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tojiphile · 10 months

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you don't need other boys when you have him, your daddy’s best friend. he’s everything you’d ever need and more, better than all the boys—he’s a man. a good man. these are the words he croons into your ear every time he sneaks into your room late at night, slipping an arm around your waist and his cock in your eagerly waiting cunt.

it all started when you had a fight with your dad. even though your dad was hosting his own birthday party, you sulked all night. your dad didn’t try to hide his own snide comments, so why should you? you didn’t greet guests nor help out, instead choosing to use your phone, drink as much booze as you could and retire to your bedroom early.

as you lay in bed, you could still hear the reverberations of music and the boisterous laugh of middle aged men and women alike. you groaned and covered your head with a pillow, trying to drown out the noise. so when he knocked on your door, opened it when you didn’t answer, and walked in, you jumped when the weight shifted on your bed as he sat down.

“i didn’t mean to scare you,” he says kindly, lending you a smile, “you just seemed… off, today. i wanted to check in on you.”

you sit up. this man was your dad’s best friend of years. not having any kids of his own, he spoilt you rotten. he bought you all the toys and pretty dresses that your dad refused to, arguing that they were too expensive before throwing money at gambling or whatever new woman walked into his life. as you grew up, you couldn’t help but develop a soft spot for him. when you sat still and pretty during dinners and parties, nodding along like a good girl your father demanded you be, your eyes always fell on him. his charming disposition, the way he chided your father like no one else could, and the way he’d always put food on your plate first, giving you a wink as you said thank you wordlessly.

of course, when your friends would talk about dilfs, your mind would never go to your father, the deadbeat dad who provided nothing for you. instead, you would always think about him. his salt and pepper hair that he ran his calloused hands through, smile lines set on his face more defined than any wrinkles, his toned body that you would dream about, touch yourself to every night. you were suddenly conscious that you weren’t wearing a bra. nor shorts.

“i’m fine.” you pull your blanket up to cover your chest. maybe it was the six pack of beer or the cask strength whiskey, but your head was pounding, and your heart was racing. he put a large hand on your thigh. your blanket hid your bare skin from his, but his gentle touch already sent heat pooling in your lower body.

“i’m sorry about your dad,” he says, “he’s an idiot.” he rubs your thigh reassuringly, perhaps innocently unaware of what he’s doing to you, “he doesn’t know how to treat a woman. much less his perfect daughter.”

you flush. was he really saying this? he continues, “i’ve tried to tell him so many times, y’know? how amazing you are, so filial, better than so many other daughters this day and age. he keeps blaming it on your mum leaving but god, that shouldn’t be a fucking excuse.”

he’s working himself up, you can tell as his brow furrows, his arms tense. it feels good to be validated, especially when your father was so unmoving. you place a hand on his toned arm, “i’m fine, but thanks.”

“but you shouldn’t be fine!” he stands up, pacing. you internally bemoan the loss of contact, “if i was your dad, i’d never treat you this way,” he sits back down softly, brushing a stray hair behind your ear, “if you were mine, i’d take care of you.”

his flushed face is inches from yours, you can smell the whiskey on his breath and see the heat in his gaze, almost blazing. he cups your face gently, eyes studying your face before falling back to your eyes, “you’re perfect, so beautiful.” you hold his gaze, you don’t know where this is going but you don’t want this moment to end.

the moment ends when you both hear your father yell and a beer bottle break. he must have lost in a game of poker. before you can react, your father’s best friend shoots up, “i’m sorry,” he trudges towards your bedroom door, “i shouldn’t have come up.”

his hand is already on your door handle and your mouth acts before your brain can stop it, “no.” he turns to look at you.

your pull the blanket off, revealing your bare legs, nipples perky against your thin shirt, “stay.”

his breath hitches, and you can see his pants tightening. he can’t peel his eyes away from you but he manages to mutter, “it’s wrong.”

you turn your body to his, spreading your legs and placing your feet on the bed, exposing your core to him.

“please.”

whatever self control he had left seems to have evaporated at the pleading sound of your voice as he clicks your door lock into place and races over to your bed, forcing you to lie flat as he climbs on top of you, slotting himself between your spread legs, trapping you under him.

“you’re beautiful,” he whispers, leaning down to press featherlight kisses on your neck, “so beautiful.” you gasp as a hand grips your waist, running down the side of your figure.

“but this is wrong…” he tries to pull away but you stop him. “i don’t care.” you yank him by the front of his shirt, pulling all his weight on top of you as you press your lips together, running your hands down his broad back. he takes a second to react but follows your lead, he nips at your bottom lip and as you moan, he slips his tongue into your mouth.

he breaks away from the kiss, sitting up to pull off his shirt, revealing his defined abs. you let yourself feel him, reveling in the feeling. he leans back down, gaze never leaving yours but just as your lips are are about to meet, he stops. you can’t help but whine, though the sound is replaced by a gasp as a calloused hand cups you through your panties.

“you’re already soaked,” he laughs, “good girl.”

embarrassed but so unbelievably desperate, you let out a sigh, “only for you, daddy.”

he scoffs, “i know.” he pulls your panties aside, revealing your puffy pussy, “this isn’t the first time i’ve come up to your room.” he spreads you with his fingers, and you shut your eyes in anticipation, “i tried to find you last week to say goodbye but your walls are really thin. i heard you call out my name.”

the last time he was over, he must have come from the gym as his damp hair along with the tightest compression shirt you’d ever seen was enough for you to squeak out a tiny “excuse me”, before running to your room before you creamed yourself right there at the dinner table.

he slips two fingers into your greedy cunt, snapping you back to reality. he moves slowly, but his long, slender digits worked their magic, loosening you up while hitting at that spongy spot inside you. his thumb finds your clit and moves in small circles, causing your brain to short circuit. he hadn’t done much but the pleasure is insurmountable, the whole situation overwhelms you, and you find your core tightening, close. “cum for me,” he kisses down your neck, sucking near your collarbone. at his okay, you chase your release, writhing under him as his fingers continue working.

“so good for daddy,” he kisses you as you pant softly.

he slips his fingers out of your cunt and display them to you, slick and dripping. “messy girl.” you squirm as he spreads his fingers, showing off your viscous juices. he maintains eye contact with you as he takes his own digits in his mouth, sucking them clean, tasting you.

"sweet, just like you." he proclaims, booping your nose with the same finger that was just in his mouth seconds earlier. “can you take more?”

you nod. he grins, pressing a chaste kiss onto your lips. he sits up, one hand caressing your face and the other unbuckling his belt. he pulls it off in a swift motion, but before he can begin unbuttoning his pants, you move your hand to do so. "allow me," you smile up at him, puppy eyes glinting.

"someone's excited." he laughs, moving his hand to allow you to work on his buttons. his other hand, still on your face, makes its way down slowly, before his grip finally rests on your neck.

you unbutton his jeans and are faced with his grey underwear, straining from his bulge. “keep going,” he nudges you with his free hand. you pull at his waistband, allowing his cock to spring free. it’s thick, veiny, and big, bigger than any of the other boys’ you’d ever been with. tentatively, you wrap a hand around his length, causing him to hiss softly. your thumb doesn’t meet your fingers, so as you start pumping him slowly, up and down, you have to use two hands to grip him tight.

“god, you’re amazing,” he says with a sigh, giving your neck a gentle squeeze, gazing at you like you’re the most beautiful thing that’s ever crossed his sight. when you meet his eyes you can’t help but look away. still, you manage a whisper, “i- i want you.”

“say that again?” he asks, distracted by your hands working to unravel him. you flush.

“i want you…” you meet his eyes, “…in me.”

he barks out a laugh, spurred on by your boldness, “anything for you.”

he moves to stand up, shrugging off his bottoms. he moves to your bedside table and rummages around, looking for something. “any condoms?”

you shake your head. “i must have ran out. are you clean?”

he laughs. “considering you’re the first person i’ve fucked in a few years, i’d hope so.”

“good,” you hide a cheeky smile, before giving him your best puppy dog eyes, “because i really, really want daddy to give me his babies.”

with a raise of an eyebrow, he accepts the challenge. he always loves you best when you’re confident. makes him want to ruin you. he climbs back over you, spreading your thighs apart and aligning the tip of his cock with your dripping cunt.

he looks at you for your approval, and at your nod, he pushes his tip in. you gasp at the stretch, his thick cock opening you up like a present. you wanted him, no, needed him to fill you up, to make you feel so, so full.

you rut into him and he gets the hint, pushing himself deeper into you. it starts to feel painful, and you clench around him, trying to seek some relief. your fluttering walls make him feel so good, too good. he could feel himself coming close. “don’t do that!” he warns, but it comes out more as a moan.

you disobey, of course, and squeeze tighter. wrapping your legs around his waist, you pull him in deeper, causing you both to breathe in a sharp intakes of breath. any pain had evaporated into the pooling warmth in your stomach.

both of you stay in that position for a while, eyes locked. “fuck it,” he growls under his breath, grabbing onto your waist and pulling your body away from his, before snapping it back. he’s thrusting in, and pulling you off, all while his curved cock continues to hit that sweet, sweet spot that makes you see stars. you almost fall limp, but wanting to prove yourself, you start fucking yourself on his cock, lifting your hips and trying to move yourself to ease his load.

“such a good, a good girl. my good girl. my girl. my girl. mine.” he chants it like a mantra, each syllable a beat he moved along to as he fucked you silly. “who owns you?”

“you, daddy!”

he places a hand on your bare stomach and squeezes. following the curve of your body, he finds your breast. he takes your whole boob in his big hand, squeezing it so tightly it hurt. he moves to play with your nipples, rolling it around between calloused fingers, pebbling it. you moan and arch your back, allowing him to sink deeper into you.

“what a good girl you are, huh? fucking yourself on his cock. my pretty, pliant girl. ‘m gonna fill you up with my babies. wanna see your cute little stomach swell.” he lifts one of your legs, tucking it over his shoulder, allowing him to go even deeper than you thought he could. you’re squirming, trying to keep up with his relentless pounding but god it’s too much. his hand wanders your body, gripping at your tender flesh. he wants to feel you, every part of you.

just the thought makes the pooling heat in your stomach come to a boil, your toes curling, you cry out, “i’m gonna cum!” he continues fucking you, his stamina never letting up, “cum for me, my pretty girl, i’m close too.”

the pleasure is building to a climax and as he places a hand on your neck and squeezes, you feel your high washing over you, cunt convulsing over his cock. his grip doesn’t release, and black spots start to cover your vision, making you let out a shaky moan.

as he looks down at you, back arching and falling while he fucked you through your orgasm, the obscene sight of your precious body squirming under him is what takes him over the edge. he’s cumming into you, warm jets of white shooting straight into your cunt. his head empty other than his relentless thoughts, “mine, mine, mine, mine, mine.”

you both reach that peak together, gripping onto each other for dear life. when you’re all done, he presses a deep kiss on your lips and slips his softening cock out of you, rolling to lie by your side. still, greedily, he pushes his cum back into you, “take it all.”

he opens up and lets you roll into his arms. he places a gentle kiss on your forehead, and smooths out your tangled hair. you both lie there in comfortable silence, your eyes falling shut and his focused on you. soon, your breathing became even. when you fall asleep, he rolls himself out of your bed, looking down at your sleeping form, so peaceful and worry-free. he wants you to look like that always. slowly, he gets himself dressed to rejoin your dad’s party downstairs. tucking you in, he presses one final kiss on your head and whispers,

“good girl.”

GETO SUGURU, gojo satoru, zhongli, hajime iwaizumi, NANAMI KENTO, tetsuro kuroo, aki hayakawa

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wh0rrorb4by · 4 months

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size difference - ushijima

tw: noncon, size kink, strength kink, tummy bulge, mean ushi 💔, wrote in like 5 mins i’m srry

ushijima knows it would only take one hand to hold you down. you’re no match for his strength, of course, and your trembling fear alone is enough to keep you pliant and still for him. you both know it, but it doesn’t stop him from absolutely crushing you under his weight, pinning you down and completely restricting your movement so you can feel the difference between the two of you.

he knows he’s too big for you regardless of the prep he gives you. stuffing three thick fingers into you while his tongue laps at your clit doesn’t do anything but make you cry harder as your body shakes from the orgasm you don’t want. the burning stretch that comes with his huge cock sinking into you is the same regardless of how wet you are — the only purpose of making you cum on his tongue and fingers first being to keep you overstimulated, or to humiliate you, maybe.

and it is humiliating when you can’t keep your desperate whines and cries to yourself. when you’re trying desperately to claw at his chest, or grip his hair, or rake your nails down his back, but you can’t. not with the way he flattens you, crushing you with his strength and rendering your limbs useless because he gets off on it. he gets off on the size difference, knowing that every single part of him is just too big to fit in any part of you. his hands and legs and arms crushing you with so little effort it’s sad. his cock making your belly bulge where he reaches deep inside you, and his heavy balls holding so much cum that it leaks out of you when he finally gives you his load — only after fucking a couple more orgasms into you. he likes you nice and dumb when he spills his hot cum into you, watching the way you go almost cross-eyed as you feel yourself get even more full.

because you are dumb. did you really think you were any match for a guy like him? that you’d be safe, or even be able to put up a fight if he decided he got sick of watching you walk around in your tiny little skirts? that he’d hold himself back when the constant teasing became too much? he didn’t think you could be that stupid, but since you were, you really had it coming to you.

#wh0rrorb4by #ushijima noncon #ushijima smut #haikyuu smut #haikyuu noncon #dark content #hq smut #hq noncon #wakatoshi smut #wakatoshi noncon

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butterymangowrites · 20 days

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permanent fix

soulmate au + a/b/o

paring: alpha atsumu x fem beta reader

warnings: bullying, dub-con, atsumu is not nice, smut, slight breeding kink, biting, blood, choking, mirror sex, possessiveness, jealousy, alpha rut, atsumu talks shit, dramatic atsumu

word count: 2.2k

english is not my first language. please excuse any mistakes

Born as a beta, you never thought fate would toy with you by giving an alpha as your soulmate. Especially not one like Miya Atsumu, the one whom you went to school through college with and still having to see his face ever so frequently as if he had sworn to never let you live in peace.

For someone who made faces when seeing the lunchboxes your mom packed for you and proclaimed a beta was weak when you first presented at fifteen, Miya Atsumu couldn’t seem to detach himself from you.

So when you had a crush on one of your colleagues at twenty five, having his nose in your business as usual, Atsumu knew instantly.

“Another beta.” Lying comfortably on your couch, Atsumu scoffed. “Predictable.”

“Didn’t ask for your opinions.”

“I’m giving it anyway,” he said in a singsong voice, but his face was without mirth. “You can fuck whoever you want, but I’m getting my fix. That’s non-negotiable.”

Oh, yeah. His fix.

He patted his lap. “Come here.”

Then it all began again. Him cradling you in his lap, hands going all over, lips spilling hateful words.

‘Weak fucking beta.’ He would say. ‘Even Osamu got an omega soulmate. Makes me jealous as fuck.’

But then he would kiss you like the world might end tomorrow, doing everything opposite of what he said. This time was no different. His hot tongue was everywhere he could reach, acquainted itself with yours before leaving a wet trail down your neck.

You protested when he nipped a little too hard, scared he might leave marks. He did that once. The deep purple hickey you saw in the mirror after he left your apartment scared the shit out of you. A little more force and teeth could have broken the skin, and that thought caused chills to run all over your body. You didn’t want to bear his marks.

Yet, Atsumu didn’t care. He never did. His hands were now on your buttocks, squeezing hard through your thin pajama bottoms. He moved you to one of his thighs for better concentration. The hands on your butt now rolled your hips back and forth, to the point your moan finally slipped out of your tightly zipped lips and you forgot about the harsh nibbling on your neck.

“Go whore yourself out,” Atsumu whispered. “Like I fucking care.”

Same here, asshole.

You thought, didn’t say out loud.

Touching each other lifted the heavy weight in the heart caused by the act of not accepting the soulmate bond. Nothing more, nothing less. If not for this calling of intimacy both of you obliged to feel, he wouldn’t be here. You knew that. He said it way too many times.

Still, your cheeks were licked, your lips were tasted, neck wet with saliva. You felt like a prey about to be eaten every time he was close. Yes, he may not care. But he sure was possessive enough of things that were given to him.

Whenever you tried to wiggle out of his firm grasp, he tightened his fist. This time was the hardest you ever felt.

—

In more than twenty years of knowing each other, never once did Atsumu come to you when he had gone into rut. So when he called you two in the morning one week after his last fix, ordered you to pack a bag and tell your boss you would be on leave for a week, you were baffled. It was never more than kisses and touches with him. Your clothes were always intact and on. The idea of that being changed had you flat out saying no.

That didn’t stop Atsumu from coming to get you one hour later though. When he saw that you did nothing to get ready, his jaw was clenched. A split second later, he packed your bag himself, shoving clothes and toiletries in without any care. You were still in pajamas when the passenger door was slammed closed and he hit the gas.

—

There were reasons why betas are not for alphas. Physically, they were incompatible. Betas weren’t designed for alpha’s stamina, not to mention one in rut. At one point, you did not care to count anymore how many times you had blacked out. Fading in and out really fucked with your memory. All you remembered was the non-stop pounding, Atsumu’s breath against your face, and his uncharacteristic cooing, praising you as his good girl.

“Knew you were built for me.” The blond menace pulled on both of your wrists, never stopped his thrusting. “Let me knot you again, okay?” When you shook your head, face wet with tears, Atsumu shushed you softly. “Shhhhh. You can do it, I know you can.”

And you could. But it was not without pain.

“Shouldn’t have waited this long,” Atsumu said close to your lips. “You almost got away.”

He talked too much. But it would have been a big fat lie to deny that his words didn’t turn you on. That his vile confession didn’t affect you.

“Bold of you to even think I would let someone else touch you.” He sounded out of breath, closing to his end. “All the effort goes to waste. No no no no.”

You felt it coming, just seconds before. Then your whole body was taken by the waves of thrills and your whole vision turned white. Atsumu was not your first, but as if he was the harbinger of agony, it hurt when he first penetrated, hurt when he knotted. And when you felt a sharp sting at your sensitive neck, you knew he defied the rule of nature once again by marking you.

Fruitless. That was what it would be. Betas were not made for alphas. Mating bites did not forge any bond with the wrong person and would fade over time. But Atsumu had always been stubborn. One bite turned into two, three, then countless. All you felt was pain and the wetness of blood before darkness took your consciousness like the many rounds before.

—

The mating bites faded within two weeks, all except the first mark, proving to you that even biology could not win over destiny. Same went with all other beta-alpha soulmate couples out there after you had done some research. They were rare, but they were there. You shouldn’t have let Atsumu bite you. Should have known better that things could get weird when it came to soulmates. Now, he wouldn’t get off your ass, had the audacity to move his things to your apartment and yours to his, calling you his girlfriend in front of everyone and expecting to see you at his games.

You didn’t even like volleyball to begin with. And as you watched his magnificent tosses to any players he deemed to have high chances to score, you thought of a way to get out of his clutch.

He needed an omega, the correct designation he always longed for. Because even with all the protective caresses and the promise to never let you go, Atsumu was still mean. Like going back to the ninth grade when you put makeup on for the first time and he gave you the nastiest comment that made you go wash everything off in the school toilet, his words still stung badly when he chose to weaponize them.

‘Samu’s mate smells like she needs to be bred.’ He said that nonchalantly one day at Onigiri Miya, sitting side by side with you at the counter where his twin and his mate helped each other with cooking and serving the hungry athletes who were there to celebrate the day’s victory ‘Don’t know how he stands that. So sweet’

Hearing that made your conversation with Hinata pause. His steely gaze was the first thing you saw when turning to face ‘your boyfriend’.

It didn’t end there. For days Atsumu was in a devilish mood, his jabs that you knew most of them were meant to just rile you up for fun had become a real emotional harm. He still fucked you, make no mistake about that. And it was as devilish as his temper.

‘Too hard, Miya. Too hard.’ You still wouldn’t call him by his first name.

Veiny hands wrapped snugly around your neck, Atsumu only went faster after hearing that. The bathroom mirror was foggy with hot steam from the shower, but you could see enough. One of your legs was perched on the counter, allowing the view of his cock pistoning in and out of you, your breasts bouncing fast.

‘Would have been pregnant already if you were an omega.’ The sentence came out coated with his accent, thicker than normal, like he didn’t have full control of how he spoke. ‘But that’s alright. I can take my time with you. We’ll get there,’ he purred. ‘Still, what a shame, huh?’

Shame his ass for saying that and not letting you leave. ‘Go fuck an omega then.’

He smirked. Pissed you off. ‘Nah.’

As his toss to Sakusa scored a winning point, the loud cheer brought you back to the present. You saw Atsumu eyes staring up at you from the court below and knew what you had to do.

—

Getting an omega who wanted to spend a heat with Miya Atsumu was easy enough. Sending her up to your apartment where he was already there waiting for you was as simple. You drove away then, not far, stopping at your favorite 24-hour cafe because you needed somewhere to sit and waited for the first feedback from the omega girl. Half an hour later, you got a call.

The screen showed the female omega’s name. You picked up and said hello, expecting to hear that everything went well and that you could go find somewhere else to sleep for the next five nights.

But you only heard cries. Not of pleasure, just a full-blown crying with hiccups.

“Hey, are you okay?” you asked, frowning. “Talk to me. What happened?”

“He—he screamed—at me,” she spluttered, almost incoherently, “and only asked where you were.”

You cursed quietly, finally able to stop stirring the poor coffee you ordered without any interest in taking a sip. “Where is he now?”

“I don’t know,” she cried. “He left—after the screaming.” Her voice wavered all the more when she kept on trying to speak. “You had to see him. He looked murderous. There was not even a hello. He straight up shouted at me, accusing me of breaking in. When I tried to explain—mentioned you, his face was all red.” A hiccup interrupted the long babbling. “He said he was married to you and showed me the ring.”

You were not sure what crack Atsumu was on, but there was definitely no ring or marriage.

The call was still on when you heard the cafe’s door pushed open. And it was as if you saw the devil with your own naked eyes.

Atsumu walked in.

His strides declared no peace or mercy when he saw you, ignoring the greetings from the two night shift baristas.

Not wanting to cause a scene, you stood up, didn’t say anything when he put his hand on your shoulder and led the way out.

The drive was silent. Your car was left at the parking lot near the cafe, you would have to come and get it as soon as you could before the parking fee turned as murderous as him. When asked where he was going, he answered solemnly, “My place. Yours stinks.”

You just knew it was going to be a long night.

—

Atsumu was the one who got the car out for you the next morning since he was the one who could still walk without wobbling. The sheets you slept on were rumpled. They reeked of cum.

You reeked of cum.

‘You think you’re so funny?’ he asked, knowing you couldn’t answer with his cock occupying your mouth but did it nonetheless ‘You wanted me to fuck her? What was going on in that pretty little head?’

He pulled you by the nape of your neck before pushing your head down, forcing your throat to take more of him till you felt the urge to gag.

‘I thought we had an understanding, baby,’ he said, finally relenting his grip on your head. ‘No whoring yourself out.’ Then he stressed, ‘And no whoring me out. I’m yours.’

‘Do you understand?’

You only nodded.

‘Words.’

‘Yes, Miya.’

‘Atsumu,’ he said, looking like he wanted to throw up. ‘You’re not fucking my brother. Don’t make me imagine that. Call me Atsumu.’

‘Yes, Tsumu.’

Looked like you delivered. Atsumu grinned from ear to ear. ‘Good girl. My best girl.’

That was last night.

A warm kiss to the cheek woke you again, must have dozed off after Atsumu left, but those scenes were not a dream. You heard him whisper,

“I got your car. Parked it at your place.”

He looked like he got a ten-hour sleep while you could not move a limb without feeling sore. Not fair. And the way he looked so good in sheep’s clothing, his wolf’s skin all hidden. Not fair at all.

“Shower.” Your voice was hoarse, but you got the message through. That was good enough.

#miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu smut #miya atsumu x y/n #miya atsumu x you #haikyu fanfiction #haikyu x reader #haikyuu smut #hq smut #hq x reader #atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x reader #yandere haikyuu #haikyuu dark content #soulmate au #a/b/o au #omegaverse #a/b/o #haikyuu x reader

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akinorii · 4 months

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matsukawa issei x reader

tw: virgin mattsun, h*rsecock mattsun, stuckage, dubcon, manipulation, public sex-ish, creampie, just the tip? :3 wc: 1k

when mattsun had asked you to grab his pen under the table, you didn’t expect yourself to get stuck. unfortunately, you underestimated the space between your seat and the table. and to press your luck, you forgot to wear spandex underneath your short skirt.

groaning in frustration and embarrassment, you ask your boyfriend for help. “issei.. i’m stuck,” you say shyly, attempting to push yourself out of the tight area. your arms and stomach start to ache when you realize your attempts are failing.

you hear footsteps shuffling and realize mattsun is getting up from his seat, his deep laugh echoes in the quiet room when he moves towards you.

“aww babe, at least you’re wearing cute underwear,” he teases. you huff in annoyance and wiggle your butt further, whining when he doesn’t do anything to help.”

“issei, help me. please,” you plead, kicking your feet around in desperation. “but babe, your ass looks really nice like this,” mattsun says in a groan.

then you feel something pressing against you, something that traps you further into the crevice. large warm hands rest on your ass, squeezing the meat, and you gasp at the realization.

“w-what are you doing!" you exclaim but it makes mattsun groan, his dick stirring in his pants at your distress, fully helpless in this position. his fingers toy at your panties and you feel his clothed cock press on the thin fabric, allowing you to feel how hard he is.

“I-issei stop messing around and just help me!” you say nervously, unsure if he’s really doing this right now. you and mattsun had previously discussed your boundaries before and since your relationship is fairly new, you decided to wait a while before you finally do the deed. mattsun has shared that he’s gotten close but the girls he’s been with always back out beforehand because of his size. so you decided that your first time should be special or at least, not as spontaneous and public as this.

but he’s enjoying himself with you like this, whining and moaning for his help.

he says your name, “can i put it in? just the tip at least,” he groans, desperate to feel your cunt, his hands gripping at your ass almost painfully.

“but we’re in the library! w-we can get caught,” you argue, “a-and i thought you wanted our first time to be special,” you squeak.

“come on babe, please. you just look so fucking cute like this. plus, you’re the one that wanted our first time to be special,” he fights you, unzipping his pants in the process, freeing his terribly aching cock from the constrained material of his boxers. you don’t want to disappoint him but you don’t want to do this here, not now.

you’re about to say his name but he cuts you off. “i already said please, didn't i?” he pushes and you finally give in, afraid to disappoint your boyfriend.

“o-okay, just the tip, right?” you manage to ask. “right baby, just the tip,” mattsun says in a low tone.

without hesitation, you feel him pull at your panties, the drool from your cunt sticking onto the now wet fabric. you feel the cool air to spread through your cunt and then he lets go, allowing a soft ache radiates through your cunt at the gesture. the pad of his thumb finds its way to your clit, playing with it before rubbing his cock up and down the soft material of your panties.

“you feel how wet you are?” he coos, tugging your drenched panties to the side, the wetness sticking to your inner thighs.

but he doesn’t give you time to answer before he pushes the tip of his cock into your drooling cunt, making you yelp in surprise. it barely fits, he thinks.

“baby, can i fuck you? let me just fuck you.” he asks desperately, fingers gripping at your hips, his cock hungry for your warm, slick cunt. your legs shake at the size, his cockhead splitting you open.

just as you attempt to pull yourself up from your position, you feel his cock sliding into your cunt deeper. the girth makes you ache, the stretch of his length makes your pussy throb as he tries to burrow himself into you deeper. and he doesn’t stop, he pushes himself even further, your pussy taking him in so nicely. finally, he reaches in to a hilt, his cockhead brushing against your cervix.

“i-issei,” you cry out, squirming because you feel so full. “s-so big! y-you’re so big!” you babble, the fullness makes you writhe in pleasure, your dripping cunt pulsating at the fullness.

“oh fuck baby, don’t do that,” he gripes and pulls out and in of you slowly, entranced by the way your cunt sucks his cock back in. his length is covered in your slick and the panties that are tugged to the side is drenched in your own pussy drool. he grunts at the sight, completely unable to hold himself back now.

he doesn’t even regret that he was forced to wait this long because you feel so good. every thrust is addicting and you are so warm and tight, his cock fitting snuggly in your walls.

when mattsun’s thrust becomes sharper and quicker, almost desperate for a release - you just take it, his cock abusing your cervix over and over again. every thrust makes you convulse, a heat quickly building in your stomach. and it doesn’t take long for that heat in your belly to snap when he finds the angle that presses on the most sensitive part of your warm cunt.

his thrusts slowly become sloppier, hands frantically grabbing at your sides and fingers leaving marks on your skin. then, his thrusts come to a halt, your pulsating cunt milks his cock as he cums, his seed filling up your hole.

issei slowly pulls out of you, careful to make a mess but an impossible task to achieve as his thick cum slowly spills out of you, dripping down your thighs.

“whoops,” he jokes, using his sweater to clean you up. “okay, you’re all clean,” he announces proudly and you kick your feet at him.

“i’m still stuck here issei!

#haikyuu x reader smut #haikyuu smut #mattsun x reader smut #mattsun smut #tw dubcon #tw dark content #tw manipulation #mattsun.drabble #this is comedic if u think abt it lol

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rinsaint · 2 years

Text

PERVY HAIKYUU BOYS <33

ft. suna, atsumu, && kuroo !! part 2 part 3

cw. THIS IS FILTHY, fem!reader, masturbation, panties being took, thinking of reader in a sexual way, pillow fucking, jerking off to readers voice without them knowing, nonconsensual pictures being took of reader, sniffing !! lmk if you guys want a part two with diff characters <3

SUNA RINTARO: Suna is a little sneaky bastard. He’s the most sneakiest out of those two. He definitely goes to your instagram and jerks off to your pictures. He does it often and he doesn’t feel no remorse about it. On the days that you were a cute little skirt when you two are going out, he would always let you go first up a pair of stairs because “ladies first” was always his excuse. But no, he just wanted to watch your skirt rise up as you walk up the stairs. Seeing your cute little panties and the imprint of your cunt that has him watering at the mouth. He would sneak out his photo to snap a few pics of it and when you reach the top of the stairs he lets out an innocent smile. Once he gets home he sits down on his gaming chair and thinks of the pictures he took. He would take out his cock and stroke it, looking at the photo. He would cum all over his phone but really, he doesn’t care. Your plump ass and your cute pink panties is all that he cares about. It has him coming in no time. He just wishes it was you, pumping his cock, he just wishes it was you playing with the tip of his cock. He just wishes it was you. All he wants is to stuff his cock inside you and he can’t even do that <\33.

ATSUMU MIYA: This guys definitely steals your panties. The first time when he’s over at your house he tells you he needs to go to the bathroom. He goes into the bathroom and as he’s taking a piss he notices a clothing basket and sees a pair of your panties he presumed. He gulped as he flushed the toilet pulling up his pants. He walks towards the basket and takes your panties into his hands, and fuck— there’s a stain on it. He brings it close to his face and takes a sniff making his mouth water imagining what you taste like. Ever since then, he has been taking your panties using them to make him cum. One of your panties around his cock, and one of the other being licked and sniff by him. And he knows it’s wrong but for it feels so good. HE DEFINITELY TRIES TO STEAL YOUR BRAS. i just have a feeling. Whenever you two are talking, you fail to notice him adverting his gaze to your exposed boobs wondering how it would feel for him to grab ahold of it, and suck on your pretty nipple, making moans from you come out. And thus, he would wanna steal one of your bras to also jerk off to it lmao. And he’s such a pussy to ask you out so this is the only way to help him cope </3

KUROO TESTSURO: Kuroo is sneaky but not as sneaky as suna. Kuroo always loves to touch you. it doesn’t matter where but he just wants to feel you. When he has to get pass you, he grabs your hips purposely saying, “excuse me angel” because he loves to see your flustered state. Thinking about how flustered you would be when he has you under him, cock piercing in and out of your tight and wet cunny. He also loves to brush his hands against your breast. And he always says that it’s an accident and apologises, but it’s really not and he’s not sorry. All he wants to do is grab your breast and just suck on them until you beg him to touch you. But sadly, that isn’t reality, so he has to cope by listening to your pretty little voice on the phone. Sounds normal right? Well it’s not because on the other side of the phone, kuroo is stroking and playing with himself to your voice. And he let’s out a groan as you stretch and moan telling him you had a crazy and tired day. And fuck, that his is dick throbbing. He just wants you so bad he doesn’t know what to do with himself <\33. He’s also one of those cheesy people who likes to share straws with you, he thinks that you two are technically kissing and that’s just enough for him to think about that when he’s humping into his pillow, thinking about your soft lips kissing on his neck, his face, his lips, his cock.

#would this be considerate dark content #i have no clue #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu hcs #kuroo smut #kuroo x reader #suna smut #suna x reader #atsumu smut #atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x reader #suna rintaro x reader #kuroo testsuro x reader

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heartofjasmina · 17 days

Text

🌸 Masterlist 🌸

♡ Writing Tag ♡

Favorites:

My Hero (BNHA)

Glorious (All Might x glory hole)

Gardening!AU (Pro Hero!Bakugou x gardener reader)

Gardening AU HCs

Gardening AU 3

Gardening AU 4

Pro Hero!Deku x superfan reader

Breeding Instincts (Multi character: Daichi, Kirishima, Deku, Bakugou, Iwaizumi)

Alpha Bakugou and Omega son

Katsuki praises you when you need it most

Spanking w/ Todoroki

Dom!Amajiki

Dom Amajiki 2

Mommy dom x Amajiki

Anal freak Deku

Anal freak Deku 2

Iida and perv little sis (incest tw)

Pro Hero!Deku x bitch reader at high school reunion

Fashion designer Bakugou

Bakugou x bitch reader fluff

Duke!Bakguou x virgin reader

Glassblower Bakugou

Dilf!Bakugou x Todoroki's daughter

Dilf!Bakugou x Todoroki's daughter pt 2

Deaf!Bakugou

Deaf!Bakugou 2

Deaf!Bakguou 3

Cuckold!Shoto

Shouto and Dabi x reader (incest tw)

Professional chef!Bakugou

Dom nerd!Izuku x seven minutes of heaven

Pirate King!Aizawa

Daddy Dom!Kirishima x tantrum throwing reader

Cookbook author!Bakugou

Kiribaku x reader

Bimbo girlfriend Denki

Bimbo Denki 2

Camgirl!Denki

Big Bro Gamer Denki

Daddy Dom Bakugou fluff 2

Iida x slut reader

Iida x bitch reader

Tokoyami x high protocol

DILF All Might

Proffessional Violinist Bakugou

Kirishima's breeder balls

Bakugou x sleepy gf

Bakugou x anxious reader

Underground fighter!Kirishima

Bakugou x crybaby reader

Kirishima x little reader subspace

Professional chef!Bakugou 2

ProHero!Bakugou x nightmares

Bakugou x bitch gf

Bakugou x bitch reader 2

Big Bro Izuku (incest tw)

Facefucking x Tokoyami

Daddy Dom Bakugou fluff

Bakugou x stoner bitch reader

Deku x bimbo reader (tutoring)

All Might and his fans

Bakugou and gf!reader at Megan Thee Stallion Concert

All Might x stepdaugther!reader (stepcest tw)

Kirishima x regressed reader

Pro hero!Shouji x reader

Tokoyami x corruption kink

Tokoyami x fucking machine on reader

Haikyuu

Ushijima x bitch reader

Ushijima x loudmouth gf!reader

Ushijima x anal

Daddy Dom Ushijima

Giant!Ushijima 1

Giant!Ushijima 2

Giant Ushijima 3 (op)

Ushijima x bimbo reader

personal assistant!Iwaizumi x boss lady!reader

Dom!Daichi pays attention

Dom!Iwaizumi x inexperienced reader

Dom!reader x Ushijima

JJK

Nanami x babygirl reader

Big Bro Suguru

Blue Lock

Bimbo!reader x Isagi

Bachira x bimbo gf

Kuroko's Basketball (KNB)

Aomine x tutor!reader

Murasakibara x reader

#.navi #pinned info #masterlist #haikyuu smut #mha smut #bhna smut #jjk smut #knb smut #tw incest #tw dark content #tw stepcest

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envy-of-the-apple · 7 months

Note

Hello! I love your writing, especially that mad dog Drabble! Could you maybe do something similar for Oikawa? Noncon if you’re comfortable with that too. Thank you so much!

I wrote this awhile ago and then I never got around to publishing it and now I refuse to reread it because i cringe at my old writing but i remember spending a shit ton of time on this so here's my three year old trash fic. enjoy.

(Warnings: dark content, non-con touching, rape, non-con/sexual harassment, verbal degradation, forced orgasms, public-sex, overstimulation)

18+ content

Tutoring Sessions

You knew Spanish.

Not an expert by any means, but you could probably get by if you were stranded in a Spanish-speaking country. You were good at it. Decent.

You just weren’t the teaching type. You could barely learn, let alone, pass your skills on to someone else. Teaching required patience and diligence. That wasn’t you.

But, really, what could you say when the Captain of the volleyball team himself asked you to tutor him? He looked so desperate too, looking down at you with pleading eyes. He asked for an hour-no-just thirty minutes. All you had to do was correct his grammar, jot a few vocabulary words for him, and maybe teach him extra conjugations.

Looking back, you should have declined. You should have made any bullshit excuse you could think of. You should have laughed nervously, apologized- have done anything to get out of his attention.

You shouldn’t have let him coax you into the fourth floor of the library, trapping you with his tall body in an isolated booth.

At least then his hand wouldn’t be currently rubbing your thigh.

His movements were slow, casual, as his fingers made lazy circles up and down your leg. You couldn’t tell if it was intentional if he was touching you on purpose or mindlessly moving his hands. His face betrayed nothing, solely staring forward at the sheets of paper.

“So, I just replace the ‘ar’ with ‘aron’?” He asked, his hand slowly moving higher and higher, “Why can’t I use ‘aban’?”

You bit your lip, “Because it has a definite ending. The-the sentence is ‘they spoke with me yesterday’. The action ended yesterday, that’s-that’s why we use the preterit form.”

Your breath hitched when his hand trailed underneath your skirt, skimming across your panties. Your hand balled into a shaking fist.

You wanted to tell him to move, you wanted to shove his hand off you, but you weren’t confrontational. Instead, you elected to push down the feeling of unease in your chest, trying your best to ignore his ministrations, praying that he’d drop his hand by himself.

He didn’t.

“Right, you use preterit form for a definite ending,” He’s murmuring now, a sultry rumble that sends shivers down your spine, “I keep forgetting that." His laugh twinkles through the air. It's a jarring contrast to his warm hands.

“So ‘Hablaron me ayer’?”

He took that moment to slide past your panties, lightly rocking on your heat. You sucked in a short breath, gritting your teeth. You couldn’t pretend like he didn’t know what he was doing, not when his fingers were sinking deeper and deeper-

A finger tapped on your inner thigh. Play along.

“It’s-it’s ‘me habl-ah-hablaron ayer’. The object comes first-” You flinched when his pointer finger stroked over your hot skin, “And-and then the subject.”

You wished he’d stop making you talk. You wished you could just push him off you. You wished so many things, things Oikawa wouldn’t grant you.

“Okay,” He’s grinning now, a little less put together. His breathing is a little ragged, hitching whenever you uncomfortably shift. Though he’s still resolutely staring at the pages before him, his eyes are shining. Eager, “-makes sense,”

You just realized how empty the library is.

You can feel his calloused fingers crawling under you, searching for something. His middle finger curls a little, softly brushing over your sensitive clit.

You stumble forward. He says something, but you’re not listening. Not when his fingers are hovering over your hot button, delving down to push and prod.

Your reached up to cover your mouth, instantly silencing any noises you knew would come spilling out. He laughs at that, finally finally breaking the act of playing innocent.

Or maybe it wasn’t such a good thing. He’s looking at you now, a knowing smirk on his pretty face.

Repulsion burns through you. It’s quickly replaced by humiliation as a wet squelch erupts from the place he’s touching you, making you lurch.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” He hums in satisfaction, “You already dripping? You must really want this, huh?”

He stares at you, daring you to reply, knowing fully well you won’t. No, you wouldn’t say anything, you wouldn’t do anything either. You would just sit there and take it.

Exactly what he wants.

He’s moving at a rhythm now, rubbing your clit with his thumb as his fingers inch down your folds. Your nails are digging into your trembling palm, but you don’t tell him to stop. You don’t say a word. No, that would be acknowledging what he’s doing. It would make it real-

your thoughts vanish as a slender finger sinks into your pussy. Your sigh is muffled by your clammy hand, digging further into your mouth as he starts fucking you in earnest. He’s going too fast; your mind is spinning. You can’t keep up with the waves of pleasure coming in and out and in and out and in again.

Your hand slips and the moan that escapes your mouth surprise you. It was loud and so dirty, you couldn’t believe it was your voice-it was you who made that noise.

His finger curls, bending in your tight walls and you feel like wailing. Oikawa strokes against a spot deep inside you that has you seeing stars.

You unconsciously lean against him. Oikawa draws you in closer, forcing you to rest against his shoulder as a second finger sinks into your heat. You whine as it pushes through your sopping walls, completely stretching you out.

You think you hear him snarl a quiet fuck but you’re not paying attention. Your head is pounding, matching the brutal thrusts of his fingers. It’s devouring you it’s too much and you want to stop, you want to breathe. Oikawa isn’t keen on helping, not when he’s rubbing fast circles on your clit, stretching his fingers inside you when he feels you’re not making enough noise. He wants something from you.

And you’re forced to give it to him.

There’s a hitch in your breath, the tiniest pause, before you clench around his fingers with a muffled scream. He hushes you, allowing you to bury your face into his shoulder as he keeps fucking your pussy until you collapse in his chest.

You’re panting when he finally removes his fingers, wiping the slick haphazardly on your inner thigh. You shift uncomfortably when he pulls away, feeling your hole clench again. The orgasm fades away and all you’re left with is the shock of what you’ve done and utter humiliation.

He lifts your chin, forcing you to look at him. His brown eyes were dark, coated in lust. He’s sneering at you.

The kiss surprises you. You weren’t expecting his lips to be soft as he gently melts into yours. It’s so tender, a stark contrast to what he was like before. Maybe it was because you didn’t really put up a fight, your lips falling open when he stroked his thumb on your sensitive skin.

It’s still intense and when he pulls away, you take your first real breath.

“See?” He hums, a hand settling on yours, “That wasn’t so bad, right?”

“Oikawa-”

He’s pulling you out of your seat before you can finish your sentence, dragging you away from the abandoned table filled with unused highlighters. Your legs are still weak, you stumble around a little. Oikawa doesn’t mind, towing you like he’s carrying nothing but air.

He slips into an empty storage closet, with you reluctantly trailing behind him. The door closes behind you with a dull thud, and you’re forced to stand with him in the darkness.

When the light comes back on, he’s towering above you. His chest presses against yours, pinning you against the wall. His smile is manic, filled with a hunger that you know won’t be satisfied with just one taste.

No, he wants to devour you whole.

It’s the realization, that he will ruin you, that make your eyes sting. Hot tears creep down your cheeks as your lips waver.

He coos at that, “Don’t cry, baby. You’ll be okay. I took care of you, right? I made you feel so good?” He shuffles closer and you can feel something hard and stiff press against your thigh.

“Now you gotta’ do the same for me. It’s a fair trade, right?”

He’s kissing you again. It’s rough, this time, as he bites on your bottom lip, hard enough to tear skin. Your yelp is muffled as he shoves his tongue into your drooling mouth. You taste the smallest hint of something metallic.

His lips move down, covering your jaw with soft butterfly kisses that made your head spin. When they find your neck, he clamps down on your soft flesh, licking at biting at everything he could taste. Your breath hitches, a sound that’s in between a gasp and a moan. The sensation of his teeth against your neck causes you to lean your head against the wall, reluctantly giving him room. He purrs at that.

“Good girl.”

His hands are fiddling with your buttons. You barely have time to speak before he impatiently rips your shirt, sending the round objects scattering.

A half-hearted apology is mumbled into your skin. His fingers skitter over your bra, you cry out when his cold hands push the material up to feel your tits.

It’s still not enough. His body is feverish, you feel so hot against him, so pliant, so beautiful. You’re crying, whimpering, softly whispering for him to stop but do you even know how desperate you sound? Your voice sounds so needy, it’s hard to be sated from just touching.

Oikawa yanks down your skirt, letting them pool at your ankles. Your thighs are still glistening from his previous ministrations and your panties are wet, still soaked.

He feels pure euphoria watching them slide down your legs, landing on the ground next to the other piles of clothing.

You’re standing before him, barely clothed, shivering. He gives you a chaste kiss on the cheek, mumbling a soft ‘be good for me, okay’, before he reaches down to his pants.

He doesn’t pull it down all the way, just enough to reach inside and pull out his throbbing cock. It’s already an angry red, a single drop of precum leaking at the tip.

He gives it a few cursory pumps, before he stills.

“I really wanted to see you cum, bet you looked so pretty. Do you mind doing that again, just for me pretty please?”

He grinned when you didn’t reply. You can’t understand how someone so beautiful could hide so much cruelty.

“No? That’s okay, I’ll just make you. Again.”

In one single movement, he hikes your leg against his hip and thrusts his cock inside you.

You wail as he pushes himself inside, already starting to set a rough pace. It hurts, much bigger than two fingers. Whatever he did before clearly didn’t help make it feel any less painful. You give a choked scream, hot tears clouding your vision.

He’s not quiet either, leaning his forehead against the wall behind you, moaning shamelessly. He’s saying your name like a prayer, repeating it over and over again until it sounds like that’s the only thing he can say.

“You have to relax, baby-fuck you’re so tight.” Oikawa hisses, hiking your leg higher to fuck you deeper.

The pain fades. You wish it stayed, keeping you sober while he pushes you against the wall, greedily palming your tits, sucking on your neck.

But it disappears and a loud moan leaves your lips, too breathy to be made from anything but pleasure.

You instinctively cover your mouth, trying to muffle the sounds your traitorous body is making.

“Nope, not this time,” He cheerily says, ripping your hand away, “I wanna hear you scream.”

He angles his hips, his cock sinking into that spot and you do scream.

The pleasure that waves up and down your body blinds you. Your body isn’t listening to you, anymore. Your cunt keeps sucking him back in with each thrust. You can feel beads of precum roll down your thigh. Oikawa’s head is resting on your shoulder now. His weight makes your shaky legs buckle, digging your back further into the hard concrete.

He kisses your hand, encouraging you to drape it on his shoulder. It limply falls beside his neck, barely brushing against his hair.

You shift your hips and his cock stutters almost stopping his rhythm before Oikawa’s cooing something dirty into your ear, reaching down to rub your clit until you’re crying out again.

It’s addicting, he realizes, having your cunt flutter around him like this, leaking out his precum. It’s a feeling that makes him piston himself into you over and over again, relishing in the way your pussy tries to suck him in, like you were begging for more.

“O-oikawa,” You finally gasp when you finally regain the ability to speak, “Slow down please please slow-slow down.”

His laugh is breathy, “You want me to slow down, angel? What, are you close again?”

You don’t respond, but it’s enough to make him go faster, ignoring your pleas in search of your gradually rising voice.

He hisses when his knee hits the wall, grimacing.

“-Wanted to do this at a bed, you know,” He grunted, “Somewhere soft. But-but I didn’t wanna-hah-scare you, you’re so anxious it was so-fuck- hard choosing a place-place you’d actually show up in.”

He rubs your clit, feeling your walls grow tighter and tighter. He pulls back to look at you, eyes shut, your lip caught between your teeth, your face filled with lustful pleasure.

“Cum for me, baby. Show me how perfect you are.”

You follow his orders, your orgasm making you cry in ecstasy. It makes you go limp and you almost sink to the floor before Oikawa catches you, keeping you upright as he chases his own end.

He doesn’t stop, not even when you beg him to slow down that it’s too much. No, he just hushes you again, stumbling over a tensed ‘Just a little more’, before he’s going faster and faster until you feel something warm, wet, and sobering fill your cunt.

He’s slows down then, his eyes shut in bliss as he rocks his hips forward, milking as much as he could. When he finally pulls out, he does it with a hiss, making you flinch as his skin hits your sensitive clit.

He doesn’t catch you this time, letting you drop to the floor. You tumble to the ground, your hands barely catching your fall. The tile is so cool against your sensitive skin, it almost makes you forget the milky liquid spread on your legs, the finger-print shaped bruises on your thigh.

You don’t think you have anymore tears left, but they still fall, running down your cheeks.

He’s instantly over you, brushing a hand down your face.

“Oh, don’t cry, baby, you did such a good job,” Oikawa cooed, wiping your tears away.

He’s not comforting you. His smile is too satisfied to make you think he had any semblance of pity. You briefly wonder what he’s seeing. You, exhaustedly crumpled against the wall, your legs curled, cum seeping out, your neck and chest littered with teeth marks. No wonder he looks so pleased.

He pets your hair, shifting it back in place and it’s so domestic-so loving that it makes you sick.

Oikawa grins, showing teeth. “How about next time we study at my place.”

#yandere #yandere haikyuu #yandere oikawa tooru #dark oikawa tooru #dark content #oikawa isn't a good person #x reader #tw:noncon #reader inserts #afab reader

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xobrattymoonxo · 5 months

Text

Bokuto x Fem!reader

Summary: Bokuto doesn't want you to walk home in the rain.

AN: I left this pretty open, but if I get a few people who want a part two, I will write one!

TW: Noncon, Dubcon, forced sex, forced blowjob, sex toys, restraints, double pen, dildos, barley any lube, If I missed anything lmk!!

Word count: 2.2K

Third Person POV

The rain came down harder as Y/n stood under the awning. MSBY had just finished practice and as their manager, Y/n had just finished cleaning up the net and balls as she thought most of the team left already.

“Hey Y/n!” She jumped up a bit, being startled by the voice behind her.

“Oh, hey Bokuto!” She smiled warmly.

“Whatcha waiting for?” He asked.

“I walked here today. I didn’t know it was going to rain.” Y/n rubbed the back of her head feeling a little silly.

“How about I drive you home?” Bokuto offered.

“Oh I don’t live too far away, I can walk.” Y/n said.

“Not in this rain, come on.” He grabbed her hand and began running to his car. He pushed her inside the passenger seat door as he pushed her inside the car. Bokuto ran around the car and into the driver's seat. Bokuto started the car and began to drive the car.

“Do you need my address?” She asked.

“Nope.” He simply said.

“Do you know where I live?” She asked, growing nervous.

“Nope.” He said again.

“Then where are we going?” Y/n asked.

“My place.” He was acting like it was no big deal.

“I want to go home, Bokuto.” She said, “ I am cold and wet.”

“Don’t worry, it will be okay.” Bokuto turned and smiled at her.

Y/n grew more and more nervous as the car drove on. Bokuto pulled the car up into the driveway of a house. He quickly got out of the car and rushed to her side of the car. He grabbed her hand and pulled her from inside the car. Bokuto dragged her through the pouring rain. He held her hand on his porch as he unlocked the door. He opened the front door finally, Y/n soaking wet, he pulled her inside.

Once inside the door, Bokuto started peeling back layers of clothes. He started with his jacket, then pulled off his shirt. He looked at Y/n.

“Are you going to join me, or stay in those wet clothes all night?” He teased.

“Can you take me home?” Y/n asked.

Bokuto moved closer to Y/n.

“Come on, Y/n. Don’t be like that… you know you want me as much as I want you.”

Y/n moved back as Bokuto kept moving closer.

“Hey now, why are you acting so scared?” He asked her. His hands went to the bottom of her hoodie and began to take it off.

“Bokuto stop!” She warned.

He didn’t listen, instead he pulled it off successfully. Y/n was standing infront of him in a bra and wet jeans now only.

“Look how sexy you are.” He purred out.

“Bo!” She was on the verge of tears.

Bokuto pulled her closer, against his chest as he pulled her into a passionate kiss. He kept kissing her, but she wouldn’t kiss back. Bokuto let his right hand slid up her stomach from her hips. He slid his hand up over her bra.

“Kiss me back.” He said, sounding more of a warning. Y/n felt a ping of fear in her stomach, she began to kiss him back. “Good girl.” He whispered.

His hand didn't stop slowly moving up her chest. He grabbed her breast hard as she let out a gasp. This was the perfect opportunity for him to slip his tongue into her mouth. He began to fight her for dominance as he could feel her try to pull away. He moved his hand that grabbed her breast to behind her head as he deepened the kiss once again.

“God you are perfect, Y/n.” He whispered into her lips. Y/n felt a tear roll down her cheek. Bokuto wiped the tear from her eye. “Don’t cry baby.”

Bokuto’s hands slipped down and began to undo her jeans.

“Bokuto, please don’t-” He cut her off as he pulled her jeans down.

“Listen Y/n, I have wanted you for a while and I always get what I want, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way.” He warned once again. Y/n gulped. “So what will it be, hmm?”

Y/n didn’t answer, instead she thought she would show him with an action. She now pulled him in for a kiss.

Bokuto pulled back and looked at her with a smug expression.

“Oh so now you want to play a game, huh?” He asked her.

“No? I thought you’d be okay with that.” She nervously played with her hands.

“Well…. I think… hmmm I don’t think I am okay with you acting out.” He places his hand on her cheek. “I think you deserve a punishment… Don’t you?”

“Bokuto… please don’t do this.” The tears streamed harder down her face.

“Kotaro.” He said. “Call me Kotaro from now on, okay?”

Bokuto reached out and grabbed her hand, he started to pull her out of her pants, leaving her in her bra and underwear. He began to walk and forced her to follow. He lead her into the kitchen and into the basement door that was there. He dragged her down the stairs by the hand and led her into a dark room off the main room.

“This is your room, for now, until you learn how to properly behave.” Bokuto smiled at her.

Y/n shook with fear.

“My room?” She asked just above a whisper.

“Yep! I designed it just for you.” He turned on the lights.

The room was an odd shade of red. It looked like it was just painted recently. Around the room were various things, a bed, chains, whips, an odd chair that was bent up at 45 degrees with cuffs attached to it, dildos lined the one wall as well as vibrators and other toys. Bokuto grabbed her bra straps and slowly began to peel her bra away. He pulled her bra off successfully leaving her exposed everywhere but her pussy. Bokuto walked away slightly.

“Come here.” He motioned for her to come to the oddly angled chair. Upon further inspection, she noticed there was a large opening in which she assumed was for him to still access her more pussy.

“Bo….”

“Y/n, I told you to come here. If you don’t listen, I will make the punishment worse for you.”

Y/n began to slowly walk towards him. He patted the chair.

“Lay with your stomach on the leather.” He said.

Y/n followed directions as she laid down on the chair. Bokuto instantly grabbed her wrists and strapped them down. He moved around to her back side and grabbed her panties and pulled them off. He cuffed her ankles down after her panties were removed.

“There we go! Now you can’t move away from me.” He smiled at her.

Bokuto walked over to the wall of dildos, he grabbed a large red dildo. He reached into a box and pulled out a large black vibrator wand as well as a thick green plug.

“Tell me, Y/n. Have you ever taken something this big?” He asked, holding up the large dildo. Y/n shook her head no. “I definitely have to prep you then since I myself am over 7 inches.” He said in a bragging voice.

Y/n’s eyes widened as he talked about his size. Bokuto took his wet pants off now in front of her. She could see the outline of his dick.

Bokuto grabbed some lube from what seemed like out of nowhere. He covered the plug in lube and began to rub it along her pussy lips. Y/n couldn’t see what was happening exactly but she felt a few fingers run along her clit.

“You must be enjoying yourself if you are this wet already.” He said with a sly smirk. He forced her hole open as he shoved the thick plug inside her.

Y/n let out a moan as she was suddenly stretched out quite big around the plug. Bokuto stood up as he grabbed a leather belt from the wall. He made it as tight as he could with the vibrating wand tucked inside it. He turned it on the lowest setting as he lined it up with her clit. Y/n moaned out again as she squirmed the best as she could given her cuffed down position.

“Are you enjoying it baby?” He asked her.

Y/n did not respond, instead she moaned out a little louder as he turned up the speed to medium.

Bokuto grabbed the lube and walked behind her. He spread her ass cheeks as far apart as he could.

“W-what are you doing?!?” Y/n asked obviously panicked.

Bokuto didn’t answer her. Suddenly she felt the tip of his tongue enter in her puckered hole.

“Stop! Please! I have never had anything there before!” She exclaimed.

“Exactly why I have to prep you.” Bokuto said.

Bokuto continued to lick around her puckered hole as she cried out for him to stop. Bokuto pulled back as she sighed in relief. It was very short lived as she felt something hard poking at her back entrance.

“Stop! Please! Don’t do this Bokuto!” She yelled out.

“This is your punishment, Y/n.” He said as he gave the 6 inch dildo a hard push. She let out a scream in pain as he continued to shove it in her ass. He didn’t stop till the dildo was fully inside her asshole. She was crying in pain asking him to take it out. “I told you to call me Kotaro.”

Bokuto moved around the chair and in front of her face. He began to pull his boxers down as his member sprung out. He roughly grabbed a fist full of her hair.

“Open.” He demanded.

Y/n did as she was told and opened her mouth slightly. He took no time at all to shove his member into her mouth and down her throat. Y/n choked on his dick. She began to gag as he moved himself. He began making her head move back and forth forcing her to take his long and girthy member into her mouth and throat. He had tears streaming down her face as she cried out. Every once in a while she’d let out a moan allowing him to go even deeper.

Bokuto reached under and turned up the speed on the vibrator. She was moaning more than before, allowing him to slip over 6 inches down her throat. The way he was forcing her had him getting closer and closer to finally cumming.

A few moments later, he let out a hot stream of cum down her throat. She gagged as he pulled back. He forced her mouth closed.

“Swallow it.” He commanded her to do so.

Y/n swallowed his hot cum that remained in her mouth. Bokuto then walked away. She could hear wheels and something being set up behind her, but unable to turn she had no idea what was in store next.

Bokuto came up behind her and began undoing the belt holding the vibrator to her clit. He then pulled out the plug. She began to drip with arousal.

“Look how much my good girl likes being shoved full and forced to take my cock in her throat.” He said.

He then went to her leg cuffs and undid them. He waited till just before undoing her wrist cuffs to remove the large dildo from her asshole. He helped her stand up finally as she was a little wobbly.

“Just come this way.” He led her over to a metal table she didn’t see before. He helped her up on the table and strapped her down once again. There was a large split in the table, he slid a sex machine in between her legs. “I don’t think you need any lube, but since I am a nice guy, I will help.” He ran his fingers through her soaking pussy lips and over the large dido on the sex machine. He smiled as he lined it up with her back entrance. He began to slide it in as he turned the machine on a low setting. It slowly started to go in and out of her puckered hole as he climbed on top of the table. He watched the machine a few times as he lined up at her pussy entrance. Once the machine's dildo bottomed out, he began to force himself into her pussy. He successfully bottomed out as he moaned out.

“You’re so tight, Just for me.” He moaned into her ear. He reached behind himself and turned up the sex machine to full power. He matched the rhythm as he went deep inside her.

Bokuto was enjoying himself as he heard her scream out in pain and pleasure. He continued to pump inside her as the machine did. He smiled deviously as he felt himself already getting close.

A noise could be heard from outside the room as Y/n cried out for help. The door suddenly opened as Hinata was standing inside the room now.

“Aww Ko, you started without me already?” He whined.

“Just wait till I finish and you can have a turn.” Bokuto said.

Y/n had a feeling this was going to be a very long night ahead of her……..

Taglist: @itsmearia01

TAGLIST OPEN!! Dm or comment to be added! I have a LOL taglist as well so please let me know what you'd like to be tagged on!!

#tw noncon #tw dark fic #haikyuu smut #yandere haikyuu #haikyuu dark content #haikyuu yandere #haikyuu noncon #tw dubcon

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iwaasfairy · 4 months

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ETCHED IN RED | RUBY Part 2

tw. noncon, unreliable narrator, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, yandere wordcount. 1k

read part 1 here or see the valentine's masterlist

kozume kenma x reader

You’ve started counting the spots on the walls in the dark. You’re no longer all that sure if the spots are actually there, but because you don’t have the chance to walk up and check— this is the next best thing. Your eyes have gotten used to the dim light of the semi-basement, and the dry air, and the lack of heat. It would have made you cry a few days, or weeks ago. Maybe- it’s been a month. Might be two. When you got so ill even Kenma couldn’t hide his concern, you stopped counting. And that only started feeling like a critical mistake when you had no choice but to admit.

You have no fucking clue how long it’s been.

Your ears perk up when they make something out over the static. Maybe not exactly a familiar voice, but a voice, ever so faintly sounds from the ceiling above you. Where you know Kenma does his work. Where you know he misses you from up there. You only saw it once before you were led down here, the big room with bright, open windows, much unlike how you know Kenma to be now. He’s guarded and protective and keeps his feelings close. You can’t imagine Kenma to long for freedom like you do…

But still, you want to believe it.

Instead he’s here with you, cherishing you, staying with you. Feeding and caring for you when he has the time. You shouldn’t think back to those windows, with the easy latch and flowy curtains. That’s what tempted you to fight and escape a few times, even when you only ended up worse. You weren’t chained to the wall until you ran. Weren’t tied up until you tried to slice his face open with the shard of the mirror you kicked, and now you don’t even really remember what you look like.

Kenma does, and he seems to like what he sees. When he’s rubbing his thumb along your brows and down the bridge of your nose - it matters a little less that you don’t know. When he helps you untangle your hair, or lets you into the bath. You weren’t even stripped of your clothes until you tried to strangle yourself with your shirt after struggling to adapt for weeks. Oh, it must’ve been at least two months then.

The sound of Kenma talking is so muffled that it’s hard to imagine he’s talking to anyone in the room. Maybe a phone call? After a while, you start getting restless. Start rocking the bed until it bangs against the wall twice and the door to the stairs trembles. Then you try to turn onto your side to get a little comfortable, arms still tied to the bed. Still numb.

Until you hear the familiar sound of soft feet walking down, and the key clicks against the metal of the lock. Kenma thought you important enough to hang up. You can’t help but feel warm at that thought, but you try not to focus on that. You shouldn’t be jealous when he’s trying his best. That’s what he says, and when you don’t hear anyone’s voice except for his for long enough, your internal monologue starts to sound like him too. “You’re being noisy again…” he sighs as he opens the door, hair pulled back from his face into a messy bun. “What’s wrong?”

Your entire body seems to perk up at the sound. He drags himself closer, and sits down on the edge of the bed just out of reach. A slight breeze goes along your bare thighs and bare tits and makes you shiver, and Kenma’s long fingers reach out to brush circles at your ankle. “What? You just lonely?”

“M-missed you,” your voice rasps, painful and tight. “Just wanna see you.” You sound like you haven’t had a drink all day, and after racking your mind, that’s probably true. It aches to swallow; almost as much as the dryness in the air. Instead of shying away from his touch, you lean into it as much as possible, and let him run his fingers up your shin to your thigh.

An almost imperceptible smile comes onto his lips, before he scoots closer and makes you bounce with the movement, starting to grin. “You’re much more lovey dovey nowadays.” His cat-like eyes focus on your face then, as he seems to gather what you’re thinking just from the furrow in your brow. “It’s not a bad thing… I think it’s cute. I didn’t like it when I had to constantly chase you around or fight you.”

His long fingers cup your cheek with a binding intensity, as he just seems to indulge in the sight of you. Splayed, submissive beneath him. You know him well enough now to say it’s how he likes you best. You like it too when you don’t have to fight. “‘M cold,” you sigh then, watching as Kenma’s eyes start glittering with a special kind of joy. One reserved for only you. You used to find it frightening, when you first got here.

“You’re always cold, huh?” The hand slides down your neck, brushing along your collarbones to make you shiver. “Want me to warm you up?” Without hesitating, he slips his hands under your dull, crinkled shirt and traces it up your ribs to your tits. The touch is enough to have you tremble into his hands, enjoying the interaction maybe too much. You’re mewling like it’s your job, and his name is the only thing on your lips. It took a while to feel okay about letting him slip his hands down to pull off the boxers, his— your panties got taken the first day you got here.

Kenma had been overeager, curious - he’d scared you. Now you just get scared when you wake up and Kenma isn’t in the house. Your body curls into the searching touches of his skillful fingers when they brush over the beginning wetness of your lips, and push a knuckle to grind against your clit. “When I first found you, I didn’t know you’d be so difficult, y’know,” he sighs into your mouth before kissing you, “you’re lucky you’re so cute. Make me wanna put up with you.” His fingers turn to rub you open, and your legs spread for him too eager.

“Kenma, pl-please, more.”

Whining. Pleading. You’ve become something you no longer recognize— Kenma takes the loneliness away for a few hours. He chuckles as you clamp your legs around his hand like you’re scared he’ll pull away, and your chest desperately moves up and down. “Hmh,” he smiles, “does that feel good? What a pretty, little pet, whining for me to fill her up.”

It makes the slight grin on his pretty mouth grow, until he is brushing your cheek with a distant look. His tongue brushes past his lips to taste you on him, before dipping closer to you and grinding his hand deeper into your clenching pussy. “What do you think about a trip to Brazil?”

#tw.noncon #tw.yandere #tw.kidnapping #kozume kenma smut #🍯honey.pot #haikyuu smut #dark content

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dolliestfairy · 10 months

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𔓘 Tw : Yandere, Dark Content, Spiritual Relationship, Jealousy, the word 'Rot' Mentioned, unholy thoughts, Virginity-take, Dubcon, Marriage, Unwanted pregnancy at the end (?) lmk if i miss anything. Chubby Reader Fics with no Skintone of Reader mentioned.

Do not cross any further Boundaries if this isnt your cup of tea. Dont like it? just block.

thinking abt yandere spirit who are in love with chubby!soft!witch!reader.

Yandere spirit who spending his after-death life with regret because he really blame himself for not meeting you early enough to fuck your fat pussy.

Yandere spirit who is sooo eager to fuck you, seeing you go around with your tight dress that almost made your asscheeks and boobs go explode expose.

Yandere spirit who ask you to do something with him just so he can touch you like a human does.

Yandere spirit who is soo jealous when other people start to touching you without your constent at all. guess someone is going to get hunted this night huh?

Yandere spirit who likes to touch your thights when you were sleeping. putting his hands into your thights while rubbing it softly. as he drown himself in with thoughts of how your soft body texture would feel around his hands.

Yandere spirit who wished you to be dead sooner with him just so you can be together with him forever. seeing other people trying to get into you closer making him gawk.

Yandere spirit who soon enough -- declares a Marriage between you and him in a Village of Spirit or what-so-ever.

Yandere spirit who swears on his life and after-dead life that he would always be there for you even when his flesh was rotting. well i mean.. his flesh was rotting only for you too.

Yandere spirit who cant even explain with words how happy he was when his fingers start to opened up your fatty pussy, as his heads start to move forward to it while his tongue is out -- ready to eat his after-dead meal.

and after all of that dead dreams of his, we finally met to the end; he claimed all of your maidenhood. all of it, all the things you dont know about -- to all the things about sex that was quite popular in the time where he was once lived. where he was once have a dream to try it out, but sadly enough the reaper was fast enough to grab his lifefull soul. and now, its his turn -- as he grab all your maidenhoods that night. and at the early morning, where a blessing from a devils arrived. where you would find the shock of the news that you are carrying his baby just at that moment. yes, your baby. you and his baby. the dead 's baby.

NANAMI, KAISER, Itoshi Brothers, Itto, XIAO, SCARAMOUCHE, Shibura, SEMI EITA, jiraiya, Sugawara, Tsukishima Kei, KAGEYAMA TOBIO, Itachi, CHOSO, Megumi, Gojo, MADARA, Hashirama, DEIDARA, Sasori, Al-Haitam, ZHONGLI, CHILDE, Kaeya, QIN SHI HUANG, Poseidon, OBITO, Kakashi, ALEC, Jack The Ripper, DOUMA, ENMU, Akaza, Muzan, SAKAMAKI AYATO, SAKAMAKI LAITO, Mukami Kou, Sakamaki Reiji, Oikawa, & SHIGARAKI.

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h34rtbeat · 1 month

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idk if you're into big quiet hq men but kita and ushijima are the softest doms out there and i want them to top me so bad like they would be soooooo authoritative but in the most sultry respectful way 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️ definitely shy to manhandle you at first but the next time you guys had a 3some they do it so naturally 😮‍💨😮‍💨 I COULD GO FOR DAYS AND PAGES TO TALK ABOUT MY QUIET BIG D MEN

GIRL BAIIIIII 😜😜😜😜😜 UR SO RIGHT… BUT I don’t like ushi as much as I like Kita, so this will solely be kita im so sorry

warnings/// unprotected sex, mating press, afab reader, exhibitionism, stepcest, kita is blunt

you knew of your elder ‘brother’s sports life, and you knew of how successful they were. though, you didn’t quite know the players.

in an attempt to get you more involved with your brothers life, your mom ushered you to go to the preliminary rounds.

“it’ll be good!” she says, pushing your shoulders out the door. Kita was routinely and neat. perhaps you showing up at his game threw him off.

you were never at his games. why were you there now? it didn’t matter. what did matter is that his focus was thrown off ‘cause of his stepsis.

and he had to find a way to punish you. even though they still remained victorious, his head was in a frenzy.

he was always blunt, even more so now.

“ugh.. why’d’ya haf’ta show up all of sudden?” he grunted, heavy balls slamming against your ass.

“ah- i’m sorry- didn’t mean-!” your words cut off by a thrust against your g spot, his free hand covering your mouth.

“ah, can’t have ‘em hearin’ yer moans, ya?” he chuckled, his tip repeatedly hitting your sweet spot.

your legs were bent up to your chest, he was mourning you, right? at this point, it had to be. your air cut off by his rough hands.

despite kita being one of the cleanest boys you knew, you couldn’t help but gush at how dirty this was.

shoved inside one of the spare storage rooms, your body on one of the mats (kita wouldn’t let you get that dirty, the only dirty thing he wanted was his cum in you) and his hard dick plunging inside.

“s’okay, m’not mad..” he whispered, kissing your neck. he was so rough, his hands having a grudging grips.

you nodded your head feverishly. good good, you didn’t want your dear older step brother mad. especially not when he was so muscular. the muscles on his thighs clenching and relaxing.

“fuck fuck, yer pussy s’slutty..” he panted, his hips slamming against yours. “wanna fuck my cum inside ya, would ya let me?” he groaned, his hips dick on your cervix.

“mhm!” you nodded, again. poor thing, all your juices spilling on his cock.

kita couldn’t wait to see your face when you found out that really, the whole team could hear you. but, that was for later, when he was done fucking his seed into you.

SORRY FOR HOW SHORT THIS WAS :p

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tang3r1n · 5 months

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getting chased through the woods by rich men in masks who paid for sweet lil chubby virgins >>>

men (and hange<3) who fit the bill; gojo (jjk), erwin (aot), reiner (aot), porco (aot), zeke (aot), eren (aot) hange (aot), endeavor (mha), all for one (mha), sir nighteye (mha), reo (bl), sae (bl), ryusei (bl), doflamingo (op), sir croc (op), literally any vinsmoke brother (op), ushijima (haikyuu), kuroo (haikyuu), and all ur favorites <3

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creative-crybaby · 1 year

Text

Fly on the Wall

PAIRING: yan!timeskip!Sakusa Kiyoomi x fem!reader

GENRE: smut | dark content (18+)

Minors DNI

TAGS + WARNINGS: yandere themes, noncon, stalking, somnophilia, semi-public masturbation (m), nipple play, fingering (with leather gloves), dacryphilia, cum eating, creampie, size kink, breaking and entering, panty stealing, basically Sakusa is a perv

Let me know if I missed anything.

WORD COUNT: 8.7k

SUMMARY: The new Black Jackal’s manager catches Sakusa’s eye. Unfortunately, whatever distance, physical or otherwise, is between you two, is too far for his liking. All characters are 18+

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Not meant to be a Christmas gift, but my timing does wonders, I guess :/

The Black Jackals getting a manager didn’t excite him the way it did his teammates. The idea itself didn’t bring him dread, of course, but the knowledge that certain players may get distracted–or worse: rowdier–brought more stress to him than he’d appreciate.

Bokuto and Hinata were already babbling on to each other about what you might be like, reminiscing their high school days when they both had two managers on their respective teams. Atsumu joined in, whining that Inarizaki wasn’t as lucky to have a girl manager, let alone two attractive ones. He also bet that you’d be cute—Sakusa could only roll his eyes at the exchange.

You carried yourself with a grace often unfound in volleyball when meeting the team, offering a polite smile as you introduced yourself. Even when bombarded with questions from the boisterous ones (you know the ones), you didn’t falter, even assuring Meian that you didn’t mind the energy: “It’s nice to know I’ll be supporting a passionate team.”

Pretty, Sakusa thinks. You didn’t blow him away, but it was enough for him to acknowledge upon first laying eyes on you. Even he found himself momentarily frozen when you two made brief eye contact.

Regardless, you’re not here for a modelling contract; you’re here to help the team grow to its full potential. The wing spiker may not be praying for your downfall, but he certainly isn’t going to celebrate your arrival too soon, either.

Anyone can refill water bottles and hand out clean towels to sweaty giants. The same goes for taking notes on their progress, especially since you should know how volleyball works. From what Sakusa has observed, you do more than well in that department, too, always ready to correct someone’s form or have a report prepared for Meian in no time. You’re organized, punctual; it helps that you also sprinkle in some encouraging words when necessary. (Certain members are more than happy to gain that praise, which means more headaches on the ravenette’s end.)

It doesn’t take long for you to get him to accept you into the team—in his own way. He doesn’t avoid you like the plague, per se; he merely never saw any reason to put in as much effort to get to know you the way someone like Bokuto or Atsumu would. He was just glad to have one more person to give him some proper feedback.

That distance Sakusa created is seemingly one-sided. There’s no special occasion, either: it was after a practice that partook a few days after a game against the Tachibana Red Falcons. A close match where the Black Jackals managed to pull through, though that wasn’t precisely what consumed the wing spiker’s thoughts at the time. You handed him a neatly folded towel during the athletes’ break, and he nods his thanks. You stay before him, and he peers up at you curiously after wiping his face. Stretching your hand to him, you carry a mini hand sanitizer pack. Nothing special: it’s a standard bottle in a dark red and attachable case.

“Noticed you weren’t a fan of the gifts from some of your fans and would look grossed out when a kid would touch you,” you explain, offering a small smile. “Hope you don’t already have one of these. This was the only normal-looking one I could find. Wasn’t sure how you’d feel about having a giraffe case dangling from your bag.”

You offer a sheepish laugh that Sakusa would refuse to admit is something he’d want to hear again. Not wanting to leave you hanging any longer than he already has, he takes your gift, eventually muttering his thanks.

It’s like a boy clinging onto that one compliment he got a few years back because it’s all he received. A rational voice in his head dismisses your observation as something someone on the team probably mentioned to you—maybe Atsumu made a joke about him being a germaphobe, and you took it seriously.

Still, that’s not a possibility the wing spiker wants to entertain. Not as he goes on with the rest of practice, not when he’s in the changeroom, not when he’s attaching that case to his gym bag, not when he gets home, and certainly not when he goes to bed that night. A small gesture, one probably wouldn’t overthink, lingers in his thoughts until Occasion #2 appears.

Coming back from an away game is one of the few opportunities the volleyball players get to recharge. After packing everything into the bus, each member sits in their unassigned-assigned seat. Or, at least, most of them would. Some chose to sit wherever it was convenient for them: they wanted to carry on their conversation with one of their teammates or maybe get some shut-eye. Sakusa was the latter, opting for a window seat far away from his boisterous colleagues as possible. Ready to close his eyes, he only got a few seconds of relaxation before he sensed some shifting next to him. With furrowed brows, he opens his eyes, ready to tell Atsumu off (let’s be honest, it’s always Atsumu), only to find you making yourself comfortable in the spot next to his instead.

You turn to him somewhat sheepishly. “Hope you don’t mind. I wanted to get some rest, and you’re pretty quiet, so I figured having you as my seating buddy was my best shot.”

You don’t say anything afterwards, waiting for him to tell you to leave him alone. To his surprise (and yours, he’s sure), the wing spiker mumbles a stoic “Go ahead,” his eyes trailing towards the window as he readjusts his mask. Even with his gaze no longer on you, he could hear the smile in your voice as you thank him.

For the next several hours, Sakusa remained awake, thinking about everything and nothing all at once as he’d glance over to your sleeping form every few minutes. Even people like Bokuto and Hinata lost enough energy to fall asleep, but the ravenette didn’t notice. If anything, his entire world dissolved into nothingness as soon as your frame unconsciously leaned on his shoulder. His whole body froze, but surprisingly, not out of disgust. Awkward, perhaps, but he didn’t feel the need to wake you up, let alone push you away.

His senses heightened. With you so much closer, his eyes scanned every detail your face had to offer, every reaction you had in your sleep, from stirring after hitting a speedbump to sighing whenever Saksua dared to take a breath too deep. Speaking of breathing, even with yours being so shallow, he can hear the steady rhythm loud and clear, despite Bokuto’s snoring somewhere in the distance. Your scent attacked his nose, even with the mask shielding most of his face, and he can at least admit to himself that it was refreshing to smell something that wasn’t a bunch of sweaty athletes. It’s just your head on his shoulder, but the ravenette felt you burning your mark into his skin, one he didn’t ever want to wash off. Every sense except for taste—

A speed bump. The last thought retreated as fast as it invaded. The remaining hour and a half to return home flew by with his guilt as a distraction. Even when Atsumu woke up and teased the wing spiker for trying to get close to you, Sakusa didn’t feel the need to reply. He merely looked down at your still-sleeping form for several seconds more before eventually trying to wake you up. He’d rather he didn’t, but something about others seeing you in such a vulnerable state irked him in a way he can only describe as filthy. No amount of water and hand soap can scrub away that dirt, but as soon as your eyes opened and met his before anyone else’s, that itch got scratched. He didn’t register your profuse apologies until a couple of other teammates decided to join in on the teasing, and suddenly Sakusa found his voice.

“It’s fine.”

But it wasn’t fine. And it still isn’t. Maybe you forgot about it or saw that moment as a funny story to share over drinks with friends, but it’s different for the wing spiker. He knows it shouldn’t be, yet here he is, replaying every minor interaction between the two of you. There was a reason for him keeping his distance from you when you first started: you both stick to your tasks during practice and games, only interacting when progress and strategy are the focus. Otherwise, the athlete is back in whatever vacant corner he can find, shrinking his almost 6’’4 frame as much as he can in hopes that he can avoid possible interactions. (And if that means he gets to watch you laugh at something Atsumu said or go over strategy with Meian, then those times in his hiding spot have come with new benefits.)

But he’s not in a corner right now: he’s at Onigiri Miya with his team and EJP Raijin, eyes boring into your frame as his cousin says something he doesn’t quite catch.

The ravenette hums. “What was that?”

“Your new manager’s pretty cute and all,” Komori starts, not too loudly for others to hear, “but if you keep staring at her, you’re going to look like some creep.” Sakusa’s head snaps to the libero, who sheepishly smiles as he scratches the back of his neck. “I mean, I get that you were never all that good with girls, but even you should know this stuff by now.”

The wing spiker scoffs at his cousin’s joke, opting to take a bite out of his onigiri instead of replying. You’re listening to whatever story the blonde Miya twin has to share, laughing whenever the younger one butts in with commentary to embarrass the former. Now you watch in amusement as the two lookalikes bicker, and it makes Sakusa realize something: besides the few moments he recalls oh-so fondly, you don’t interact with each other much outside of volleyball.

He glides his thumb across the nori on his food in irritation. The moments shared between you rarely involve anything outside of the sport. For someone as observant as him, the ravenette is almost ashamed he let his very few one-on-one memories of you two distract him from such an obvious (and somewhat embarrassing) fact.

You’ve probably spent more time with a handful of his other teammates. Sakusa recalls Bokuto and Hinata inviting you to a movie marathon at the latter’s place on your day off, though through all that excitement exchanged between them, all he could do was mutter under his breath about them wasting your time. It probably doesn’t matter whether or not you accepted their offer; they still approached you.

The same goes for whatever Atsumu says to you that makes you two snicker under your breaths. Inside jokes, Sakusa is sure of it, though it doesn’t make him scoff any less. If anything, his mood grew sour with every interaction you had that wasn’t with him. Another fact he wasn’t aware of until the blonde setter asked him if the stick up his ass was bigger than it used to be. (The wing spiker’s response to the harmless joke needn’t be shared.)

“Just talk to her.” Komori’s voice brings Sakusa back to Onigiri Miya. Staring; again. Lovely. The ravenette faces his cheerful cousin once more, who offers a chuckle. “I’ll even play wingman if you want.”

The quieter of the two finishes his onigiri before getting up from his seat. The libero watches as his relative puts his MSBY jersey on before heading for the exit. “I’m good, thank you.”

The ravenette risks a glance your way once he makes it to the door. You don’t meet his gaze, still occupied with the twins. No surprise there, but that doesn’t stop the disappointment plunging into his chest as he exits the shop.

That one-sided has seemingly returned since then, though the roles are reversed. Even with the few moments exchanged between you two, Sakusa struggles to pinpoint when he started to care for your attention in the several months you’ve been part of the team. The days when he felt indifferent involved less overthinking and even lesser restless nights; now, he can’t stop nitpicking at whatever detail catches his eye. You styled your hair differently one day; you’re snacking on cheesecake-flavoured Kitkat because it’s your new favourite snack. These notes follow up with nothing on his end except an extra bullet point in his brain’s buzzing list.

It’s a winter evening when he adds his first crucial fact: your home address. An abyss swallows the sky at what seems to be only half past five. Not a usual time for practice, though nothing that disrupted Sakusa’s schedule. He’s making his way to his car when he sees you standing aside, eyes glued to your phone. A rare sight, though not an unwelcomed one.

You’re frowning, the wing spiker notices. He’s approaching you, he notices too little too late. You notice him.

“Oh, Sakusa!” you smile, pocketing your device. “Good work today.” The ravenette doesn’t need his mask to hide his contentment at your praise, though the pride that swells inside him grows challenging to swallow. “Off home to relax?”

His tongue rests between his teeth as he nods, and you hug your coat tighter to your body. His brain screams to carry on a conversation, no matter how small or meaningless, but his eyes seem to do enough as they rake through the parking lot. He’s looking for your car, he realizes, but has no clue as to what it looks like.

“Had to bus here,” you explain sheepishly. Sakusa watches you from the corner of his eye, internally sighing in relief at your (alleged) mind-reading powers. “My car needs fixing, and with practice taking place later on in the day, finding a bus worked better.” Your gaze trails to the streets only a few meters away, exhaustion making them droop. “Guess my supposed ride is being held back, huh?”

“Let me take you home.”

Your head snaps in the wing spiker’s direction, whose eyes slightly widen in shock at his proposition. Now he decides to talk. He digs his nails into the strap of his gym bag, jaw clenching as he tries to appear calm as he awaits your response.

Your brows crease ever so slightly. “I wouldn’t want to cause you any trouble.”

Your voice shrinks at your concern. Sakusa imagines you shrinking under his gaze as well. “You never cause me any trouble.”

Not how he would’ve liked to word it, but it’s too late to take it back. You beam at him, offering your thanks and letting him know you owe him as you step closer to his tall frame. He doesn’t flinch away, instead facing the parking lot once more as he chews on his bottom lip under his mask.

The car ride holds silence throughout the fifteen-to-twenty minutes on his end, with you giving the ravenette directions and discussing the team’s progress. He only offers curt nods and soft hums, not that he minds this time; your sunny tone and presence in such a closed space were more than enough for him. Besides, his brain is occupied with carrying your guidance as you get closer to your destination. Because he’s the driver, and you ought to return home safely. It’s been a long day for both of you: you’re exhausted, and you don’t hide this fact as you slump in the passenger seat and sometimes yawn.

And when you finally tell Sakusa to pull up into your driveway, he can’t help but scan your home with his eyes, wondering which windows expose which room. He sees one with lavender curtains from the interior, and he’s willing to bet that’s your bedroom.

You thank him, and the thought evaporates. He’s tongue-tied once more; he nods, unlocking the passenger door. Offering one more smile, you exit the car, and the wing spiker’s eyes bore into your frame as you walk up your porch and enter your home.

He’s backing out of the driveway when he begins to wonder if there is something different he could have done. The small talk was calming, but he found that he wanted more.

The drive back consists of Sakusa glancing over at where you sat every chance he got. He swallows harshly, fingers tapping impatiently against the steering wheel at a red light. Even with practice done a while ago, he feels hot. His clothes hug him uncomfortably, and it isn’t until his brain entertains the idea of peering down does he understand why.

He recognizes this street. The ravenette pulls over to a secluded area, quick to unbuckle his seatbelt before throwing his mask off. His chest heaves as he slowly looks down once more as if the first time was just a trick of the lights.

He’s hard. Being alone with you for less than half an hour is enough to make him fucking hard.

He’s also alone. For a second, he recalls keeping a pack of tissues in the glove compartment.

He’s also in his car. His home is not too far from yours, he noticed as you gave him directions.

You were also in his car. The passenger seat pulls Sakusa’s gaze towards it. He’s leaning into where you sat not long ago, and if he focuses hard enough, he can catch a whiff of your perfume.

His cock stirs in his slacks, and the ravenette climbs over the gear shift before his brain can reason with his body.

The passenger’s seat is still a bit warm, he notices upon making himself comfortable in his new spot. The wing spiker shakily exhales as he unzips his pants with great haste, shimmying them down to his thighs. His pace doesn’t slow down when he gets to his briefs, either, opting to tuck the waistband between his balls and dick’s base to free his shaft of its confinements. Only then does he pause, breathing still trembling as he tries to calm himself.

There’s not much time. An empty parking lot when he got there, but it won’t stay that way forever. Sakusa spits into his palm, needing some makeshift lube to start slowly stroking himself. The relief has his eyes fluttering closed and lips parting with a sigh. It isn’t long until he feels some precum sliding down from his slit, and he spreads the stickiness to help with his movements. He takes a deep breath through his nose and again catches your scent.

What if it was your hand pumping his cock instead? It should be. You’d be smiling as you do so, peering up at the wing spiker through your lashes as you ask him how he likes it. Always there to help during practice; how is this any different? You want what’s best for the team, for him. Anything for him—

Sakusa’s choking on a groan as he paints his hand and the glove compartment a creamy white. He doesn’t open his eyes until his high finally descends him back to earth, where he realizes what he’s done.

He groans, in both exhaustion and disgust from the mess in his car and thoughts. He was a teenager when he lasted this long, though the quantity of his release takes him by surprise. Has he truly been pent up for too long? Did you do this?

Sakusa’s quick to take out that tissue pack.

You thank him for the ride home once more the next time you see each other at practice. Other than that, the wing spiker continues to keep his distance. Mainly due to the shame that follows remembering what he’s done after dropping you off, but the one time you two shared eye contact for more than a few seconds when you handed him a towel during a break brought another feeling into the mix: excitement. What for, Sakusa has yet to find out. Or maybe he’s trying to avoid that explanation. Like any minute, you’ll tell him, you know, eyelids heavy as the emphasis tells him more than enough of what you’re talking about. The thought makes his lower stomach churn in an agonizing blender. Then, you’ll pull him into the storage closet, where you’ll—

Say his name. Well, no. Not you. Someone else is saying it. Again and again.

The ravenette blinks back into the real world, masking his fantasy with a blank slate for a face as he turns to look at whoever could need something from him.

“Oh, so yer awake?” Atsumu. Of course. “Still got some energy in me, and I need t’kill a bit of time. Wanna set fer ya fer a bit.”

The grin the faux blonde offers isn’t reciprocated as Sakusa notices front the corner of his eye some of his teammates entering the changeroom. A part of him wants nothing more than to follow them, the clothes clinging to his body from all the sweat making him internally recoil as he wishes for a shower. He also knows this is an opportunity to improve without you there: as much as he enjoys your presence, you become a distraction as a drawback.

The wing spiker sighs. “Only for a little bit.”

Atsumu beams at his teammate’s (albeit reluctant) acceptance, already jogging to fetch a ball to begin.

Sakusa finds his focus coming back with every spike he lands on the other side of the court, slowly but surely returning to normal. Another way to release some steam; he tries not to cringe at the memory of the other tactic from the night before.

The attempt fails as soon as you enter the gym with Meian by your side. The two of you are speaking to each other—about what, the ravenette isn’t sure. He doesn’t get a chance to listen in, anyway.

“Nice kill!” Atsumu chirps, gaining the attention of not just his teammate, but his captain and manager as well. With a final nod, you and Meian go your separate ways; him towards the changeroom and you, the other two athletes.

“Don’t push yourselves too much, guys,” you chuckle. “You already worked hard during practice. Take the time to relax as well.”

Sakusa can barely give you a nod while the setter grins at you.

“I’m gonna get cleaned up before we head out, ‘kay?” The wing spiker’s head snaps towards his teammate with a raised brow. Neither you nor the faux-blonde acknowledge his confusion.

You smile. “Take your time. I’ll just put the net and volleyballs away while you’re at it.”

Atsumu nods before slapping Sakusa’s back and jogging to the changeroom. The ravenette can only look down at a stray ball and pick it up. He remembers enjoying the silence between him and whoever he was with.

“I’ll help,” he mutters, walking away before he can witness your reaction. It’s ridiculous, like some middle school crush: wanting nothing more than to be close to you, but freezing up as soon as it happens. And he can’t avoid you forever–he doesn’t want to–because you eventually meet him at the ball cart, dropping the armful of volleyballs into it. “What was that with Miya earlier?”

His voice finds itself whenever he’d rather it didn’t. He’s curious, sure, but he didn’t need his tone to give away his distaste. He can only hope you dismiss it as Sakusa being Sakusa and nothing more.

With the small smile you give him, the ravenette is certain he’s safe. “Oh, ‘Tsumu invited me to check out this restaurant that recently opened with him after practice. Heard they made some of my favourites there, and I wanted to try them ASAP.”

Sakusa pretends that you being on a first-name basis with the setter doesn’t bother him. He doesn’t respond to your explanation and remains silent as he brings the net down with your help. The next time he acknowledges you is before he rushes to the changeroom to shower, ignoring Atsumu as they cross paths.

He’s at the wrong house.

You’d think one knew the directions to the place they called home, yes? At the very least, have an idea of the area. Yet, it’s only until your driveway makes it to his peripheral vision does the ravenette realize his mistake. And he’s just in time to watch you walk up your porch.

After another restless night, the wing spiker needed to clear his head. His home brought him no distractions, already too tidy to clean, and his mind continuously drifted away when watching recordings of volleyball matches. With a day to himself, he might as well go around town—there’s a mall not too far from his place, he recalls. It was a better attempt at keeping him occupied, though he couldn’t help it when he passed a perfume shop and wondered what scent was your favourite. Or the neighbouring lingerie store, putting whatever scandalous pieces of lace out on display, giving the athlete’s spiralling mind suggestions on what you would look best in. (White, he concluded before processing.)

He didn’t want much, nor did he need much. More or less satisfied with his purchases (and dissatisfied with failing distractions), he’s in his car, ready to head back home.

But he’s not home. Or rather, his house. The latter is a mere building; the former, a sense of comfort. And while there’s guilt bubbling in his chest, witnessing you carry on with your everyday life has him relaxing in his seat.

You were on an errand run, Sakusa observes. Groceries, from what he sees. What would you be making for dinner tonight? He’s too far away to catch what exactly is in your bags. The weather’s fallen to a frigid slumber—stew, perhaps? Or maybe you’ll make some umeboshi—those appeared to be your favourite whenever the team stopped by at Onigiri Miya. He and his teammates have had the opportunity to try some of your cooking firsthand; the ravenette is positive whatever you make will be just as delicious.

Then he remembers yesterday’s interaction, and his grip on the steering wheel tightens. Where did you two go? And when did Atsumu get so comfortable with you to take you out? You seemed content and—

And getting angry during this opportunity won’t do him any good. Surprised, Sakusa manages to calm down a little, opting to distract himself with other scenarios.

What could you two eat together? What would you serve him? He lets his thoughts waltz. The two of you share a meal after a long practice, or maybe you cook together on your day off. He’s seen a few romance movies in his life; he can imagine hugging you from behind as you prepared the food, him nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck as you both talked about whatever was on your mind. The conversation would continue as the two of you ate at the dinner table, his hand itching to find yours across from him.

And for dessert, he’d have you sitting on the kitchen counter with your legs wide open as he ravaged what’s in between them, your hands clawing at his dark curls as his greed controls his tongue. Or, maybe you’re feeling extra generous and decide to help him relax after a tiring practice, lowering to your knees to take every inch of his—

You’re struggling to open your front door. Too many bags in your hands—the wing spiker has half a mind to get out of the car and help you. As crazy as you drive him, he still has some sense to remind him that whatever excuse he has to be in your neighbourhood won’t be convincing, even from him. And with the evergrowing tightness in his pants, he has another problem he can’t hide. Worse, he doesn’t feel as bad as he used to anymore.

You finally manage to get inside, and the athlete starts the engine to find a secluded area once again.

Sakusa has to refrain from spiking the ball at the faux-blonde’s face in the following practice. A match among teammates, and noticing the setter’s little pep in his step upon entering the gym that morning had the ravenette glaring hard. A part of him was relieved being on Atsumu’s opposing team, doubting he could work alongside him for the day.

For now, the wing spiker aims his spikes at the older Miya twin. Anyone could view the action as part of his strategy; aiming for the setter to prevent them from setting is an old trick in the book, but still in the book.

“Damn it, Omi!” Atsumu exclaims in frustration after not properly receiving Sakusa’s spike. “Quit pickin’ on me! Ma arms are gonna fall off!”

A twinge of satisfaction plucks at the ravenette’s chest from the outcry, though he masks it with a huff before walking back to his position. His eyes automatically make their way to your form on a bench, keeping track of the points while scribbling some notes whenever possible. You don’t catch his gaze, seemingly occupied with whatever’s on your clipboard. The lack of attention makes Sakusa frown, as he had hoped you’d see him on his little winning streak.

It doesn’t stop him. If anything, it adds fuel to the fire, the flicker of pride from before blooming into something dangerous.

His plan doesn’t change: Atsumu will remain his target until he decides otherwise. The next time he’s given a chance to spike, his eyes make the mistake of gluing themselves to his victim. Barnes quickly steps in front of the faux-blonde’s spot, flinching from the impact but still blocking the ball perfectly.

It’s just one point, one that he can easily take back. Still, Sakusa can’t help but aim his glare at the setter on the other side of the net, something that doesn’t go unnoticed. A hand lands on the wing spiker’s shoulder, snapping him out of his spiralling daze.

“Take a seat, Sakusa.” Meian’s expression appears relaxed, though there’s a rough edge to his tone telling him it’s not a suggestion.

The bench you’re sitting on is opposite his team’s side of the court. Had that not been the case, the ravenette would try to take the opportunity to sit with you, even if words wouldn’t be exchanged. Instead, he settles onto a bench too far from you for his liking. Even if he were to try and take a peek at you, players from the other team block you from his vision, what with their constant moving.

He’s observing their movements; anyone can assume that. Sakusa can no longer remember the time he’d do something like that unless he was watching videos of matches at home. If he’s not keeping the ball in the air on his side of the court, then he’s scavenging for a chance to even be reminded of your existence: you handing the athletes water and towels, the captain calling your name to gain your attention. Anything will do. So no matter the frustration that comes with the package, he’ll find a way to catch you.

It isn’t until he watches you rise from the bench does Sakusa realize that practice is done for the day. He didn’t notice his teammates walking away from the court and giving him a clearer view of your frame; he was glad he could see you at all. His posture straightens as he watches you approach Atsumu, and his hands ball into fists when you rest your hand on the faux-blonde’s arm. Whatever you two may be discussing, the ravenette can only assume it has to do with his teammate being on the receiving end of his pent-up aggression.

Your conversation ends short and sweet, with you walking towards the storage closet. Sakusa’s only half-listening to his captain when he asks if everything is okay with him. Meian is offered an unenthusiastic response of “Everything is fine” before the younger athlete stalks away.

You’re struggling to roll out the ball cart from its spot when the wing spiker enters the storage closet. He doesn’t hesitate to approach you from behind and grip the handle about an inch away from your hold. You gasp, jolting back slightly before turning your head to face the brooding ravenette.

“You startled me, Sakusa,” you sigh, clutching your chest. “Is there something I can help you with?”

Always so eager to please, aren’t you? The wing spiker has to refrain from smirking at the thought.

Still, he ignores your question. “The wheels on this cart have been acting up lately.” With newfound confidence, he places his free hand on your shoulder to gently pull you out of the way for him to yank the cart. It jerks out of its place with a loud screech, and you wince. “You just need to give it a tug. Until it’s fixed, anyway.”

Sakusa looks down at the cart upon realizing this is probably the most words he’s spoken to you without having you carry the conversation.

You grip the handle after a few seconds of silence. Your voice, suddenly meek, shakes as you thank him. He’s blocking your way; nothing you need to point out to him, but your silence says plenty. His feet stay planted on the ground, and your loss of confidence makes his cock stir in his pants.

“You were pretty tough out there earlier,” you point out. The wing spiker knows you purposefully left out who he was giving a hard time. He also knows, based on your concerned tone, that you’re asking him for an explanation.

You aren’t offered a response. Sakusa only takes his time turning his head to peer at you, the darkness of the storage closet and the way his black curls frame his stoic face giving him an intimidating aura. But what has you subconsciously shrinking into your corner are the onyx caskets for irises boring into your frame, beckoning you to crawl into the empty pools of demise.

“I have to be if I want to win,” is his response before finally leaving you be, exiting the changeroom with the same intensity you witnessed mere seconds ago.

He’s back: closer.

Parking his car nearby doesn’t cut it for him anymore. Sakusa doesn’t think it ever did. With the amount of patience lost for every practice with his team, the initial distance was just a formality.

Now, his car hides nearby as he approaches your home, giving a quick yet thorough peek over his shoulder to make sure he’s in the clear.

It took him the third visit to learn where you hid your spare key, having seen you take it out from under the cushion of a little bench on your porch. And luckily for him, it hasn’t left its spot.

Even with his morals flying out the window, the wing spiker neatly places his coat, scarf and boots aside after removing them, then ponders over his leather gloves until ultimately deciding to keep them on. He eyes the spare slippers by the entrance before concluding they won’t be necessary (for this visit, anyway).

Based on the house’s layout, it shouldn’t take long for Sakusa to find your bedroom. But it’s not going anywhere, and neither are you. Why not get to know you via your home?

It’s a small house: one story and cozy. The ravenette wonders how you afforded it, even with your salary. With how minimal the style appears, he can only assume most of your income went into the building itself. Would it be too much for him to buy you things for the interior? As a gift, perhaps when the occasion calls for it.

Then again, is he really in any position to ask himself about doing too much? He almost chuckles at the thought.

A quick yet thorough tour of your home gives him a more detailed layout, though he’d love to stay longer had he had the time. Or better yet, your company. As satisfied as he was to find your living room and kitchen tidy–and by his standards no less–he’s not done getting to know you.

People don’t really need an exploration of the bathroom. It’s as clean as any other room, though it’s a cast-aside note when his eyes land on your laundry basket. Half full, too. Squatting closer to the dirty pile, a subtle yet musky scent hits his nose. Sakusa almost groans, cock stirring in his slacks; for such a clean freak, he’s never been more excited.

His eyes scan the basket’s contents, eventually landing on flimsy lace. Part of him wishes he wasn’t sporting gloves for the occasion, but he doesn’t let that stop him as he picks up the article of clothing. Underwear, of course it is, and a flattering magenta nonetheless. You wear this to practice? Or are there other times you put it on? Do you have a matching bra? The wing spiker can’t find anything in the basket, though he’s sure–no, he knows–you’d wear it like it was made for you.

Are you wearing something similar right now?

The ravenette stands from his position, pocketing the lacy undergarment before exiting the bathroom. Consider it a welcoming gift.

Again, it doesn’t take long for him to find your room. Being in such an intimate location is a different experience compared to looking in as an outsider. Everything is you: the way you organized your shelves and vanity, the colour palette—your scent is more prominent here. Sakusa doesn’t catch his eyes fluttering shut until he distinctly hears shifting.

To his right, you lay on your mattress, your sheets messily hanging off parts of your body. You’re barely a silhouette in his eyes; the moonlight stalking past the crack between your curtains is the only thing helping the ravenette navigate your room. Parts of the glow highlight a bit of your face, though a shimmer from the light’s reflection teases his peripheral vision.

You have a bookcase headboard, and on it lays a necklace in its case. Nothing fancy; a golden heart hanging off a thin chain. It’s more the note next to its box that catches the ravenette’s eye:

Thought this would look good on you ;) Hope you like it!

— Tsumu (your favourite setter <3)

If it weren’t for the fact that you’d notice, Sakusa would crumble that note and follow up with the faux-blonde’s neck. When did you get this? He surely would’ve noticed if you received it during practice.

There’s a good chance the setter gave it to you before or afterwards. The wing spiker’s aware that the two of you spent time together outside of training, though for it to happen enough times that Atsumu found it appropriate to give you a gift as intimate as a heart-shaped necklace has the ravenette glaring at the piece of jewellery. (As open as his teammate may be, Sakusa doubts he’d buy something like that for someone after a single meet-up.)

He hears a sigh: yours. Your body shifts in its spot again, opting to lay on your back. The wing spiker freezes for the slowest seconds his alarmed brain can count, only to relax once you stay in your new spot.

They say an average of eight spiders crawl into your mouth yearly while you sleep. A myth, of course, but maybe that’s what we tell ourselves to ease the paranoia. Maybe, that’s what he is, Sakusa thinks; a spider. Soundless, observant—he’s certainly made himself at home.

Maybe not, he reconsiders. Most people would carefully trap the eight-legged creature before bringing it outside. Or kill it; no mercy necessary. You have yet to do either.

Then again, you aren’t like most people. Not in his eyes, anyway. No, his eyes entertain themselves with your every move, and no matter how deep those holes in the side of your head are, you don’t catch his stare. Whatever he may be, he’s always the perfect distance to observe you.

Sakusa’s brain buzzes mindlessly as his hands draw closer to your form, long fingers pinching the hem of your pyjama shirt before lifting the material. No bra: not a surprising observation, what with your nipples poking at the fabric from the cold. Even with how dark it is, the ravenette salivates from the sight, his cock stirring in his pants. He’s grateful for the lack of witnesses, though it’s still embarrassing to be as affected as he is. You’re not even fully nude. Yet.

He waits for a reaction. Other than you moving in your sleep, the wing spiker receives nothing. He exhales through his nose, never thinking that gaining the knowledge about you being a heavy sleeper early on would be an advantage for him. His fingers twitch before slowly landing on your stomach. Again, no reaction; he then lays his palms to join the digits. With a deep and shaky breath, the ravenette glides his hands up your torso until they reach your breasts.

They feel perfect in his grasp, even with the thick layer of the leather gloves creating that barrier. Your face scrunches when he gives your mounds a light squeeze, though you remain asleep. As deep of a sleeper as you may be, one wrong move could ruin everything. Sakusa gulps, dragging his middle finger to flick at your nipple. A shaky breath from you is enough for him to shift into a more comfortable position on your bed before he continues his ministrations more confidently.

He’s careful, he assures; eyes flickering from your chest to your face, reading your expressions to discover what you like and making sure you don’t wake up. All the while, the athlete tries to ignore the tightness of his pants, although watching you squirm beneath him because of his touch makes that a challenge.

“Hnngh….”

It was barely audible, but enough to make the athlete stop everything. You’re still asleep, of course—he’s almost impressed, a bit jealous, even. Countless nights of insomnia on his side because of his fantasies playing on a loop, but yours give you a good night’s rest.

Regardless, the wing spiker gears to earn another reaction like that. Dipping his toes further into the water, he gets a little rougher, tweaking the sensitive buds between his covered fingers. Your back arches in his hold; more than enough confirmation for him.

Shifting his position once more, Sakusa wraps his lips around one of your nipples, dragging his tongue against it while groping the other breast. You whimper when he begins sucking: a shallow sound, but it travels down to his crotch. He already has to deal with the embarrassment of finishing early because of you; if he cums in his pants without any stimulation, you’ll surely be the death of him.

He can’t rely on you being a deep sleeper forever: the wing spiker must work quickly. Pulling away from your chest, Sakusa brings his attention to the lower half of your body. His hands glide down to your hips, hooking his index fingers past the elastic waistband. He wonders whether he should take his time removing the article of clothing or pull them down in one motion. You help him make a quick decision when your leg accidentally brushes against his hard-on. And while he refrains from letting out a groan, his hands make fast work of harshly tugging your pants to your knees.

Silence: not a sound from you, not a breath from him. Your thighs clench momentarily out of reflex once the cool air hits the exposed skin. Not fast enough—Sakusa managed to catch a peek at your drooling cunt. And it isn’t until you finally relax again does he exhale with a light shiver from the sight.

Now, with a clear view, the athlete reaches for his opportunity by swiping some of your essence and bringing that same finger to your clit. Your hips buck into his touch as he rubs slow but tight circles on the pearl, making his brows furrow in concentration and chest swell with pride. It isn’t long until he adds to his pace and slides a finger from his other hand into your sopping hole. Your thighs clench on impulse, a mewl leaving your throat as the air remains stuck in his. His movements are forced to a halt due to your hold, and it takes several seconds for you to settle. Do you enjoy the sturdy material of leather rubbing against your insides? Maybe you’re unaware of the answer, but God, wouldn’t the ravenette love to know.

Dipping his toes in the water is long out of the discussion; if anything, he’s in too deep, the water rising every second he proceeds. He might as well follow the rest of him down, no? Take that final gulp of air before dipping his head in and letting that frozen abyss swallow him.

Sakusa experimentally wiggles his finger inside you and, after gaining no reaction, slides in another. With how wet you already were, it doesn’t take much effort on his part. You gasp, but your eyes stay closed. Even with his morality slipping away each day he sees you, the wing spiker still finds himself surprised (and grateful) that you can sleep through his actions. He wonders how far he can go.

The longer and deeper he pumps his digits inside you, the more reactions he earns from you. The squelching noises between your legs also become louder, especially with the leather material of his gloves. He’s no longer worried, just curious about what sounds and expressions he can pull out of you.

A particular response tells him he’s found your sweet spot. With a drawn-out yet breathless wail, you lift your hips off the mattress once the ravenette prods at a certain part inside you.

Where there is darkness, there is also light, and that’s exactly what could be said to describe the glimmer in his eyes upon discovering this hidden gem of information. He continues his ministrations, watching in fascination and lust as you grind into his touch.

Meanwhile, his cock is begging to be released from its restraints, throbbing due to the display. Sakusa was hoping to hold out for a bit longer, mapping out your body in ways he hopes no one else has, but along with any logic and morality, his patience flies out the window.

You whimper when the athlete slides his fingers out; he almost wants to coo, assure you that he’ll make you feel all better. He can’t, of course, so he opts to taste you, lick his digits clean of your slick. He’s certain he almost cums on the spot, your sweetness consuming his tastebuds (as well as a hint of bitter leather) and leaving its mark in his memories. The wing spiker’s eyes roll to the back of his head as he tries to refrain from groaning.

When his gaze returns to your form, he’s swift with your pants, further sliding them down before doing the same to himself. Having his cock out of its confinements already does plenty for him, but not enough. Sakusa recalls how your cunt squeezed his fingers, practically sucking them in. You were warm, dripping, even with his gloves in the way. And with how eager he is to have you make a mess on his dick, he knows he’s no longer the same person he was before meeting you.

The athlete taps the tip of his cock against your clit a few times, just to watch you squirm, before sliding into your entrance. Only a few inches in, and he already has to dig his teeth into his bottom lip. None of this was a part of his plan—he’s not even sure he had one in the first place; he just needed to see you, feel your presence in some way, shape or form. And the latter is more than he could ever ask for, your insides hugging him just as tight as they did his fingers. The lack of a barrier is the icing on the cake.

He’s bottomed out before he knows it, and Sakusa doesn’t know where to look: your face contorting from being filled to the brim or your cunt stretching open to accommodate his size. Either one intensifies the swirling of his lower stomach. All he can do for now is play with your clit until you appear to feel better. (And if that means you clench harder around him, then so be it. He’s come this far as is.)

After a few minutes, the wing spiker reels his hips back with a deep breath. His thrusts are gentle, as much of a challenge as it may be to hold back. He bites his bottom lip as he feels you hug every inch of his cock, threatening to milk him for all he’s worth when he’s barely begun. You’re so much better than his hand; no fantasy can compare.

A few strokes in, and Sakusa’s restraint is thinning. Every time, he thrusts in a bit deeper, a bit faster, a bit harder. You’re quietly moaning between pants, your face twisting from a pained expression to one much lewder. Pretty lips parted with brows both furrowed and raised, you have the ravenette throwing his head back with a silent groan.

Unfortunately for him, that’s when he catches sight of that damn necklace again. His grip on the sheets next to your head tightens, his thrusts sloppy as his mind races. What made Atsumu think he had the right? Does he think a necklace is all it’ll take to get you? Sakusa drops his head to glare daggers as you continue to mewl and whimper. What do you think is happening right now? Who are you thinking about right now?

His mind keeps reeling, and the wing spiker fails to notice how he’s taking out his aggression in his thrusts.

Your whimpers grow to pathetic cries, tears forming in the corners of your eyes, and his hold on your sheets move to your wrists on instinct. With the mental spiral and physical force, the ravenette fails to notice your eyes shoot open.

Then, you gasp. “Sakusa!”

He hears the fear in your voice, no doubt. Yet, in a situation like this, with you beneath him, tears streaming down your cheeks as your sobbing and panting mix together, he can’t help but create a more beautiful scenario. You’re begging for him, his cock, needing him to fuck you stupid and fill you up to the brim, the pleasure so overwhelming that your nails are digging into his back, only his shirt shielding his skin from the potential marks.

The athlete doesn’t think; he slams his lips against yours, his tongue quick to explore your mouth as his release hangs on to the edge. And when your pussy flutters around his dick, creams around it, it’s the push he needs. Hot spurts of cum paint your insides white as Sakusa kisses you harder, his hips stilling. Even as he groans against your mouth, he can hear your choked moans, and he never wants any of this to end.

But that’s not how it works. Eventually, you both come down from your highs, his cock going soft and out of cum to give you. The wing spiker doesn’t pull out, but it doesn’t stop the white liquid from trying to seep out. It makes him shiver, slowly ending your kiss for you both to catch some air. The string of saliva connected to your lips that follows him as he sits up distracts him; something else to bind you two together. It’s messy, so so so messy.

He loves it.

You’re both breathing hard for the next several seconds, your terrified expression not faltering as your body trembles lightly.

“Wha—How?” you gasp, sob, you’re not sure, and neither is he. He’s only half-listening, still floating on that release and too far away. “Sakusa, how did you get in?”

There they are again: those eyes. Empty pools, yet always full of judgement. Like you’re the crazy one. Tracing the river streams down your face and clumps of shields for lashes, they seemingly do more talking than his mouth.

Then, Sakusa reaches a hand out to cup your cheek. You flinch, but it doesn’t stop him from wiping a stray tear. Even with your helpless sounds quieting down, the silence isn’t any less deafening. And when his voice, smooth and deep and a little too nonchalant, invades the room, you shiver.

“I was always here.”

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