seventhseian

[seventhseian]

#needthat

touch starved reader x professional cuddler mattsun......................

[seventhseian]

single dad karasu who unintentionally stumbles across your account while he's scrolling through instagram. he has no idea who you are but pauses to watch the video anyway, because you're putting together a kids bento box that looks easy enough for him to try making himself when his daughter goes back to school.

he ends up leaning against the kitchen counter for another forty-five minutes watching videos of you making kids lunches and snacks. and he ends up hitting the follow button on your profile, telling himself it's because he's awful in the kitchen.

(and not because he can't get enough of the way your honeyed voice settles warmly in his chest, the way it tickles against his ribcage, the way it crawls down his spine.)

(not because he somehow finds himself hanging on to every word you say, every simple ingredient, every mundane step.)

(he knows it's gotten bad when he nearly cuts the tip of his finger off because he's too distracted by the soft sound of your laughter as you describe an easier way to dice cucumbers.)

by the time the first day of school rolls around, karasu feels like making lunches won't be so daunting anymore. even if he's watched so many of your videos by this point that his daughter has taken to giggling whenever she hears "daddy's girlfriend" when he's got his phone propped up on the counter in the kitchen.

(and if he's maybe, possibly developed a sizeable crush on you along the way, well, that's between him and the sink and the cutting board, thank you very much.)

and it's fine, really. until his daughter skips outside when he's picking her up from her first day of school. until she grabs his hand with big, bright eyes and a mischievous smile as she whisper-yells that she met his girlfriend.

—and that's when you step out of the building amongst the tiny children making their way to their parents with a name tag clipped on your sweater, a pencil behind your ear, and a binder in your hands.

you, his daughter's teacher.

karasu chokes.

[seventhseian]

suna would catch you reading smutty fanfic in bed next to him and be like "that part sounds hot why aren't you masturbating right now"

[seventhseian]

you, a writer who kind of jokingly tells roommate!suna you’re having trouble visualizing the logistics of a male masturbation scene.

suna, who shrugs and asks if you just want to watch him and take notes.

[seventhseian]

When your fave's fucking you like an animal and chanting "you're gonna make me cum, you're gonna make me cum"

[seventhseian]

all of seijoh 4 has solemnly agreed since high school that iwaizumi has the best boxers bulge.

[seventhseian]

cw: dubcon, nsfw

if there's a hobby caleb enjoys doing that involves you, it's to jack off to the sound of your voice on the phone. on a random friday, during a casual phone call, you decided to dial caleb's number to ask for his opinion about phone models. you wanted to purchase a new one.

but as caleb continuously panted heavily into the line, trying to disguise his ragged breaths as the exertion of his strenous work-out, you couldn't help but feel uneasy. "twenty-six... twenty-seven… ngh—yeah, i’m here. keep talking, i’m listening." he squeezed his shaft tighter, imagining your dainty fingers wrapped around his girth, mouth slightly ajar from the short, sharp gasps he constantly let out.

"are you really working out, caleb?" you furrowed your brows, trying to capture the sounds he was making carefully.

"thirty-nine… forty—hnnh… yeah, you really called during my set." caleb let out a soft, breathy chuckle as he picked up his pace, his hand gliding over his saliva-slicked cock. between his fingers was your black-laced panty that you lost, the undergarment that he cheekily hid in his pockets when you did laundry together. he shakily exhales through his mouth, then gave a particularly loud grunt. "fifty… hnnnh, fuck—"

you whisper into the phone, horrified. "caleb! are you normally this loud?"

"y-you called me now of all times, pipsqueak. what'd you expect?" he lowers his voice, sultry even through the panting. "you still thinkin' bout those phones?" caleb grunted once more, his cock pulsing and leaking pre-cum as he stroked it with wild abandon, the obscene sound of his self-pleasure filling the corners of his dark bedroom. he absolutely enjoys doing this, getting off from the thought of you being painfully clueless to his sickening intentions and depraved lust. "sixty-one… hah… sixty-two—ngh—shit… i'm shaking…"

you turned your back, clutching your phone tighter as your ears turn redder. "caleb, seriously—do you have to sound like you're doing something indecent?!"

caleb grinned against the phone, "i am doing something indecent. thinkin' about you while i'm like this." he smirks at his own innuendo, involuntarily jerking his hips upward as he neared his release. goddamn, it feels so good. you feel so good. sometimes, he just wants to pounce on you and take you without your consent. "can’t help it… every time i pump—i mean, push down, i’m p-picturing you. m-mouth open. those wide eyes… shit—sixty-five…"

in a hushed panic, you mutter, "what??"

"say my name, just once. i'll... i'll make it to a hundred if you do." there's no use denying him. so when you reluctantly pronounced his name, that melodic voice of yours blessing his ears while he chased after his climax, the way he breathlessly moaned your name didn't go unnoticed. caleb gave his own dick one last squeeze before falling his head back, a bead of sweat rolling down his throat. a beat of silence follows, then his tone softens, almost satisfied, because he most definitely was, just from the feeling of his cum endlessly gushing out of his tip. "good girl..."

[seventhseian]

Brat taming with Caleb where he absolutely snaps when you've managed to touch his last nerve. He tries to regain his composure at first, breathing in and out in hopes that it'll soothe his overflowing temper. He's never felt this way towards you, vowing to himself that he'll always be your sanctuary, a place of comfort when everything gets too hard.

But, God, why did you have to be so difficult at times?

Caleb has completely forgotten it, the reason why he's aggressively pounding into you with no absolute remorse. Instead of wiping your tears away, he lets them flow as you scream─beg─for him to be gentle, drinking in the sight of your pathetic expression, heated and needy.

"Caleb..! Ah..! Please..!"

With the remaining strength you have left, you try to push him away, pull yourself away from him, in hopes that it'll somehow work.

Fortunately, it does, but your victory only lasted a second when Caleb uses his evol to push you back, his aching cock pushing back inside you.

"Where are you going?"

"Caleb!─Ngh!─Please!"

"What?─Ngh─You begging now? After pissing me off like that?─Ah..!"

Your mind eventually gives up, surrendering to the incoming climax when his thumb trails down from your waist to your clit, rubbing it as his dick completely fucks you to the oblivion.

Waking up the next day, your body was completely sore. You could only curse Caleb in your mind, promising to yourself that you'll eventually get back at him.

Your promise eventually ends up in the dumpters when Caleb comes in with a tray of your favorite variety of breakfast, completely a different person from last night.

[seventhseian]

it’s so easy to forget how buff Deku is because he dresses in like oversized t-shirts and frumpy sweats when he’s not working, and he also is just not a cocky or showy person…

but every once in a while, you ask him to flex, just like when you’re sitting next to him on the couch, and he kinda laughs softly and does it for you. and you wrap your hands around the absolute cement brick of his bicep and a switch flips in your brain that turns you into a feral alley cat and before you know it, you’re biting him like an insane person and pushing at him and just begging, “fuck me, fuck me, fuck me”

[seventhseian]

husband geto! who always carries two hair ties on his wrist one for his own hair and one just in case you need it. it doesn’t matter if you don’t usually tie your hair up; he insists on keeping one there “just in case” because it’s his way of taking care of you. if you ever ask to borrow it, he’ll grin, tie it gently into your hair, and murmur, “told you it’d come in handy.”

husband geto! who wraps you up in his oversized robes when you’re cold, the fabric so big it drags along the floor and picks up dust with every step you take, but he swears you look so much cuter like that than in any regular jacket. sometimes, though, instead of giving you a robe of your own, he’ll just untie the one he’s already wearing and wrap it around the both of you, pulling you against his chest. “warmer this way, isn’t it?” he murmurs, his chin resting gently on top of your head as his arms tighten around you. you grumble at how snug and immobile it makes you feel, but he just smiles softly, completely content to hold you there, sharing his warmth and his space with you.

husband geto! who lets you sit in on his cult meetings even though he insists it’s “no place for someone like you.” he doesn’t mean it harshly—he just doesn’t want you to hear something he isn’t ready to explain yet. still, he brings you along anyway, trusting that his followers will take the hint to speak carefully when you’re around. to them, you’re almost untouchable, a divine figure worthy of devotion simply because you hold his heart. sometimes, when the meeting drags on and grows dull, he’ll catch your eye across the room and give you a subtle wink. the smirk that threatens to tug at his lips only deepens when he sees you look away, flustered. later, as you leave, he’ll tease you softly, “you’re too cute when you get embarrassed, you know that?”

husband geto! who has his followers bring back gifts for you from their travels—anything from small trinkets and rare teas to fine fabrics he knows you’ll love for new kimonos. he’s too proud to admit how often he talks about you, dropping little hints about your interests here and there, and his followers, eager to please, can’t help but return with offerings they hope will make you smile. whenever you question why you receive so many gifts, reminding him that you don’t play a major role in his cult, he’ll simply shrug and say, “because they respect you. you’re important to me, so you’re important to them.”

husband geto! who can only find comfort in you after long days spent exorcising curses and managing his followers. the moment he steps through the door, the outer persona he shows to the world falls away, leaving only the man who craves your warmth. without a word, he pulls you into a quiet embrace, burying his face in the crook of your neck as his breathing speaks louder than anything he could say. for a while, he just holds you, steadying himself in your presence, before he finally pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against yours. his eyes meet yours, soft and vulnerable, as he whispers, “you’re the only peace I have left.”

husband geto! who asks his followers to leave when he wants time alone with you. he can be in the middle of a meeting or just anywhere his followers are present, and he’ll dismiss them. he’ll feel a strong urge—a need—to be with you at that very moment. if he’s ever in a meeting, crowded and the air serious, but the second you walk in with that adorable smile he fell in love with, he’ll be quick to wave his hands and dismiss them. “leave us,” he says with an air of authority before smiling softly and pulling you onto his lap, immediately attacking your face with kisses.

husband geto! who loves seeing you interact with the two little girls he took in. his heart swells whenever he sees you braiding their hair just like how you braid his, helping them with homework, or doing activities that a mother would do with her daughters. it makes him want to have his own kids with you (not that he doesn’t consider them his kids), and the thought of that both scares him and excites him. he doesn’t want to bring something so precious into a world so cruel.

husband geto! who sometimes lets you tie his hair back for meetings or missions. you carefully smooth out any stray strands as he watches you, always either on your tiptoes or standing on a chair to reach his head. sometimes, he’ll hold you up, your legs dangling in the air as he grips you firmly by your waist, a loving gaze and smile on his face as he watches you concentrate on making sure his hair is perfectly tied. your tongue pokes out to the side, and your brows furrow in focus. when you’re done, he’ll say, “perfect. you’re better at this than i am,” before pressing a kiss to your knuckles and wrists.

husband geto! who holds you close at night, whispering his fears when he thinks you’re asleep. he rarely shows weakness during the day, but in the darkness of the night, when your breathing is soft and steady, he finds himself snuggling closer into your warm embrace, admiring you. “i don’t deserve you… but i won’t let anyone take you away from me.” so many times, you have to stop yourself from opening your eyes and hugging him tightly, wanting to tell him that he does deserve you. but you know he’d probably stop once he realizes you’re awake, not asleep.

husband geto! who would destroy entire villages if someone hurt you. his calm demeanor would shatter the second he thought you were in danger, to his followers, he's a leader, but to anyone who threatens you, he becomes something far more terrifying. "if you lay a hand on her," he'd warn coldly, "there won't be enough of you left to bury."

husband geto! who swears he'll leave it all behind someday-for you. there are moments, late at night, when he tells you softly about his dream of a peaceful life with you. no followers, no curses, no battles— just the two of you in a quiet home, free from the weight of the world.

"someday," he promises, brushing your hair back as you rest against him.

"someday, it'll just be us."

and that someday is sooner than he thought it would be.

[seventhseian]

hair down!karasu

“you’re so distracting,” you grouse as you feel your roommate’s chin come to rest on top of your head, your fingers stilling over your keyboard mid-sentence. 

“‘m bored,” karasu sighs. “and ya spelled specific wrong.”

tilting your head upward, you glare up at him while whacking the backspace key more aggressively than necessary with your middle finger, “because you distracted me!”

he stands back up, chuckling to himself and sauntering off into the kitchen to inevitably make more noise while you sacrifice what remains of your late-semester soul to the research paper gods. 

to be fair, the issue of him being a distraction is less about his shuffling and tittering about the apartment in boredom and moreso just about…him. 

well, a very specific part of him. 

you’ve been friends with karasu for years, you’re close. exceptionally close, you’d argue. and when the entire first floor of your dorm building flooded out last week, he offered you the spare room in his apartment—no questions asked.

it’s a temporary arrangement, so really, it should pose no risk to the neat and tidy little drawer that you keep your attraction to him shoved into the dark corners of. spending a few weeks underfoot with his warm accent, pretty eyes, dry humor, and gravely laugh shouldn’t kill you.

you’re been compartmentalizing it all like a champ for years, after all.

if subterfuge of unrequited pining was an olympic sport—

but you underestimated one tiny issue that you hadn’t quite thought out the consequences of when presented with the opportunity to cohabitate with karasu tabito. 

one little thing—

his hair.

his at home hair. 

his i’m not leaving the house or seeing anyone today hair. 

his clean, completely product-free, ridiculously attractive hair—which falls softly across his forehead, tickling the bridge of his nose. which flits along the shell of his ears and rests against the back of his neck.

(which makes you want to run for the hills and jump into his arms and flee the country and kiss him until you can’t breathe and—)

it’s funny, really, when you think about it. the fact that you’ve actually never seen karasu without styling wax in his hair somehow. it feels somewhat ridiculous thinking it out loud. 

but restricted exposure throughout the duration of your friendship thus far was clearly for the better, given the way you haven’t been able to stop glancing over at him every two minutes since he got out of the shower three hours ago. since he padded into the living room in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt and plopped down on the other end of the couch, idly scrolling through his phone and entirely unaware of the crisis he’d unknowingly thrust upon your unsuspecting, fragile mind. 

because here’s the thing—on a normal day, you can squash them down, these inconvenient feelings of attraction. the way your heart flutters feebly against your ribcage at the sound of his voice, at the curve of his lips when you say something ridiculous that makes him smile. 

at the way he says your name, how you always seem to be the first person he calls after games. how he falls asleep with his head in your lap when you watch movies, the way he doesn’t even have to ask what you want when you’re ordering food or getting coffee because he just knows. 

but this. 

this. 

he’s sitting on the other end of the couch again, lazily running a hand through his hair and blowing it out of his eyes every so often while he taps away at a game on his phone. 

and yeah, you’ve never been quite so attracted to him as in this moment.

it’s not even just the fact that his hair is down, even though the back of your neck has yet to stop burning at the sight of it. 

it’s the undeniable domesticity of it all that has your heart racing in your chest. 

that has your fingers itching to toss your laptop aside, to crawl across the expanse of cushions and into his lap—

“please tell me you’re almost done,” karasu interrupts your treacherous train of thought. 

you find him on his hands and knees in front of where you’re seated sideways against the arm of the couch, positioned between your lazily spread legs with one hand hovering over the lid of your laptop, which he’s slowly pushing closed. 

“hey!” you choke out, both startled by the way your body reacts to his sudden proximity and the fact that you haven’t saved your document in fifteen minutes. 

hastily, you do just that, and the laptop snaps shut with a resounding click that seems to echo off of the walls of the apartment like a beacon while karasu stares back at you for a beat. 

a slow grin of victory spreads across his face when he uses one hand to transfer your laptop to the coffee table, but he makes no move to get off of you. 

“otoya and hiori wanna get dinner,” he tells you by way of explanation. 

it’s not fair how much more attractive his stupid, cute little mole looks with dark strands of hair falling against it—

“and?” you ask carefully. 

you just want to reach out and touch—

“and you gotta eat, too, so i’ve been waitin’ on you, princess.”

fucking pet names. one goddamn crisis at a time.

your ribcage is on the verge of becoming a triage center. 

“well, don’t you—shouldn’t you go and get ready, at least?” you do your best not to sound completely and entirely rattled as you gesture toward his hair. 

he looks up with just his eyes, as if he’s only just now noticing the origin of your afternoon’s torture. “what, does it look that bad?”

is he serious?

he smirks, and—oh. your breath hitches in your throat as you try to figure out when he got so close, when he shifted even higher to cage you in entirely between his tall, muscled frame and the plush, worn-in couch cushions. 

it makes you feel dizzy, being beneath him like this. 

karasu smells like the strawberries he was eating earlier, and your throat goes dry as you think about the way he’d outright fed one to you instead of handing it to you like a normal person when you asked. the way his fingertips had briefly touched your lips—

he smells like the fabric softener he’s used for years, and it’s seemingly the last remaining lifeline left to ground you in this moment. you grasp at it, almost desperately. 

you end up unconsciously fisting a hand in the fabric of his shirt instead. 

he leans in a little closer, close enough that his hair brushes against your forehead. 

it tickles. 

warmth blooms hot in your gut, petals of heat caressing your spine.  

“does it look bad?” he asks again. 

you can feel his breath skirt against your lips. 

“maybe,” you whisper, voice almost hoarse. because you need some sort of an upper hand here. 

he huffs, eyes locked on yours. “liar.”

“you’re distracting,” you tell him again for the—you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve said it today. 

one of his knees is slotted dangerously between your legs, and you try not to think about the way his thighs look in his kit. how often you have to tear your eyes away from the sight of them when you’re watching his games. 

fucking footballers. 

“am i?” 

you nod slowly, and you wonder what his lips taste like. how he kisses. if they’re as warm as the body heat that’s blanketing you while he keeps you bracketed beneath him. 

if he’d methodically break you down like he does to his opponents on the field—if he’d call you some other endearing thing in that pretty accent of his while your legs are wrapped around his waist, while you’re carding your fingers through his hair and parting your lips and gasping his name. 

you wonder if he’d take it slow and drag his nose down your cheek before sliding his lips along the curve of your jaw. 

if he’d kiss you long and deep, licking his way into your mouth with one hand splayed against your throat and another curled around your hip. 

if he’d—

“you’re distracting, too, ya know,” he whispers. 

“what?” your heart’s pounding so loudly in your chest, you’re not sure if you heard him right. 

karasu taps your chin lightly with his pointer finger. “ya read out loud, and ya sing to yourself while you’re cookin’ and cleanin’.”

embarrassment washes over you as you begin to realize what a bothersome house guest you’ve probably unintentionally become over the past few days. “i’m sorry, i’m just so used to living alone, and—“

he cuts you off abruptly, “i said you’re distracting, not that i didn’t like it.”

you blink up at him owlishly, and your chest tightens in confusion as you breathe out what seems to be one of the few last remaining words in the wasteland of your mental dictionary, “what?”

“you have a pretty voice,” he murmurs, thumb ghosting over the edge of your bottom lip. “i like hearin’ it.”

you feel breathless when you exhale the only other thing you can think to say, “karasu.”

his eyes fall shut for a moment, and he smiles. “i love the way you say my name.”

your tongue dances impatiently against the back of your teeth as you swallow, testing the weight of three different syllables—

“tabito,” you whisper. 

he opens his eyes suddenly, and he stares down at you with an expression that has your toes curling against the couch cushions. 

“you should only say that if ya want me to kiss ya,” he rasps. 

your fingers tremble slightly as you reach up and touch his hair, slowly brushing the tips across his mole. he catches your hand when you go to pull away, keeping it there. 

“tabito.”

karasu’s mouth crashes into yours. 

[seventhseian]

Oftentimes Choso doesn’t realise just how big he is. He gets into the habit of over-exciting himself and rushing into things before you’re ready for him.

And he’d eat you out for hours if you asked him, make you cum on his fingers with so much enthusiasm he’s practically vibrating. Even then, he's so big that pushing into you is always a stretch. Sure, a stretch that has your back arching off the mattress and the most erotic of gasps leaving your lips, but a stretch nonetheless. You always need a minute to adjust and calm yourself before he starts moving.

And those few moments of acclimation to his cock have Choso nearly vibrating in impatience. He loves you, would never move before you're ready for him, but something you can't help but smile and drag out his need just a little longer than necessary. You're more than ready for him to fuck you into the next day, but you keep your hand on his hip to stop him from moving.

And he's doing everything possible to distract himself from the instinctual urge to pull out and slam his length fully inside of you. He's kissing you, forcing his tongue into your mouth for some sort of taste of you. He's doing math in his head and digging his fingers into the pillow your head rests on and he's on the verge of tears when you finally give him the nod.

"Oh thank god," the mental flip in his head switches and he's rutting into you like he's been denied for weeks despite having fucked you only hours prior. "Thank you thank you thank you."

[seventhseian]

nerdy boyfriend!takuma who you managed to pull by being a little weird and unhinged

boyfriend!takuma who adores your quirks. you balance his ungodly amount of “negative aura”

boyfriend!takuma who has never been with another girl besides you :( he’s a lil inexperienced and nervous, but he means well

boyfriend!takuma who’s a soft dom with a golden retriever personality. he really just loves you and wants to see you smile

boyfriend!takuma who can only be mean sometimes when you really ask for it

boyfriend!takuma who’s gotten pretty good at starting things when he’s horny… it only took a few years to build his confidence

boyfriend!takuma who only just now started to understand your “signals”.. you’re too shy to flat out start things with him, but you know you want it. this usually results in you just standing next to his gaming setup awkwardly, hoping he’ll just understand your unspoken rizz

boyfriend!takuma who looks up at you and raises his eyebrow with a small smirk. “you need something, baby?”

boyfriend!takuma who knows damn well what you need, but he likes to tease you — he loves seeing you get all awkward and shy, playing off your intentions

boyfriend!takuma who takes his headset off and hangs it up, standing up from his chair with a small stretch. his shirt raises up a bit so you can see his sinful happy trail seeping down into his boxers

boyfriend!takuma who merely chuckles when you try to turn the tables on him by saying, “oh, you think that you’re going to get some every time i come in here and just stand here?”

boyfriend!takuma who responds with, “yeah princess, i do.” before he bends you over the bed, yanking your pants and panties down to rail you from behind as mean as you want him to <3

boyfriend!takuma who can go for hours, holding your pretty face into a pillow as he gives you just what you need — a good fucking to fix your attitude

boyfriend!takuma who presses kisses all over your face, doting on you after you both have finished multiple times. aftercare is one of his favorites because then he can yap to you about how he shit on a whole lobby of 13 year olds in cod

[seventhseian]

okay i see the occasional sakusa love but- have we considered roommate!omi maybe possibly

i think that if you’re a clean housemate who keeps to themselves, you’ll get along splendidly. and kiyoomi will quietly fall in love with you a little bit more each and every day. very wholesome, etc.

if you’re loud, disorganized, and constantly in his business, kiyoomi will definitely probably lose his mind.

and then you’ll end up having hate sex in the kitchen when he finally snaps.

[seventhseian]

oikawa ‘clit kisser’ tooru

[seventhseian]

"what a nerd lol" i said with barely controlled lust

[seventhseian]

bakugou katsuki doesn’t announce the newfound development in your relationship like a normal person.

one day, he’s in the kitchen within the first breath of daylight, preparing breakfast for two. you slide up next to him, burrowing your head between his arm and chest—and katsuki… he lets you, squeezes you. he kisses you on your temple, “g’morning, baby,” and by then a gasp rips across the silence of the room.

kaminari starts, “what—”

“oh,” ashido gasps, dawning with understanding. “wait—are you two…?”

katsuki bares his teeth at the stunned looks of your classmates, his glare speaking volumes: an unspoken claim.