulled out a pen, testing it on the corner of his paper.

A simple, distracted, sigh, "Not exactly... my type."

That made you pause. Your brow raised as you tried to fight your giddy smile down and occupy yourself with Chapter 9.

You said very quietly, "I'm on 9. You can have 10."

Still preoccupied, clicking through the lecture presentations, "Perrrrfect."

Study rooms were nice, especially compared to the rest of the library floor. They were silent. No students walking right by you, no doors opening and closing, you didn't have to worry about setting your stuff down too loud.

Today, it did not help you feel more comfortable.

The question was the only thing you could hear, eating at you like acid- climbing up your body whether you wanted it to come out or not. It was completely his fault for giving you such an easy ask.

Of course, the only thing left to say was:

"So...what is your type?"

Matsukawa even smiled like he knew you'd ask it, too.

That lazy eyebrow raise, a couple clicks, and he started to write on his paper, "Can you give me some ideas?"

Dead silence. You didn't even breathe, praying that this wouldn't be a huge airball.

"Someone like me, I guess?"

Your ankles were crossed tight, shoes firm to the floor, nails that already happened to be touching skin were digging-- but your heart eased, and you felt like you were being lifted, as you watched his face lighten up.

He chuckled.

It was a rare sight, a rare sound, "Oh-h- sorry, you're way too sweet for me."

Then the pang, sharp as a church bell, struck you through the chest.

His words were worse than a plain rejection; it was a denial of your depth, your flaws, like he only understood your existence from a pedestal.

Too sweet? Wasn't it common to be nice to others? What did he want-- for you to treat him like dirt? Was all of that attention, the fondness and conversations, not considered flirting? It made you feel silly and unimportant for caring so much, if it was such a ridiculous idea to entertain for him.

The way he looked over at you, in the quiet of your nonresponse, felt like pity. The same mellow, attentive, warm look like always but now-- it brought you confusion, instead of pleasure and comfort.

"Hey," He tried, his handsome grin fading a quickly as it had come. He tilted his head to take more of you in, but came up short.

You deflated. Heavy but somehow emptier, unsure of where to look, how to hold yourself, where to even put your hands. You didn't realize until this point that you were working under the assumption that he had feelings for you, too.

"Hey?" He asked, again, painfully crackly, like the sound of a slow pick-up truck riding along wet gravel.

Your brow twitched. You couldn't act like you didn't hear him.

Matsukawa rarely faced you because there was hardly a reason for it. So, when he shifted to your side and pulled on your chair to sit in front of you head-on, you had to swallow the lump in your throat and bring yourself to at least meet his chin.

"I didn't mean to be hurtful," He lingered on every word carefully, and deliberated on the next phrase for many moments, "I was trying to be honest."

He knew that old proverb, 'You never know what you've got 'till it's gone,' to be quite true in many instances. Yet, he'd never experienced it personified before.

There was no smile on your jaw, nor your eyes, and it made you look vastly different. It made him feel a touch of panic, so he searched harder, trying to climb out of the hole he dug himself into.

Your tongue was pushing on the back of your teeth, lips pursed, straining to find a reason to linger. You could study in your dorm room.

"We're just so different, y'know," He was nudging at how you'd spoken about that before, "That doesn't mean I don't- like you."

His thumb was feather light, brushed barely against your forearm on the table.

You sucked in a breath and shifted away to gather your things. His pseudo-confession fell on deaf ears. It was the kind of sure motion that one couldn't stop. He could only watch and feel colder as a chill ran down from his shoulders, when he realized it was an intentional move to get away from him.

"I- think- umm," Speaking was difficult, so you kept it painfully short on your way out of the study room, "Yeah, I think you're r-ight."

Did he just kill the sun?

It sure felt like an apocalypse-level catastrophe. He wasn't sure how he was ever going to find the motivation to go to class on Wednesday, now.

☆VIP☆

@integers @paradoxicalwritings @yuchacco @megapteraurelia

my masterlist. more haikyuu

♡ notes: i can't PROMISE part 2 bc i've realized i be letting ppl down too much not delivering those. you're welcome to ask tho

♡ (i love getting inbox notifs) lmk what you thought: inbox

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takes1 · 3 months ago

Note

Not trying to pressure or anything I understand it takes time or if you’re not interested in continuing it that’s fine but just in case no one has begged you for pt 2 of inexperienced lev😭😭 I keep checking your page hoping I will see it soon🙏🏻

p.2 clingy!inexperienced!lev x reader

half-done part two has been in my drafts since the first one was written, but there was some bad timing and writer's block. sorry for the long wait!

warnings. heavy nsfw, minors DNI

details. fem!reader / praise kink / size kink / clingy!lev / riding / overstim / handjobs / multiple orgasms / top!reader / puppy love!lev / loss of virginity / begging / needy!lev / dacryphilia / college au! / manager?trainer?reader / aged up characters / 4k words

links. my masterlist. more haikyuu. my ao3. my imagines.

It was 5:12 a.m. Your brain was foggy, your face all stiff and dry, and your throat scratchy.

The warm bundle next to you shifted. You glanced down, already confused and disoriented, and realized what that was. Who that was.

You rubbed your face with a start. "Jesus..."

There was some rustling, slow and quiet, behind you. You twisted to watch Lev, half-asleep, grasping for your pillow.

"Mmm-m-!" He grumbled, a little whiny at the end, like he was dissatisfied at something. He clutched the thing close to his chest under the covers.

Why was he still so cute?

You had to rub the smile off of your face. This was, indubitably, a bad situation.

But now it was 5:14. He was warm, and smelled like bourbon and sweat, and his sheets were soft, and you had two options left. No more playing around under the excuse of alcohol, a fun night, or extra time.

Your hand hovered over the lock of hair covering his temple.

Would he tell anyone? Hell yeah, he would. No doubt about it. He was so stupid; it would slip, somehow.

Maybe if you told him, explicitly, that this needed to be lowkey, he might just make it his mission to carry that wish out for you. You didn't want to say it, though.

Soft, and tender, you brushed the hair away from his pretty face.

He sighed through his nose and squeezed that pillow harder.

You smiled. This time, you didn't try to suppress it. It grew into a grin that felt good on your face.

You lowered to your side again, hand busied with his light-colored hair, pushing the rest back so you could give him a slow, gentle kiss to his temple.

He took a big breath in, indication that it woke him up.

"Good morning," You took your hand away, resting your head in your palm, instead, to watch him become fully cognizant.

At first, he squinted at you another sleepy moan.

Then, his eyes widened, his breath stalled, and he flinched.

"Oh my g-od--," He coughed, pretty dry, too. It took a few seconds for a real reaction.

"Ohhh shit-!"

Lev sat all the way up lightning fast and banged his head with a loud boom on the ceiling. He fell back with a loud groan.

"O-hw! Oh- Mm! Owww..."

You giggled, able to slowly sit up on your knees the way he couldn't, and placed a hand on his chest when it looked like he was about to try that again.

He was beet-red, and his forehead had a little divot on it from where it slammed.

Your cooing was automatic, but didn't help him come down in the slightest. Neither did your hands, trying to hold his face.

"Fuck- fuck, fuck, I'm sorry--, I'm so sorry," He flinched away from your fingers, instead opting to keep his face in his own grasp.

"Why are you sorry?" You laughed, confused, careful to put your hand on just his belly, "We didn't- we didn't do anything."

That cherry-red complexion was horribly flattering, and all too adorable. He sucked in a big, relieved breath and sighed.

"Oh-! Thank God- thank you!!"

Was he really that worried about it? You thought about taking your leave, after all. He didn't seem so into the idea. More careful, now, he began kicking the covers off. He was hot to the touch, and looked the part.

He groaned, nursing his headache with his hand, as he muttered, "God, I thought Kuroo was gonna put a hit on me if I did anything..."

You didn't really need the context to know that Kuroo probably threatened him behind your back. That didn't surprise you but it was disappointing to hear this way.

"Kuro wouldn't- he doesn't--," You sighed, arms crossed, unsure of everything, now, and not wanting to lie about what you knew your friend was capable of, "He's cautious, but he's not evil."

It all went over Lev's head. He was plainly incapable of reading between the lines.

"Don't worry about Kuro."

His brow raised in understanding. His eyes dipped to the rest of you, but you didn't see it because you were too busy staring at his morning friend. How it was bigger than you assumed- since bigger guys tended to have smaller-looking dicks, based on the referential law.

You took a breath and stretched, hands touching the ceiling in the process- "It's only 5 something, by the way. We have some time."

Lev watched your shirt raise, invested in the perfect reality that you were not wearing pants.

"That's... that's good."

"Mmmhm," You watched him look you up and down, unable to hide your smirk, your pride, and you purposefully hiked your shirt up at the hip.

"You look comfortable," You teased, nodding towards his plaid pants, and the monster barely tucked away in them.

"Y-eah," His voice cracked- unable to fix it, and now painfully aware.

Waiting around on him to initiate any conversation, or suggest anything, was probably going to be futile. You made the bet and decided to full-send, instead. Your 'conversation' instantly diverted to nothing of importance, or real relevance.

"Mhm, you look-," Your leg slowly slid over both of his, your hands readjusting to either side of his chest, "-Like you're about to slide off, so you should probably scoot closer to the middle, yeah?"

"Yeah..." He repeated, mindlessly.

He liked when you said mhm. A lot.

Wide eyes were still getting their fill of your bare thighs, straddled over his hips. You 'readjusted' and bucked slow against his hardon.

Lev did not know what to do.

His jaw worked with the monumental effort of keeping himself 'composed.'

You threaded your fingers over his hovering hands, between the webs of his fingers, and caught a chill at how much bigger his were.

How was it even fair for him to have a body like this and not know what to do with it?

"Do you have girls over often?"

"Y-eah--," He mumbled as you placed his big hands on the sides of your hips, keeping your own over his knuckles, "I-i mean no, no- never."

You smiled.

"You're the first," He admitted as a breathy afterthought, when you started poking around under his shirt.

The two of you shared a look that communicated he meant it in a couple of different ways. It made you slow, and just rub little circles under his belly button with your thumb. You wanted to eat him up, but needed to be sure of a few things first.

"Lev?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

You hung your head back with an eye roll, unable to not laugh at that.

"Stop saying yes ma'am-!"

He giggled with you, and gave a silly, "Oh-kay."

"I want to know if..." You tapped your fingertips over his tummy, thinking, speaking slowly, so that you weren't giving him a leading question, "Would you be... interested, in being taught a few things?"

The control it took to not rock against him as he shifted, as his fingers filled with anticipation over your aching hips. You took a sobering inhale through your nose so as to not sink your teeth into him.

But all you got was an indulgent scent of his sweat, his sheets, and the now very faint smell of his expensive foreign cologne. It was a reminder of how bad you wanted him last night, too. That puppy dog look in his eyes now mirrored what you had been struggling to look away from five hours ago.

Dipping down, relaxing all that built-up tension onto him to steal a hungry kiss-- it was faultless. Perfect. He pulled you in, hard.

"Mmh-mm-!" Rolled out against your open mouth.

He was so whiny like you had imagined, so eager and shameless about how bad he wanted you.

Another gasp- trying to catch his stolen breath- was interrupted again by your rough kisses.

You kept him still by the back of his neck, fingers splayed in his messy hair. He kept his own dutifully where you had placed them, only just now using his aimless strength to keep you forced against his cock.

He let you push his shirt up past his chest, groping and grabbing every inch of him while you could. You knew he was strong, and big, and pretty-- that was just a fact; obvious, defining traits about Lev that made him more of a target to be picked on, in good fun.

But touching taught you all the ways that just looking had failed you. Being able to slide your hands across his skin, suck red marks into his throat, get close, made him all the more real.

"Oh my god-," You perched up, elbows on his chest, "You're- so cute, Lev. I really wanna fuck you."

He looked exhausted already, all warm, damp with sweat, huffing under you. Like you had just pulled him aside at practice. Even like this, he wouldn't rock against you. He probably didn't know how.

It was awkward in a sweet way; you sighed as you rolled your hips against him, reveling in his tight jaw, his screwed up brows.

His crooked grin was enough of a reply. Like a little, 'Really?'

"I-I can pull it out for you, if- you want," He glanced from you to where you were connected, clearly too excited to form much more of a thought.

You chuckled. That was incredibly easy. You knew it would be, but not to a comical degree like that.

In your attempt to make room for movement, you made sure to rock against him a couple of times. His hands, his jaw, were tight as you let him take his pants off. Torturous, but subtle.

"I dunno if I'm the first to tell you this," You sighed and tugged off your shirt, "But you're crazy hung."

He buzzed with your praise, but was unable to fully appreciate it with how familiar you were getting with him, so quickly. You weren't shy about it, didn't think much about nudity, and said sensitive things plainly-- it was a huge turn on he didn't realize he had.

His cock was heavy. It fought gravity trying to pull it back to his tummy as you took it your hand. You ran a light fingertip over the head to break the line of precum, noticing how all the rest pooled at his happy trail.

He seethed and jumped hard at the sensation- and you pretended to not notice.

Nervous and excited, he giggled at how impressive it looked in your hand, instead of his oversized ones.

"Wow- hahaa, you make me look huge,"

It was clearly not this angry-looking most of the time. Real red at the tip, nearly purple because of how long he had been painfully hard.

He would wince at the slightest touch, vision soft and unsteady as soon as you brought your grip down to the base. Your hand wasn't even lubricated.

Though you found him amusing, and ridiculously cute, you kept it to yourself in favor of another question.

"Would you like me to keep calling you Lev?"

You smiled at his heaving chest, his hard stare down at your slow-moving palm.

"You can call me- aah-h,anything you-h want--," He seethed at how you pumped him faster, just so he would speak less clearly.

"Fuck..." He kept massaging your thighs, huffy, until a thought came across him.

"Oh! Oh, can-ah--," Lev shut his eyes for just a moment, "Can you tell me when'm doin' good?"

You hummed, understanding almost right away; praise whore. He always fished for compliments at practice.

A solid spike, an alright pass, maybe some lucky serve was always followed by that surprised and open-mouthed grin, pointing, and maybe a, 'Didja see that?! You saw that, right?' In retrospect, you liked it more than you did in the moment. He would usually screw up the follow-through because he was busy looking for a pat on the back. That, of course, was no reason to tell him that he did a good job.

Yet, sitting on his lap, cock in hand, watching him beg for it again-- you wished you had entertained it more, just to see him satisfied.

"Ahh- you want me to call you a good boy and all that?"

His giggly, excited groan spoke for itself. "Y-esss-ss."

You had to chuckle, too. You let him know that you'd only entertain it if he truly deserved it.

Lev was truly beautiful. Every flinch, even the rise and fall of his breath, revealed an intricate but strong torso under you. He was a bit lanky, yeah, but still fell short of thin. His reach worked for him and had its practical uses- which was attractive, in a subtle way.

The partners you had been with before did not come close to how perfectly he was sculpted. He only had his poor timing and rambunctiousness to blame for his lack of a girlfriend.

And such a pretty face. Even when his features were all screwed up with intensity, or droopy from a hellishly long rally, he never looked ugly.

His huffing quickened, cock swelled a bit, and he reached for your wrist.

"M-mhh-- I'm-," His hand was just a fist, right next to you, and his tummy flexed hard in resistance.

It was short-lived. He grabbed you and easily kept you still at the base of his cock with a shuddery sigh.

"What did I tell you?"

You kept your question real sweet, letting him do all the work for you. It was fun seeing his brow twisted. His hand flew off of your wrist, back to a fist at his side.

His exhausted laugh turned into a slight whine, once you kept going.

His cock was dark, strained, after-- what? Maybe 3 minutes of playing with him? Sure, he had been hard and halfway stimulated for longer than that, but it served as strong reminder of his inexperience.

"Thaaat's better," You sighed with your head tilted, eyes narrowed, at his panicky breaths.

"Yeah? Isn't that better?" A sweeter, meaner question, hoping he would try to respond.

Lev knew what you were doing- his open mouth twitched up at a corner, a poor attempt at a smile before a horrible wince, a huffy cry to stop, because he was about to cum.

"Pl-ease, AH-h, pleas'please, fuck," He tried, but couldn't make a full request.

You grinned, loving how unraveled he already was, how easy he was to please.

Your sugary sweet tone was natural, "Good boy."

His orgasm was slow, messy, and loud. You never chose to speed up for him, so you were incredibly impressed that he was able to, given so little stimulation.

But his euphoria looked short-lived. He seemed worried almost right away.

He was huffy and trying to talk himself down with a bunch of unnecessary apologies, shifting a little too much for such a tiny amount of space.

He had cum on his own chest plenty of times. Though he never felt the proudest, this was a new kind of disgusting. It was right in front of you.

"S-orry, I'm--,"

You had to tell him, very slowly, very softly, "Calm downnn... It's okay."

"Sorry," Was another one, but it was more relieved, and raw.

"You are sooo cute when you're nervous," His watery eyes dipped from your blacked out eyes to your chest, "But you gotta relax."

Lev was finally taking all of you in, getting worked up, never softening, at the sight of you. Of course, he loved how tiny and bossy you were. That was the basis of his crush- but now, looking at the logistics of everything, his mind started to spin.

He let the imaginative and misinformed idea that he would be 'too big' simultaneously fuel his excitement, and take the logical forefront of his mind.

The words fell out of his tired mouth in a difficult mutter, "I don't wanna hurt you."

"You won't--," You started right away, but your stare, your words, faltered.

You looked down, at your hands on his, how this position was just about the only one fully in your favor. Lev was capable of hurting you. You didn't want to lie, "You don't need to worry about that."

He shuddered against your feather-light kisses across the side of his face, to right under his ear.

"Sh-ah-h--,"

Your hand dipped to his twitching, sensitive cock, pumping him, coaxing him:

"You let me lead, and you won't have to worry about a thing."

His head tilted back, nodding at irregular intervals, mouth open and panting. The sight was adorable and your smile went unseen while you lined yourself up with him.

You gasped as you took him, trying not to come across as too surprised or, in reality, delighted, that he was so hung.

Lev was noisy, and didn't get any quieter from there.

"Fuuuck-!" He was completely enraptured by how you felt from the inside.

He sobbed, tearless, and dug his fingers into your ass with a groan, "God, you feel so good- ohhh fuck,"

These walls were paper thin. You pressed your palm over his mouth, fighting the desire to hear more of it.

That really did it for him. The casual ease of you riding him, how firmly you held his short cries back, all mixed into a new, solid preference in sexual partners that he would never shake.

His hands swallowed up your mid-back, warm and strong. He didn't want to get in the way of you moving, but he wanted to hold you.

You hummed at the way he filled you up completely, stretching you with every slow rock of your hips.

Your own fingers found their way down to your clit and many things started to click.

Maybe this didn't have to be a one-time thing. There was, potentially, the possibility that he didn't run his mouth to the team, or give anything away nonverbally.

You tilted your head down at him, all broken in and damp with the sweat-- cum still all over his chest. Your palm loosened to get a better look at his gorgeous face.

And since you weren't keeping his head still anymore, his eyeline naturally lowered.

"Oh- w-ow--" He winced again, voice breaking, "You're so pretty..."

Your giggle spilled out faster than you could stop it. He grinned, almost sleepy-looking, at the sight. Lev always looked a little bit in-awe; whenever you spoke to him, looked at him, and especially touched him. But this was a different kind of expression.

It put all kinds of butterflies in your stomach. A little more than the usual hook-up ones.

Arms weaker- unable to acknowledge such an honest compliment- you slid forward to give him a few appreciative, soft kisses.

Lev learned how to move, then.

It caught you off-guard when he started to slowly fuck you back. Legs bent a little, hands soft but squeezing firm at your hips.

"Mm!" You squeaked against his mouth when he tried to bottom out- your nonchalant sigh was too shaky of a cover-up. There was more teeth than lips from his prideful smile.

Thankfully, he was still too new to do much more than surprise you once. His grip was soft enough that it didn't keep you anywhere.

"Don't get cocky," You warned, slow and quiet.

He bit his lip, searching your eyes, the exact way he did when you corrected him at practice. It made him feel a thousand times better.

"You wanna make me feel good--?"

"Yes."

You told him how you wanted it, and to air on the side of caution unless you told him otherwise. He learned well with enough reinforcement, enough incentive, and attention.

Team sports seemed to be failing him by design, because Lev was putting things into practice faster than you could finish explaining them.

"--And use your--h-ah, your-hands..."

"L-ike-- mmh- like this-s--?" He choked, eyes black with ecstasy, big hands swallowing up your hips so easy it should've been a crime.

"Harder," You gasped.

He was so deep, you could feel him in your tummy, stirring a delicious buzz down your legs. Now his strength would be needed; you were holding yourself up by just the lock in your arms.

Strong fingers dug, still so careful, into the sides of your ass, his thumbs pressed hard around the front of your hips. The amount of times he snuck long, wistful stares at your body, under layers of clothes, halfway across the gym-- he was left reeling at how silly it was. Now he would always have the knowledge of how you actually felt, squeezed between the webs of his fingers.

It got harder, suddenly, and you fell forward to your elbows with a whine.

"Ah-ahh-Shit-mm-mnha-!"

His loud string of curses at your tone, your pretty face scrunched at how he was making you feel, was kept largely unintelligible. It mostly sounded like an long, uneven whimper.

"O-h my god-!" You gripped him by the roots of his hair, voice tiny, legs starting to really tremble, "I'm s-o close--,"

He whined like the admission did something to him, physically. You had to be sure he understood, even floating high above, so he didn't take this timing off.

"Don't stop."

What you did not understand, in the moment, was that your scratching, and pulling, and that accidental, low tone you used to tell him what to do, how to do it, was only getting him more worked up.

You came all surprised, and filthy, covered in this possessive sort of victory. It really did it for you that you were his first, and that he looked so gone.

Then you just had to kiss him.

Delighted, but still tired, he tried his best to keep up with you. He was new, and distracted, and already sloppy, but you found appeal in his effort.

He stopped only when he had to pull out. Which, in total, didn't make for a long time kissing.

"F-uhck, ahh- ha-ah," His voice was clipped, and pitched higher as he pulled out, barely needing to pump out his second orgasm.

It was all hot, and sticky, and messy between you. The sight of his sweaty, exhausted expression made you want another. But, you could see this arrangement playing out some other time- so you dropped it and decided to be sweet.

"Mmm- Good boy," You chuckled against his jaw, sucking another kiss into it.

You desperately hoped that it would leave a mark.

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taglist. thank you for your patience 🥹

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takes1 · 3 months ago

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HEY 🐈🐈‍⬛ AGAIN!!!! hope you’re doing well! it’s been awhile since i’ve checked up on you :) hope life is ok! good luck on everything!!! <3

imagine: cuddling with kyoutani (maddog)

details. sfw / fluff / chubby!reader / insecure!reader / touch starved!maddog / possessive, clingy maddog

maybe kyoutani doesn't understand your biggest insecurities.

his hands always find the hem of your shirt, disregarding your soft push against his forearms. palms sliding across skin with no clear direction. just to touch, just to be closer.

the way he sighs into your hair, how he eases into you but never relaxes, you bite back your immediate guard.

he doesn't grab your tummy out of a desire to be difficult- nothing intentional, no malicious intent.

but you squirm anyway, because you've learned how to resent your features in a way that he will never comprehend.

the sleep is evident in his words, spilled hot and messy across your shoulder:

"mmh-- stop movin'."

kyoutani might be half-awake, but you've been wrenched out of any hope of sleep now.

your own fingers, gentle but focused, wrap around his wrists, and push them off before he can understand you're trying to get away from him. the bed creaks, a few springs snap, as he takes a sharp breath in--

"you're not doin' this shit again," he grumbles, no respect for the space you prefer.

it's all an evil, half-baked and messy readjustment to keep you still, keep you squished with nowhere to go against him- he sighs again, all over your neck, a strong thigh between yours. you love it more than the urge to protect your confidence.

past partners might've gotten frustrated at you.

but despite kyoutani's similar lack of understanding, he never bites. he's not an easy animal to shake, after he decides that you're his.

links. longer, sluttier haikyuu. my other imagines. my masterlist.

notes. hi my love!!! everything is ok, i've just been trying to stay focused on finishing up my degree! how are you!!

taglist. 🤍 @integers @megapteraurelia @paradoxicalwritings @yuchacco

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takes1 · 4 months ago

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i miss u

imagine: akaashi pining over you

details. sfw / fluff / unrequited crush / pathetic!akaashi / simp akaashi / unspoken feelings / study group / canon overthinker akaashi

just thinking about how akaashi would never make the first move.

akaashi would rather let his crush eat at him- rot him from the inside out- a confession just gnawing at the back of his throat- than make one wrong move with you.

you don't even have to be intimidating. you're probably the sweetest member of his study group. he loves how you include everyone in a group discussion, how you glance over to him every once in a while with a friendly(?) grin in the middle of your sentences, how you validate others -even when they're wrong, or not contributing.

the worst you could say is, "ohh, i'm sorry-- i'm just not interested."

but even the thought of such a feather-light no makes him want to claw his eyes out.

he watches, instead. he's quiet and he hopes that it makes him look cooler than he feels.

he sits with bated breath every time you choose to sit next to him. he consolidates his things slowly to make a little more room for you. a couple- no, several- glances to the side of your pretty face. your friendliness isn't some blinding blast of pure sunlight like he's used to, with bokuto. for that, he's unsure how to talk to you.

he takes the chance to stare while you speak. his cheek is smushed against his knuckles, lids low with deliberation. his thumb presses against his pencil, rubbing, absentmindedly.

no, your brightness is more of a soft light. of dawn. something that reminds him of time, of pressure, and that he should enjoy it while the opportunity is still there.

"what do you think, akaashi?" you turn to him, a flicker of surprise on your face when you catch him eyeing you like his next meal.

it embarrasses both of you.

he takes a deep breath in, flipping through the textbook, and tries his best to say something of any kind of relevance-- but it's only to fill the awful silence.

yeah, not this time. maybe never.

links. longer, sluttier haikyuu. my other imagines. my masterlist.

notes. i miss you too anon. ty :,) i've never written akaashi before but this was refreshing.

taglist. 🤍 @integers @paradoxicalwritings @yuchacco

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takes1 · 4 months ago

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Hello! Popping my request in here. ‘ v ‘

Your Kuroo and Kenma fic was to die for, but what I really need is a NSFW Bokuto and Kuroo with reader. Maybe a polyamorous situation?

Because how could you have one without the other? they’re a package deal. 🫱🏻‍🫲🏼

kuroo x reader + bokuto nsfw

this has been in the drafts for a while, just needed to stitch it up. sorry i been gone ya'll, i'm getting ready for big girl life. i can't write and be on top of everything else at the same time rahhh

warnings. heavy nsfw, minors DNI

details. fem!reader / mmf threesome / f!rec oral / praise kink!bokuto / scheming kuroo / soft dom!kuroo, switch!bokuto / overstim / begging / established relationship / himbo!bokuto / everybody is possessive / shallow 3sum vs legit poly theme / 2.3k words

links. my masterlist. my ao3. more haikyuu.

Your feet were dragging across the floor as you shouldered the bedroom door open.

The exhaustion you had accumulated from that cursed double-shift left your face heavy, your limbs aching. The dull, fuzzy noise of the TV didn't even set you off as unusual.

Kuroo was sprawled across the mattress on his phone, already dressed for bed in the t-shirt you wanted to wear.

You groaned at him, grumbling some half-baked, silly threat to take his clothes off.

He laughed at you, lively, despite the late hour, and spoiled you with a flurry of kisses across all your favorite spots.

"Oohh... Bad shift?" He chuckled.

You started clumsily unbuttoning your stupid, stinky blouse for a few difficult seconds before letting his bigger, steadier hands take the role over instead. But he started doing it back up-- you let out a confused cry. He shushed you.

"What--?"

His lip was tucked between his too-perfect teeth, usually something he reserved for real exciting moments.

He whispered, "We have company, baby."

You jumped in his grip, eyes flying open to scan your bedroom, and realized somebody was sitting in his big gaming chair. It made you feel about a thousand times more tired.

There was an arm visible, troubleshooting his console, and the sound of some games getting shuffled through. The hand was huge, and you couldn't easily recognize who it belonged to. It -for sure- wasn't Kenma.

Before you could scold him for not warning you, he pressed a raunchy kiss to your jawline and pulled you in for a firm hug. You shudder, unprepared, and cautiously eyeing the back of that chair to make sure you had not just critically embarrassed yourself in front of some famous athlete.

Kuroo often had members of serious leagues over, sometimes for PR, sometimes only because he was a cool-people magnet.

"Shhh- it's just Bokuto," He grinned into your shoulder with a giggle, and for the life of you, you couldn't figure out what was so damn funny, "We're playin' some games."

That wasn't as relieving as his tone would indicate.

Bokuto was a topic between you for a few reasons you were too tired to mull over, right now.

With another shiver, perishing the thought of your 'third' talks, you pushed him softly away.

After lending you the shirt you wanted -because he always gave you what you wanted- you chose some PJ pants to wear for as long as Bokuto decided to stay over, and left once again to go wash the day off.

The idea that he might leave while you were in the shower was not reality. It wasn't much of a bother, because something about his vague form in the dark kept you feeling lighter, out of curiosity.

You slipped under the covers next to Kuroo's leg.

Clean, and cool, and tired. You didn't even reach for your phone. The lamps were on. No alarm set. Kuroo was chatting quietly to Bokuto. Their controllers were clicking. Your body kept perfectly still as you began to fall asleep. 19 hours. Of work.

You only stirred at the feeling of closeness, new and slow, on your other side.

It was a passive, warm, sort of presence. Their conversation then kept you from falling immediately back asleep.

"It's fine, dude!" Bokuto winces, realizing his own volume in the process of it coming out of his mouth. That was from your left. You shift to your right side, closer to your partner.

He's quieter, as he clarifies, "I still like hangin' out."

They were still playing, just further away from the screen.

"Maybe- uh, some other time?"

There's no response to him; only the soft sound of their fighting game. It starts to follow a rhythm of noise that lulls you back down, but you feel a hand massaging your hip.

It was impossible to mask anything with all the sleep still hanging over you. Your thighs squeezed, twitchy, and you took a short breath in.

Your gasp was not loud, but the way it stilled them made it feel that way.

"You awake, babygirl?"

That pet name was reserved for sex only-- it jumpstarts your heart. What was he playing at?

Your eyes open, barely, in a firm inspection of his face.

There was a tiny squint at the corner of his eyes. He was trying not to smile. When Bokuto looked up at him, basically asking for guidance, you put it all together.

He was scheming. This was no accident; Kuroo wasn't the type of guy to attract coincidence. Most everything he did was on purpose because he crafted it so.

"You weren't awake for all of that, were you?"

His thumb prods, firm, into your hip joint.

When you try to roll over on your back, flustered at his tone, his touch, you bump into Bokuto's knee. He must've shifted closer. You didn't know what to say-- their exchange was still vague.

His chuckle at your slight panic makes you tense.

"That'd be pretty embarrassing-," Bokuto seethes at the idea, his strong chest filling up even more. His little strangled groan, barely covered by a false cough, doesn't go unnoticed, "Not gonna lie."

You're sandwiched between them.

You need to keep your arms squeezed in because they had completely commandeered the mattress space. Your guest felt a little guilty, looking down at you, so he attempted to make things better.

Bokuto slid further down, under your covers-- you scooted closer to your boyfriend, your cheek squished into his hip.

He remained still, like he doesn't intend to... participate.

"Why don't you tell me about work, hm?"

He's taking the roll of a sentient brick wall, instigating, here and there. Your brow furrows, and you have to glance from Kuroo's genuine interest to the wild animal he invited into your apartment. Right into your bed.

No doubt Kuroo told his friend that you don't take well to the spotlight, and they're doing all the theatrics on purpose to get a reaction out of you.

"You- you don't want to hear about my shift--," You shudder.

You suppress a squeal at Bokuto's rough palm. It found part of your exposed belly, where your shirt had lifted, as a result of your squirming.

It reminds you of the rant you had gone on, the last time you talked about how bad you wanted to take both Kuroo and Bokuto. Maybe, in the safety of your relationship, and still whisked away post-orgasm, you had been overzealous with lustful desires.

Kuroo acts like you're being ridiculous. He sighs, too candid, "Of course I wanna hear- you always tell me."

His hand started rubbing your scalp, reassuring, and he tilted his head down at you.

"I look forward to it."

So soft, and sweet, and considerate. You sink, a little, and think about apologizing-

That big hand slid up and firmed right under your bare chest, "Ohh, I wanna hear about it, too!"

You wince away from Bokuto's intense eye contact-- you can't even look this man in the face, or keep your composure with his hand on your tummy. Forget about- What all did you say? Let him destroy you?

The weight of his dense body made the bed shift deeper in his favor, not Kuroo's. He was more than capable of destruction.

"Really?" You sigh, breathless.

Kuroo shimmied down to your side, at last, but it came with him stripping all of you of the blankets.

"Well, he can ask the questions," Bokuto leaned further over you, a new smell, a new kind of intensity.

His brow finally lowered to something more relaxed, his quick eyes bouncing around your somewhat covered body. A thumb, you're not sure whose, brushed your nipple and you flinched up towards him. The two worked in tandem to get you cozied up that way.

Finally, a hand that you know is Kuroo's, grabbed your chin to bring you in for a kiss. Bokuto watched, impatient, fully palming your chest.

Kuroo's mellow, deep voice brushes your lips, not quite done with kissing you, "D'ya mind if he gets a little taste while you take me through it?"

He was dumb, and hot, and enthusiastic-- the kind you might not want to date, but would make for a fun time. You trust that they talked about it. You trust that Kuroo knows you enough at this point, and will stop things if they get too out of hand. You're into it by now.

"I don't mind," You barely get out before he takes your mouth hostage again.

Bokuto, though clumsy, and heavy-handed and overexcited at the best of times, still made for a welcome change.

"Ohh- fuck, f-uck-!"

His tongue lapped enthusiastically at your soaked, sensitive cunt. Kuroo kept one of your legs to himself, holding it casually, with a lazy smile across his face.

"Mmm, does'he feel good, babygirl?" His words were a warm, confident purr against your hairline.

Kuroo typically was slower, kind of went at his own pace, when he went down on you. He liked talking while he did this sort of thing.

Bokuto sucked a soft, wet kiss to your clit before pressing the flat of his tongue all the way down, then right back up. He carried no intention of keeping anything 'toned down,' for the sake of romance. He just wanted you to cum, as fast as possible.

You gasped, nails scratching hard against his forearms.

"Yes-y-es, ah-h-!"

He hummed, approval- if you had to put a connotation to it, fingers firming around your throat, "Good, good. Now tell me about your day."

Your noncompliant whine, though realistically earned and downright adorable to him, was not what he asked for. He rested the side of his face onto his fist and sighed, pouty, at you.

"Hmmmm," Bokuto's interjection buzzed against you-

"M-mnh!"

"You two are, like, so cute," His head popped up for a second, his fingers grazing over your entrance, instead while he addressed his friend, "Good for you guys."

Kuroo grinned. "Thanks, buddy."

Their relaxed, apathetic conversation lit fire-y chills down your arms. Kuroo slid a heavy palm down to your wrist, smooth and controlled.

Sure, he was experimental most of the time, but this was a big first for both of you. You assumed he might tread on the more cautious side. Did he have everything so planned out that he didn't feel protective, or conservative with the information he gave, at least?

"Where's my recap, babygirl?" He, again, sighs at you. It's chock-full of wistful attitude.

"I-, I, I-- hh-oh-! Oh, my gosh--," Tears pricked your the corners of eyes.

Maybe Bokuto was really good at giving head, and Kuroo knew it? That's why he was forcing you to split your mind?

His tongue was just faster- the right pressure you needed, the right mix of messy and careful, quick and slow. His nose bumped your clit as he really got his face in it.

"Awww," Kuroo cooed at you.

The smile on his jaw faded every time he saw you looking at him. What an actor. He wasn't cut out to be so cold but he sure loved to pretend, especially for an audience.

"You better not cum, princess. I promised Koutarou he could try that pretty pussy out tonight."

His threat was so toneless, you took a few seconds of empty, clueless staring to understand him.

'Don't cum' didn't match up with his soft lips, sucking on your clit again. You felt him smile.

"Mm-!" You went to push him off of you, because you were way too close, "Bokuto- pl-ease--,"

"Shhh, baby. Call him Koutarou," He snickered at you.

Your fingers had barely reached his stiff, frosted tips before Kuroo intercepted them. His longer digits possessively laced through the webs of yours.

But he didn't take them back, like you expected him to. He set your hand on the back of Bokuto's head, pulling him in, encouraging him to stay right there--

"Mmmh," He moaned, obedient, relaxing against you.

His strong arms pulled at your hips. It shoved you right to the edge and there was nothing left to stop the momentum.

You squeaked out a panicked sound, and now that Kuroo wasn't holding your leg open, you squeezed his head between your thighs, panting, begging for a break. It didn't help to move him.

"A-aah-!"

Kuroo couldn't help but grin at your conflicted bliss and despair. It was, after all, evidence that you wanted to be good for him.

You were a trembling mess as you came down, muttering-, "N-no-, nono- I wasn't-- ah-hm, Koutarou!!"

Though Kuroo let your hand slip out from under his, his own was still affectionate and in place, tangled in the roots of his hair to keep him there.

It sounded wet, what he was doing to you.

You flinched, moaning and squirming at the overkill, but didn't dare grovel. Kuroo liked it too much. You'd be digging a deeper hole if you gave him the chance to tease.

Though overstim was his favorite torture on you, he couldn't be bothered to punish you for long after that. You tried so hard not to cum, and you were just too cute, so you got an automatic pass.

His palm slid away after he got his fill. Bokuto came up, practically drowning, but happy about it.

"You've gotta teach me that, sometime," Kuroo rolled onto his back and put hands behind his head. He was so hard, and it was laughably obvious through his shorts, but he made no moves to palm himself. Maybe he was trying something out?

His thigh prodded at yours, back and forth real slow, as a grounding sensation for you.

Bokuto licked his lips, wiped his face, and peered down at you like a meal, "How's tomorrow morning work?"

You were shaking like a leaf.

"Or--," He smirked, a little toothy and crooked at the solid number he had already done on you, "Fuck. What about right now?"

☆VIP☆

@integers @paradoxicalwritings @yuchacco @megapteraurelia

my masterlist. more haikyuu

♡ notes: i can't PROMISE part 2 bc i've realized i be letting ppl down too much not delivering those. you're welcome to ask tho

♡ (i love getting inbox notifs) lmk what you thought: inbox

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takes1 · 5 months ago

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MORE FUKUNAGA PLSSS IM STARVING MOTHER💔💔💔 I ATE IT UP LAST TIME AND I RE READ IT LIKE EVERY THREE DAYS😞😞

this was so funny and has never once been a forgotten addition to my inbox.

shohei fukunaga would risk everything just to see you one more time

warnings. none, sfw. minors still DNI

details. sfw / fem!reader / pining / stolen kisses / closet freak!shohei / forbidden long distance / mutual crushing / karasuno manager!reader / everybody thinks this guy is unsettling / romantic / is it wrong to headcanon him as yandere? / 1k words

links. my masterlist. more haikyuu. my ao3. my imagines.

A blur of your hair, seen from the window of his bus, shocks Shohei's body upright. Nothing quite fixes his slouch the way you do.

As he cranes unnaturally to confirm if that was you amongst the massive, unorganized gaggle of players queued up to leave for their respective cities, there are a dozen Karasuno jerseys, and that's enough to fly on.

"Please stop the bus, sir. I-- forgot something."

Shohei was completely doubled over in remorse, and respect, to their less-than-happy bus driver. What can you expect from a bunch of ungrateful city boys anyway? He muttered a curse under his breath and the bus sighed to a stop.

The doors had half a second to fold open and he was already leaping out onto the concrete with surprising, accurate, and needed agility.

He bolted at points, and managed to squeeze through at other times, past the violent sea of teams separating your bus from his.

None of Karasuno had been told to load on, yet. A handful were picked to throw bags underneath in the storage compartment, but you were conveniently sitting pretty and watching the crowd, for nothing in particular.

In fact, you were mulling over some lukewarm regret over not telling Shohei a proper goodbye. Neither of you were ever certain you would get to reunite, and with Nationals done-- what else was there to bring you together?

You thought you spotted a Nekoma uniform, completely out of place- and in the flash of time it took to recognize who it could have been, you were scooped up with some impressive strength.

"(Y/n)--," He huffed against your hair, but his tone never tired, never dragged- it was always flat and pleasant, "Please-."

Those big eyes looked droopy as they searched your surprise. You were very happy to see him but it did not show.

"Please come see me in Tokyo."

Some voices got through to you, the both of you, in your shock.

"Huh?!"

"What did that punk just say?!"

Nishinoya was rolling up his sleeves after loading the biggest, heaviest bag into the bus, "Hey! Lay off our manager you creep!!"

"Wait-waitwait-!"

You couldn't explain fast enough- Daichi had to play middleman and stiff-arm the two buffoons, though he himself wasn't the biggest fan of that look Shohei had to him, nor how he ran up on you like that. He didn't correct Nishinoya for calling him a creep because he did look the part.

"Don't be rude!" You shouted back.

You had to usher him away, further from your now nosy team. He didn't seem to give it any attention, or energy, so it made you briefly wonder how often he was belittled like that.

"God- I guess," You had to shake out your nerves, all giddy from his hug, and his attention, "I'm sorry, I guess they're all still jocked up on adrenaline- or something--,"

"I don't have a lot of time--"

"Right! Right- sorry, um... Come- come see you? In Tokyo?"

Your hesitation to give him an instant 'yes' spurred his nervous movement- a jump, in his hand that brushed across your lower back and pulled you closer. That shrub behind you looked sharp, too, so while he was at it, he fixed your orientation so that you switched spots. Your back to the crowd, his back to the shrub. He could see anyone coming from here, too.

You shuddered at all his touching. "The city? I-h-- I dunno, Shohei. That's so... far."

It was at least a bullet train away. Possibly the better half of a days' worth of travel. Little Karasuno in the mountains was your home, and you couldn't possibly dream of travelling by yourself through all of that.

There were two teams loading onto their buses, now. The crowds were starting to become organized lines, or blocks, in order to leave.

He shook his head, considering the only alternative with a thick swallow. "I can't wait around for another practice game to see you again."

It was quiet, for a beat. No guy had ever, ever looked that serious about you before. Your hand was rising to touch his face, to see if that worry was actually real.

"I...I can't-."

His little gasp at your touch was confirmation. A much bigger hand slid up to keep your palm right there, right across his cheek, next to his mouth.

Your reassurance was a long-awaited rain after a brutal dry season of uncertainty.

A light nod, a small smile, found you as you were completely transfixed on the lengths he went to, all just to come see you one more time.

"Let's do it," Maybe you could take a friend, and you could make a weekend out of it under a really bad excuse, "I wanna see you too."

Well, maybe it wasn't quite the same. To want and to need were two very different concepts.

It still made him melt, pressing warm and fervent open kisses against your hand, into your palm and spilling all across your wrist. You couldn't hide how tingly it got you- you hid an impure sigh under your free hand. Even when you couldn't bring yourself to look at him, you could still hear him kissing you.

"I have to go," He sounded miserable, with one difficult-to-read look back towards his bus, a fair distance away.

Some intangible force compelled you to put an ounce or two of pressure in your hand, to better remember how his face felt against your fingertips.

"Call me," Was going to be the last thing he said to you. He slipped from your touch but you weren't ready for him to leave, yet.

His voice was a sigh, nearing a whisper. It captured you in its sincerity and brevity.

"Yeah- I-, I will."

You couldn't help it; you had to seal this somehow. The thought to give him a rushed, imperfect kiss blended right into the action. You kept him here, with you, by fisting the collar of his jacket for a clumsy smooch.

That big, interesting grin and sparkly eyes were not something you were prepared for, either.

He kept his excited chuckle back, just barely, and kept you still for a real kiss. Gentle, and warm, and way better than your own attempt.

You couldn't hear yourself telling him goodbye- you watched his lips form some kind of muted response and felt emptyhanded as he had to run back quicker now to catch his bus. It was idling in the way of many vehicles trying to get out of the lanes.

Did you even have his number?

☆VIP☆

@integers @paradoxicalwritings @yuchacco @megapteraurelia

my masterlist. more haikyuu

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takes1 · 5 months ago

Text

tsukishima and yamaguchi are incapable of sharing you

is this a big metaphor? maybe. i dunno. it's steamier this way. read between the lines or something. two weeks of having a cold? or covid? or the flu? idk what it was but it burnt me outttttt

warnings. suggestive, minors DNI

details. fem!reader / suggestive fluff / love triangle? love shape? / fighting over reader / unrequited crushes / suggestive touching / touch starved!tsukki / touch starved!yamaguchi / sports massage, hot / best friends / girls team!reader / sadomasochism clawed its way into my fluff fic / tsukki is transactional / boyfriend material!yamaguchi / brotherzoning, friendzoning / daichi has canon aura / 4.1k words

links. my masterlist. more haikyuu. my ao3. my imagines.

"Oh, wow--," Tsukishima's cruel and quiet snicker at your expense was inevitable. He pushed one side of his headphones off of his ear.

His brow raised in amusement at your exaggerated wobble, how you were unable to stand on your own.

Yamaguchi kept his arms stretched out for you to grab and help yourself up, a master at utilizing any excuse he could to hold you.

"Isn't this- I dunno- kind of excessive?"

He sighed, palms flat against your back as you stumbled into his chest.

He expressed no real urgency to let you go. The guy was -generally- touchy with all of his friends, so it was never worth raising any color flag over.

"We-- hah-h," You gripped his forearm when you tried to take another excruciating step on your own. You sunk to the floor so fast he didn't even think to try and catch you.

It spurred another rare, genuine laugh from Tsukishima.

You cleared your throat with some attitude, and attempted to gather your dignity before trying to get up again.

"-We did lose."

Now, especially, you could truly appreciate his tendency to help. This practice had been group punishment for losing your last big game.

Sparing the gruesome details, it left most of the first-years in horrible condition. Even the more experienced girls on the team were ambling away at a slower pace, wincing, under the weight of their own bodies and struggling to take one step down from the gymnasium.

"(Y/n)!!"

You all stiffened. That was Michimiya's voice- you thought all the upperclassmen had gone, but she popped her head out from the exit and sounded just as intimidating as usual.

"Yes ma'am?" You called, a grimace all over your face.

The two boys shifted further away. They weren't technically supposed to be here, yet, and kept their heads tilted to the floor, expecting to be scolded for not going straight home.

"Head to the training room and roll your legs out-- I need you better before Friday! You two--," She hesitated before telling them to leave, vaguely aware that you were all buddies. "Help her, please."

"Yes ma'am!!"

Just like that, she was gone. Your eyes were shining. You were needed. For the team.

"Oh my gosh..." You bit your lip.

"That's awesome!" Yamaguchi laughed, excited for you. If Daichi had told him something like that, he'd be over-the-moon happy.

Tsukishima crossed his arms, unable to relate, and now tied to this place even longer.

He didn't validate your silent request to be helped. He only came across as cruel, but his real reason was objectively worse.

Thankfully, Yamaguchi was there to fill in the gaps of his awkward, ill-timed difficulty. You smiled at his light concern, an 'okay' of sorts to let him know he could find your condition funny, too.

"Th-anks-- hh-ah... shit,"

It was so much worse now. You wished you had listened to your teammates, to not sit down ten minutes ago, no matter how much you felt like you needed to.

Tsukishima watched, hands deep in his pockets with no intention to be of free service. That sound of struggle was almost as satisfying as hearing you ask for help.

You didn't let go of his hands for a few seconds. The weight of your body was a lot to handle- you kept his palms squeezed hard in yours and were beyond grateful he stayed, unbothered by it.

They were technically tasked with getting you to the training room, but you only had faith that Yamaguchi would see it through. Tsukishima might go as far as to get on the first train home, all alone, because that's how much he hated waiting on other people.

Yamaguchi, however, shared in your experience. His eyes were bright and his smile always waiting to agree, or laugh, or ask you something.

"Can ya walk?" He giggled.

His freckled hands stayed, attentive, at your sides, as you laughed with him and tried.

Moving was doable, but only in little, shuffle-y, painful, half-steps. Your hamstrings were like guitar strings, pulled too tight from your ass to your knees, your quads as stiff as set concrete, and everything was burning hot to the touch. You worked up another sick sweat, just moving 20 steps.

The two friends shared a look as they slowed down for you. It was worse than they thought- and though they had confided in you earlier, telling you that this was normal, they weren't exactly sure anymore. They hadn't yet been pushed this hard at their own team practices (they actually won their games).

Tsukishima's chortle was mean, targeted, in nature.

"Am I gonna have to carry you?"

Your exhaustion blocked any of your usual retaliation. The suggestion was, unironically, very appealing. He had to ability to take some pain away and was 'offering.'

"Oh!" You groaned, palm on your hip after taking a few tiny steps to get to the wall, "Would you? Please?"

It caught him off guard for an imperceivable second.

He rolled his eyes, his fair skin inadequate cover for the blush you had inspired.

Yet, always the master of masking his emotions, he swung his body in the direction of the training room to evade suspicion, instead, "Hell no."

The multiuse training room was thankfully spared of any life, except for you three clowns. There wasn't even the athletic trainer, paid to stay later for hurt athletes. Most teams were finished up already and all the gear -the weights, the tires, the specialty equipment- was in its proper place.

You glanced to Tsukishima, who was second to make the connection that this was an even bigger waste of his time-- unable to take the sound of him picking on you again, you waved your hand at him, dismissive at his catty sigh.

"You can go home, Tsukki, I know you've got better things to do."

Yamaguchi smirked at the light pink that dusted the fair tips of his ears. He followed close behind you towards the mats, near the recovery gear.

'Reverse-psychology' almost always worked on him, outside of a match.

"Pff- whatever," He cleared his throat, shoving his hands even deeper into his pockets, "It's not a big deal or anything."

It was, in fact, a big deal.

You couldn't take even the softest of featherlight touches, or stretches, or damn near anything that was suggested by your teammates to try.

"You can't just give up," Yamaguchi said, softly, trying to encourage you to try the massage gun again.

"You're just being a crybaby--," Tsukishima shrugged, as if he didn't insult you, and took the thing in his hand, "If you can't do it, one of us should."

Without a second of hesitation, you swiped it from him. That thing was a weapon, with the wrong head attachment and in the hands of somebody with as little sympathy as him.

"Yamaguchi-!" You grew warm, handing it to the nicer of the two, "If- um, one of you has to do it for me. I want Yamaguchi to."

It was the most efficient tool for the job prescribed to you. Break up the lactic acid, promote healing, warm the muscle up for some stretching.

That list seemed so much simpler when pain was not part of the picture.

Having one them subject you to forced recovery was, regrettably, more doable than trying it on yourself. That didn't mean that it was easy.

Yamaguchi knelt atop your legs whilst you lay on your stomach, trying his best to ignore your pleas (as you had asked of him). He kept your leg still as he prodded the machine into your damaged tissue.

It was excruciating. Why did you play this sport?

"Stop-stopstopstop!!"

At last, your begging was met with a precious grain of sympathy. Yamaguchi looked nothing short of conflicted, unable to help without hurting you, but unwilling to let you leave without doing what needed to be done.

He gritted his teeth and looked back at you- to check if you were okay, because you weren't saying anything.

The rapid rise and fall of your ribcage was all he needed to see.

"I'm sorry- I-I can't--,"

He groaned, not knowing what to do, and set the massage gun down by your left leg.

"Oh- my- godddd." The blond boy groaned, horribly impatient in an instant.

The sound of the machine getting turned back on made you jump, but you got squished down before you could even think that there was a need to move faster.

Tsukishima sat backwards on top of you. He wasn't using his entire weight but it was enough to keep you immobile in the ways that mattered. Your muscles seized against your will at the primal realization that he was not going to be nearly as gentle or attentive.

Your shrieking become muffled in your sleeves, but it would've gone just as ignored if you hadn't taken that initiative.

"What are you doing?" Yamaguchi sighed, a bit mean and confused at how he just took over instead of talking about it first.

If he was doing something wrong, he at least wanted the chance to fix it. But that wouldn't fly in this company. Tsukishima was never the type to give people, even his best friend, that much faith.

"I wanna go home dude. I'm--,"

His pressure on the inside of your calf sent you into a full-on seize. He flew to keep your ankle to the ground with a pissed off groan and a heavy thump.

"-Getting- this done."

"You don't have to help!"

Yamaguchi was technically yelling at him, but it didn't sound like it. His voice was raised, a tiny bit louder than the massage gun, and that was about it. It was almost impossible for him to come across as angry. Maybe passive-aggressive, which was, admittedly, jarring enough.

He was met with a signature scoff but didn't back down from it. Yamaguchi had too many reasons not to shy away. If he was that bothered by staying longer, he could go home alone. The chance to hang out with you alone, not to mention the perfect opportunity to touch you, wasn't lost on either of them. Tsukishima knew about his feelings for you. Until now, it was never a topic that needed to be explicitly addressed.

Tsukishima threw a narrowed, cold look through his lashes to him.

That was oh-so-intentional, and a painful thing to process as he barks at you to stop whining so much. His hands are giant, wrapped all the way around your shins, weighing you further down so you can't kick.

You were almost getting used to it- how much it hurt- as you feel Yamaguchi settle next to you and place a reassuring hand on your back.

You're panting, hoarse and labored- you were going to thank him, but Tsukishima makes his way up to your hamstring and you flinch again with your face slammed back into your arms.

"Augh-! Dude!! Ha--Ah!"

Absolutely no remorse in his voice, "Tadashi, c'mere and hold her ankle. I can't do both."

They shared another charged glare behind your back, but Yamaguchi wasn't going to intentionally make things more difficult than they had to be. He wanted to go home too, and wanted you to feel better quicker- this was a necessary evil.

Part of your hoodie sleeve was soaking wet from where you were biting down, grimacing. You were slick with cold sweat, trembling, and could not wrap your head around how torturous this whole ordeal had become.

For a moment, just one tiny, fleeting moment, he took the machine off and you were able to gasp in a non-labored breath. He adjusted to sit on top of your butt (without asking if you were comfortable) and slipped a warm hand between your thighs to grasp your inner leg to keep you still. Yamaguchi's grip on your ankle felt after that- harder.

The pleasant sensation it sent down into your tummy became quickly interrupted by the worst of it.

"Mm-h-!!" You groaned into your clothes.

"Ohh- yeah, you're fucked," Tsukishima laughed in shock at how he could feel the tension, the spasms, under the skin once he placed that godforsaken thing back onto you.

You mostly blocked the rest of the experience out of your mind- it was nauseating, and long, and arduous. Tsukishima made no efforts to make the process any easier by asking you what you wanted, if you needed a break, or if you were okay.

It made the last of it that much sweeter. The training room was quiet, again, once the buzzing was gone.

"That should do it," He muttered, pushing the heel of his palm down the now compliant, though aching, muscle of your hamstring. It was practically mindless.

"Y-eah-," Yamaguchi rolled his eyes at the shameless display.

Tsukishima glanced at him. He cleared his throat and pinched you, just for good measure, then decided for you, "Yeah, that feels better."

You rolled your cloudy eyes just to yourself, unable to lift your head from your weak arms.

"Okay! Jeez! Get off of me."

Another ill-intentioned snicker was almost enough to make you look back. It, instead, only motivated you to tense up your shoulders.

"Did you forget that you have a second leg?"

Yamaguchi would've laughed with him, had he not been so pissed off that he was getting- for lack of a better word here- cucked.

Barely able to peel your chest up off of the ground, you huffed and pushed the stagnant tears from your face.

"You are not doing that again!"

It was another way of saying that you couldn't take it, which, in his twisted mind, was reason enough to smile. He had to adjust himself pretty plainly in front of his freckled, grumpy friend before getting off of you.

You rolled, heavy and slow, onto your back, and didn't spare him any looks. You spoke to the ceiling. "I'll do my own calf. Tadashi,"

His face was softer, attentive, at how you sighed his name. Every word afterward was a lot sweeter, lighter, than the ones that were meant for Tsukishima.

"You get my other hamstring. I can't reach it."

Now 'unemployed,' Tsukishima reclined against his bag, pushed his headphones up, and played on his phone.

You flipped back onto your tummy and pulled down on the hem of your shorts, for some bit of decency. All it did was make Yamaguchi's eyes wander. Tsukishima had already been stealing crystal clear glances.

Those practice shorts left little to the imagination, especially hiked up the way you liked to wear them for training. It did not go underappreciated in this group.

Yamaguchi tried not to stare- he really, really tried. His eyes were bouncing back and forth between where to adjust over you, and where he desperately wanted to cop a feel. It's just that you were turned around, with no way of knowing, and there was nothing too wrong with looking.

Neither of them were bold enough to bring up that your glutes -realistically- were the most worked muscle group that needed to be attended to.

Yamaguchi mirrored his hand placement to where Tsukishima had done it, earlier. He was not prepared at how intimate it felt at all, because his friend had given zero indication that it was such a big deal.

You flinched at the contact even though it was hundred times softer than you had been touched earlier. His palm was unsure, and varied in firmness as he tried to palm your thigh the 'right' way. You were grateful nobody -especially that blond idiot- could see how embarrassed you were, as you buried the side of your face harder into your clothes.

"I'm gonna try to be less gentle- so," He lost his train of thought, captivated in the sight of your softness filling the gaps of his long, tanned fingers, "Um... yeah."

Not-gentle was a good way to describe that massage gun on your stiff leg. But it wasn't a stabbing pain, like how forcefully and suddenly Tsukishima had started.

And yet, you couldn't help the reflex to bend at the knee, and almost nailed him with a powerful kick.

"A-ah! Sorry--," You couldn't quite get the apology out, between gritted teeth.

Since Tsukishima had been too busy peeking out of the corner of his eye to admire the space between your legs, the curve of your ass, and all the shaking, he was quick to grab that free ankle and pin it down.

They shared a mutually surprised expression behind you that, if anything, helped ease their nasty, competitive, and degrading attitudes.

Yamaguchi's face was very warm, his legs, his grip, had to be readjusted-- his fingers felt indescribably good in the midst of so much discomfort. He put more of his weight on you, having underestimated how much you might throw him off.

Neither of the two were saints, but if it were a competition, Yamaguchi at least tried to repress things.

He wanted to be seen as good, as nice, and sweet. Getting brother-zoned all the time sucked but at least it spoke to his positive qualities.

Tsukishima did not care all that much about looking like a good person. Being 'cool' was different, and just as performative, but still, different. He had less internal struggle when it came to checking you out behind your back; his only worry was getting caught, because it made him look interested. Being interested, to Tsukishima, was worse than being a 'nice guy.'

All that to say: He pushed your ankle a bit further to the outside, craning his neck to see just how much those safety shorts actually covered down there.

If he could get Yamaguchi to move his hand out of the way--

"You're doin' it wrong," He sighed, sounding flat- bored, even though he wasn't.

You spared Yamaguchi the responsibility of responding to him.

"You're- ahh- ridiculous, Kei. Fucking-- ridiculous."

His nose wrinkled at your assertion that he could possibly be wrong, "The fact that you can talk is evidence enough."

That made your face multiple degrees hotter, and kept you biting a rude reply into your shirt- it pissed your nicer friend off, on your behalf.

"Dude, shut up," Yamaguchi mumbled.

It was ironically something that sounded like it would come out of Tsukishima's mouth, in tone and phrase. He could've told either of you to shut up at any given moment, on any given day, and it wouldn't be a big deal. Coming from Yamaguchi, though--

The blond stiffened, his mouth curled into an absurd grin, but his eyes were fixed and brutal behind his glasses.

All the implications under their words, their jagged tones, were so plain and out in the open. To them. You remained disadvantaged, partially deaf (from the loud massage gun) and mostly blind (turned around), still preoccupied with your physical inability to stay on their conversational level or that emotional space.

To you, they were only trying to help, and the situation had not degraded so much.

You were busy thinking about how Tsukishima could not have been more wrong about Yamaguchi's 'technique.' The pressure had grown, making for a more intense experience than before, with all the new compensation.

An awful, bitter comeback was on the tip of Tsukishima's tongue.

"Woah!" A new voice, one you didn't quite recognize, was at the entrance to the training room, "What're you three still doing here? It's late!"

"Daichi!" Yamaguchi sighs, breathless, for a couple of different reasons.

You winced at his weird readjustment on top of you- and the terrible, sinking feeling that this was inappropriate and semi-public.

Was there no safe place for a bunch of underclassmen to hang out anymore? Since when did the seniors linger for this long? They usually were the some of first out the door, and the guys' team had been done for almost an hour, now.

His grip softens, flittering away, for a moment. A rush of strength finds his legs and he's safely hovering, instead of sitting, on you.

"Oh! Taking turns with the gun? Man-," Even his laugh is leader-like, all punctuated and deep, "Must be pretty bad, huh?"

When he clocks that their captain isn't there to scold, he keeps one palm safely on the mat, instead.

"Do you--," You push yourself up to your elbows again with a groan and a scrunched up face. It helps, to reiterate that this is not some kind of debauchery, "-Have any advice?"

Daichi was there to return some gear. He placed a bag on the table closest to the door, then hung up some keys. All that you could think was how responsible he looked.

He hummed aloud to himself, "Advice...?"

Yamaguchi slowly moved off of you, so as to not look suspicious, but his nervous demeanor always made him look a little bit guilty of something. You waved off his soft apology in favor of staring, curious, at the new presence.

You were able to roll over to your back and sit up, with marked effort- then stilled as their team captain joined your spot on the mats.

He took a second to look between all three of you, face impossible to read, then seemed to recognize you.

"You must be that rookie Yui was talking about," He doesn't realize how important that off-handed statement means to you, "It's nice to meet ya."

"You too," Your voice was ghostly soft, eyes wide, when he sat down to take you through some handy stretches.

His team jacket looks really worn in. His thighs are giant from years of playing. He knows what he's talking about. And your two idiot friends are silent, for once, so he must be super cool. You listen very carefully.

"So, if it's just soreness that you're dealing with, what you wanna do is--,"

"Man-," Tsukishima mutters, an incomprehensible 'What the fuck,' under his breath at those stupid puppy dog eyes you were giving their team captain. Great.

He threw a glance to Yamaguchi- his face was all screwed up, pissed off, too. They looked at each other with mutual, gloomy attitude.

Little did they understand that Daichi could've broken this up in a less civil way if he deemed them as any less credible in their actions.

It was their 'harmlessness' that kept them spared from a talking-to.

You were slower to understand that you were infatuated. As your long-time friends, they often read you quicker than you could understand your own emotions. It had been three minutes since the last time you blinked, and you didn't realize it, yet.

His stretches, and little tidbits of advice, rang familiar but more memorable than the second-year's recovery tips from the end of your practice.

"Thank you," You muttered, uncharacteristically quiet.

Tsukishima rolled his eyes so far back, so slow, that Daichi caught it.

"Of course! Happy to help."

You watched the incredible lines in his legs dance as he stood up and briefly wondered if he had ever suffered like this, before. Surely the answer was yes.

"Well-- It's great seeing you all take care of each other. Hang onto that!" Daichi kept one last, somewhat reminiscent, look on the three of you, and was on his way to the door.

"Oh-,"

You shivered, holding yourself as he turned around.

"Make sure to lock up when you're done!"

When he was gone, the door fully shut, you collapsed onto your back with a dreamy sigh. Yamaguchi was the first to stand up.

He was disappointed that you were so easy to impress, yes, but otherwise unfazed.

"You guys wanna go get something to eat?"

Tsukishima got to his feet, too, and had his bag slung at the ready-- usually not so food-motivated, but he was starving, at this point. The sun was low in the window. You nodded at the great idea.

Head still tilted to the closed door, you asked, "Does- uh, does he... have a girlfriend?"

Yamaguchi avoided your eyes, an easy task at his height, and took both of your hands to lift you to your feet. It was solely out of curiosity. He was so out of your league.

Tsukishima rattled off a blatant and well-done lie.

"Yeah. He's dating Michimiya- you didn't know that?"

It helped to cushion your feelings. You nodded, smiling at the way Yamaguchi kept you steady again with his hands in yours.

"Ohh, right. Right. That makes sense."

☆VIP☆

@integers @paradoxicalwritings @yuchacco @megapteraurelia

my masterlist. more haikyuu

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takes1 · 5 months ago

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HIII HOW ARE YOU TODAY? sorry for constantly messaging i feel like a freaky fan… but ANYWAY, IM GETTING AN OIKAWA NENDROID FIGURE TOMORROW!!11!1!1 anyway love u always as a fan teehe -🐈🐈‍⬛

dude those are so fucking awesome!!! good for you my love!! btw i love seeing you in my inbox 😭💗 also don't worry ab the noya req- it was good!! i have some ideas for it

update: hey guys :( no posts this weekend ive been sick, drowning in essays, and prepping for competition and a race. also unmotivated to write all of a sudden. i need . . an ice cold beer. and break time. i'll be back on the grind soon!!!!

here's some stuff that's like kinda half-done to expect in the future:

note: this is not a requests update! i'll post that after my break. (i have 60+ requests to sift thru)

inexperienced lev! x reader p.2 smut

this will also will be the final part

goodness this set me on a violent lev tiktok edit mania

freaky atsumu w/ oral fixation x nerdy braces reader

oh brother don't get me started.. technically a request but i definitely made this shit freaky on my own

first atsumu fic (first public one at least)

7MIH asahi p.2 smut

uhhh laundry room sex final part

plot device: hair down asahi

keeping each other quiet (hot)

romantic!clingy!shohei x reader fluff

i think all 5 shohei fans found me and live in my inbox now, so i have to feed them like cats

☆VIP☆

@integers @yuchacco @paradoxicalwritings @megapteraurelia

bark you guys are hot^ and you keep me coming back with your kindness

masterlist.

#p.s thnx for 3K!!!#i love you freakies #takesone navi #takesone #haikyuu shohei #haikyuu lev haiba #haikyuu asahi azumane #haikyuu atsumu #haikyuu navi

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takes1 · 6 months ago

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Daichi smut where the reader wears a hat one day that says ‘overworked and underfucked’, and Daichi just makes a joke about being able so solve the second part perhaps? They’re like best friends who have known each other for years and neighbors, and since high school started they’ve had some underlying sexual tension that could probably be cut with a knife.

daichi is overworked and underfucked

i will revisit this eventually when i wanna write more plot stuff, i wanted to get this out of the drafts tho i've had it for so long. smut is hard to write😭 and its all anyone requests nowadays sometimes i jus wanna write the tension piece

warnings. light nsfw, recreational alcohol use, minors DNI

details. fem!reader / fluffy angst / sexual tension / this covers a lot of things / timeskip!daichi / childhood friends / tipsy!daichi / missed-timing crushes / catching up / inappropriate compliments / timeskip!suga / timeskip!asahi / 1.7k words

links. my masterlist. more haikyuu. my ao3. my imagines. my request box

'Overworked and underfucked' read in bold across the ballcap Suga gifted you.

You couldn't help but rub your hand across your face with a snicker. It was a cute color, the font wasn't too big.

It was three weeks after Christmas, and a bitter, cold day into the New Year, but it was traditional at this point to bring gifts for each other at your semi-annual catch-up. It wasn't everyone. Obviously, those that had work, or those abroad, weren't able to make it.

Suga upheld his mantle as the joke-gift guy with pride, the perfect example of it was waiting for you to ask why this cap, specifically.

You were satisfied regardless with your group that persevered, because your three best friends from high school were still able to all be in one spot, under one roof again.

"I thought it was funny. And probably true. Sorry about old, uhh- fuck, sorry, what's-his-name--?"

You placed the cap on with a grin and stopped him.

"Don't worry about it," Your hug was more than he bargained for, but he met it after finding his footing.

Suga was always so great at hugs. He wrapped his arms all the way around, put his chin in just the right spot, and took some of your weight as he squeezed tight and rocked side to side.

All in all, it made you a bit emotional. Your throat closed up when you tried to speak, so you held onto him tighter.

You had all gone your separate ways; very far, in many of your cases. This 'local' bar wasn't local for any of you, anymore, though you had talked about visiting dozens of times in your enthusiastic youth.

Seeing Asahi over Suga's shoulder didn't help your burning eyes.

It didn't take him longer than a few seconds to return your energy, tenfold. Crying without him had never been an option. Age had not dulled that trait.

He called, a little pep in his step, an eager sadness about him, "Guuys!"

Asahi was a blubbering mess, picking you up off your feet, crushing your ribcage, as he rubbed his wet face into your shirt. It felt like he had gotten much, much taller. The ground was strikingly far away.

The unevenness in his voice never deterred him from speaking, still:

"I-h missed you guy-s," He sniffled, accepting a pat from Suga.

"What is thiiis? We're crying already?"

Daichi's chuckle, his gravelly voice, made you smile against Asahi's shirt. He let you down, sighing, with a few back rubs.

It was a good-natured reminder that you were here to have fun. You wiped your eyes and turned to him.

Out of the four of you, he looked the most changed.

Like, older. Much older.

Your chest rose and fell- your hesitation, the moment you took to take him all in, was just enough to make it too weird for a hug. Certainly too weird for a handshake. You waved, unsure, at him. He was staring at you.

Ghosting over his lips were the words: 'Overworked. And... underfucked?'

Suga jutted in, "Oh, that's my Christmas gift to (Y/n)! You like it?"

Asahi read it, too, for the first time.

Daichi shook his head, but laughed too, "Hell no."

The rest of you exchanged your gifts inside shortly after you were seated at your usual corner table. None of the presents were as stand-out as the hat.

The drinks starting flowing, the conversation less and less a formality, more natural. Heavy, with real complexity and morphing around as you learned around everyone's new habits, attitudes, and crucial life details.

At some point further into the night, after everyone's most exciting updates were discussed at length, you all entertained a question game Suga managed to find on a blog site from his phone.

"Favorite body part of- Oh! My choice, cool!" Suga placed his phone back down with a distinct flair, his narrowed eyes flitting all around the table.

"Hmm..." His eyeline sinks into you- you shake your head after another sip of your drink.

"No. No- mm-mm, that's too easy--,"

Suga grins, thinking he's struck a cord, and now much more likely to choose you now that you've retaliated.

He lifted a finger and pointed it at you, "Nahhhh--"

"I'm the only girl here! That's so boring!"

You weren't lying; but it wasn't the full truth as to why you didn't want to be picked. Suga's brow raised, but remained squinting; like he had already made up his mind, but still wanted to hear you out.

At the opportunity, you rambled on. Warm, giggly and talkative from the bubbles, "Daichi's just gonna say something lame, like my eyes- or- something like that. Pick uhh- pick Asahi! Make it more interesting."

Asahi rolled his eyes, "He's just gonna say my goatee, and you know it."

"Yeahh," Daichi muttered, squinting at how it had filled out, ""m'glad ya gave up on the rat 'stache."

Suga shook his head, tapping his hand on the table with definitive gusto. You groaned, but it was cut off by Daichi clearing his throat in the midst of all the chatter you inspired.

"Well, that's not what I was gonna say."

You rolled your eyes in plain, detached disbelief. You were not invested, not anymore. It had been years since the throws of your unrequited crush had truly bothered you. After graduation, it mellowed with time, distance, and a number of other partners.

The glass rim of your drink was pulled close to your bottom lip.

You chuckled before taking another sip, "Oh yeah? What, then?"

His eyes trailed up your body, how you pulled yourself to rest more on the table with your elbows, drink clutched with both hands. The warm lights were blurring some of your features, but it took away the reservation he might have had if things had been clearer.

He spoke through his buzz, the hum of other voices engaged in their own conversations, and a tiny whisp of regret.

"Ahh- well... Your ass. Definitely my favorite- yeahh... I first noticed-," He giggled at himself, "Oh, man-- sorry, Asahi--,"

Daichi patted his friend's oversized shoulder with an unshared laugh.

"But I first noticed when you two started doing that high-five after a good game. Y'know, you'd put your hands up real high, and (Y/n) would have to jump to reach... Shiiit. Ohh, my god. Yeah. Yeah, your ass. For sure."

It sounded like he was talking to himself, rubbing his light stubble, reminiscing.

-Even though his head was turned in your direction, and even though he would glance to your face every once in a while, and even though he was getting warmer and warmer the longer he went on.

Asahi had a stilted panic all over his face, glancing down at both Daichi, on his left side, then you, on his right.

You were frozen in place, mind unable to catch up with all that information. It was quiet now, because the others had opted to listen, and it was your turn to speak.

Say something.

You looked at Asahi, who did not help. You set your cup down and put your face in your hands, head spinning, swimming in all your feelings come back at once.

Daichi's giggly trip down memory lane wore off- he glanced around to his shocked friends, and understood he had embarrassed you, pretty egregiously, at that.

The bottom of his glass faced the sky, empty, and he set it down hard before standing up. He wiped his mouth with his forearm and muttered something about having to go piss.

Even in his absence, the table remained quiet for a long minute.

"(Y/n)?" Was a voice cutting through the fog in your brain.

You took a breath in. It felt like you were resurfacing.

"Hm?"

"You okay?"

"Sh-hyeahh, mhm."

Another nice, cooling inhale, and you looked up, dragging your palms down your warm cheeks. A raw, moderately self-aware laugh was the only thing to relieve the tension.

Suga looked like he regretted initiating the means for all that to play out. You watched how he tapped his fingers on the table in waves.

"I'm really sorry," He said slow, careful, "I thought he'd be more--,"

Asahi added, a blank stare, "More like Daichi."

"Yeah! All nice, and polite. Responsible," Suga trailed.

It was unlike him to be that vulgar. But, was it really so ridiculous to believe a stressed-out civil servant had too many drinks? That he felt comfortable enough to revisit some pleasant memories?

The real issue was that you were the object of interest. You weren't alone in thinking that his admission came out of nowhere. Nobody, not even his closest friends, thought he looked at you that way, not even as some hormonal teenager.

"Round of shots--," Daichi was back after some shallow conversation, leaning to place four filled shot glasses on the table, "For the table."

Your surprise to see him at this side of the table looked more displeased than intended. He met your eyes for a moment, but quickly looked down to 'focus' on not spilling any of it.

Asahi took one and sniffed it: "Tequila? Ohhh, nooo-!"

"No!" Suga cackled, pushing it back when he tried to gift it to him, instead, "You can't wuss out! You need to learn how to take a shot of something that isn't sweet!"

You laughed at his resulting, dramatic shudder.

Daichi looked at you, grinning, at the sound of your amusement, "Don't worry bud, they gave us some limes-,"

"I don't like limes..."

"-Aand salt."

"Or the salt..."

Despite Asahi's difficulty with hard liquor, it was a good way to get 'normal' again, and you were all eager to break the permafrost of that weird, unseemly diversion of expectations.

Daichi's fingertips brushed yours when you tapped your glasses together. You tried not to look at him, but the urge was just too strong, and your inhibitions were fading fast.

He was already looking at you.

Those deep brown eyes didn't waver, even as he threw back his shot like tap water.

It was like a mixture of concern, and focus, and admiration, all behind a tired face that wanted you. Would it make things too weird to entertain something?

You pushed the hat off of your head and slipped it onto Daichi's, instead.

"Hm," You rested your cheek onto your fist, taking in those premature grey hairs, how his eyes were always narrowed and searching, how the tension never rested in his jaw.

"It fits you better."

☆VIP☆

@integers @paradoxicalwritings @yuchacco @megapteraurelia

my masterlist. more haikyuu my request box

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takes1 · 6 months ago

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HOORAY I just read ur bokuto x reader p4 it was really cute :3 sorry havent updated in awhile i got busy with life… but i never forget to keep u in mind 🫶 love ur work as always, very memorable writer to me -🐈🐈‍⬛

[final] bokuto teaching inexperienced!reader

only fitting to respond to you for this last one. ughhh ilysm 🥹😭💕💕

warnings. heavy nsfw, minors DNI

details. fem!reader / first time / soft kissy missionary / safe sex / BIG praise kink!bokuto / himbo!bokuto / sweet, dumb!bokuto / inexperienced!reader / possessive!bokuto / f!rec oral / guided handjob / kuroo's sister!reader / 2.3k words / last installment

links. my masterlist. my ao3. more haikyuu. part one here. part two here. part three here. part four. request box

You tilted your head, eyes narrowed a little at the generous, clear bulge in his tiny shorts.

"Can I see it?"

He fisted the sheets in his excitement that you were thinking the same thing, biting his cheek so he didn't shout. Just by the obvious elation on his face, you could tell he was in the process of holding back a million bad responses.

Instead, he let his hands talk, lips crashing against yours all rough and thirsty as he pulled it out. You didn't want his kisses, though-- you grinned as you avoided what you could, so you could see.

Propped up on your elbows, you looked from his vigilant stare, trailing down his sculpted, smooth body down to his cock between your tummies.

It looked heavy.

You quickly learned that it was hot, too, as he guided your palm around it, and used your hand to pump himself. Your heart was racing- it was so weird, and you liked it so much, and he liked it even more.

Bokuto always stood by the idea that 'it always feels/tastes/sounds better when somebody else does it.' The kind of guy to only drink out of other peoples' cups, ask other people to read things out loud to him, massage a part of his shoulder he could get but won't.

While you didn't know what you were doing in the slightest, and he was controlling your pace, even the harsh grip, it still felt 40x better than all the jerking off he usually did.

His tongue got confident, and a bit curious, diving deeper past your teeth. He was just trying in whatever way he could to be inside of you. The weight of his body became more substantial.

You loved feeling his strength falter, his lust heightening, compelling him to get closer.

When he pulled away, he looked a little crazy- like he forgot to smile, or something. It was the nature of his eyes to not look very friendly, but it gave the impression that he was really holding himself back.

"Are- you okay?"

"Just-," He takes a sharp breath, eyes squeezing shut for a second, like he's recalibrating, "Feels really g-ood."

He wasn't prepared in the slightest for the smile you gave him. It was sweet, and prideful, and too cute with his cock in your hand.

That tortured look was back, briefly before he shoved his face in the nook of your shoulder.

"Fuck-! I need you s-o bad," He whined, pitiful, "Are- h-ahh, you ready yet?"

You could try.

With a question like that, asked so sweet, so sugary- you hummed against his hair, not quite understanding what 'ready' meant.

You hardly noticed how he plucked a condom from his shorts, somewhere in the mess of sheets to the left of you- and slid it on between clumsy kisses. Lots of practice must've made the process second nature.

It was difficult, to say the least, adjusting to him. His eagerness was already so spoken for, and you realized too late that you probably did need more time.

Bokuto could feel it too, though.

He could hear it in the thinly-veiled fear, making your voice waver, break, as you asked him to be gentle with you.

"Even if it takes all night," He kissed your nose while you couldn't move away, "I'll wait for ya."

Rough hands, so used to force and recklessness, practiced paying attention through running smooth lines across your skin.

Those hard kisses turned softer, slower, across your jaw and down your throat. He moved at a near imperceptible pace, just to get you accustomed to all of his size.

"Sooo pretty," He whispered to himself, forehead heavy on yours as he closed his eyes, "Fuck..."

The discomfort was just starting to be overshadowed with better, pleasurable, buzz. Your legs were slowly relaxing, a jelly-like feeling that spread from your thighs, squished comfy next to his hips, down to your toes.

Bokuto was capable of deliberate and soft sex. He wasn't always an animal, and he wasn't ignorant to somebody else's needs.

He was just excitable, and stupid. But all he needed was a whisper, a hint, or a reminder sometimes.

You kissed the tip of his nose, a way of telling him you were okay. Your fingers started to rake through his spiky hair, and the little smile on your face waited for him to he open his eyes.

"Shit--," He stole another few kisses from you, "Oh, you're so- mh- you're soo cute."

Between kisses, his tongue lagged, always proceeded by a sharp sigh. Almost like he was struggling to multitask. It made you curious when it started to get more frequent.

"Sh-it--h-ahh--," His curse broke into a shocked whine-- he stalled, deep.

Your higher, cuter sound at how good it felt did nothing to help to bring him down.

You watched him bite his own wrist, a small concern furrowing his brow.

Craving more, and only knowing one way to cheer him up, you rolled your hips up and locked your ankles around him with a squeeze.

"W-ait, waitwaitwait," He seethed, "Ahh- fuck-- stop moving babygirl- stop moving."

The person he looked down at was no longer a shy little nerd, incapable of handling his flirty second nature. Your mouth was curled into a coquettish grin, your pecks soft and affectionate and too much, scattered around his face.

He had to cum so bad that he felt sick. He had to look through you- draw blood to his palm, just to clear his filthy mind.

"Do I really feel that good?" You giggled- beyond flattered by his tortured expression.

There was no beat between the end of your sentence and his hushed response, "Yes."

You knew about vague stereotypes of guys with shitty endurance. You didn't have first-hand experience until you watched his expression shift, swirling, panic and euphoria taking one another over again and again.

He 'ruined' his orgasm by keeping your needs first. He knew you couldn't take what he wanted. His body was like iron, forced motionless, like a statue, except for the rapid, uneven rise and fall of his chest.

It looked like a delicious mix of pained and sexy as he came, almost perfectly still, so he didn't hurt you.

A kind of psychotic, intrusive desire made you tense-- the curious, hungry want to get rid of the condom between you. How much better would that have felt without it?

The sheets groaned, fabric snagging and snapping, under his grip. His body was all flexed up for you to watch. You knew he was trying to keep you in mind, so you didn't try anything too cute until he started relaxing, again.

"Hm-mmph--, fuck--," He groaned, a tremble in his arms as he slowly pulled out.

His exhaustion was short-lived, only manifested in a breathiness in his chuckle.

"Good thing I brought two."

This time you saw him take out a second one- but it wasn't just two. He had a whole row of condoms in his pocket this entire time.

You giggled at how he tore the second one off. What could he have possibly been thinking to bring seven along?

Bokuto harnessed some pornstar-like efficiency, tearing the outside open and pumping the latex onto himself with no waste of energy.

"Y'know," He cocked his head to the side, silly, despite his thumb sliding over your clit, "I've never cum that fast."

"Mmn-h-- Ah- that's- that's good--," You struggled.

A useful thing to know, sure, but it's not like you really cared- he never got soft. It was a non-issue because he was still clearly up for more.

He filled you back up so easy and slow, his thumb prodding stuttery waves of pleasure where there was once pain. He watched it with an air of pride about him. He sat up straighter, focused on where he disappeared into you. He soaked in all your twitching until he got his fill.

Only when he was satisfied did he lean down to his elbows to check on you.

Your had to fill your hands with his perfect muscles, all bouncy and twitchy at how overstimulated you got him. He was huffing, swallowing his groans so he didn't look uncool-- restrained or not, he would've looked just as cute.

He just wanted to fuck you good. For you to remember it well.

"Mmnh-! You're so big-,"

Those giant, fuck-me-harder eyes kept his shoulders tight. His hand was gripping your hip like a vice and bringing you down onto him.

His cock sank deep, a grumbly sound under his quiet, breathy whining-- your breath caught, and you had the brief revelation that you had been missing out on this for so long. How long had they been friends for? Years?

You wanted to make up for all the lost time. You locked your ankles around him for the second time, your hands pulling him back so you could put some hickeys all up and down his thick neck.

Though you had some vague idea that he loved when you hugged him close, you didn't understand the depth in which it turned him on.

It was one of those quick-affirming, sweet and wordless praises that resonated so hard with Bokuto's insatiable need to be validated.

He had to ask. He wanted more, he wanted to hear you.

"That feel good?" His hand cupped your entire jaw, forcing your eyes on his, ever so focused.

Your grip on his forearm was like an ant trying to push over a tree. It would never budge. And when it didn't, it took very little time to realize you actually liked it there. Your reflex did nothing to serve you, but you kept your hand still to prod at the muscle.

The breath you took to answer him was wasted on another moan.

"Ah-h--,"

"I want ya to tell me," His insistence was daunting, but filled with need.

"I--,"

Your nails were digging into his skin, and you were gasping, trying to tell him you were close- but none of it came out properly.

It was all just improper, uncontrollable, unmasked whining.

A bit late, he was witness to your adorable realization that you were cumming. He murmured a small, infatuated, "Aww..."

His lips pressed hard to your temple, and he let you pull him in, offering only the bulk of his shoulder as consolation for his deeper thrusts. It was a taste of what he could give you if only this wasn't your first, if you had been used to him from the start.

An orgasm had never felt so filled out, before. Like it was larger than you, stronger than anything you'd be able to craft on your own, from just your fingers. It was him. His cock, but moreso was his intensity and devotion to getting you there and fucking you all the way through it.

His hand was still cupping the bottom half of your face, but not covering your mouth. God, he wanted the entire world to know how good he made you feel. Especially Kuroo. Fuck that guy for keeping you a secret.

"Good girl, ohh- you did so good," He was slowing, still seeing those last, shallower, mellow waves through with dedication, "Sound sooo pretty."

Those eyes were softer, but still eating you up, savoring you while you were all messy for him.

Were you dating, now? It felt like you had been shot forward about ten years with this guy.

A light buzzing -the muted ring of a phone- was somewhere near you, interrupting your giggly, feel-good vibe. Again, and still just as surprising, Bokuto slowly pulled out of you and made quick work of that second condom.

He patted around the sheets for the source of the sound.

"Oh!"

He let the ringing continue- he had to get his idea out immediately: "That totally reminds me! I should get you a vibrator or something."

Jaw slack, you weren't given the opportunity to respond, before he answered. You lay there, a bit shivery and empty-feeling, as he hugged your thigh over his own.

"Hellooo?"

It was quiet. There was a faint, urgent, tone on the other side.

"Ummmm..."

His fingers tapped against your skin. He was lost in deep thought of how to respond. You were glad you couldn't hear the words being spoken, because you knew it was not going to be a pleasant earful.

"Yeah-... I mean, we were just talking... and... stuff."

Bokuto got droopier. He sank, sitting on his heels, still sitting butt-naked and hugging your thigh. You squeezed one of your blankets to your chest and frowned.

"It's nothing personal, man..."

He held the phone away from his ear as he was verbally berated, a pout making his whole face look cartoonishly sad. It was difficult, on your end, to understand that he could both be super into you and want to stay friends with Tetsurou.

"Would it make it any better iiiif I told you we were dating now?"

Bokuto winced and slid his free hand back and forth over your leg as consolation, for himself.

"Yeahyeahyeah, I gotchu, yeahyeah. Okay'bye," He hung up at the soonest crafted opportunity.

"Soooo," He sighed, distraught, instantly making up any distance between you. He dropped so much weight atop your sore body and covered you like a warm, weighted blanket, that you struggled to get air in your lungs.

"He's... not... happy."

The big dummy on top of you deflated with each word in a dismal decrescendo.

You had to wriggle around to find somewhere to breath from; room for your chest to expand at least a little.

"I thought you knew that?"

Bokuto made a high humming sound, feet kicking in the air, "Mmmmmmyeahhh, kinda, but..."

You freed one arm to wrap around him, so you could play with his hair, "He can't stay mad forever. He'll see that you're not- harmful- I guess, eventually."

He let his brow relax, shoved hard into your shoulder, and took in your new comforting scent.

Part of you couldn't blame your brother for assuming the worst. It took until incredibly recently for you to understand the full scale of Bokuto's fixation.

Despite all his sad body language, he couldn't have been that worried, because he was already back to sly, tongue-centered kisses on your neck.

♕VIP♕

@integers @paradoxicalwritings @yuchacco @megapteraurelia

taglist. thanks for your patience again!😫💕its been fun!

@tuamadrequellavacca @dumbpuppyluv @raracha @jenerator10 @thisiswhereishitpostalot @feiwelinchen @loodleloodle @partyinthepants @ghostreader0307 @101crows @asthmaticcchoeee @littlebunny-angel @ffismylaif @beet1ebum @charlotterosea13 @feiwelinchen @mammonsprettiestgoldie @poepard @intervalsofpeace @jiiisungpark @whymooniemoon @camc07 @lis4lipsi

@2dmenfr @justmanu @aldebrana @iheartyaemiko @sloppierjewel @karinaaanakamura

my masterlist. my request box. wanna talk? lmk here

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takes1 · 6 months ago

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i would LOVE to know which haikyuu boys would be brat tamers… and perhaps their favorite kind of punishments? (overstim, spanking, denial, paddling, etc) :333

basically just an s/o who sasses them all the time, loves to tease and talk back, and loves punishment hehe :3

haikyuu brat taming headcanons (nsfw)

loved this idea! just didn't have the format for when it got requested, then it got buried. tbh kuroo was the hardest to place out of all the names!!

warnings. heavy nsfw. minors DNI

characters. bokuto, nishinoya, oikawa, suga, kuroo, shohei, osamu, tendou, kentarou, daichi, atsumu, mattsun, iwa, tsukki, suna, sakusa, kenma, kageyama, aone, asahi, ushijima, lev, koganegawa, hinata, akaashi, yamaguchi details. lots of kink discussion. (implied mutual understanding, consent, and communication) aged up characters.

links. my masterlist. my ao3. more haikyuu. my imagines. requests open.

spoils you in and out of the bedroom. this guy has too much love in his heart to ever catch a stern tone with you, and especially doesn't like to use his strength against you. that being said-- he will hold you down after your fourth orgasm, as you squirm and tremble, cursing at him that it's too much- you can't take it- and the like. he still kisses you through it, call you his pretty girl, but it doesn't change the fact that you do need to learn some manners. you love that you can never make him upset, and learn to love his endurance, the way he grins and baby-talks you through your tears, because he finds it so cute that you always think you can get away with being such a brat. (BOKUTO, OIKAWA, kuroo, suga, nishinoya)

bondage, blindfolding, restriction. something about robbing you of a sense after you act up has no other match. you're so confident until your hands are tied, useless, behind your back or above your head. he can leave you like that for as long as it takes for you to apologize, or admit that you're wrong. it's usually paired with some type of slow, and cruel play that keeps you just stimulated enough to enjoy it, before he steals it back. it's the most absolute reminder of control and dominance; he's the type to kiss you through a long, and difficult type of tie, because you're too pretty not to taste while he's rendering your arms at your sides, or restricting how much you can breathe. probably the most patient, and twisted, form of punishment. (SHOHEI, osamu, TENDOU, kentarou, AKAASHI)

spanking, striking. loves seeing a clear print of his oversized hand across your skin. he knows you love it, too. that's why you keep pulling petty bullshit to get bent over his knee again, and again, and again. tears might be pricking your eyes, you might yelp- but you can't help but look back, a bitten back smile once the sharp pain becomes a lasting sting. you'll bite him just to get a little lovetap across your face, because you love watching his surprise shift rapidly into this possessive, corrective arousal. it gives you a sense of connection beyond what kissing, or even sex, can give. because, really, who else is going to look at you like that, all preoccupied, full of lust, but secretly attentive, after they hurt you? (DAICHI, ATSUMU, mattsun, IWA)

denial is his game. he takes his time already, keeping you on your toes, frustrated and needy-- he's ultra gentle despite his ability and disposition, never wanting to let you get a true taste of what he can give you if it isn't earned. time with him is filled with baited breath, muffled, almost-there whines, and shaky fingers that stay clenched, only to yourself. don't think he doesn't notice it, just because it isn't explicit. that's his purpose. to read you, analyze you, like a slowburn, steamy novel. he can fuck you so good, but he won't. he wants you to be desperate. be a good girl first, then he'll let you cum. (TSUKKI, suna, sakusa, KENMA, kageyama)

not much of a 'tamer.' while usually opting for a softer, guiding vibe in the bedroom, if provoked enough, he will not just roll over. when he understands what you're trying to do -get a rise out of him- he wears a stern squeeze in his brow. he's all focused on your smile, calculating, like you've just spoken another language. he wouldn't strike you, and doesn't enjoy giving verbal harassment, because when would he ever need to learn those skills? he's gigantic and intimidating. all he needs to do is remind you that you probably shouldn't be barking up the wrong tree. a big, strong hand squeezes around your throat, he finds just the right position to show you that you can't move under him, and a whisper, asking you, "what did you just say?" that's all you need to be subdued. (AONE, ASAHI, ushijima)

he would hardly know what to do with you. the idea of domination/submission, brats/brat tamers probably gets him hard, but there's not enough blood to share between his brain cells and his dick to play around with you the way that you're trying to instigate. he would need to be taught how to fill that role long before you could get what you wanted out of him. (LEV, KOGANEGAWA, hinata, yamaguchi)

notes. if the name is in caps, then i felt like their category is 100% in my brain. if the name just lowercase, then i felt like they could easily be in another one too. rlly liked writing this!

taglist. @integers @paradoxicalwritings @yuchacco @megapteraurelia

links. my masterlist. requests open.

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takes1 · 6 months ago

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i just read the overview for the kyotani fic… ik you and the requester cooked so glucking hard omfg🤤🤤🤤

[final?] accidentally falling for kyoutani (maddog)

ayyy much appreciated pookie bear.💕😌 i have no plans to write a part after this so it will no longer be a priority. if i do write more (specifically after i write myself back out of the 'part 2 prison' im in rn bc im a dumbass) it'll be because of inbox requests for it

warnings. nsfw, implied depressive symptoms, minors DNI

details. fem!reader / angsty smut / bad coping strategies! / porn with plot / or plot with porn? / f!rec oral / spontaneous intimacy / heavy petting / making out / clothes on type shit / kyoutani is a munch / crying and hugging / 2.8k words

links. my masterlist. more haikyuu. my ao3. requests open. part one here.

"Mmm..." Your eyes danced across the photo preview, back to his eternal pout, and suggested, "Can you do some push-ups or something? Your forearm needs to be veiny-er..."

Kyoutani hated that. His eyes narrowed at you, his grip slipping away. You turned from his reflection to give his actual scowl an irritating smile.

"My forearms?"

"Yeah-,"

He flexed both of his wrists towards you, "These aren't veiny enough for you?"

You pointed at the strings under his skin, all plump and oddly attractive, "Well- see yeah, that's okay. But the back, look. Turn them around."

A big, frustrated sigh. He turned them and they were genuinely less vascular, there.

Getting this picture right was very important to you, and you made it immensely clear that it needed to be perfect for you to post it. Always worried about the optics, despite choosing the school's most renowned loser to do this operation with.

"God," He groaned, a big eye roll, "You're such a--,"

Ignored went his usual insults, mixed in odd cadence with his new pet names, as he pushed out about 40 good push-ups. Kyoutani did what you told him to at the end of the day. You had a few ideas around why-- but it generally boiled down to the fact that he secretly liked keeping you around.

Nobody could be okay with being alone all the time, right?

You sure weren't.

Kyoutani repped those out like he could do at least double that. You crossed your arms over yourself, warm, at his gesture at your feet. You wanted to tell him to keep going, just to see if he would.

It had been a month of no-contact with Tooru and you were drowning in the withdrawal. That was at 6 games, a mix of practice and real ones, that you had missed. You wondered if anyone remembered you. If he could ever pick out your voice in the midst of all his options, in the stands, the way he told you he did.

"Aagh-, you- are so difficult."

He was breathy as he rolled his hoodie sleeves back up, then fixed his collar. You took a little long staring at him, void of usual judgment, and he made a face at you when you pulled him back in to continue workshopping your photo.

Distracted, you drawled, "You don't make this easy, either."

"Hm... that is better-," Your fingers slipped over his arms again, his pump showing well.

The point was to have him be recognizable, but not in an explicit way. Just his forearms, maybe some of his hair, and his height the only real indicators of who was holding you in this mirror pic.

Tooru would know in an instant. Others might put two-and-two together, and more would have no clue.

Kyoutani's eyes lazily watched your screen, how you adjusted the exposure lower, the frame size. It was a dull endeavor, and not enough to truly interest him. Unlike you, he had no hope for your failed relationship coming back from the dead. Oikawa choked, dumping you- it was that simple.

Your neck smelled like that sweet, soft perfume you wore almost every Friday. That was his favorite. It made him hungry for a something with strawberries and cream, or a nice pastry.

While you moved his arm where it needed to be -right under your chest-, he sucked a slow kiss into the side of your neck.

It didn't mess up your photo, and it wasn't like you hadn't been paying him in kisses already, so you suppressed your shivers and ignored the creep.

Another few takes later, and you had some photos to work with, so you could edit and decide how/where to post them.

Kyoutani satisfied, so you started your editing where you stood, in front of your desk, tapping away with your thumbs while his hands roamed over your shirt.

He kept you shivering, a little short of breath, and half-distracted.

"How'd it turn out?"

He never spared his best sarcasm with you. He didn't give a damn about the picture.

"Fu-ck you," You sighed- it was embarrassing how quickly he got you worked up, making you more tense, than anything.

A breathy chuckle. That was too easy. He didn't go for the obvious response.

He moved further down, fingers hooked under your blouse. He pulled on it to swipe his tongue and teeth over the sensitive skin there.

"That-- that feels-- good," You struggled, eyes clouded, head tilted so he could have more room.

It had been too long. Any touch got your mind racing, your body reactive. You were barely able to post the picture.

Kyoutani scoffed. You thought he would stop, just to be an asshole, but he moved to press a kiss right behind your ear.

He grumbled, a hand diving, hungry, under your shirt, "I can do better than good."

You put a palm on your desk, stumbling forward and weak at his words, under his grasp, from all his prodding. He pressed you up against it, kisses faster, rougher. His other hand rested on your thigh, just shy of your skirt. More of a question, than anything.

There were worse options. Somewhere. He was hot, and horny, at least.

You turned around and brought him in by the back of his head for a rushed and heated kiss.

He not only met it, but gladly escalated everything-- he gripped you hard and placed you on the desk, a heady groan under his passionate kisses.

You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled his hips in. It all felt so good- so fast, but so easy. There was hardly a second thought to it at all.

"Fuck-," He groaned, parting for the moment it took to hold you tighter.

Hurried and ruttish kisses overlapped one another. He couldn't finish one before he started the next. Unable to keep up, you were getting pushed back in his haste, all giddy at his almost-funny enthusiasm.

But it was no laughing matter.

You were just as lonely. You tried just as hard. You wanted somebody to touch, somebody to hold.

Somebody to make you feel good. Wanted.

Despite your routine changing overnight after you and Tooru weren't on speaking terms anymore, you failed to fill the space. The quiet, the hours you used to dedicate to just your relationship, now void of anything, was like a memorial to the concept of 'us.' Inviting Kyoutani over -sneaking him in through the garage, rather- already felt like you were disrespecting your mourning. This was the desk he used to sit on. That was your bed that he used to sleep in.

Kyoutani cupped the back of your head like you were made of glass-- his sigh proceeded it, like this wasn't just some spur of the moment kiss.

And you let yourself be convinced. Just for a little while.

He was fast with his hands. Gripping, groping, pulling your expensive clothes.

Your own grasp was pushing down under his hoodie, under the collar of his shirt to feel more skin. He was warm, and here, and real.

"Have I--," You cringed at your stutter, as he kept his hickeys cropped close to your jaw, "Told you that- you're kinda cute?"

His hips rolled against yours, his fingers plunged under your skirt on your hip, under the panties Tooru paid for months ago.

"Cute."

A tiny nick next to your ear made you flinch, "You must be thinkin' of someone else."

He was making you breathless already, the dull sensation enough to get you soaked and destitute. A light chuckle at his stupid avoidance, and you knew to try harder next time you had something nice to say.

Kyoutani pulled back and rolled his eyes, muttering another, dismissive, 'cute,' and pressed his palm real soft against your pussy.

"Mm-m," You couldn't return his kiss, chin tucked lower, instead. All tense at his touch.

Your thighs squeezed around his wrist.

"No way you're that sensitive-," He laughed at you, but it wasn't targeted.

You evaded his curious gaze. In your denial of kisses, he dropped to his knees, instead.

"It's- been a whi-le-- Ah-h!"

Kyoutani was kissing you through your panties- on your desk- kneeling on the floor- while you were both fully clothed- and Tooru was who-knows-where, not giving a fuck about you.

He muttered something against your cunt, a buzz good enough for you to scratch the paint off of the surface.

You flinched, but didn't have a doubt in your mind about what you wanted as he pushed them to the side and put a sloppy kiss to you.

"Ah-h," Was a pitiful, whimpry noise out of your parted lips.

Kyoutani's hands, perfectly veiny at this point, had your thighs hostage, encouraging you to keep them up so he could get better access in this position.

His tongue was new, but he was so gentle, so attentive, that you got used to him embarrassingly quick.

Those fingers were darker, shaped more blocky and thicker than Tooru's. But they still felt good. They looked hot, gripping you. His curly, dyed hair was very different. You wanted to touch it, but refrained, in case he got mad. Nevertheless, it was a welcome sight between your legs.

The pleasure you had associated with only one person wasn't so specialized anymore.

"Mmn!" You winced at a strong suck to your clit.

Before you could tell him he was too rough, he was back in his light circles again.

Your chest was getting tight, your shallow breaths uneven. Tooru was never this spontaneous. You would've never known you liked it so much.

This was not your most conventional orgasm, but it topped more than a few.

"I-i'm--," Your whiny admission fell away at his consistency, his soft kisses and tonguing at your pussy, "F-uck, fuck, fuck-! H-ah,"

You came all shaky, whiny, for him, just the way he liked you. You were never more pretty to him than in that moment, how he made you all soft and sweet, soaking wet and broken in.

Kyoutani wasn't eager to part from you- you had to squeeze him with your thighs, just to get him to move.

When he came up, all flushed, relaxed, and chin dripping, he looked horribly beautiful.

He kissed you hard before he wiped it off.

"Knew you'd taste sweet," Was an alarmingly soft mutter against your neck.

That made you smile.

He filled the gaps around you perfectly, all warm, and out of breath, too. Did it classify as a hug? Because it felt like one. You put your arms over his shoulders and sighed, trembly, and heavy against his strong hold.

His thumb rubbed just under your hairline, and you could feel the expanse of his chest, the rhythm of his breathing.

Part of you wanted to apologize for involving him in your lunacy, your inexplicable obsession with the idea of getting your ex back.

The thought of that was messy, though, because then you would be apologizing for all of it. And now, after whatever this was, you wouldn't fully mean it.

Buzzed, you simply were not sorry for getting acquainted with him.

The desk was not comfortable. He smushed a few pecks, slow, against your forehead and lifted you to stand up.

"You're pretty good at that," You managed to admit before another kiss.

Careless, and absorbed in your body, "It's nothin'- you're pretty easy."

Instead of letting him keep up his handsy, huffy attempts at getting further, you turned your face so he caught your jaw. Your palms faced flat on his shoulders, instead of pulling him closer.

Kyoutani groaned, "Not like that--,"

"No no, I know," Your raised, insincere tone was a direct contradiction, "I know."

You reached for your phone. His frown got tighter.

He didn't want to let you go, but couldn't keep holding you when you acted like such a stranger. His fingertips slipped from you and were replaced in fists at his sides.

It was just like you. Reaching for something familiar and comforting as soon as you were intimidated, or unsure.

There were many notifications, all a blur as you scrolled down an endless sea of them. You cleared your throat, straightening your clothes, and he scowled at how different it felt, just watching your guard go back up.

Distracted, you glanced vaguely across to his shoulder, then your screen, and absentmindedly created distance by starting to search for a change of clothes, before you spared him any semblance of an explanation.

"Sorryyy, I really need a shower, sooo..."

He rolled his eyes and sat on your bed, "Kay."

The tiny consideration to be kind, cute, and engage him one more time did cross your mind. Maybe, if you had been more sure that he would be receptive to something domestic like that, you would've followed your intuition.

Instead, you shut the bathroom door behind you.

You looked down at the screen, finally alone, and grew cold.

Two missed calls, four messages. From Tooru. He still had a white heart by his name. You watched your thumb start to shake over the screen-- you set your phone face down and puffed out a sick breath as you turned the knob on the shower.

It felt like you cheated.

It didn't matter how hot you made that water. You felt disgusting and couldn't wash it away.

Kyoutani didn't need his overly sensitive hearing to know you were crying in the bathroom. He ran his palms over his face with a sigh and fell onto his back.

If Oikawa wasn't in the picture, his stress would be gone- but he also wouldn't have had a chance, in the first place. He had to weigh all the costs and benefits, gritting his teeth to the sound of your quiet sobbing.

The worst part was that you really weren't that bad. Nobody could be a bitch for that long. Maybe you needed to learn how to be less pretentious. He couldn't be sure, but he knew you had your good moments. He liked those. He liked you when you were sweeter, when you had your stupid guard down, and got all clingy and nice to him because you didn't have another outlet.

Being last-pick was getting really old.

You were sniffling long after the sound of the shower was gone. He waited what felt like an interval between too long and too little to knock, to check on you.

The door opened and an excessive amount of steam poured out.

He waited for you to say something, to prompt him to speak, but the natural beat faded away, and you were both standing there, staring at each other.

"Uh..." His jaw worked, face heavy and frustrated at his lack of words, "Are you... okay?"

It was easy getting his uncertain gaze meet your face, so long as you didn't look back at him. Thankfully, you were staring at his shoulder, lashes decorated with pretty little drops, your eyes brighter, somehow.

You nodded and he was at -yet another- severe deficit. He bit the inside of his cheek with a loaded sigh through his nostrils.

Kyoutani was so bad with words. You could hear his frustration.

"Come on," His hands went up past his sides for a subtle suggestion. An embrace. His face was turned up and away. You wouldn't have to feel the pressure of him watching.

There was a soft spot under all his messy bullshit, and it wasn't just fueled by sex. You hated how much you needed it, right now.

You closed the distance. No argument, no sarcasm, no pushing back.

You wouldn't put all your weight on him. Not like you did earlier. You'd be damned before you cried in his arms, no matter how empty you felt. He felt good and he was steady, strong. Your body melted, faltered, against your will.

"You wanna- I dunno- go get a coffee, or somethin'?"

That sounded like a fantastic idea. You pushed enough on his chest to tell him you were done with hugging, but he still kept a grip on your upper arm, eyes analyzing every little shudder and movement.

You nodded again, unable to properly respond. Scarred knuckles grazed your puffy face, not enough to do anything- just there to give you a soft touch.

"I'll drive."

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takes1 · 6 months ago

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oh my lord i love your writing it literally has me geeked every time. any possibility you write more for my man asahi? i’ll take anything you have to offer but i can’t stop thinking about something similar in premise to the wrestling where, instead, it’s 7 minutes in heaven? possible details about the closet they’re in being too small for him, perhaps~ because what asahi fan doesn’t appreciate some size difference goodness

asahi azumane x reader w/ size kink

i literally said, out loud, "ohhh!!!" and started writing it as soon as i saw this ask - you have a gift for ideas my love. thank you for sending this in!!!

warnings. heavy nsfw. minors DNI

details. fem!reader / 7 min. in heaven / heavy size kink / heavy claustrophilia / soft top!asahi / mutual?crushing / manhandling / thigh riding / making out / hickeys and marking / semi PDA / rough but sweet!asahi / 2.3k words / oh lord another maybe? two parter

links. my masterlist. more haikyuu. my ao3. my imagines. my request box

"Well, it's not a closet per se," Suga cocked his head at the half-done, dusty, crawl space the group chose for this game, "But it'll do, right?"

Asahi glanced down at you and didn't stop. You were taken by a big wave of chills, crossed your arms, looked away, then back up-- and he was still looking down at you. Any hope of subtlety was over.

He nodded, despite being the most effected by the size problem of this unfortunate reality.

"Well, there's nothing in it."

A fair point. The other closets were filled with closet-like things. Towels, cleaning supplies, pantry items, tools. The group, consisting of mixed-up members of Karasuno volleyball teams, had a fun treasure hunt with that stuff, but this was what you were after. A closet to play your thirsty game in.

'Unfortunate' was just one mode of perception. Less room meant more contact, but nobody was saying that aloud.

"Can you even fit in here, dude?" Nishinoya clambered out with relative ease, albeit sideways.

Every girl except you looked away as Asahi tried, embarrassed at the way the boards creaked, how he wouldn't be able to enter normally because his shoulders were too wide for the space. He had to bend at the waist because he was far too tall. You scanned the empty space in front of him, warm and tingly.

There was some room! You could fit there and you would, maybe, die trying.

Ever since Daichi retired to his room for the night, nobody had taken up the burdensome mantle of responsibility. His dad-like severity had a strong influence on the types of activities that were 'allowed' to happen.

7 Minutes in Heaven would have never been brought up with him present.

As long as the Karasuno teams were quiet enough to not wake him, you could carry on.

It's not that a game of spin the bottle, or some truth or dare, was necessarily scandalous, but it was enough to get everybody giggling and generate the who-has-a-crush-on-who type of conversations. Since everybody left downstairs were the interested ones that hadn't gone to bed already, it left this smaller, more intimate group to carry out some otherwise repressed desires.

You weren't the first to go in, but it was clear that the first pairing didn't do anything. That was fine and all, and a good reminder that you didn't have to kiss, if you didn't want to.

When Asahi was asked who he wanted to spend the time with, he returned your previous admission from a different game.

"I mean- why would I not say (Y/n)?"

He looked from Suga, who had taken the mantle of 'fun-mom' in all of this, being the bottle-spinner and card-holder and question-maker, back to you.

You realized the time he took to look at his friend was probably the only instance in the past 30 minutes that his eyes hadn't been locked onto you, ever since you admitted your little crush for him.

Getting in was about as easy as you imagined.

It had you both packed so tight that you had maybe an inch to move, at best. It forced you to put your hands on each other, just to stay oriented in the pitch black, and not trip.

"G-od," He sighed, and you earned a centimeter of space for two seconds. Then he had to take another breath and you were immobilized again, "We gotta- gotta adjust, or somethi-ng."

A strained, "Y-eah," was all you could get out. This was not a space meant to fit two people.

"I think, if... I..."

In the darkness, all you could see was some vague shadows move as he stretched down. His palms swallowed up your sides, and you desperately tried to keep your excitement down when you felt for his shoulders. He curled you up and threaded a strong, wide thigh between yours.

Most of it was genuine adjustment, but that didn't mean that it felt any less erotic. Just having to wrap your arms around his body and pull, so that you could sit higher up on his leg, was making your heart race.

"That feel better?"

His grumbly tone forced your thighs to tighten, the way you sat becoming more arched.

You could only give him a whisper, voice strained, because of how nervous you felt, "Yes."

Asahi chuckled right away, his breath ghosting right past your temple.

It was impossible to tell if he was bent to purposefully be close, or if there was no space to straighten more. You assumed the most polite option.

"You, uh- you... comfortable?" He muttered, more against you instead of anywhere else he could've possibly spoken, "Comfortable enough- I guess?"

You laughed, "Sure, yeah."

His thumb started rubbing against your side as he laughed with you. You could feel yourself getting wet, and tried to suppress any automatic squirming.

"You're- a... a nice seat--," Your face scrunched, your innocent words unsuccessful at trying to make things silly, and easy.

"Oh?" He chuckled at you.

"I- didn't--," You looked up in the dark, but couldn't see anything, and tried to pray away your embarrassment, "I did not mean it like that."

His grin spread, and you could feel his stubble really clearly against your forehead.

A tiny kiss to your hairline made your fingers grip his t-shirt, your spine straighten, your poor heart work even harder.

"It's okay if you did," The smile in his voice was so sweet.

Kissing him was shockingly simple. You felt like you had lots to say, things to explain, but they were so unimportant when his lips were soft and reading you like an open book.

The only crucial detail needed, for the moment, in this closet, was that you were super into him, and he was at least entertaining it.

For minutes, he couldn't decide where, how, he wanted to hold you. His arms would trade off between pulling you against his front in a hug, so he could feel more of your body on his.

Or, he would take more of a direct route of using his hands to pull you in for kisses, by the back of the neck, with his other palm keeping you pressed hard against his thigh.

The switch would happen any time you weren't heavy enough on his leg, or when your back wasn't arched enough to stay smushed against his chest.

"M-mh-," He was rolling your hips for you, weighing you down more on his thigh, flexing it just so.

You squirmed, having to part, at his lewd sounds.

He searched for you, huffing, in the dark, "Does that feel good?"

The tone he used with you was genuine, despite how dirty the phrase felt. For a moment, he stopped rubbing you against him.

You swallowed the mixture of spit in your mouth and tried to wipe the drool off of your lips, trembling, "Y-eah, it-- it's--,"

When your hand dipped to fix the seam of your shorts, you accidentally grabbed something warm, and stiff, and just off of where he had you grinding.

"Oh-! Sorry," You retracted your hand, face radiating heat, "I'm sorry."

His chest swelled in a restrained gasp through his nose. His voice was higher, and different as he reassured you it was completely fine.

"Was- that--? Mmh--," Before you could finish your tentative question, he wrapped one arm around you, palming half ass, half hip, while the other yanked you against his torso. It seemed he had realized a good middle ground between his holds.

Another partial moan at how he was able to pull you further up -so that you were trapping his cock between your bodies- got cut off by another clumsy kiss.

He bit you, at your bottom lip, and it throbbed for the rest of the time you kissed him. It made you shove a hand down the back of his shirt, give him an otherwise embarrassing sound, that he ate right up.

What you could feel of his print throbbed against you. A weakness radiated down through your fingers and toes as you scratched lines into his bare skin. It didn't do shit. It was like he didn't even feel it.

Actually, you wanted that shirt off.

It took just three seconds of pitiful tugging for him to let off, pull it over his head with one hand, and swing it to the dusty floor. Forgotten.

He was rough when he put his hands back on you, when you returned it, tugging, wanting to be closer however possible.

"Fuck-!" You sighed, breathing hard, fast, at his busy sucking down your neck.

His nails dug into your skin, his breathing characterized by needy groans that sounded a lot like he in the middle of a workout, if anything.

Since when did he like you back? Was it just because you were available? Would he have done this with any of the girls on your team? Not that it was much of a competition- none of them thought he looked 'civilized' enough to entertain him as an option.

Your legs were jelly, your thoughts heavy, but it didn't matter.

His shoulders would stretch further with every huff, expanding and resetting, and you couldn't stop yourself from scouring every inch while he was over you. It was getting hot in here. He was getting tacky, a little slippery in some areas.

He bit you too hard in a soft spot and you cried out, barely stuffing the sound into his bare shoulder. It was loud and you both knew it was audible through the other side of the door.

Asahi slowed, as gentle as he started, again, with an apologetic hum in the crook of your neck.

"Sorry," You could hear his smile, "Too much-"

He sighed and collected his nerves for a second as he readjusted his grip on you. More palm, less fingertips. It didn't sting as much and you missed it.

He said definitively, mostly to himself, "That was too much."

"I liked it!" You reassured him quietly, palm moving from his shoulder, to his neck, to the side of his face.

"I liked it. I liked it," Got repeated, in a tiny giggle, as he stilled.

You were delivering multiple little pecks across his face, craving his intensity as soon as you lost it. You tried holding him tighter, but it wasn't the same when he wasn't pushing and pulling.

That tingly sensation of his breathy laugh, his skilled tongue, was back on your neck, closer to your ear.

You melted at once with a whimper, the need to rock your own hips short-lived because he pushed his own against your heat.

"Ahh-!"

He grinned, sucking another bit of skin in an obvious spot, "Shhh."

The heartbeat between your legs was strong. He could feel it clearly against his thigh, wishing it was better placed and put to good use.

His fingertips were digging, pushing past the waistband of your shorts, further down, palm against your tummy. Maybe it was that feeling, maybe it was your enthusiasm, or maybe the fact that you were so wet he could feel that, too, but something possessed him to start getting greedy.

But he paid for it. While you were encouraging him, a hand around his thick forearm, guiding and pushing it down, a gasp already on your breath-- you were both completely blinded.

No courtesy knock. Just a bright light and a loud screech. Asahi retracted his curious hand in a flash, but there was not much else to do to make this look less provocative.

Though the sound was higher-pitched, it was not made from anyone on your team.

Nishinoya dropped to his knees, slack-jawed, and that's all you were able to register before the door slammed shut again.

Suga scolded him from the other side, others were shushing incessantly.

"You were supposed to knock, Noya!!"

"Now Daichi's gonna wake up! Nice going, dumbass!"

It gave you both enough time to try and separate. However, without opening the door, you couldn't get fully off of one another.

You were shaking, beyond nervous, and forcefully sobered. Not exactly happy.

"Um- that was great. Thank you," It was a short, and curt, way of telling him you didn't expect much after this. You had one hand on the door.

Asahi grabbed you by the waist and dragged you back. "C'mere--,"

His rough, messy, desperate last kiss was enough to leave you dizzy. He readjusted himself during it with one last rub.

"We're not done yet," He told you. Another hasty peck to the top of your head, and he was leagues lighter in tone, "Uh, sorry- As far as I'm concerned. Do what you want, though!"

He turned the knob for you and pushed it open a crack. You stumbled out, wiping your mouth.

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@integers @paradoxicalwritings @yuchacco @screamin-abt-haikyuu

potential for part two but i need to refrain from making promises. lmk if you're interested and i can make a taglist if i revisit!

my masterlist. more haikyuu. my imagines. requests open.

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