#fishstyx.hq

[fishstyx]

monopoly.

featuring. possessive!kuroo tetsuro x fem!reader

wc. 1.6k

genre. dark/taboo, smut

tw. 18+ nsfw, non/dubcon, toxic relationship, manipulation, daddy kink, oral, penetration, creampie, implied breeding

synopsis. you’re kuroo’s, now and forever, one way or another.

“I—god, for crying out loud!” 

Deft fingers find his temples and rub, but it does little to mitigate the tension in his body. Stomach clenched, hands drilling holes into his skull, Kuroo’s eyes finally go from sweeping the floor to meeting your gaze. His brows collect in the middle of his forehead, dark pupils boring into your core, and silence ensues.

You take it as a chance to snatch your phone away.

His eyebrows twitch, but it’s the huff and puff of air you notice first. It’s a heavy sound, followed by a raising of his arms in defeat. He lets them fall to his sides, palms outstretched with all the melodramatic flourish in the world, hard thud preceding a new torrent of lashback.

“So it’s a crime now?” Your lips flatten, grip tightening on the device. “To check up on my girlfriend like a loving boyfriend should?” He says it with a snarl, that cool, sly persona of his all but abandoned, as the edge in his tone morphs to something less explosive and more calculated.

“Last I checked, ‘checking up on your girlfriend’ doesn’t mean going through my fucking phone.” 

You stand your ground against six feet of lanky legs and toned muscle as best you can, chest puffed, hackles raised. The worst thing about your boyfriend—if you should even call him that now—is his uncanny ability to read the mental state of anyone and everyone. Especially when they’re at odds with him.

“You know you’re way overreacting, right? I just—you know I just want to help.”

“And you can manage just fine without invading my privacy,” you say, steeling yourself. He can’t keep getting his way. He can’t keep cornering you, trapping you, whatever it is that he’s playing at when he talks you out of your so-called ‘moods.’

But it’s all too easy to falter under the piercing eye of a scheming bastard.

“Everything I do is for us, and yet all that’s on your mind is how to act out? Give me a break.” One foot in front of the other is all it takes for the tilt of your head to slant at dangerous angles. He looks down upon you, features in shadow but eyes in full gleam, expectant palm open and outreached. 

You know what he wants.

Your neck hurts from craning.

You won’t hand it over.

You can’t help but choke the words out.

“You do it, you do it for yourself.” 

It’s but a mutter but he hears you clearly. His face nears and you startle.

“You say it’s for us but you—you don’t even share anything about yourself! You do all these things to figure me out, but when I ask a simple question like—like what are you afraid of, or what’s your family like, or, or how the fuck are you feel, feeling,” you run yourself out of words as he hovers dangerously close, watching, waiting. The pause feels like a kick to the stomach, like you’re sinking in cement.

“Are you done yet?” 

Your jaw clenches and unclenches but no noises come out. The fire in your gut quells but you still try to rekindle it. By the time you have anything to say his arms wrap around you, slowly, methodically, a boa come to squeeze you dry of fight.

“You don’t need to act so tough around me.” He rocks your body—stiff with unease—side to side, balls of your feet scrambling to absorb the brunt of your stress. “You get worked up so easily. You’re more sensitive, temperamental. That’s why I keep it away from you.” The reasoning seems logical enough but the pit in your stomach drops further. Your shoulders find the sense to knock against his iron hold but he pulls you tighter, voice dropping as he leans into your ear.

“I take good care of you, don’t I?”

When he holds you so closely it takes everything in you not to go limp and ragdoll. You’re supposed to be walking out the door right about now, but he has that loathsome, horrible, wonderful ability to make you feel like home is right in the crook of his elbows. No matter. He’s used to abusing your soft spots, but this time—

Oh.

You stupid, stupid girl.

When you’re pressed up against him like this, it’s impossible not to feel what’s growing in his boxer briefs. It doesn’t take his hands snaking down your waist to know what’s at stake, and all those embers of anger turn to fright.

“K-Kuroo, not now.”

He just kisses you on the cheek and hauls you to the nearest piece of furniture. You push at his chest, hands forming loose imitations of fists, feeling cheated and tricked, and that’s when you realize you’re empty-handed. 

“Yes, now. Baby girl, you need me.” 

You fall back into the couch and he crawls atop of you. His fingers find the hitch in your panties and knead, tracing spirals that cause your nerves to shatter and your thighs to clench. You will yourself to rise but he pushes you back with ease, single-handedly, literally, pads of his fingers forcing you down by the chest. When did he even take your phone? And where did he put it? He lifts your shirt and pushes your bra up in your confusion, turning you on your stomach as he laces an arm across your chest.

“Look how much your body loves me.” He fondles a pert nipple while his mouth finds its way to your neck, kissing his way up to your chin. Hot breath reaches your ear and he’s licking up its shell, a soft shudder his reward. He bites your earlobe and this time he gets a little whimper. “See how well I know it?” You can hear the shape of his mouth, with its upturned corners and cheshire cat teeth. Taunting you. Flaunting his control.

And you melt.

“Kuroo…” you whimper, column of your neck flush against the cushions, throat seizing up as your body loses reasons to struggle. He strokes your hair, steadily, knowingly.

“It’s better this way, isn’t it? Just leave things to me, babydoll.” 

You flinch as warm kisses dot the length of your back, hands trailing down your sides, exposed and bared to the cold. For need of warmth, for need of skin on skin, you arch into his touch as his fingers hook your panties and pull. You think to swing your legs but they don’t move; a captive to his hold. He handles your body like it’s his own, hand on the small of your back as he parts your slit with his tongue. He knows your sweet spot well but his movements are treacherous, sliding in between your folds but barely grazing that bundle of nerves, encircling but not quite brushing it. 

When he finally bumps it, a little flick that has your thighs crushing his head, he has you right where he wants you. He’s quick to draw back, the whine that bubbles up your throat like music to his ears. He slides a finger in on his next downward stroke, a second following soon after, smooth, even motions that scissor your insides open. Prepping you. Readying you for his cock.

It takes a throaty chuckle for you to realize you’re bucking your hips to his steady movements. Pacify your clit, pump his fingers, lick you up and down, repeat. His head pulls away as his fingers curl inside you, hint of a smile as he says, “Daddy’s cunt looks so happy.” Soiled digits come to prod at your lips until you part them open, the taste of sex violating your mouth as they converge down your tongue. You gag a little, unable to jerk away so long as his body cages you like this. It’s bitter. And it’s dirtying the couch. You struggle to catch your breath when his weight finally lets up, head spinning as his fingers retract from the base of your tongue.

There’s two faint thuds of soft material hitting the ground, and then he’s forcing himself between your legs, engorged cock sliding down the snug of your ass. Your head whips back to confirm it, a girthy cock laving itself in your pussy juices, unwrapped… raw.

“Daddy needs his special girl to remember this moment.” You shake your head and have the thought to thrash, but he holds you down with ease, stuffing the side of your face into the cushions as he lines his cock with your dripping hole. “You belong to me, and you’ll come to understand that”—the motions to resist snuffed before you could even start.

The pressure knocks the wind out of you. He sinks inside you in his entirety, hips slamming into yours in a single motion. With quick succession he pumps away, flat against your frame as he practically humps you, groaning in little spurts that tickle your nape. He fills you to the hilt each time, moaning something about how great you are together, how obvious it is that you’re made for him. You lay numb with panic, walls clutching him tighter as he curses something under his breath, taking your pussy faster despite the vacancy of your gaze.

The haze hits you like a curtain. Your eyes gloss over and it feels like you really are his baby doll, sucking him in even when you’re being forced. Passive snivels wrack your body and it takes all your being just to focus on the fibers of the upholstery fabric. Tightly woven. Probably soaked with your slick. He reaches his climax in a frenzy, filling you up as the last of your thoughts empty. A sick warmth spreads inside your swollen pussy with those last few snaps of his hips, cock twitching out every last drop of his seed, your body as fucked-out as fucked-out can be.

Kuroo has no intention of letting you in. But that doesn’t mean he’ll ever let you go.

🏷 @hqintheclub​

fishstyx © 2022 ✸ all content and their rights belong to me. do not repost, reproduce, or modify anywhere.

[fishstyx]

Fishy! My love! Congrats on your milestone!! Can I request Instant Ramen with Ushijima with fem. reader? With the kinks, spanking, praise, and oral (fem. receiving). Again congrats!!! 🥺 💜

𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐀 + 𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆

cw. fem!reader, daddy kink, size kink-ish, praise, oral

“stay still.”

but you squirm and squeal under ushijma’s touch, tossing this way and that as pink muscle grinds against your clit. large hands hold their own against your writhing body, easily pressing you into place on the bed. it’s all for naught; inch by inch, slowly but surely, you wiggle from his grasp little by little.

tch.

he catches your eye as he purses his lips and encircles your clit. his hands iron your thighs into the mattress and you can’t help but whine as your head rolls back, pussy pulsing in pleasure.

“toshiii, i need it inside me…”

he stops immediately, waiting patiently for you to look back up so he can meet you at eye level.

“that’s not how good girls ask, is it?”

“toshi, sir.” you try to swallow your anticipation back, pausing as you deliberate—but it seems like there’s no pretty way to say it. “please, i really need—”

“what you need is a good spanking, young lady,” he suddenly growls, flipping you over like a ragdoll, hauling you over his knee. you struggle, kicking your legs in mock protest, shaking your head furiously all the way until his hand makes contact with your eager, perky ass. you hear that ugly ricochet of a sound before you can even feel it, the blood rushing to your buttcheeks before you can even yelp.

“you’re gonna trust daddy to do what’s best for you?”

you’re quick to push an “mhm” out your throat, at a volume that pales in comparison to mere moments ago, tame and dispirited. a bad answer.

smack!

“can’t hear you,” he says, voice steely. you wince at the pain, the sting doubling as you reconsider, mind struggling with the words to string together.

“i, i trust my daddy to guide me…” you can’t help but pout a little, eyelashes batting for effect. “without him, i’m nothing.”

“that’s a good girl,” he says, stroking your hair, caressing your chin. he kisses your temple, palm of his hand coming to cradle your red asscheek.

“now on your knees.”

[fishstyx]

𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐘!𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐌𝐀 + 𝐓𝐎𝐘𝐒

cw. fem!reader, toys, dry humping, edging, implied overstimulation

daddy!kenma is lazy and inexperienced, but that doesn’t mean he wants you to top him. the very words “power bottom” make him cringe down to the very last fiber of his sentient being, so he opts for toys that’ll make you squeal instead.

he tires of the bullet vibrator quickly; the cheap model he inexpertly selected rattles his hand so, and he swears he can feel it in his bones the very next day.

ribbed dildos only seem to frustrate him when he finds his arm tiring out before you can even come close to climax. he pumps for all he’s worth before throwing in the towel in premature defeat, leaving you unsatisfied and him burning with red-earred shame.

but he feels like he can finally catch a break with a wand vibrator in his hands, sleek and ergonomic and surprisingly quiet. he sits you on his lap and orders you to part your knees, pushing your legs and their perfect thigh-highs apart before hiking up the schoolgirl skirt he loves to make you wear. (old habits die hard.)

when you kick up your legs and nuzzle into his neck, he knows it’s a keeper. he kisses up the nape of your neck and sighs at your sweet moans and kitten mewls, rock hard cock rutting against your slickened panties when you curl your toes and arch your back.

“what do you want me to do?” he asks sweetly, gently, as he gauges your condition: labored breath and glazed-over eyes.

“want you to give me your cock, s-sir.” you press into the wand’s head by instinct, but he shuts it off right before you can realize your peak. what he lacks in stamina, he makes up for in powers of observation, after all. you whine and buck your hips as he tosses the device aside, throwing you on your back in the process.

“patience, doll.” he pets your clit with the tip of his dick, savoring the sensation in all of its warm, wet glory.

“you’re gonna be cumming all night long.”

[fishstyx]

𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐋𝐄!𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐒𝐀 + 𝐏𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓

cw. gn!reader, noncon, incest, degradation, brief impact play

kiyoomi can’t stand good-for-nothing brats like you. he can’t believe his ears when your parents tell him that you never got into the habit of picking up after yourself and tidying your room, even in your adult years—that you’d rather tap away on your phone or sneak out of the house like a spoiled, ill-mannered child.

not on his watch.

he’ll make sure to instill some goddamn discipline into that soft head of yours, drill it into as many holes as he possibly can. the standard corporal punishments are obviously not enough to bring you down a peg, but he’s never been one to shy away from more unorthodox methods.

“filthy bitch,” he sneers as you buckle under his weight, the kitchen countertop the only support available as you hold on for dear life. he smacks your ass when you fail to respond, unamused at your unresponsiveness—something he’s always taken for insolence. “i’m starting to think that you’re a dirty slut who actually wants this.”

“not a slut,” you breathe between muffled whimpers, one hand over your mouth as you pray your family hasn’t tired from the blare of the TV yet. you’re just about ready to give out, dull ache overtaking your limp body, now wracked with abuse and cold sweat.

“then fucking act like it,” he says, breaths ragged and quickening. “that’s so not convincing from a stubborn whore who needs a punishment every other day.”

“i’ll listen this time, so please…” you turn your head as far back as you can, fingers shot with fatigue when you arch your back. your efforts are for naught; he’s quick to shoot his sharpest glare, narrowed eyes riddled with disbelief.

he clicks his tongue in response.

“i always finish what i started.” his hips keep their pace until he deems his justice administered, white ejaculate encased in rubber—who knows what kinds of diseases you harbor—for you to toss when you take the garbage out. next time, he says, you’ll be scrubbing his seed from your skin.

[fishstyx]

𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐁𝐎𝐘!𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐌𝐀 + 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌

cw. fem!reader, secret/noncon filming, blindfold

camboy!kenma who blindfolds you before pulling you into his lap in his 155-degree reclining, fully customizable, adjustable lumbar support gaming chair so he can bounce you on his dick in maximum comfort. the camera’s rolling but you’ve absolutely no idea, quite literally blinded to the fact that hundreds of eyes are drinking you up through stream. he squeezes your tits and marvels at the view through his triple monitor setup; even in this compromising angle, he can see every last inch of your skin in pixelated rendition. he does his best to stifle his chuckles, humming his pleasure at the comments that flood the sidebar. 

wish i was her.

i couldn’t last five seconds like that.

i’m starting to think that this isn’t youtube...

“kenma—? what is it?” you ask when his thrusts run shallow, the buzz in his chest going all but unnoticed. he chooses that moment to service you with his full length, the sudden lurch nearly knocking the very wind out of you. you cry out, fingernails digging into the thick of his thighs.

“just...” he plants a kiss at the base of your neck, golden strands of hair coming to tickle your shoulders as he leans forward, “thinking about how lucky i am...”

you fluster when he tilts your head by the chin, guiding you into a calculated kiss, eyes wide open all the while.

he thinks he’ll make a habit out of this.

[fishstyx]

𝐂𝐄𝐎!𝐊𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐎 + 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐍

cw. gn!reader, age gap, dubcon, public molestation

kuroo has just about everything someone his age could possibly want or need. retirement plan locked and loaded, real estate on every side of japan. a stacked resumé of overqualification after overqualification, more cufflinks and watches and bejeweled accessories than one could reasonably keep track of.

or so he’d like to have you think.

what he doesn’t have is the time or the leisure to treat a pretty little thing like you to more than a date or two, much less maintain a healthy relationship. he’s a filthy rich bachelor who keeps wondering why his contacts go ghost without realizing that he was the one to ghost them first.

he’s come to love the subway for this very reason, the proximity and easy access it gives him to doe-eyed prey like you. he always goes after the younger ones, finds that college-aged quarry makes the least fuss of them all when he “admires” them from point-blank distance.

it just so happens that you’re his pick of the night, to grope and fondle under the cloak of the rush hour crowd. he paws at the curve of your ass, smirks when you seize up in quiet panic, pupils glued to the corner of your eyes as you glance back as far as you dare. he adores that look on your face, the silent terror that pinches your brows when his fingers threaten to brush against your sex, vows to eat it up all night long.

when you finally catch his eye, his cheshire grin alone is enough to get you scrambling for the next stop. you push through the sea of passengers at the very last second, elbow both children and elderly out of the way as you race the train doors—only to find him waiting outside the subway car. he tugs you by the arm when you freeze at the edge of the platform, speechless as he herds you up the escalator stairs.

“don’t be a stranger, now,” he says, grip on your wrist only tightening. “i can show you a good time, yeah? better than anyone your age, anyway.”

[fishstyx]

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐄𝐑!𝐊𝐈𝐓𝐀 + 𝐃𝐑𝐔𝐆𝐒

cw. gn!reader, noncon, stalking, oral, drugs, sleeping/somnophilia

thinking about how terrifying of a stalker kita would make.

he’s patient, too patient. so patient you’ll never see it coming. slowly readjusting his schedule to nearly match yours, methodically crossing paths with you when it doesn’t. tailing you only every other week as to never raise suspicions, following you exclusively under the camouflage of the crowd. it’s practically child’s play figuring out when you leave from work, where you shop for groceries, who you hang out with on a saturday night and what exactly you do with your free time… it’s all just a matter of time before he can corner you physically, emotionally, and psychologically.

but not just yet; he adores the process, worships it above all else. he’ll take his sweet time learning every nook and cranny of your life inside-out and backwards, months if that’s what it takes to stuff you and your pretty mouth with his swollen cock—he hasn’t jerked himself off since he vowed to get his hands on your resting body—unawares.

sure, the leap from dialing you at 2 AM to slipping pretty pills in the glass on your nightstand is satisfying, a reward in and of itself. but really, it’s the process that gets him off.

[fishstyx]

HEWWO hehehehe <33 i'm here to request for the event! i'll go for some gasoline, please! bokuto and gn! reader with the song 'stuck with me' by the neighbourhood?? thank youuuu luv🥺🤍

𝐅𝐖𝐁!𝐁𝐎𝐊𝐔𝐓𝐎 + 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄

cw. gn!reader, pining, praise, hair mention

bokuto’s so gentle with you, it hurts.

if only he could know what he does to you; how your breath stalls when he takes your hand to ask if you’re okay, how your heart trembles when he strokes your cheek and wipes the mess from your thighs. he’s holding back and you know it, jackhammer pace traded for something rhythmic and tame, boisterous cheers for praises that nearly reach a whisper—almost. jocks aren’t necessarily your type, but bo? his very existence practically melts your heart.

if only you could hold back, too.

“you did so well,” he’s saying, and it takes every square inch of your being not to cover your body when he leads you to the bath he drew, not to throw on your clothes and duck out the door with some piss-poor excuse of a farewell. he’s oh so considerate, drawing hot water for two every night that you’re over; how could you refuse? but the more you indulge in his affections, the more you curse yourself for imposing, reminding yourself that it’s nothing more than a courtesy, good manners a guy like bo would extend to just about anyone.

he’s off limits. he’s the sweetest boy you’ve ever met, and he could probably have anyone in the world if only he wanted them.

so why must you try so hard not to spill your guts when he does something as simple as tuck the hair behind your ear?

“bo…” you whisper, and his eyes light up at your nickname of choice, oblivious to the twinge in your lips and the knot in your eyebrows.

“what’s up?” he leans in from his corner of the tub, presumably to hear better, and you figure this is the last you’ll see of the ripple of his biceps and the outline of his pecs, the width of his toothy grins and the gentle crease of his mismatched dimples.

you shake the thought from mind, “i… i don’t think we should do this any more.”

the spell is broken, the water holds still, and christ, you think this is the first time you’ve ever seen bokuto scrambling for words.

“o-oh. was it something i—”

“no, it’s just that i’m—”

in love with you? falling for you? neither of those sound right, especially with the blatant concern that scrawls itself over bokuto’s face. you settle on a more benign response.

“—i mean, there’s someone i like, so…” you trail off, looking to the side, the distance he’s closed a little too close for comfort.

to his credit, his golden gaze never wavers. you sit there in silence, but the quietude does nothing to avert his eyes. he studies your expression before cupping your face with his hands instead, tender touch careful as ever, and you can’t help but flinch back and wonder if he’s heard you right.

when you look back up, he’s smiling in earnest.

“then it’s a good thing that there’s someone i like, too.”

𝐊𝐎𝐍𝐁𝐈𝐍𝐈 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋

[fishstyx]

yandere nekoma.

featuring. kuroo tetsuro, kozume kenma, lev haiba, morisuke yaku x gn!reader

genre. dark/taboo, smut

tw. 18+ nsfw, noncon, toxic behavior, stalking, manipulation, abuse, babytrapping. implied penetration, oral.

✸ kuroo tetsuro.

• kuroo knows exactly what he’s doing. backing you up into a corner, toying with you once you’re trapped because he loves a good game of cat and mouse. he picks your friends off one by one until there’s no one left to turn to—at least, no one to turn to but him.

• his torturous patience pays off, and soon enough he has you all to himself, all those pesky distractions you once considered companions suddenly cutting contact with just a little tampering.

• it’s at a party when everything in your life seems to fall apart. the people you used to be closest to are suddenly ignoring you, and those with whom you’re loosely acquainted are all whispering behind your back.

“just what did you tell them?!” you yell at kuroo, wanting nothing more than to leave this very instant, but he blocks the bathroom door with ease.

“nothing i had to lie about,” he replies, eerily calm as you push against his chest.

“liar. don’t give me that bullshit!” but your voice comes out all wobbly, and he knows you’re not completely convinced by yourself.

“just accept it already. they can’t like, let alone love you for who you truly are,” he says. you shake your head fervently but he takes your chin in his hand, cat-like eyes deceptively soft as he leans in and backs you up against the sink, hard enough for you to feel his growing bulge.

“but i can. in fact, i already do. so let me show you.”

✸ kozume kenma.

• kenma doesn’t play the same game as kuroo; he’s too busy with his own, after all. there are better ways, he thinks, to tie his darling down to him.

• enter your new home: an extra large dog crate just for you! the bars are spaced wide enough for you to fiddle with the latch, but he keeps it padlocked for no chance of escape.

• not to mention the hefty collar at your neck and the heavy chain that clinks every time you move—though where it leads to, you’re not quite sure yet.

“kenma, ‘m thirsty,” you whine, delirious from a severe lack of nutrition. your captor’s eyes flicker from you to his monitor, sighing when he sees the way your fingers cling to the metal bars.

“okay, okay, i’ll get you something to drink,” he says, pausing his game with slow, reluctant movement. he looks around for something to give you—nothing but a litter of crushed monster cans and a water bottle that hasn’t been filled in days, maybe weeks.

but right when he’s about to head for the kitchen, it hits him like a truck. why should he walk all the way to the fridge when he’s boasting a perfectly good source of hydration himself?

he’s hovering over your cage now, undoing his pants with sudden immediacy before threading his cock through the bars of your doggy cage, enamored by the look on your face—so dazed and lost and confused.

“now suck.”

✸ lev haiba.

• lev just wants what’s best for you, and what’s best for you is a big, strong man to protect you from the dangers of the world.

• what’s that? you called him crazy? silly little thing, doesn’t even know what’s good for itself. but when he sees your reddened nose and tear-soaked eyes, he just has to forgive you and your cluelessness. he’s not a monster, after all.

• there, there. isn’t that so much better, with his pretty fingers stuffed deep inside of you?

the tears won’t stop, fat droplets of saltwater staining your clothes—clothes that lev picked out himself, all for his sweet little adorable kitten.

“what’s wrong, little one?” he asks as if he isn’t violating you in this very moment, curling his fingers up in search of that one spongy spot that’s supposed to have you shivering in pleasure. instead you’re frozen in place, silently praying for him to stop, wetness streaking your cheeks when he shows no signs of slowing down.

“oh, i get it now!” lev shoots you a boyish, cheeky grin before abruptly pulling out, and if you didn’t know any better you might have actually believed him.

but it’s abundantly clear that he hasn’t heard your quiet pleas at all when he lets his pants fall to the ground. he’s leaning into you now, stroking the tent in his boxers before cooing in your ear:

“you need something bigger, don’t you?”

✸ morisuke yaku.

• yaku doesn’t do anything overtly alarming to you. nothing you can pinpoint yourself, anyway.

• he doesn’t have the scheming personality of kuroo and kenma nor the cluelessly lovelorn mindset of lev. what he does have is the soaring desire to put a baby in you. because he likes the thing the two of you have going on, wants to prolong it as long as possible.

• you’re way too trusting of yaku, lifting your ass up in the air without looking behind to make sure he has a condom on. he was right to go in bareback; what would happen if some other guy got ahold of you in all of your naivete?

“that’s all me?” you ask, stunned by the way ‘your’ cum drips onto the bed as yaku pulls out of you. there’s so much today, and it forms an ever-growing, glistening puddle underneath you.

“that’s all you, babe,” he says, used condom already in his hand—but it’s the one from last round, not that you can tell yourself.

“we should do this more often, then. from the back, i mean.”

yaku pulls you in and smiles into your neck, giddy with delight. you’re making this easy for him. almost too easy.

“yes, we really should.”

fishstyx © 2021 ✸ all content and their rights belong to me. do not repost, reproduce, or modify anywhere.

[fishstyx]

the gift.

featuring. creep!bokuto kotaro x fem!reader

wc. 1.1k

genre. smut, dark/taboo, college au

tw. 18+ nsfw, stalking, panty sniffing, masturbation

synopsis. bo isn’t exactly who you think he is.

Bokuto Kotaro is little more than a big-hearted goofball to you. A loud voice to overhear in the dining hall line, a bright smile to pass you by in the hallways. A strong arm to hold the elevator door, a broad shoulder to lean on in times of stress.

The good natured boy next door, a simple neighbor in whom you place boundless trust despite having known him for less than a year. And why shouldn’t you? Anyone can see that Bokuto is harmless, that Bokuto is a sweet, blundering airhead, that Bokuto wouldn’t so much as even think to hurt a fly.

So why is he in your dorm room now, staring down your laundry basket when you’re out taking a shower?

It’s not like you to leave the door unlocked; Bokuto would know. He checks it every time he hears or sees you walk out—doesn’t even know what he’ll do if it finally opens but he turns the knob anyway, gripped with disappointment when it doesn’t.

But today—today is different. Because today he catches you leaving in nothing more than a towel, arms taut against your sides as to keep it from falling. The surprise of running into him is enough to make you forget about locking the door as you rush past him, hyperaware of your nearly-bare state. You fail to notice how he watches you round the corner, waiting for you to disappear, inching towards your room when he’s sure you’re long gone.

Excitement tugs at the corners of his lips as he lets himself in. It isn’t as if he’s never seen the inside of your room, but to be here unbeknownst to you is another thing entirely.

It’s so goddamn intimate, to be surrounded by all your things yet unaccompanied by you yourself, and he has to suppress the sudden urge to go through anything and everything within reach, to touch every private piece of you, to uncover it all for himself.

But he’s not completely clueless. He knows his time is limited, that as much as he wants to, he can’t look around forever. He can’t help but feel a twinge of regret for coming in without a plan, a scruple of shame at the part of him that thought he’d never get this far. That’s when he notices the unassuming hamper, tucked away in the corner in shadow, just waiting for him to uncover it.

He’s digging around through your dirty clothes now, not quite sure what he’s looking for until his knuckles brush against something thin and lacy. He raises the silken material to eye level—thinks to stuff it in his pocket and leave while he knows he still can—but the strain in his pants gets the better of him.

It’s just that he’s wanted this for so long, to be standing here all alone, the smell of you heavy in the air but even heavier where the fabric of your panties is stained. It’s still damp, probably the pair you had on today, and he stiffens at the thought of you wearing them... and then the thought of you taking them off.

He brings the fabric to his nose and inhales deeply, drinking in your scent, letting it envelop his senses entirely. The skimpy thing has him pawing at his shorts already, eyes shut closed so his thoughts can focus on you and you alone. 

His cock weighs heavy in his hand before he even realizes it, precum already leaking from the tip like a trail of puppy slobber. He can’t believe he’s doing this right now, the faint notion that this is wrong, this is bad swimming through his mind, but it takes a back seat to his vivid imagination.

He’s excited. Drunk on the sight of the way that your towel clings to your form, hugging your chest and cupping your ass so tightly you might as well be wearing nothing at all. It’s your fault that he’s come to this, thumbing at his slit before spitting in his hand and wrapping thick, calloused fingers around his length. 

He makes mindless work of himself, pumping away with bottomless greed as he imagines how plush and warm and pliable all that exposed skin would feel writhing underneath him. Unable to control the tempo, his long and languid strokes quickly speed up into a blur as he continues to service himself.

Surging with need, he fucks his fist into oblivion as he wonders what kinds of noises would spill from your lips, whether you’d squirt or cream all over his cock, how you’d look with these panties stuffed inside your mouth. Would you scream his name or stutter it out? Wrap your arms around his back or mark his flesh up with your fingernails? Play with your clit or let him do it for you?

What would you even do if you walked in on him now?

It’s the thought of you seeing him all worked up like this that gets his cock throbbing, completely lost in fantasy as the coil inside him snaps. He can’t help but groan as he squelches with wetness, body overcome by his release, thighs trembling and struggling to stay upright.

All is quiet as he looks for a way to dispose of the mess inside his hand, sighing as he feels himself soften. It would be nice if you were here with him, pretty mouth opened wide to suck his filthy fingers off, but for now he has to make his escape.

Your flip flops slap at your heels as you race the cold, suddenly robbed of your hot blanket of steam. Goosebumps threaten to lace your arms and legs as you fumble with your keys, a moment of silence filling the air where you expected a familiar click. This isn’t exactly the first time you’ve forgotten to lock the door properly, so you bust inside without so much as a second thought; that is, until you find your dirty panties lying smack dab in the middle of the floor.

A little strange, but nothing you wouldn’t put past yourself—not completely, at least, or so you tell yourself. Still, you look around the room for any other signs of possible tampering, unease settling inside you even as you find that nothing else is out of place.

You sigh as you curse your overactive imagination, body shivering in a plea for warm clothing. You swipe your lone panties from the ground, only to stop in your tracks when something warm and sticky comes in contact with your fingertips.

The fabric falls to the ground as quickly as you’d picked it up, discarded and used and defiled. Your hands tremble as you struggle to process the offending liquid—a thick, creamy substance that you know by mere sight, yet still can’t make perfect sense of.

A little gift, from him to you. 

fishstyx © 2021 ✸ all content and their rights belong to me. do not repost, reproduce, or modify anywhere.

[fishstyx]

𝖍𝖖.

➥ fics.

bokuto kotaro.

the gift. ✸ 1.1k words 

bo isn’t exactly who you think he is.

kuroo tetsuro.

monopoly. ✸ 1.6k words 

you’re kuroo’s, now and forever, one way or another.

➥ headcanons.

kuroo + kenma + lev + yaku.

yandere nekoma. ✸ 1.0k words

➥ drabbles.

𝐁𝐎𝐊𝐔𝐓𝐎 𝐊.

𝐊𝐈𝐓𝐀 𝐒. 

𝐊��𝐙𝐔𝐌𝐄 𝐊. 

𝐊𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐎 𝐓. 

𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐒𝐀 𝐊. 

𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐀 𝐖.

[fishstyx]

shut up shut up stfu misogynistic kuroo mansplaining the biology of sex differences to you as he cums on your tits

[fishstyx]

sweet, docile kenma who just wants to turn off his brain for once and be taken care of. and you do exactly that, dote on him, spoil him, jerking your baby boy off until he’s begging for you to use your mouth. he cums as soon as you comply, offensive load rushing past your throat in a hurry, thighs trembling as he keels over you. blonde locks tickle your nose as you peer into his golden irises, pupils wide and dilated. he scoops up the overflow with shaky fingers, pressing them into your swollen lips, delighted when you suck and lick and kiss every last tip clean. and then you’re on top of him, pushing him down by the chest, praising him for well he’s doing and how good he tastes.

good.

he gasps at the magic word, eyes widening when you repeat it, every kiss up his body punctuated with a soft-spoken “good boy,” passing pecks flitting from his abdomen to his collarbone. he thinks he’s in heaven by the time you reach his neck, blood rushing to his head—heads—once you’re fully atop of him, one knee slotted between his legs.

it’s not long before he stiffens again, curved cock growing greedily against your thigh in a silent plea for more.

[fishstyx]

sakusa getting off when u call him a filthy cumslut