I Can’t Believe Some People Have The Fucking Audacity To Bring Others Down To Feel Better About Themselves.

Violent Delights

for my very dearest best friend (wife) @iwaasfairy i'm sorry it's super late, but august and april both start with 'a' which basically means they're the same month <33 iwaizumi hajime x female reader w.c 4.4k tw: yandere themes, non-con, drugged reader, blood/gore, murder, incest, sorta smut (nsfw)

M I N E

It’s funny in a way. Amidst the wreckage, the blood, what was left of your friends and the cooling puddle of cum splattered across your naked stomach, four letters carved into your bedroom wall seemed almost… harmless. Or at least the easiest to digest. Fixate on.

The detective asked about your ex partners, the dates you’d been on recently, whether or not you’d noticed anyone in your day-to-day paying you too much attention, if anyone made you feel uncomfortable, or said anything that seemed out of place.

But your exes don’t care enough to kill, and the two dates you’ve been on in the last six months never bothered to text you back. No one’s left weird, unsettling gifts, or stared too long in line at the coffee shop. There’s nothing. No precursor or warning, no giant red flag waving in front of you.

Mine. 

Hovering on the edge of numbness, blind hysteria just out of reach, you stare at the beige walls of the hotel room they’d put you up in, the angry gouges flickering in and out of existence with every blink. 

Mine.

Mine.

Mine.

Kaori was the one obsessed with all the true crime stuff. She’d be the first to tell you psychopaths and nutjobs – they don’t jump straight into drugging and triple homicide. There’s a pattern of behaviour. Escalation. 

Something you missed. 

Then again, considering it’s her blood still caked under your fingernails, there’s a strong possibility she wouldn’t be all that enthusiastic about the whole thing to begin with. 

You need a shower, a proper one – not the glorified sponging off they’d given you at the hospital. Enough to get you out the door, not nearly enough to scrub away the grime and rid yourself of what he did to you–

The others had it worse. You survived. He barely touched you.

Mine. 

The thought of scalding water, of scrubbing yourself raw does hold a certain appeal, yet hunched over atop starched white sheets, those same bloody fingernails sink into the flesh of your arms instead, grounding you in the tiny bite of pain. 

Minutes tick past and you don’t so much as twitch. Not until a sharp knock sounds at the door and a gruff voice calls out your name. 

You wait half a beat, but when nothing more is forthcoming, you slowly edge yourself off the bed, making your way to the door. Through the peephole you spy a dark haired officer, different to the one who’d dropped you off, staring back at you. 

They did tell you there’d be an officer with you the whole time, at least for the next twenty four hours. 

“Miss?” he calls again, and you distantly realise that while your hand is poised over the deadlock, you haven’t moved to undo it. 

Squeezing your eyes shut, your forehead meeting the wooden door with a muted thud, you curse that stupid, tremulous fluttering in your chest. They’re here for you, protecting you. You’re safe.

Open the damn door. 

“Y-yeah?”

Coward.

“Brought some food for you. Dinner.” There’s a rustling on the other side, and you raise your head to peer back through the glass in time to see him lift up a paper carry bag to the peephole. The idea of eating anything right now has your stomach roiling in protest. “Nothing fancy, but it’s good, I swear,” he says. Then, gentler, like he’s talking down a spooked animal, adds, “You need to eat.”

Still, you hesitate. All you need to do is open the door, grab the food and then at least it’s there if you want it later. Easy. 

Too quick, too jerky to be natural, you twist at the handle and yank the door open a scant few inches, enough for you to reach out an arm expectantly for the food. “Thank you,” you pre-empt, because hungry or not, you’re not completely without manners.

The officer lifts an eyebrow. “Yeah, no. I’m not taking heat from the Cap when the guys on the next shift find you passed out ‘cause you haven’t eaten anything,” he scoffs. “C’mon, we can talk while you eat.” Not a suggestion – you barely have time to stumble back before he’s pushing his way inside and kicking the door closed behind him. The second he takes to flick the lock somehow simultaneously eases the knots in your stomach and sends your heartrate ratcheting.

It’s halfway to a miracle that you’re still standing at all. 

“Eat,” he tells you, his deep voice brooking no disagreement as he shoves the bag of food your way and grabs the lone chair in the room, dragging it closer to the edge of the bed and settling himself down. Clearly he has no intention of going anywhere until he’s satisfied you’ve eaten your fill.

With little else for it, you do as you’re told, reaching into the bag to find steamed buns at your fingertips, still warm as you pry open the wrapper– and wince. The familiar scent of pork, ginger and chives wafts through the air, unwittingly digging at old wounds. 

Suddenly you’re a kid again, strolling down the hill with your family, one hand tucked safely within your brother’s, the other grasping a steaming hot bun. You’re happy and whole and so, so young–

“Something wrong? You don’t like meat buns?” 

Not the time. Ignoring the bitter ache the memory conjures, you’re quick to shake your head, “No. No, thank you. It’s great.” You doubt he buys it, but then again you also doubt he cares so long as you get something in your stomach. 

One bite, chew, swallow. Another, chew, swallow – mechanical until it isn’t. The first bun disappears and you reach for the second.

“How’s your head?” he asks.

You swallow down another mouthful. “Fuzzy. Sore. I still can’t remember anything,” you  admit, in case that’s where this line of questioning is going. Nothing beyond waking up in your bed covered in blood and a stranger’s cum at any rate.

The blood work they did at the hospital confirmed you were drugged along with the others, the detective mentioning the near-empty bottle of wine they’d found, which they were in the process of testing too. He’d also pointed out the lack of evidence indicating any kind of forced entry, which paired with the former is something you’ve been trying not to dwell on. 

The officer gives a considering nod, “That’s to be expected, don’t worry about it. I still think it’s worth asking a few more questions if you’re feeling up to it?” Again, it’s phrased like a question, but already he’s pulling out a voice recorder, setting down on the mattress between you. 

“Um, sure. Yeah,” you croak. 

A small smile, “Good.” He leans forward to switch on the recorder. “We’ll start with the other victims – your friends. Tell me about them.”

“Kaori, she’s– she was my best friend. We worked at the same grocer when I first moved out of my parents’ place, when I got a job here she made the decision to move with me. That was about six months ago.” 

“And the other two?” 

“Her brother Koji and another friend of ours Takashi. They came up to visit; Kaori’s been back once or twice since we left, but I hadn’t seen them–” tears blur at your vision and your voice just… gives out. 

They’re gone. 

You drag a shuddering breath in and it hurts. 

Blindly, your hand reaches across the bed, blood tipped fingers sprawling over pristine white, and when they meet warmth – an open palm outstretched – you seize it and cling on with everything you have. You’ll unravel if you don’t.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” you chant, each syllable shakier than the last.

He dips his chin, just barely, and squeezes your hand, “You invited them?”

A wordless, wide eyed nod. 

“You were close.” Not a question. He sounds like he’s mulling over the thought, though his expression is inscrutable. “Were you involved with any of them?”

This time, there’s the slightest hesitation before you shake your head. The officer frowns, “I need the truth. Your friends were attacked for a reason. Lying to me won’t help bring their families peace.”

The blood drains from your face, your heart lurching on a sickening thud. 

Your fault. 

Instinctively, you yank back your hand, or try to at least, but his grip tightens – enough to keep you from drawing away, not enough to hurt. Though neither his tone nor his expression hold any condemnation, it doesn’t change the truth of the matter. 

You didn’t drug them or pick up the knife and swing. You didn’t invite this psycho into your life, but the fact remains that they’re dead because of you. 

“I– it wasn’t like that. We weren’t… I didn’t–” 

MINE.

Tears threaten to spill and your bottom lip trembles. 

For a long, drawn out moment, he simply stares. There’s a twitch at his jaw and he sighs – more of a grunt, really – leaning back and pulling his hand from yours to rake through his dark hair. 

(Stupid, you think, how some part of you mourns the loss.) 

“Okay, alright. Fine. We’ll come back to that,” he concedes. “What about other friends? Coworkers you were close with?”

“No, I– I already told the detective I wasn’t seeing anyone.”

An irritated flash darkens his gaze. “I didn’t ask if you were fucking them.” And you must make a truly pathetic picture then, flinching like a kicked puppy, because he lets out another huff, closing his eyes for a beat and visibly working to soften the harsh lines of his expression. “Shit, okay– I’m sorry. It’s been a long day for us both,” he makes an odd noise, somewhere between a scoff and a laugh, the sound entirely devoid of humour. “The guy who did this, he either already knows about the people precious to you, or he’s gonna do his damn best to find out, and if he thinks they’re threats, he’ll hurt them, or worse – he’ll use them to hurt you. I need you to tell me everything.”

And so, feeling the exhaustion of the day creeping over you, you do.

You tell him about the small group from work you occasionally go out for Friday drinks with, your old friends from uni, right down to the neighbour two floors below, who’d seen you hauling boxes the day you’d moved in and immediately offered to help. When you’d christened the kitchen baking you’d made sure to bring him some, and just last week you’d had tea with him and his grandma.

“What about school? Anyone you still keep in contact with?”

You try for a laugh but it sounds all wrong. “I wasn’t exactly popular back then,” 

His eyes narrow. They flit across your face like he’s searching for… something. You feel like a bug, pinned in place, squirming and uncomfortable, your face too hot. 

“Bullied?” he probes. 

Another nod. 

“How ‘bout family?”

Your mouth dries.

“My parents… I haven’t spoken to them in months. We don’t really get along.” The last conversation you’d had with them, if you could call it as much, lasted all of five minutes. Dry pleasantries and thinly veiled criticisms, wrapped up in yet another pointed reminder that things didn’t have to be this way – you were the one adamant on shutting them out. 

You doubt it’d raise a single eyebrow between them if you went the same again without contact. 

“Siblings?”

Another tear slips from your lashes and you swallow against the tight lump in your throat. The weight of his gaze feels oppressive, you’re too bare, too vulnerable, you don’t want to talk about this, so you shift your line of sight to the paper delivery bag, half crumpled now, and let your fingernails sink into the skin of your palms. 

Still, the words don’t come straight away, and when they do, they’re strained. Choked. Painted so thick is grief that you wonder if he understands them at all.

“No. I uh, I had a brother– a twin brother. He died.” 

You don’t talk about your brother, ever.

Kaori knew the bare bones of it. Koji and Takashi too – you had a twin brother, he died, and it fucked you up. Without ever uttering a word, they’d known not to press, that the wounds left behind weren’t quite as healed as the scar tissue led to believe. 

“How old were you?”

Seven, when you lost him. Twelve, when the letters stopped coming. 

“Fourteen,” you whisper, curling in on yourself. “He was sick.”

Stop asking, stop talking, stop, stop, stop. 

When you risk a look in the officer’s direction, his features are hewn granite, eyes set in a hard, angry glare that steals the very breath from your lungs. “Yeah?” he grunts, rising to his feet. “You stopped writing long before that.”

There’s just enough time for understanding to crash over you, for your lips to part, a feather light gasp of “Hajime?” to slip out before you’re flat on your back, wrists pinned to the mattress above your head, the officer– a ghost– Hajime looming over you. 

“What did I fucking tell you?”  

—

‘Sweetie, make sure you hold your brother’s hand.’

They’d meant when you were walking home from the bus stop, or crossing the road. When there was a buddy system so no one got separated or left behind. 

Hajime was always holding your hand. Not because your parents told him to, but because that’s how it was supposed to be. You were twins, he’d been born first (by all of six minutes) and you had followed. You were always following Hajime, and he was always going to look after you. 

Until he gets put into the Otter class with Mr Inagaki, and you go into Dugong with Miss Ino. 

Hajime’s nothing short of enraged. He throws chairs and yells and tries to kick the Principal, but it doesn’t change anything.

It would be good for you, they said, to have a chance to make other friends. ‘You can’t keep using your brother as a crutch, honey,’ your mother gently admonishes. 

Hajime scowls at that. Later, when it’s just the two of you hiding away in his room, he tells you she’s an idiot and a liar. ‘You don’t need anyone else. You have me.’

You knew that. You’d always have Hajime, but the other kids in your class weren’t as awful as he made them sound. Some of them were actually kind of cool, and they liked you, too.

For a while, you began to believe you could have both; Hajime and your new friends. 

Until one day you’re waiting for him at lunch when a boy from your class tugs on your braids and with a wide, toothy grin, loudly proclaims to the whole playground that even though you were a girl, and girls have cooties, it’d probably be okay if you wanted to be his girlfriend. 

You didn’t see Hajime coming up behind you. You’ve no idea where he found the scissors. The only warning either of you get is a sudden, splitting roar before he’s throwing himself at the smaller boy, tackling him to the ground. 

‘She’s MINE!’

Silver glints, flashing in the sunlight, and a high pitched shriek rips through the playground as he brings the scissors down on the poor, struggling boy. 

With a viciousness you’d never known of your brother, he swings again and again. It’s chaos. The other kids scatter and the teachers run to intervene. Hajime, spitting and snarling, red in the face and half-feral, doesn’t stop for them.

He stops for you. 

At the sound of a sharp little gasp, a line of red slashed along your forearm, Hajime stops dead, wide, horrified eyes fixed on yours.

—

‘Sweetie, what have I told you about snooping? I raised you better than that.’

‘But they’re addressed to me. Hajime wrote to me.’

‘Your brother’s not well, those letters– they’ll only upset you. I don’t want you reading them.’

‘… He says he misses me.’

‘I know, but he’s where he belongs, getting help. You want that for him, don’t you? To get the help he needs?’

‘I want to write back to him.’

—

There’s another letter waiting for you when you get home from school.

You hang your backpack near the door, still damp from being tossed in the pool, and eye the opened envelope sitting by your father. He doesn’t look up from his laptop when you reach for it, doesn’t lift a finger to stop you. Nevertheless, the displeasure radiates from him clear as day. 

“You shouldn’t encourage him. He’s not well.”

You’d scoff if it wouldn’t get you in trouble. Nothing you said could ever be taken as ‘encouragement’, and you’re under no illusions about who and what your brother is. 

The violence terrifies you. Sometimes he says things in the letters he writes that make your stomach all twisty and your palms sweat, but Hajime could be a monster, and you think you’d love him anyway. You wouldn’t have a choice. 

So you pluck at the envelope and tuck it close, making your way to your room without another glance at either of your parents. Sitting cross legged atop your bed, you eagerly scan the contents;

He hates the new therapist. They had a movie night planned, but some asshole started a fight and the whole thing got cancelled. The food’s still shit. He’s fed up and pissed off, whether he behaves or not, they won’t let him out and they won’t give him what he wants, so what’s the point in pretending?

The both of you turn twelve in ten days time – you owe it to him to come spend it together. 

—

‘Maybe it’s for the best, sweetheart.’

Dismissive. She’s always dismissive. Your hands curl in response, tightening before you force yourself to flex them out and bite your tongue. It’s not worth the fight. Neither one of them actually care, and nothing you say will ever change that. 

He’s angry at you. Or hurt. Both, probably. 

They wouldn’t let you visit. You’d begged – cried, even – and it hadn’t swayed them. The rules are that you aren’t allowed to go and see Hajime and you aren’t allowed to talk to him on the phone. The letters are the only communication you have, and when your twelfth birthday comes and goes, those stop too.

You’ve sent four letters since, no response. 

He’s shut you out entirely and while you can’t blame him for it, it’s painful.

You’ve always had Hajime, through everything. Him shutting you out feels like losing a limb– 

No, it’s more than that. It’s like slowly losing some vital function inside of you. Like your lungs are shutting down and you can’t breathe properly and your heart isn’t pumping the way it should. You feel guilty and horrible and at least twice, you debate trying to find a way to sneak out and make the two hour journey on your own, just so you can see him.

It’s a stupid idea, they wouldn’t even let you through the front door, but it’s the only idea you have and so you cling to it.

You keep writing to him– panicked. Desperate. Begging his forgiveness. 

He never writes back.

—

They sit you down at breakfast three months after your fourteenth birthday and tell you Hajime’s gone.

There was another fight, someone pushed him–

You don’t want to hear the details. They don’t matter and your ears are ringing too loud to make sense of them anyway.

Hajime is gone.

The cord between you was stretched and fraying already. He hadn’t written in over two years and probably hated you towards the end but he– he was–

Yours. A part of you. 

Gone.

And your mother’s asking about the English test you have second period. 

—

“What. Did. I. Say?” Each word is slowly enunciated, a quiet growl that drags an unwilling shiver down your spine. 

He smells of wood – of cedar, spice and musk, the notes melding, coiling with the dizzying body heat, the solid weight of him, bracing himself above you.

His lips are mere inches from yours. 

Not dead. 

Here.

There’s a thousand thoughts racing through your head, connections that light up, clicking into place like pieces of a puzzle, painting a deeply unsettling picture – all of which are drowned out by the revelation that Hajime is here.

You burst into tears–

and Hajime – your brother, very much alive and glaring at you from above – surges down to swallow them in a vicious kiss.

The moment your lips touch, all the tension in his body just… bleeds out. Hajime groans, low and heated, his hips rocking, grinding along your stomach, and if you weren’t too preoccupied short circuiting, dangling on the precipice of a panic attack, you’d feel the twitch of his mouth, curling into a small but no less satisfied smirk.

He relaxes, like he’s coming home rather than returning from the dead to land the killing blow.

“Mine,” he answers his own question, breath heavy and ragged as his teeth nip at your jaw. “I told you you’re fucking mine.”

The scratches on the wall. Kaori and Koji and Takashi, asleep in a sea of red. The viscous mess spilled over your belly. Your mother’s hushed voice, carrying down the hallway, ‘– only a phase. The books all say he’ll grow out of it before long.’

She hadn’t sounded convinced. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, desperate to block it all out as more tears spill into your hairline. Hajime won’t let you. He groans your name into the shell of your ear and licks at the tears as they fall. “Don’t,” he warns, fingers pressing tightly around your wrists ‘til they shoot back open with a gasp, “don’t you dare check out.”

When he rucks up your shirt to find you sans bra and a warm palm slides up to grope the soft, supple skin, a fresh burst of panic spurs you into action. Pinned under his weight as you are, you can’t move, and the idea of trying to physically fight him off is as laughable as it is terrifying – but when you were younger, you were the one – the only one – who could coax Hajime back from the edge, your hand in his.

Until he leapt from it entirely, and they took him away.

“H-Hajime?” A trembling, hiccuping whimper, thick with tears.  

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t even pause – shuffling down your body to mouth at them instead – but hooded, simmering pools of green flick back up to your face, a hum of acknowledgement rumbling in his chest as he nips and sucks pretty, burgundy blooms across your breasts.

“I-if you ever loved me, even a little… Please, Haji– don’t hurt me like this–” you choke on another sob, pathetic mess that you are.

Hajime goes preternaturally still, eyes boring into you. 

You stare right back, fighting the urge to cower and flinch, to turn your cheek and stare at the discarded dumpling wrappers, letting him take what he wants. Praying that he won’t hurt you too badly if you give it to him without a fight.

Because it will hurt, you think. It’ll break you entirely. 

(Are you not already broken?)

When his head drops, you can’t help it – the sharp, terrified hitch in your breath – but his lips meet your forehead, then each cheek, before finally they brush over your lips with a tenderness he has no right to. “You don’t have to be afraid of me,” he vows, cradling the side of your jaw, “I won’t hurt you, ever.”

But that’s a lie, too.

“I love you more than anything.”

He kisses you again, soft and sweet and gentle, as if those promises weren’t sewn from violence and legitimised in blood. As if he isn’t breaking your heart with every sweep of his tongue, plundering your mouth.

There’s no fight in you left when he reaches for the waistband of your sweats and slowly starts easing them down. You don’t claw and shove when the hold on your wrists loosens and then disappears entirely, both hands needed to strip away his clothes. 

The sound of his belt buckle clinking, the soft hiss of a zipper, they wash over you, white noise lost to the pounding in your ears. 

But you don’t look away.

He strokes his cock – long and thick and flushed to the tip –  crawling up the mattress to kneel between your legs like a supplicant before an altar of the divine. 

Devotion demands sacrifice. 

“It killed me,” he starts, dragging the mushroom head along the slit of your pussy. He frowns a little, leans back and spits – a fat glob of saliva landing dead centre, adding to the mess his weeping cock’s already made. “When the letters stopped coming. I was angry, so fucking angry, all the time. I’d lash out and they’d put me in another cage, and I’d do it again, and again. They tried convincing me you’d moved on,” his eyes flash darkly, “which was bullshit. They’d have to carve me out of you with a knife.”

What shocks you isn’t the violent imagery, but the truth of it settling into your bones, inescapable and undeniable; you’ll always love your brother, even if that very love destroys you.

“I didn’t–”

The first thrust rips a strangled yelp from your throat. 

He’s too big, you’re not prepared to take him – and Hajime doesn’t care. His head tips back, shuddering out a breathy laugh. 

There’s no pause, no period of grace, seated deep inside of you, the walls of your pussy hugging him tight, Hajime won’t allow you a second to catch your breath and wait for the burning sting to abate. His hips draw back until only the throbbing head of his cock remains inside, and, upon grabbing a leg to hitch over his shoulder, uses it as leverage to punch forward, stuffing your tight little cunt to the brim.

The pace he sets is brutal from the outset. Bruising. He licks at your tears between kisses and moans when you clench and shudder around him. “Never again,” he pants into your ear. “I’ll kill them all if you leave. Every last fucking one. You’re mine. Mine.”

And you’d think it cruel, a punishment, if not for the way those green eyes burn. 

When his fingers twine with yours, pressing you down into the mattress, holding you there, you wonder if this was always an inevitability. 

Hajime led and you followed, hand in bloody hand. 

He’d never allow anything less.

Bully!Tsukishima x Reader

| Tsukishima who bullies you relentlessly gets paired with you for a partner project (collage au)

#a/n: i was in a very… hard mood as u can see.. ive been obsessed with bully!Haikyuu characters for a while and what better character than the one that runs his fucking sexy mouth the most. HOPE U ENJOY!! (feel free to send reqs 2 my ask :3)

WARNINGS: SMUT, DUBCON, afab!reader, unprotected sex, hard bullying and hitting, slapping, spit, hair pulling, bleeding(🫢), reader in pain, gagging, choking, kicking, dirty talk, degrading names: slut, mutt, degrading, dumbification.

Its not unusual for you to get your hair pulled by the man who sits behind you in lecture with blonde hair, glasses framing his face with a smug smirk on his lips. Its not unusual to have your chair pulled from under you before you sit down nor is it unusual to be kicked around by him. tears pooling in your eyes as you look up at him from the ground, lower lip trembling as his dark eyes stare at you, towering over you. Your face red with embarrassment and anger but he likes that. He loves to bully you and belittle you, youre even sure it gets him off. So being paired with him for a project was a nightmare.

He scoffs as you walk up to him, textbook clutched in your hands, white knuckled as your hands wrap around the edges. “I-I can work on my own. You can find someone else to work wi-“ he interupts you, eyebrows furrowed as he leaned forward on his desk. “nah uh. we have to work together, thats the rules. Cant have you fucking up my perfect grade now can I. promise i wont bite this time.” He glaces up and down your body with a grin, sending goosebumps trickling down your arms and legs. you avert your gaze from his with a small ‘whatever’ mumbled under your breath and begin to walk away from him until he grabs you harshly by the wrist and pulls you down, falling to the floor with a painful thud. you wince in pain, eyebrows furrowed and looking up teary eyed at the cruel man infront of you. “Give me your phone dumbass. Ill give you my number.” he spits, another scoff leaving his mouth as if you should have known.

Your hands tremble, moving to your phone in your pocket and you hand it to him unlocked. You hear him tapping away at your phone, and he grins once again. “sent myself a message to know its you. got any nudes on here? i always wonder if youre a disgusting pervert or just a sweet little virgin.” He says in such a tone to belittle you. You snatch back your phone from his hands with a hiss. “Im not a fucking virgin.” Your face is red at this point, you open your mouth to say something else but close it instead, walking away and gathering your things from the floor. “Youre such a fucking prick, tsukishima.” you cry, eyes streaming with tears. Hes satisfied. Not finished for today though.

You hear a ding from your phone, not unusual but a feeling of dread overwhelms you. You tap to see who its from. Tsukishima. Your breathing becomes heavy as you unlock your phone and open the message.

4:40pm—

Tsukishima Kei: Come to mine for the project. Dorm 18.

Y/N: what? now??

Tsukishima: Are you fucking stupid? Yes now. Don’t make me fucking tell you again.

You swallow hard, a pit in your stomach arising. You’ve never been alone with him like this before, your body trembled with anxiety. You gather your textbook and your laptop and put them neatly in your bag, breathing deep. It takes you 10 minutes to leave the door, overrun by fear as you walk slowly to his dorm on the other side of campus. a familiar heat pooling between your legs that you cant shake away. Your hands are trembling again, hesitatingly knocking softly on the door. He swings it open, the smell of his dorm overwhelmed your nose. It was a sweet smell, incense you imagine. He towers over you with a smug look to his face, readjusting his glasses to look down on your small frame. He moves from the doorway without a word, walking further into his dorm. Its alot larger than your own, the floors splayed with rugs and a kitchen that you didnt even realised existed within your college walls. His place is clean, a glorified apartment at this point with a seperate bathroom and a bedroom just off the loungeroom. a sofa sat in the middle of a rug infront of a TV, gaming controllers stacked onto the coffee table neatly.

“Sit.” He finally speaks up, gesturing to the counter stools that already had a textbook and a laptop seated onto it. You sit awkwardly, gnawing at your bottom lip nervously. “God you don’t have to be so fucking awkward Y/N. Take your shit out already so we can start.” His face is deadpan as he waltz over to sit beside you on the empty seat. you shuffle in your seat as you bring out your textbook and laptop, setting them up and opening up the necessary documents on your computer. A shaky sigh leaves your mouth without realising and the man next to you wips his eyes your way. “Pathetic” he mumbles, typing on his computer. You feel your eyes start to water, an ache in your throat as you try to to let out the sounds of weakness. why am i here? why wouldnt he just let me change partner? is this a sick fucking game to him? why am i so scared? Your thoughts were short lived as he kicks your leg from next to you, making you stumble on the seat, palms quickly finding their way to the counter harshly.

“Why the fuck am i even here? Is this shit fucking funny to you?” You spit, a redness falling onto your face. A firm hand grasps the top of your hair harsly, another grabbing your jaw with force. His eyes are dark, scary even as he pulls you off the chair by your hair. A soft scream leaving you mouth as your knees hit the hard tile beneath them. “Dont ever fucking raise your voice at me again.” Hes kneeling down, a hand still hard in your hair. It hurts so bad. “Say sorry.” You shake your head, tears falling down your cheeks. He pulls harshly at your hair, throwing you to the ground hard and you wince in pain. Hands starting to roam up your shirt. “Say your fucking sorry. Right now.” He grints his teeth, feeling your soft flesh between his hands. “No!” You yell, a firm slap coming across your face to cut you off. His hands roaming up your skirt this time, grabbing at the flesh of your ass. You push his hands away. this is so fucking embarrassing. What if he finds out? please stop please stop. You gasp as his fingers find his way to your cunt, looking at his eyes that met your instantly, a scared looked displayed across your face as his pushes your panties to the side, your chest rising and falling at an intense pace.

“Youre seriously fucking wet? So you are a disgusting fucking pervert afterall. How gross.” He spits, fingers dipping between your folds as a groan leaves his mouth. “So fucking wet.” He feels painfull hard cock strained in his pants. “Please stop” You sob, face a deep red of embarrassment, lip trembling as his finger glide easily to your clit. “I bet you dont even need prep, huh? What do you think, Slut.” You avert your gaze, covering your face with your hands and crying. “Awe come on. Answer me already.” He says, a harsh slap coming to meet your cunt, making you cry out once more. “No!” you say into your hands. He rips them from tour face, a hand coming to your jaw once more as he settles himself between your legs on the floor. “No what.” A smirk arising on his mouth. “No… I dont need prep…” You say embarrassed, legs closing together around his arm, lips trembling as his hand unbuckles his belt and he begins to lean up entirely. “Go on. You want it, don’t you? Put it in your fucking mouth.” He purrs, hands coming to your hair once more as you unbotton his pants, pulling them down and his underwear, letting his cock spring free.

He’s massive. A gasp leaves your mouth. “What? Don’t think it’ll fit? Don’t worry, I’ll make it fit.” He growls, pulling your hair to move your mouth flush against the tip of his cock. You don’t know what to think. You scared, wet, anxious, and most of all so fucking needy for him. You want him to slap you again so so bad. You open your mouth, giving kitten licks to his tip before wetting your lips and trying your best to sink your throat around his length. A groan leaves his mouth, pushing your head further onto his cock and making you gag. You pull off of him, catching your breath before he returns you back to position and shoves his cock into the heat of your mouth once again. Making you gag over and over, tears burning down your cheeks. You looked like a fucking mess. He pulls you off his cock with a ‘pop’ and lines himself up at your entrance. “N-No! Wait! i need prep your too-“ You cut off by his cock, piercing its way into your deliciously wet cunt. The stretch burns, pricking tears from your eyes as he bottoms out inside of you harshly. A deep growl coming from his chest. “Youre so fucking tight. Fuck~” He groans, grabbing you by the hair with a hand and his right coming to position your legs over your shoulder.

He starts a deep pace, eyes rolling back as he hits the perfect spot inside of you effortlessly, your walls fluttering around his already. Legs trembling as he fucks into you at a rough pace. “Are you seriously already gonna cum? What a fucking joke. A slut. God youre fucking easy to please.” He moans, another harsh slap to your face, stinging the already red spot on your cheek. You clench around him. “Fuck im cumming” You cry out, a firm hand grabbing your jaw and spitting into your open mouth. You walls feel like they’re swallowing his cock, sucking him in as you cum around his length with tears rolling down your cheeks. The hand from your jaw moves to your throat, firming locking his fingers around it. “please~ tighter~” You moan between thrusts. His eyebrow furrow as his grip on your throat tightens, a deep red forming on his cheeks and curse words slipping from his lips as he fucks harder into you, bruising your cervix so hard that you begin to bleed. “Fuck you’re bleeding all over my cock.” He says, holding tighter onto your throat, making your face a beautiful shade of purple before releasing you and planting another slap to your cheek. unable to catch your breath as he fucks you dumb, eyes rolling back as you cum over and over around him, his finger grabbing harshly at your hips to reposition you. Its deeper this time, so painfully deep as cum and blood seep from your dripping cunt. the sight is incredible and he fucking revels in it, pounding harder and faster inside of you as you become mute until he pushes his fingers to your clit, waking you up with a slap and circles onto your sensitive nub. You scream out. “T-T-Too much~ Tsukishima~ Fuck Mmng Fuck yes fuck im cumming aga- cumming cumming cu-“ You stutter out, his face red with lust as the words and his name drip like liquid from your lips.

“Yeah fucking cum for me again. Tell me how fucking good i make you feel you mutt.” Another spit to your face. Your chest red from the sheer amount of blood rushing to your face. “S’ good. fucking memmh so hah good mso fucking good~” You babble out, drool spilling from your mouth as the mark on your cheek welting and beating as he pounds relentlessly into your aching cunt. His lips smack to yours, licking into your mouth as your tongues fight against each other, moans slipping from your mouth to his makes his cock twitch inside of you.

Hes almost at the edge, needing to spill his seed deep inside of your womb he told you tighter against his body, hands bruising your sides as he rails his cock in and out of your, the mixture of cum and blood pooling on the floor underneath you. He pulls away. “Fuck. I’m gonna fill this dirty pussy up so good. Gonna fucking it so deep inside of you. Gross fucking slut. I bet you’d want that, huh?” He growls jnto your ear, ripping another orgasm from your body as you beg and plead. “please cum n’me~ want you to fill- nnnmmg me up~ so good so good, fuck it into me please” you beg and cry, holding tighter onto his body as his cock twitches and spills his hot cum inside of you. You scream as the heat hits your sensitive insides. The ruthless pace slowing as he pumps it deeper inside, the bruise on your insides ache, pleading for a break from his relentless fucking. After a moment he pulls out and you drop to the cold, hard floor. Barely able to catch his breath before you notice his phone is out, angled at your bleeding cum filled pussy.

You hear the phone shutter go off and you sigh, heavy breathing beginning to calm down. He pulls your limp body from the floor and pushes you to the bathroom, turning on the shower as he fully undresses your body. “Shower. It’ll make you feel better.” His eyes meet yours, glassy and red, the red welts on your cheeks make him smirk. He removes his shirt and pants and you both enter the shower. He’s surprisingly sweet, minus the offhanded comments, washing you off and holding your body to his.

———

bottom note: HNNGNGNGNGNNGNGNGNGNGNGNGNGN

All In

the beta fic you have been waiting months for <33 Ushijima Wakatoshi, Semi Eita & Tendou Satori x female reader w.c 6.8k tw: yandere themes, a/b/o, noncon, (sorta) smut, nsfw, one mention of blood and oozing wounds, implied stalking, forced claiming

“They’re good guys – good alphas. This won’t be like last time, I promise. You’ll see what I mean when you meet them,” Ayako murmurs, squeezing your hand in reassurance and offering you a brilliant grin. “They’re gonna love you.”

Love seems a bit of a stretch.

But Aya looks so… hopeful. You sigh. “You really like them, huh?”

“I really like them,” she admits, a pretty pink blush tingeing her cheeks. “You come first, though. You’re my beta, and if it doesn’t feel right, we’ll walk, okay? No questions asked.” 

A promise she’s kept more than once. Too many times. Omegas like Aya, young and vibrant and oh-so-lovely, shouldn’t have any trouble finding a pack to settle down with. Hell, alphas should be banging down the door just for a chance with her – to fuck, to bond, anything and everything in between. You’re the sticking point. The reason why Ayako hasn’t bonded into a pack yet.

Alphas have no interest in betas. They do nothing for them – can’t take a knot, don’t have heats. Betas aren’t durable enough to ride out an alpha’s rut. All that compounded by the simple fact that bonding bites between the two don’t last longer than a few months, so why bother?

You’re dead weight. Aya clings to you anyway. 

She pulls your hand to her cheek, the tender, delicate spot right beneath the curve of her jaw. Scenting, you realise a touch belatedly. Omegas have stronger scents than betas do; florals, spice, indulgent, enticing things – you once knew an omega whose scent reminded you of hot caramel drizzled over apple pie. Ayako smells like lilacs and the rain, a softer scent admittedly, yet one that screams of home and comfort and familiar things. 

Your own scent is milder. Now, on top of sea salt and that faint whisper of summer, you’ll smell a little of her. She’s claiming you as pack, as hers. Her beta, exactly as she’d said

A flutter of warmth blooms in your chest, and you smile back at her, the first genuine one of the night. 

“You look great, by the way,” she tells you. “Come on, Tendou messaged to say they’re running a bit late and we should head on in without them. Ushijima’s practice doesn’t finish up ‘til about seven, so we’ve got plenty of time for the show.” She winks and lets out a bubbling laugh and you kind of feel like you’ve missed the joke.

Nevertheless, you let her tug you into the stadium. The lady behind the ticketing counter slides across two visitor’s passes on lanyards when Ayako gives your names.

“Practices are closed to the public,” the omega explains in a hushed voice while the two of you make your way towards the door for the stands. “Apparently the team get a few passes they can hand out to whoever they like – pack, usually.”

The pass has your name printed on it. Beneath it, in bold; Ushijima Wakatoshi. 

You finger the plastic edges absentmindedly. 

There’s other people in the stands, all wearing the same style lanyard draped around your neck. Some, you think, are partners. Friends and family. Pack, like Ayako said. You spy a woman maybe a few years older than you, bouncing a toddler on her lap and pointing animatedly towards the court, another guy sitting beside her, an arm curled over the back of her seat. Others appear to be there in a more official capacity – staff, you suppose, wearing the same white polo edged in blue and gold (team colours, you guess), talking quietly amongst themselves and jotting things down on expensive looking tablets. 

They pay you no mind. Ayako does the same, dragging you right up to the guard-rail with an excited gasp. You’d been expecting them to be running laps or tossing balls in pairs or something. You weren’t expecting anything like this. 

Without the roar of a crowd, every noise on the court is amplified; the squeaking of shoes, the thwack of palms meeting leather, shouts ricocheting from both sides as they scramble for the ball.

Scramble isn’t the right word, though. It flies through the air between the players, choreographed chaos.

One of the players, a dark haired behemoth, shoots up and connects with the ball, slamming it over the net with a terrifying force – you feel the impact in your chest when it hits the floor.

A whistle rings out.

“Oh my god,” Aya breathes.

The behemoth turns, dark eyes zeroing in on your figure from across the court. His nostrils flare.

Alpha, you realise. He’s one of Aya’s alphas.

Ushijima Wakatoshi. 

“You know he’s one of the top wing spikers in the country, and he’s on the national team? He’s already got like three Olympic medals! Three!” she gushes. “He’s incredible.”

You hardly hear her. The other players on the court, his teammates, are already re-setting, a blond slapping Ushijima on the back, another hurling a teasing jab across the net – earning him a middle finger in response – Ushijima’s gaze doesn’t shift, his attention doesn’t waver. You swear you see his pupils dilate. 

Your breath is caught somewhere in your chest. 

“Are you gonna wave at the alpha you dressed so pretty for?” 

“Would you stop?” you hiss, tearing your gaze away to jab an elbow into Ayako’s side, which she artfully dodges with a delighted giggle. 

“Can’t say I blame you for drooling. I practically melted into a puddle the first time Semi dragged him into the bakery. He’s hot as hell,” she sighs. 

The problem is, she isn't wrong. Weird, heavy, way too intense eye contact aside, Ushijima is the textbook definition of ‘hot alpha’; all tall and broad shouldered, his face hewn with clean, strong lines. Add on the ridiculous athleticism, the muscles that clearly aren’t just for show – yeah, no wonder Aya’s got heart eyes already. 

On the court below, the whistle blows. More cheers. Another point scored. By the time you glance down again, Ushijima’s lost interest, his focus returned to the game, nodding at something one of the (you presume) coaches yells across the court.

The tight, prickling feeling writhing beneath your skin, that doesn’t fade as quick. 

God, you’re way too worked up about this whole thing. 

“He’s very, uh…” 

“Intimidating? No– impressive? Or were you gonna say sexy? All true, by the way. Ushiwaka’s a beast.”

The other two alphas have finally deigned to grace you with their presence. Wonderful. 

Swallowing back a wince, you turn to face the duo. “Good,” you say. “I was going to say he’s very… good.”

Aya had told you the basics, of course; Semi’s the lead singer slash guitarist in a band, Tendou’s a chocolatier. The former used to be a civil servant, the latter recently moved back from a stint in Paris, and both of them played Volleyball with Ushijima in high school. 

You’re not entirely sure what you were expecting. Carbon cutouts of their packmate, maybe, big, brawny, radiating the kind of imposing dominance that forces everyone around them – other alphas included – to sit down and shut up with a look alone. 

The two alphas before you aren’t that. 

The shorter of the two, more wiry in his build than the redhead beside him, smirks. “Good, huh?” 

He’s teasing you. They’re both teasing you. Your cheeks burn hotter. Before you can open your mouth to apologise, try and sidestep you shoving your own foot in your mouth as a first impression, Aya intervenes. 

“You should’ve seen her a minute ago, her jaw was on the ground. She’s playing it cool.”

The sound of her laugh digs at you in a way it shouldn’t. 

It’s not fair, not when you’re the one who’s acting like you don’t have a single working brain cell and she’s trying to cover for you, but it bothers you when Ayako acts like she has to smoothe over your edges, make you more palatable, more pleasing. You’re not an omega, you won’t ever be an omega, and sometimes you can’t help but wonder if Aya’s gonna spend the rest of your lives trying to compensate for that.

Her shoulder knocks with yours, a gentle bump, that same hopeful, painfully optimistic look in her eyes. 

Guilt, an old, familiar friend at this point, washes over you. 

“This is Semi,” she introduces, gesturing at the ash-blond with the ripped jeans, “and Tendou,” the gangly redhead. 

“And you must be our beta,” Semi surmises, slowly eyeing you over. 

The casual possessiveness rankles you, your tight smile freezing in place. Again Ayako simply laughs, her fingers, very deliberately, lacing with yours once more. “She’s my beta, you have yet to win her over.”

Neither alpha appears all that put out by the prospect.

Tendou, eyes crinkling with a wide, eager grin that takes you a little aback, thrusts a hand out towards you, a white gift bag you hadn’t noticed dangling from his fingertips. “Presents help with the whole wooing thing, right?” he jokes.

From your experience, yes. 

Aya’s received plenty. You, as her tag along beta, less so. 

One pack brought you a bouquet of pink and white peonies on your first date. Not quite as  extravagant as the arrangement of roses they presented Aya with, they had a lovely, subtle perfume and when you put them in a vase and set them atop your nightstand, they brightened up the whole room. You could appreciate that they’d at least tried to make you feel an equal part of this. 

They’d been willing to play pretend.

Back then, when Aya first started bringing potential packs around, you were… idealistic. Naive, maybe. 

You watched them dote on her. Lap up Aya’s attention like it was the sweetest fix. You saw the hunger. The arousal that flared, thick and syrupy, whenever she did something unintentionally appealing to the alpha inside of them – a simple stretch, nibbling on her bottom lip while she mulled over a menu, the sway of her hips as she walked up to the bar.

Oh, they were polite to you. Drew you into conversations, chatted about your job, your hobbies, the plans the two of you had for the holidays in a few weeks’ time – all the while tracking every movement of the omega beside you from the corner of their eyes.

They were nice to you. You didn’t want ‘nice’. You wanted what they so freely offered to Aya; hunger and captivated attention, a desire so thick in the air you could choke on it. 

Foolish, pretty fantasies. There’s no competing with biology, you know that. The most interesting, beautiful beta in the room is still just a beta. 

Down below, the court’s quieter, muted chatter drifting up to the bleachers in place of squeaking and thuds and the sharp trill of whistles blowing. Did the practice match finish up?

Aya squeezes your hand. Drops it. As subtle a cue as she can manage. 

Brain kicking back into gear, you step closer and pluck the gift from the alpha’s outstretched hand, an odd little shiver trickling down your spine when the tips of your fingers graze his rough palm. 

“Ah, thank you,” you say, remembering your manners at last.

Tendou’s eyes flutter shut, breathing in deep, shuddering a little on the exhale. When they open again, there’s a giddy sort of satisfaction creeping from his expression. He licks his lips, smiling wide. “Sea salt.”

“… Sorry?”

“The chocolates,” his chin juts towards the gift. “Sea salt caramel. I had a feeling, went with it. I’m not usually wrong.” He sounds absurdly proud of the fact. 

“Oh.” 

Beside you, Aya looks as lost as you feel. Semi, on the other hand, snorts, shaking his head. “You might wanna ease up on the beta, dude. She met you all of three minutes ago.”

“Yeah, but we’re gonna be besties. I can feel it.” Without warning he slings an arm over your shoulders, dragging you close to smush you into his side, unbothered by your startled yelp, the way the bag of chocolates smacks against his torso when the hand clutching it jerks out to steady yourself. “Don’t be jealous ‘cuz I’m already the favourite, Semi-Semi.”

Semi shrugs, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, leaning back against the centre railing behind him. Slowly, a smirk unfurls. A challenge. “For now.”

Plastered against Tendou’s side, swallowed up by the heat of him, the heady scent of cherrywood – of alpha – thick and strong, and with no sign of him letting you go anytime soon, you dart a glance to Aya.

Your best, oldest (admittedly only) friend, watching the three of you with a quirked eyebrow, expression otherwise indecipherable–

And then, she giggles, rolling her eyes with exasperated amusement. “Can we at least sit while you two fight over my well-earned spot?” 

You wonder if they notice the brief look of concern she throws your way as Tendou relaxes his hold and the two usher you over to a seat, Semi snagging the one to your left, Aya taking the right.

Her promise from earlier rings in your head. One word and she’ll walk, no questions asked. 

Aya needs a pack. She wants this one. She likes this one, but at some point, she’ll need one. 

Omegas don’t do well long term without mates. Right now her heats are okay, manageable with suppressants and toys – eventually those won’t be enough. They’ll get worse, come without warning, more frequently. The suppressants won’t help, she’ll ache and burn up, forgo food, water, sleep…

The lucky ones end up hospitalised. The unlucky ones either end up dead or in situations where it’d be a kindness if they were. 

“You okay?” she asks, whisper soft. Her voice won’t carry, the other two aren’t paying attention anyway. Semi’s thigh brushes up against yours when he spreads his legs wide, thumbing out a message on his phone, and Tendou’s leaning over the backrest between you, chin perched on his folded forearms, watching him type. 

One word and she’ll walk, that’s what Aya promised. 

Down on the court below, the players spread across the floor, stretching out and cooling down, half empty water bottles and sweat towels scattered around them. Ushjima’s lying on your side of the court, one thigh drawn over the other, twisting out his lower back. If he realises he’s got an audience in you and Aya, he gives no indication of caring, holding the stretch for a few seconds longer before repeating the motion with the other leg. 

“Yeah.”

If chocolates and overly tactile besties are what you get out of this, you can manage that. 

—

While you wait out front of the stadium for Ushijima to finish up, Semi smokes.

A lit cigarette dangles loosely between two fingers, the tip glowing cherry red with every drag. He stands separate from the three of you, a few feet away, because when he’d fished out the slightly crumpled packet from his jacket pocket to pluck one out, Aya’s nose wrinkled. Omegas are sensitive to strong smells at the best of times, and Aya’s loathed the stench of cigarettes ever since she was a kid and her dad would smoke on the back porch of her gran’s place. He died years ago, and to this day she swears up and down that every time she sets foot back there, she smells those Seven Stars.

To her credit, she hadn’t actually said anything, and to Semi’s, he hadn’t kicked up a fuss. He’d shrugged, shuffled on back and lit up anyway. Water off a duck’s back.

Tendou talks loudly and Aya’s giggling laugh echoes louder. Semi watches. Idle – bored, almost. 

Until his gaze shifts to you.

And stays there.

From a young age, you’re taught that alphas are stronger than betas and omegas. They’re quicker. Smarter. In the old days, they tell you, alphas were the hunters, the providers – protectors, when the situation called for it. What they mean, dressing the truth up in nicer, more palatable terms is that alphas are, down to their marrow, predators. 

Those instincts don’t go away just because society’s a little more civilised these days. 

Semi’s expression doesn’t change. There’s nothing particularly dangerous or threatening there, nothing to explain the sudden ball of anxiety that lodges itself in your stomach. 

Yet you can’t shake the sense that with that stare, every ounce of his focus rests solely on you. Every breath, every nervous twitch, shift of your muscles, all of it tracked, analysed. He stares, breathing out a slow plume of smoke, and you feel the physical weight of it bearing down on you.

He won’t bite, lunge for the kill – but he could.

His chin tilts, eyebrow lifting. A flicker of amusement, as if he knows exactly the thoughts running wild in your head. You shake them off, ignore the hammering of your heart to follow the wordless, beckoning call to his side, nudging Aya on the way past so she won’t think you’ve abandoned her. 

“You realise she’s gonna try and get you to quit,” you tell him in what you hope is a friendly, upbeat tone. 

Semi scoffs and takes another drag of his cigarette. You watch, off-kilter, a little dazed as his head tilts back, exposing the long, lithe column of his throat, and he slowly exhales.

With dark, sweeping lashes and angular features, the problem, you realise, is that Semi is distractingly pretty. An artless, grunged up sort of pretty. Pretty like pools of oil on asphalt after it rains. 

Pretty in the way that poisonous things often are. 

“She’s more than welcome to try.” He plucks his cig from his lips and extends it your way, his expression almost… goading. 

You don’t take it.

There isn’t much surprise to be found in your refusal, his pretty mouth pursing as his arm falls by the wayside. “Omega’s got her claws stuck in you good, huh.”

And that’s the rub, isn’t it. What all this boils down to. Right from the start, the very first pack you met and every pack since – Aya’s made it clear from the get-go. They don’t get her without you. You’re her beta. 

“Is that a problem for you?”

You won’t take the cigarette because Aya has issues with it. She won’t entertain you leaving her because the two of you are too fucking entangled in one another to handle extrication.

You’re pack, you’re family, you’re all each other has left, now that her grandma – the woman who essentially raised you and her – is gone. 

You won’t play second fiddle, if only because Aya won’t allow them to push you aside like that. If that’s a problem, a dealbreaker (and, historically speaking, it has been) better they figure it out now, before she – or you – gets too attached and ends up hurt. 

Semi regards you for a long moment, taking one last puff of his cigarette before he flicks it away, grinds the smoldering butt into the cement with the toe of his boot. “Don’t know yet. Guess we’ll find out.”

And you nod, because at least that’s an honest answer. 

“Tendou came back to Japan for her, didn’t he?” It’d twigged when you’d gone to hand back your visitor’s pass and the lady behind the counter made some casual comment about not expecting to see him ‘til next season.

Not back for a visit, back permanently.

Semi shakes his head, “He was always coming back. Paris was only ever a temporary thing,” he corrects. “But yeah, he made the decision to come home early when we realised the opportunity that’d fallen into our laps.”

While you don’t love the way he makes meeting Aya sound, you understand the gravity of what he’s saying. Tendou uprooted his life for her. 

You glance back over your shoulder, fiddling with the handles of the bag of chocolates he’d made for you. They’re still talking, quieter now, both of them subtly – subconsciously, probably – angled towards the two of you; Aya with that same bright-eyed look about her, Tendou like he’s just itching to interrupt and steal your attention back for himself. He, at least, might actually like you. 

“And you? Are you all in, too?”

The words slip out before you can stop them. Semi doesn’t owe you an answer, you know that. It’s not fair that you asked, it’s just– you can’t get a read on him. For all his sharp edges and the smirks that make your insides squirm, you don’t know whether this is what he wants. Wanted, maybe.

Semi surprises you. In a move too quick for you to catch, he closes in on you. He doesn’t pin you down per se. You’re not caged in, trapped between his body and a wall. Physically speaking, there’s nothing stopping you from stepping back and regaining that inch of space as he looms over your shorter frame, tilting your chin upwards with two curled fingers like he’s going to kiss you. 

Nothing except your suddenly jelly legs. 

There’s barely anything separating you. Millimetres. Heat floods your face. Your stomach tightens, blood simmering, writhing beneath your skin. Long fingers encircle your wrist, right where Aya had scented you, his thumb digging in over your fluttering pulse. A noise escapes you then, a distressed sort of whimper you thought yourself above, and Semi’s eyes flick down to your lips, something dark and hungry flaring in response. 

Alpha. Smaller than his packmates, but no less. 

“Who d’you think called him and told him to get his ass back home, little beta?” 

You swallow unsteadily–

“Time to share, Semi-Semi,” Tendou sings, snaking an arm around your waist to haul you away from the blond. To you, he says, “You wanna come say hi to our big, bad pack alpha, don’tcha?” 

It’s then you realise that Ushijima, along with several of his teammates, have finally emerged. While they wave each other off, scattering across the carpark, some heading to their cars, others in the direction of buses and the train station, Ushijima halts near the door – Aya already skipping on over. 

“Ah… yes?”

Tendou snickers. 

“Relax,” Semi tells you with a smirk, clapping your shoulder as he brushes on past. “Ushiwaka doesn’t bite.” 

As Tendou nudges you forward like an errant duckling, you fix Semi with an unimpressed look. He winks. Asshole.

Omegas, especially unbonded omegas, tend to be picky about touch and physical affection outside of pack and family. Aya, for all her moon-eyed infatuation, doesn’t throw herself at the alpha. Ushijima offers a single, wooden pat on her head, the edges of his mouth lifting in what you suppose is an approximation of a smile.

She beams all the same.

“– and this is my beta,” she introduces. 

You’re not anticipating an overly warm welcome. For one, he looks stiff enough smiling at Aya to suspect he’s not practised with the expression, for another… the whole, weird staring thing from earlier sits all too fresh in your mind. If he’d heard your awkward fumbling with his packmates in the aftermath, you doubt that’s helped endear you to him any.

Nothing prepares you for the way he turns, every speck of goodwill falling from his features when your scent finally reaches him. Cold, remote stone, eyeing you down. 

“You smell like lilacs,” he grunts, like the very concept offends him. You, a beta, wearing his would-be mate’s scent. 

—

The izakaya the alphas take you to is only a few minutes walk from the stadium, and each one of them passes in near unbearable, stilted tension. 

Aya doesn’t question you when you make a bee-line for the bathroom rather than following the others to a table, though the small furrow between her brows says plenty.

You just need a minute.

The single unisex stall offers spartan amenities at best – a sink with a cracked mirror hammered into the wall, paper towels, and a lone, flickering light above. 

Braced over the porcelain vanity, eyes closed, shaking like a leaf with remnants of ice-cold water dripping down your face, you will the frantic, sickening churn inside you to ease. 

Fuck. 

What’s wrong with you?

Ushijima could barely stand that Aya had scented you, and you’re supposed to believe he’d let you bond into the pack with her? And if he did, what kind of life would that be? You, forever on the outside, pack but not really, not in the ways that matter. 

What place does a beta have between alphas and their omega?

More to the point, how, after all the packs you and Aya have tried this with, all the the indifference and dismissal you’ve weathered, the cruel insults you weren’t supposed to hear–

Think of it this way, dude; it’s a spare hole for you to stick your cock in while the omega’s busy bouncing on my knot.

–how are you still surprised that they don’t want you?

You let a slow breath out, shoulders sagging. Okay. 

Okay. 

Straightening up, you rip a sheet of paper towel from the dispenser, dabbing to remove any trace of distress from your face. You can do this, you tell yourself. Smile, play pretend. A few drinks, some dumplings, yakitori – two, three hours max.

Nothing’s changed.

The alphas want Ayako. Ayako wants these alphas.

In spite of that, in spite of the blushing and fawning and big, lovely doe eyes that bat ever so prettily for her alphas, she’ll hold true to her promise if you ask it of her. 

No questions asked, without an ounce of resentment, she’d walk away from them. She’d choose you. 

It’d be a few weeks of moping around, picking each other up and dusting yourselves off. There’ll be other packs. Aya’s got a few years yet before her heats really become an issue. You can always try again.

The thing is… you don’t want to anymore.

They like you as a friend. You’re in the way. They wanna fuck you, but only if the omega’s otherwise occupied. You can take care of the household stuff during heats and ruts, right? Maybe one day there could be something more. 

They wouldn’t look twice if it wasn’t for Ayako. 

Every time it hurts, like clawing out pieces of yourself, and you just… you can’t anymore. You won’t.

So tonight, you’ll be the bestie. Let her have her fun, flirt with the big, strong alphas she’s so enamoured by, and then tomorrow… tomorrow you’ll find a way to cut yourself loose from all of this. Aya gets her pack and you can find a nice, normal beta to settle down with. You’ll both be happier for it in the long run. 

Wiping a smudge of mascara from under your eye, you suck in another fortifying breath, nodding at yourself in the mirror. A few hours of pretending is nothing. A piece of cake.

Focused entirely on the veneer you have to slip into, you don’t notice the large, muscular frame blocking the door until you quite literally collide with it.

“Oof– Sorry, my b–”

The words wither like ash on your tongue when you look up to find Ushijima standing over you.

Despite the resolution you’d come to mere moments ago, you’re not feeling particularly charitable towards the hulking behemoth of an alpha, and you have every intention of wordlessly skirting around him to head back to the table and join your friend, civility be damned. 

You make it all of a single step before a change sweeps over him and he stiffens, nostrils flaring like they had back on the court. His eyes bleed black, and that’s the only warning you get before he seizes your wrist in one giant hand and starts to haul you back into the stall, slamming the door shut behind you both. 

“What the hell are you doing?!” you hiss. 

“She scented you,” he growls, looking angrier than he did before. “You smell like omega.”

No, this isn’t anger. Not exactly. Ushijima’s shoulders heave with every breath, his whole frame almost shuddering, pulled taut like a bowstring primed to snap–

And that’s when realisation hits. 

“You’re in a rut,” you whisper, eyes going wide in horror. “Ushiji–” You don’t get to finish the sentence. 

Big should mean slow. Clumsy. Ushijima’s neither. 

In an instant he surges into motion, one hand clamping down over your mouth, the other shoving you forward, trapping you on the tips of your toes between his hulking body and the vanity that was your lifeline five minutes ago. Just like then, your hands automatically reach out, clutching the edge of the sink to steady yourself. Stupid, when the full weight of Ushijima pins you precariously in place anyway.

Your heart hammers, panic and terror clawing at your stomach. You aren’t an omega, you can’t take a knot. If Ushijima tries to fuck you like he wants – like his instincts are driving him to – he’ll tear you apart. He’ll break you. 

But if any part of the mindless, snarling alpha behind you recognises that, he doesn’t care. The warm body in his grasp smells like lilacs, like the omega outside, and that’s good enough.

He noses at your hair and pants, yanking your skirt up to rip at your underwear. The fabric gives easily.

While he rips and claws at his own clothes to free his cock, Ushijima stares at your reflection, watching you shake as the tears well up and spill over. There’s nothing human there, nothing cognizant. The black pits staring back at you are pure alpha, consumed by the need to fuck and breed. 

You have seconds – seconds – to brace yourself.

Ushijima drags the head of his cock along your slit just once, bends you over, and without warning or preamble, splits you in two. 

Omegas have slick to help with sudden ruts. You don’t. 

It doesn’t matter that you’re not prepared to take him, that it hurts worse than anything you’ve experienced before and you’re choking on tears and muffled wails. You scream into his hand and Ushijima grunts, bullying his cock into you one agonising millimetre at a time. 

He fucks into you like you’re made to take his cock, every thrust slamming you into the unforgiving edge of the sink while your legs scramble for purchase. You’re fairly sure you’re close to passing out when you feel the swell of his knot start to catch. 

Oblivious to your panic, the wheezing cries and pleas dashed against his palm, the alpha snarls in open-mouthed pleasure, his spare hand coming down to cover one of your own, braced against the sink. “Mine.”

With the added weight, the vanity unit rattles against the wall, and you pray that someone’s walking by and hears it, cares enough to come investigate.

You aren’t that lucky, though.

Ushijima hauls you back upright, and as his knot swells, thick and pulsing, stretching you to breaking point and spurts of hot cum coat your insides, you cling on to consciousness just long enough to watch him tilt your chin to the side, lap at a bead of sweat trailing down your neck, and bury his teeth in your skin. 

—

Three days after your release from hospital, you wake to Aya knocking at your bedroom.

“S’posed to be at the bakery,” you mumble, curling tighter into the warm cocoon of your sheets. Soft morning light spills into your room. You can’t be bothered reaching for your phone to see the time, however your internal clock tells you that whatever the time is, it’s too early.

Aya sighs, taking that as an invitation to slip inside and plant herself on the edge of the mattress beside you. “Soon. I swapped shifts so I could start a bit later. I didn’t want…” she seems to struggle to find the right words, her shoulders rising and falling in a helpless shrug. “You know I love you, right?”

“I know.”

That isn’t the problem. 

“You remember the day your mom left?” The stark flinch beneath the covers must serve as answer enough. “You wouldn’t stop crying. Gran was so worried you’d make yourself sick, kept bringing you tea, bottles of water, anything to keep you hydrated.” 

An omega like her granddaughter, the last of her alphas having passed away a few years before, she’d paced fretfully outside Aya’s bedroom door for hours while you’d sobbed into your best friend’s arms, an absolute wreck. 

A bittersweet feeling floods your heart at the memory. No one ever loved you like gran did. 

Aya continues, “I made a decision that day. I wasn’t going to leave. I wasn’t going to run off with a bunch of alphas to live out some fairytale happily ever after and leave you behind. You can blame me for what happened. I get it. If I hadn’t scented you, he–” she breaks off with a sharp inhale.

He wouldn’t have tipped into a rut.

Wouldn’t have fucked you.

Knotted you.

Bit you. 

“You can blame me for it,” she repeats, though her voice shakes and her eyes shine with tears she won’t let fall. “Hate me for it if you have to, so long as you know I’m not going anywhere. You’re still my beta, my best friend. All I wanted was to keep us together.”

Aya waits for you to say something. To forgive or condemn, and you try– you genuinely do, because blaming her isn’t fair, and you could no sooner hate her than you could carve out a lung. 

Only… you open your mouth and there’s nothing. 

The way her expression collapses before she has a chance to plaster over it hits you like a punch to the stomach. 

“Alright, lovely girl. I’ll see you when I get back – four-ish probably, unless we get hit with a late rush. I’ll try and steal some of those mini strawberry cakes to bring home too, I know how much you like them,” she rambles, patting your blanket covered knee and rising to her feet. “Call me if you need anything.”

“Aya–”

Already halfway to the door, she turns, perfect brow arched, “Hm?” Like she’s expecting you to ask for another blanket. Some tea. Nothing wrong, nothing amiss. 

“Love you, too.”

And it’s like the sun coming out from the clouds. Aya beams a watery smile, and quietly closes the door behind her. 

Sleep drags you back under before you hear the front door click. The doctors warned you about that; one of the many charming side effects you’d be subjected to over the next few weeks.

Bond sickness, they called it. An alpha’s bite formed a mating bond, and that bond doesn’t respond well when it’s neglected, say by putting several miles of distance between you and the alpha who marked you. For omegas it can be deadly if it goes on long enough. Alphas have a sense of it, but it doesn’t affect them in the same way. They don’t get sick. For you, it means a month or so of lethargy, aches, low grade fevers and chills, nausea, a veritable shopping list of symptoms that’ll ease and fade as the bond itself does. 

None of that had stopped one of the nurse’s at the hospital from suggesting that, despite the delicate nature of the situation, it might be beneficial for your health if you moved in with Ushijima and his pack until it did fade. 

It was Aya who’d jumped down her throat for that one. 

You were still in shock. Numb–

Except for the foreign, slow simmering anger lodged like a thorn between your ribs. A small piece of you that wasn’t you at all. 

—

Sometime around midmorning, you stir again.

There’s footsteps in the living room, pattering through towards your bedroom. Dancing on the edge of awake, your brain slow and sluggish, jumps to the most logical conclusion. 

“Aya?” 

You expect your door to open, that familiar bloom of lilacs to spill into your room along with your best friend, a bowl of noodle soup from the shop on the corner in tow, the strawberry cakes she promised earlier, extra pillows, coffee, her laptop with your favourite movie already queued up; comfort things she knows will help.

The door does swing open, and neither one of the tall, looming frames behind it belong to Aya. 

“Sorry to disappoint, little beta,” Semi drawls, crossing the threshold like he has every right to be there. “Your girlfriend’s busy, you’re gonna have to play with us instead.”

The blood in your veins runs cold. 

Drawing your legs up tight to put as much distance between you and the advancing alpha as you can, your eyes dart between the two, Tendou lingering in the doorway, fingers drumming against the jamb. 

“I didn’t report him. I’m not going to,” you tell them, clutching at the blankets around you so your hands won’t shake. “I know how it’ll go, I’m not i-interested in–”

Semi reaches your bed. That look he’d had in his eyes back at the stadium, dark, focused, predatory – it’s there again, sharp and gleaming. He’s smirking. 

“There’s no– you don’t need to threaten me, or-or try to scare me–” His knee hits the mattress and your voice jumps to a squeak as he climbs on up.

You squirm back against the headboard. Semi prowls closer. 

There’s nowhere for you to go. 

Tendou’s not so subtly placed himself between you and the exit, and even if you could launch yourself out of bed without Semi catching you – without your head spinning and stomach threatening to upheave – they’re alphas. You couldn’t outrun them on a good day, you sure as hell can’t fight them.  

“Please. You can go. I-I won’t say anything.”

“Fuck, that’s cute,” Tendou shivers, the deep red of his iris nearly swallowed by black. His fingers aren’t idly drumming anymore, they’re digging into the wood, splintering it beneath his grip. 

Inches away from you, Semi suddenly freezes, his attention snapping downwards to focus on something near his right hand. His nose wrinkles, lip curling. “You wanna know what I liked best about the omega?” he asks, lifting his gaze back to you. “I don’t think you really believed me back at the stadium.”

You shake your head. You don’t want to know. If they aren’t here to scare you into keeping your mouth shut about Ushijima, then–

A low, husky chuckle comes from the doorway. 

“When she’d show up smelling like the sea in summer.” 

He strikes hard and fast – seizing your ankle to yank you under him. His mouth finds the soft curve where your neck meets your shoulder and he bites down. Hard. 

Agony washes you over you, chased by fire. 

Panting wildly, your body locks up, arcing against him; against the warmth that crowds you, the hard muscles that cage you, the face now tucked into the crook of your neck, licking at the bloody, oozing wound. 

He’s there inside of you, too. Buried beneath your skin, brimming with smug satisfaction. 

“Bite her and we’ll take her home to the nest. I’m not fucking her here,” he calls over his shoulder, keeping his eyes fixed on you. He pats your hair, strokes your cheek. “Little beta needs her mates, don’t you?”

“Course she does!”

You’re gasping for air that won’t come, trembling, heart beating so frantically inside your chest you worry it’ll give out.

Tendou, bounding over with puppy-like eagerness, jumps on the bed and shoves his fellow alpha out of the way. 

“A…ya,” you rasp, weakly pushing at the large body crawling atop yours. You’re not sure whether it’s a question or a plea, but you get the sense that it doesn’t actually matter either way. 

Semi rolls his eyes – you can feel the flicker of his irritation – while Tendou, pawing at your sleep tee, pushing it up and shoving his face into the soft skin revealed there only groans, huffing at your scent like he can’t get enough. 

“Pretty omega like her? She’ll have her own alphas to worry about,” Semi dismisses, a faint frown marring his pretty face as he zeros in on the bandage over your neck. 

A split second too late, you realise his intentions. 

“No, don’t–”

He rips off the gauze.

Ushijima’s bite is puffy and inflamed. Calloused fingertips drift over the edges of the wound, Semi’s eyes boring into you as you let out a low, anxious whine. As Tendou licks and nips at your chest, working his way upwards, the blond increases the pressure, digging in.

You choke on a cry, pleasure, rather than pain, flooding and overwhelming your senses, and deep in your core, the answering surge of rabid need rips through you so viciously it punches the air from your lungs–

“We don’t fucking share.”

–and you scream as Tendou’s teeth sink into the curve of your breast, claiming you one final time.

bully tsukishima who shares the same university class as you. tsukishima complained when the new term started and saw you sitting there in his next class, refusing to make eye contact with him. he changed his tune when he was able to sit behind you everyday and make little distressed noises come out of you. he throws pens at you, hitting the back of your head, drawing attention to you both while you try to ignore the snickers from the people around. tsukishima much prefers getting as close as he can to you and pinching your sides, making you quietly yelp, it's the best when he's able to get close to you and squeeze your plush rolls on your stomach, all while you try and move away but he grips on too strong. sometimes he'll get so close he'll be able to smell your perfume and hear your heavy breathing. he'd be lying if he said it didn't turn him on to hear your sniffles and your breathing hitch while your body shakes. after the class ends you leave as quick as you can, not looking behind you and running away, it just makes tsukishima more determined to get you to look at him next time. for now though he smirks as he gets the best reactions out of you and tries to adjust himself so no one notices how hard he is.

❝ 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐍 ❞

nanami, geto, toji, gojo, choso, sukuna, etc...

+18, nsfw, heavy smut, fisting, heavy kink, heavy breeding kink, filthiness, dirty, squirting, cumslut, osonomia, fucking while sleeping, fucking till you pass out, ass eating, spit kink, pissing, pet play, angry sex, rough sex, sex toys (pumper, vibrator, etc..), baby-trap, multiple orgasm, daddy kink, cumdump.

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎

nanami was a pervert. he indeed was, at first kento tried to deny it- he tried to deny the attraction he had toward you. his step daughter. he tried to deny the way his fat cock would leak through his pants every time he sees you walking around the house with your little pajamas shorts. he tried to deny the way the memory of your sweet scent had him stroking his throbbing cock every morning before work till he spills his warm cum on the shower walls.

but he couldn't deny it when he kneels next to the kitchen chair that you just sat on, when he press his face against the seat- it was warm, warm indicating that it wasn't long ago since your pretty little ass sat here. nanami groans, he huffs as he palms his cock, sniffing the seat with each stroke, his eyes rolling back at the fresh scent of yours. your plumpy delicious ass was sat there. his step daughters ass was sat there- he repeats in his mind, eyes rolling back his skull as he dreams about you sitting on his face instead.

as he dreams about eating your plumpy ass, slurping, licking your wetness. just one lick- his wet tongue peak out, licking the seat- the seat your ass sat on. he sloppily move his tongue against the fabric of the chair, drooling as he thinks about the taste of pussy juice- the taste of your ass. his spit was coating the seat, but he could careless as his hips shudder and his cum leak through the fabric of his pants.

he couldn't deny it when his eyes would sneak glances at the laundry his wife place outside to dry. his eyes focusing on the slutty little thongs of his step daughter. kento couldn't help the way he would steal one of your panties- one would turn into two. he couldn't help the way he went from stealing your fresh cleaned panties, to your used filthy ones. sneaking into the washing machine and digging in looking through the dirty laundry basket for your panties. his mouth drooling once he finds one- sniffing it, licking it making sure to coat it with his boiling seeds.

it felt dirty. filthy. the sexual attraction you had with your step dad, nothing was more filthy than the sneaky touchs, the sneaky glances kento would give you. his rough hands would make their way under the dinner table as your mom was distracted serving whatever she cooked for the day. you can feel the heatness of his hand slipping inside your booty shorts pajamas, just to give your clit a pinch through your panties. keeping a straight face as he blows out the smoke of his cigarette.

even if you're sitting on the opposite side of him at the dinner table- the table wasn't big enough to save you from him. he would go as far as man spreading his thick long legs till the front of his knees brush against your throbbing pussy. humping his knees against it, his jaw clenching hard as he feels the way you're gushing all over his leg, your juice slipping into the kitchen chair. making a mess, he wouldn't stop till there's tears building up in eyes. he wouldn't stop till you're so close to squirting, not caring that your mom is a foot away.

you and your step dad nanami, never really had any alone time expect the days his wife would go out with her friends so you always make sure to get the most out of it. kento wouldn't immediately lunch at you, suckling on your tongue sloppily the only sound that filled the house was the wet noises of your wet kiss. "fucking slut teasing your daddy like that yea? you wanted it this bad walking around with no panties on?" he growls next to your ear as he feels your bare pussy under your skirt.

you whine swaying your hips against his hard cock, your hands reaching to your pussy to remove the plug he made you wear but kento immediately beat you to it, shoving your hand away causing you to whimper. "no, no my little baby isn't gonna get daddies cock inside of her pussy today" he mutters placing wet kisses against your neck from behind, as he stroke his cock against your sensitive clit.

"daddy is gonna use the sweet little ass of yours" he whispers into your ear. before you had time to process what he said. kento tear through your ass, shoving his huge cock in one thrust, groaning at the way your ass hole immediately suck him in. your eyes cross, body shaking before you completely see black- passing out.

but that doesn't step nanami, as he use your body like a ragdoll, holding your leg up side way, while he slams you repeatedly into his fat cock. "aww my little baby couldn't handle it" he groans, pinching your nipples hard between his fingers. causing you to bludge away, sobbing from the overwhelming pain and pleasure that shoots through you.

"daddy-! ah! please no more! no more!" you choke on your sobs, clawing your nails against his biceps. but nanami only seems to enjoy the sting of your nails because he goes Inhumenly faster. your tits were bouncing everywhere.

"im gonna paint the little ass of your white" kento groans, his huge hand Involding your entire face, grabbing it to face him and shove his tongue past your lips. ringing the bell door sound was heard by the house door, indicating your mom was here.

that seems to send both of you to the edge, the filthy feeling of getting caught fucking his step daughter, had him empty his balls inside of your tight hole. the filthy feeling of getting caught fucking your step dad, had you squirting all over his abs, your juice dripping down his balls.

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𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 / 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

gojo and geto were twins, no body believed them when they said that. they don't blame them though. gojo having a white hair and light blue eyes was quite the opposite of getos dark hair and black eyes. they were quite the opposite personality wise too, since you knew them for a very long time. being their bff, you learned that gojo was the teasingly playful one. while geto was more of the quite one silently observing everything.

having a sleep over won't be this bad, right? at least this is what you thought. gojo and his brother geto had completely other plans. sleeping on the bed with geto on your right side and gojo on your left side wasn't your best idea. geto never felt this way, he was fuming at the mouth like a dog in heat, his cock leaking through the fabric of his boxer, his body was overwhelmed with excitement, pleasure as he lays down so close to you.

he can feel your body heatness, his cock keeps twitching, so eager to breed you, so ready to fill you. gojo was the first one to make his move. he hover his body over you from behind, placing his cock between your perky butt cheeks. his hot breath, fanning against your ear before he takes your ear lobe into his wet mouth, sloppily suckling on it. his whole body shudder as he slowly lifts up your nightgown.

"fuck, what a fucking slut" geto groans as he catch a glimpse of your bare pussy under the cover of the blanket once gojo lifts your nightgown. he slowly gets closer to your body just like his twin, his heart beating loudly through his chest as his fingers pull the string of your nightgown down revealing your swollen, plumpy tits. his mouth was watering looking at your hard nipples, itching to suckle on them like a new born baby.

gojo was busy lapping into your cute little ears, he always wanted to taste them, his spit was covering every inch of it, but he couldn't get enough as he keeps suckling. while his cock rested between your ass cheeks, twitching, and making a mess. he slips his hands down your belly till he reachs your puffy clit while you sleep soundly, while his brother gropes your tits, filling his huge hands with them. he starts purring like a cat, kneading your tits.

gojo free his cock out of his boxer, and place it between your soft ass cheeks, his eyes cross at the feeling of having the soft skin of your little ass that he's been dreaming of. it was enveloping his fat cock, as he slippery starts rutting his hips.

geto was to lost in your tits as he suckle on your nipples, he unconsciously starts humping against your thick thighs, they were getting rougher and rougher not caring if they wake you up or get caught. satoru whines low in his throat, biting the inside of his cheek as the top of his cock begins rubbing against your bare lips with the drag of his hips.

that causes geto to pump his hips faster. he rocked against your slippery thighs enveloping his throbbing dick. your pussy and thighs are slick with his and satoru’s precome. gojo feels himself leaking all over you as he continues to roll his hips. breathy whines slip from his lips and he does his best to muffle them by taking your earlobe inside his mouth.

"what-" your voice mutters as you stare eyes wide open at the twins. but your words were soon cut off as both of them slip their fat cocks into your pussy, rotting in with one thrust. their cocks ripping through you as they start groaning at how tight you are. clenching around their cock coating it with the gushing juice that's coming out of you and drenching the sheets.

it was your pee- you pee all over the bed, and their cocks from how over whelmed with pleasure you were. gojo was breathless. his thighs are already trembling, sweat beading on his forehead, and his toes curling at the pleasure that shoots up his spine from the feeling of your dirty pee coating his cock and spilling from his balls down to the sheets.

geto whines— he whines; a sound he didn’t know he was even capable of, before he spills inside of you, still rocking his hips against you, while he can feel gojos cock that was still inside of you rubbing against his own cock.

gojo soon enough follow his twin, he burries his face into the crook of your neck before the tip of his cock hit your womb one last time and it was his time to fill you to the peak.

they stay inside of you, their leaking cocks being hard again while you lay down to fucked out to even recover from whateved happened, gojo runs his finger down your belly all he can think about is weither the baby is going to look like or him or geto.

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𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

leaving him? it was so cute that a thought like this even came across your mind. toji grins as he unlock the door of the apartment you were supposedly staying in "away" from him.

he makes his way inside your apartment his cock instantly harding as the scent of you envelop his nose. he's going to make sure you pay for leaving him this way, toji ears perk up as he hears the shower water running indicating that you're in the bathroom.

he smirks as he makes his way toward the bedroom, his eyes darken as they land on your panties and cloth that was scattered around your room. he gets a hold of your cute little panties between his hand and he immediately place it close to his nose, inhaling the fresh scent of your pussy.

he's going to make you pay for keeping his sweet little pussy away from him for this long. his eyes catch something, there was a toy placed on your desk night- a red vibrator. oh you were in deep trouble, letting this pathetic little toy touch your pussy, make you orgasm knowing full well you're not allowed to cum around anything but his fat cock.

toji holds the toy close to his mouth, before his red pierced tongue peak out and lick the left saltiness of your wetness. his eyes roll back, you almost had him fucking cum in his pants from the taste of this wet pussy that you have kept away from him for a week. he's going to make you pay.

this is how you ended up here. your upper body is fully pressed against the foggy glass of the shower, warm water dripping down your body as tojis fat cock fills you in. your tits were completely smashed against the glass, while your face was pressed against his mouth as he groans against you.

"yea? you can't last without my cock?" he mutters against you slamming his cock into your tight pussy, you're starting to see white spots. you missed his cock so much, toji hands sneak in to grab your nipples that had missed suckling on, he squeeze them hard between his rough fingers.

tojis eyes widen as he stares at the white warm liquid that squirts out of your nipples, landing on the glass wall of the shower. your body shake- you knew you were pregnant with his child. you wanted to tell him but things didn't give you the time to.

"shit- shit- shit!" toji boy shake against you, pleasure shooting down his cock at the thought of his baby being inside of your belly. it's because of him your breast are swollen with milk. it's all for him, it all belong to him.

you gasp as toji press your body down the shower floor, slaming his cock inside of you, his arm around your head as he push his full body weight into you, it's like something switched in him, it's like you unlocked something in him.

he lean his head back before taking a fat nipple inside his warm mouth, the taste of your milk hitting his tongue has him almost blacking out. it's embarrassing for him how fast he cums, you can feel his warm seeds filling you in.

you gently run your fingers through his wet hair, as you coo at him. his lips never leaving your nipples, flicking his tongue around it. you can feel his cold piercing hitting your sensitive bud.

seems like you were gonna stay for awhile in the shower.

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𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍

"mmm fuck, you little filthy slut" sukuna growls out as he slump down his throne not being able to blance himself from how hard you're riding him.

you bounce on one of his cocks while, the other once was brushing against your clit as you grind your cum filled cunt, sukuna have already finished two times inside of you- but of curse he wasn't finished he needs to stuff you full till his cums start dripping from your nose.

two of his large, rough hands are on your hips, gripping so hard creating a wound, gushing blood from it but it only seems to turn him on more. while his other two hands are on yours boobs, sucking and biting on your nipples with his hand-mouth.

as you were about to reach your peak sukuna grab you from your wait and lift you, as you were about to complain and white for him to let you cum- sukuna slams his huge grith inside the hole of your tight-ass tearing through, you scream out, while sukuna growls and groan clearly enjoying how tight your hole is clenching around him.

"cant to much- to much" you choke out on your sobs, cant handle the overwhelming size of him inside your ass. but what you nearly pass out was when sukuna grabbed his other cock and shoved it inside of your folds, stuffing both of your holes with his dripping, cocks- angry and ready to fill you as he promised.

"shhh little one, let me stuff you full of my cum, let me make you my cum dump" he purrs out as he sucks your tongue inside of his mouth- and this is exactly what he did, he stuffed you ten times with his cums, five times in your cunt and other five inside your little ass.

but he doesn't stop there, your body lay against him, twitching. as your pussy drips with over loads of his cum, sukuna catch the cum that was spilling with his palm. scooping it with his hand, before he slowly start shoving his fist that was filled with him seeds back into your pussy.

you whine as you feel his fist tearing through you, he gently shush you with his other hand while the other two hold you down by your hips, for him to have easy access.

his fist make it's way inside of your tight pussy, enveloping his whold hand. he growls as he feels how tight you were clenching around him, how warm and hot your inside felt against his fist. he can the pool of cum that he filled you with, coating the insids of your pussy.

"i gotta-" you didn't fully finish your sentence because sukuna already know what you're going to say. he place his mouth hand on your clit, drinking in the warm spurt that starts gushing out of your pussy.

you scream as you start squirting the hot liquid, his cum starts spilling from your ass past his fist from the force of your orgasm.

sukuna growls as he stares at the mess you're making, his third arm making it's way toward your ass hole and scoop his cum that just spilled just to shoved it inside your little ass, fisting it just like your pussy.

"good fucking girl" sukuna mutters against your forehead, as your figure tremle against him.

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𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎

every since choso got the feeling to cum inside of you- to breed you. he couldn't stop after. it could be early in the morning and choso wouldn't be able to wait to fill you up with his cum.

it could be in the middle of work, he would beg you to sneak inside the bathroom for him to fill you cunt again. but lately something new been added to chosos breeding kink.

"baby- please fuck fuck fuck please just step on me baby" choso whine out kneeling in front of you, he just finished helping you put your heels on, and obviously your needy boyfriend got hard.

it's been a week since you discovered chosos filthy fetch, at first you didn't notice how he would take extra care of your feets, or how he would give extra attention to your feets, the way he would spoil you, buy tones of heels, without any doubt, the way he almost came into his pants once he saw your curved feets, and cute little toes in a dark red heels- his favorite color.

the why he would kiss each one of your toes as he massage your feets after along exhausting day, the way he stare at your toes that curled instinctively, unknowingly causing arousal to pool in his gut, the way he would always beat his hard cock as he sniffs one of your high thigh fluffly christmas socks, remembering the way your cute little feets and plumy thighs looked in them.

"do it, step on me." choso begs, leaning forward slightly to nuzzle against your belly. he looks up at you with his chin against your lower belly, pretty eyes pleading.

"what did i say about being a good boy baby? have you been a good boy today?" you look down at his figure, can't help the wetness that drenched your panties from having him like that.

slowly trailing your heels down his hard on, and stepping harshly on it- knowing he likes it rough, choso eyes cross, as he started humping your feet. your fingers run through his dark locks and pulling his head back, making him look up at you.

"you want to cum inside of me baby? you want to feel me with your seeds?" you coo at him, teasing him as you press the tip of your heels against the sensitive tip of his cock that was leaking through his pants, soaking the fabric.

he nods eagerly, you smirk at how desperate he is, not knowing what's coming for him.

here he was his hands tied up behind his back, as your body was on top of him. he stare at you confused. "but i wanna touch you-" you shush him by hovering your pussy against his cock, his mouth immediately shut and his eyes hazily focus on the way your wetness drip to his cock.

you know how much choso was touchy when he was inside of you. you knew it would drive him crazy if he doesn't to get to do that because of his tied up arms. but what you didn't know was how strong choso really is.

because as soon as you slam your pussy down his fat cock, choso immediately tear up the rob that tied his arms together. you gasp once he flips you over. he was huffing like a dog in heat. slamming his hips down your pussy with no mercy.

"em gonna cum! em gonna cum!" choso whimpers before you feel him coating your walls with his seeds.

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tag list : @nxxun-blog @kikosamus @rxndou @seinagiswife @reagan707 @sadmonke @chilichopsticks @baby--vera ( i couldn't tag the other becuz u have ur tags off) hope u enjoy :3

lee felix from stray kids is so offensively pretty it should be illegal

Reblog if you were a STAY before we got our official name

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King

Part II.

You hate Tsukishima Kei. With a passion. Seriously. But what happens when you, the manager of his college volleyball team, get stuck in a hotel room with him? For an entire week... With only a king bed for both of you to sleep on...

Warnings: fem!bodied reader, choking, unprotected sex, bullying (on both sides), one bed trope (lol).

Word Count: 4900+

Minors DNI, please and thank you. All characters are 18+.

A/N: I'm back with another Tsukki drabble 😌 Let's fucking go.

Smut is below the cut, as always.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N,” the coach was saying on the other end of the phone, “but because we added Jiro so last minute this week, I’m going to have to put you with one of the guys on the team. I already called the hotel, and they don’t have any more rooms available.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration. Of course. You didn’t think of this when Jiro unexpectedly transferred into the program and made the volleyball team this past week. You had been so wrapped up in your own excitement for the tournament that you forgot you wouldn’t get a room all to yourself this time.

“It’s no biggie, Coach,” you reply. But it is a biggie. “I don’t mind.” But I do mind. “Put me with whoever is willing to room with me!” Don’t you dare put me with that bastard Tsukishima.

“Y/N, I really can’t thank you enough for being so understanding. I’ll make sure to be extra careful next tournament so I can give you your own room like normal! Can’t wait to see you Monday morning!”

After you hang up the phone, you find annoyance bubbling up in your chest. It would be your luck that the hotel is fully booked, but then you should have expected that considering what tournament was happening this upcoming week. As you shove stuff into your suitcase, you try to come to terms with who you might room with. Jiro would be fine, since you didn’t really know each other. You’d even be fine with the team captain, Yuuji. Anyone but Tsukishima.

Before you went to sleep for the night, you prayed to any God out there that you’d get paired with anyone else on the team.

But your prayers go unanswered.

“Everyone was too shy to room with you, Y/N,” Coach was explaining to you as he walked you to your room. You had a glare plastered on your face at him. “And no one wanted to room with Tsukishima either. So, the best thing I could have done to make sure my team gets along for this tournament is-”

“To put Tsukishima with me?” you say with disgust.

“I’m not happy about it either,” Tsukishima says from beside you, glare also evident on his face. Only it’s directed at you.

You turn a harsh look on him. “No one was speaking to you, four eyes,” you snap.

“You little…” he mutters, turning to tower over you.

“Okay, you two,” the coach interrupts. “Here is your room.” He scans the key card and ushers Tsukishima in. He turns to you, handing you the key card before ushering you in as well. “Don’t lose that. I want you to be in charge of it.” You nod along as you step into the room.

“WHAT?” Tsukishima yells from inside.

You feel your annoyance bubbling up to the surface again. “Oi, Tsukishima, pipe down,” you scold.

“Y/N,” he says to get your attention. You finally glance up at him, glare ready, eye twitching to find him looking worse for wear. “There’s only one bed.”

You feel your face drop and whirl yourself around to tell coach.

“Uh, I gotta go check on the others!” he says as he dashes out of the doorway, letting the door come to a close.

So, you stand there, next to the bastard Tsukishima, at the foot of the bed, both of you in utter disbelief as you stare at the one king sized bed in the center of the room. It’s silent for a long moment.

“You’re sleeping on the floor,” you tell him matter-of-factly.

“What?!” he exclaims. “The floor is hardwood, Y/N! I have a tournament to play in this week! You’re the one that is going to be sleeping on the floor.”

You turn to him, a look of utter disgust on your face only to find he is returning the look. “You’d really make your team manager sleep on the hardwood floor?” you ask, hoping to bait him into saying no, he wouldn’t do that to you.

“Yes.”

“What?” you ask in disbelief.

“Yes, I would make my snotty team manager sleep on the hardwood floor.” He sneers down at you.

Before you can stop yourself, you raise a fist, ready to punch him, but he just sticks an arm out, hand pressing against your forehead as he continues to push you away, laughing as you struggle to get a hit in. This bastard and his ridiculously long monkey arms…

You huff out as you straighten your clothes, and he crosses his arms. “I’m going to take a shower,” you tell him. “And when I come out, I better see your bed made up on the floor.”

He scoffs and waves you away with a roll of his eyes. You feel your eye start twitching again as you close the door to the bathroom and turn the water on. As you step into the shower, you feel your anger spike again. How dare he try to make you sleep on the floor?! Didn’t his mother teach him any manners?!

You were hoping the warm water would calm you down, but as you step out onto the towel outside of the shower you find that, in your annoyance, you forgot to get your clothes from your suitcase. You curse yourself underneath your breath before wrapping a towel tightly around your body.

You crack open the bathroom door and peek out. You can see Tsukishima lounging on the bed in the reflection of the mirror right outside the bathroom door. He’s playing on his phone. Thinking you could get to your suitcase quickly without him noticing, you pad out to the living area only to come to a halt when you realize your suitcase is on the side of the bed he is currently laying on.

“T-Tsukishima,” you stutter out, nerves getting the best of you.

“What is it now?” he says as he lowers his phone to glare at you.

Your face reddens as he makes eye contact, his glare falling into a look of awe and disbelief. His own face begins to redden before he turns quickly away.

“Have you lost your mind?!” he damn near shouts at you.

“I forgot my clothes, you asshole!” you shout at his back. “And my suitcase is by you!”

“Well, hurry up and get your clothes, for Christ’s sake!”

You hesitate. “Don’t look at me,” you tell him, voice soft. “Promise you won’t look at me and then I’ll be able to get my clothes.”

He takes a deep breath before closing his eyes. “I won’t look,” he promises, voice surprisingly gentle. “I closed my eyes.”

You get to your suitcase and quickly throw it open. As you’re rummaging through its contents you glance up to see that his eyes were, in fact, closed. You feel your heart skip a beat at that, for whatever reason, and speed walk back to the bathroom with your clothes in hand.

Tsukishima waits until he hears the bathroom door close again before he blows out the breath he was holding. He turns to look at the space you just occupied outside of the bathroom door and feels his face heat up again. He knew you were pretty. Hell, everyone knew you were drop dead gorgeous. Other teams would make comments before, during and after games. It drove him and his teammates nuts. Though, they would all be lying if they said they never fantasized about you before. Him included. He would often find himself being dragged into locker room talk about you after practice, after games, during team study sessions that you were never invited to. He never participated simply because he respected you too much to talk about you in that manner. His teammates thought it was just because he hated you.

The way you two interacted never went unnoticed by anyone. Perhaps putting you two together in a room was the coach’s way of telling you two to get over it. It felt like Coach was telling him he had to be friends with you. The only problem is that Tsukishima didn’t want to be friends with you in the first place.

And so, he finds himself setting up a wall of pillows in the middle of the bed. He doesn’t want to sleep on the floor, and he certainly doesn’t want you to. As he is placing the last pillow, you exit the bathroom, wet hair dripping onto the oversized tee shirt you were wearing. When he turns to look at you, he notices that the tips of your cheekbones are still a light shade of pink. Then he glances down.

“Oi, Y/N,” he says lowly, voice laced with annoyance.

“What?” you snap back.

“Where are your pants?” He points at your bare legs.

You feel your face heat up at ten times the speed. “I am wearing pants!” you exclaim, hoisting your shirt up past your navel in anger. “I’m wearing shorts!”

In your haste, you didn’t realize just how high you had yanked the shirt up.

So, there you were, shirt held tightly in your hands showing off your short sleep shorts… and the bottom half of your breasts.

“Put your shirt down!” he shouts, nearly tripping over his own suitcase as he runs over to you, grabs the hem, and yanks your shirt back down over your body.

You turn your face up at him, brows knitting together as you frown at him, completely unaware of just how much you were showing him. “I was just showing you that I had shorts on underneath this shirt,” you tell him.

“Yes, yes,” he responds, “you’ve made your point.” But I didn’t need to see that, he thinks to himself. Now how will I be able to sleep knowing they’re right next to me? And they look like that?

His hands fist into your shirt at your waist and you suddenly become very aware of him touching you.

“Okay,” you say a little too loudly, taking a giant step away from him and pushing his hands off of you. “Let’s get ready for bed.”

As Tsukishima is brushing his teeth, you walk around the room to shut lights off, leaving the bedside light on, and adjust the thermostat. You come to a halt as you lift the covers to get into the bed. You stare blankly at the wall of pillows in the center.

Tsukishima exits the bathroom, then, yawning loudly, stopping when you turn an annoyed look on him.

“I told you to sleep on the floor,” you ground out.

“And I told you, not happening,” he answers, voice snide.

“So, your solution was to put pillows between us?”

“I felt like it was a fair compromise,” he answers. “I don’t want to touch you; you don’t want to touch me.”

“And you think pillows are going to keep us separated? All night?”

“I do. Oh, and you’re sleeping closest to the wall.” He moves to where you’re standing, pushing you aside and climbing into the bed.

You stand there in disbelief. He must have lost his mind. You turn to glance around the room and notice that the side closest to the wall is farthest from the door. You feel your heart skip a beat again.

“Tick tock, Y/N,” he says as he reaches to shut the last lamp off. “What will it be?” He sneers up at you before he flips the switch, and the room goes black.

Before you can think too much about it, you stomp over to the other side of the bed.

“Stay on your side,” you tell him as you settle in.

“That won’t be a problem,” he answers back.

You turn on your side away from him, staring at the wall for what feels like forever until sleep finally pulls you under.

A knock on the door wakes you up the next morning, a voice outside telling you to come get breakfast before the bus leaves in two hours for the games.

But it’s so warm, you think as you burrow your head deeper into your pillow. You could get away with five more minutes, right? But another knock sounds on the door, signaling that it was, indeed, time to get up. You forgot coach made two rounds just ten minutes apart.

As your eyes flutter open, you realize why you feel so warm.

Tsukishima’s arms are wound tightly around your waist, your head comfortably tucked underneath his chin, face pressed into his chest. Your own arms betrayed you in your sleep as well, you notice, as you become painfully aware of their position around his body. The pillows that were meant to keep you separated are nowhere in sight. You feel your anxiety spike when you realize he has you practically trapped.

“Tsukishima,” you say trying to wake him.

He groans before his arms tighten around you. “Five more minutes,” he pleads, voice groggy. If you weren’t so anxious, you would think he sounded somewhat hot.

“Tsukki,” you try again, opting for his nickname.

He groans again, body shifting slightly before sighing, still not awake.

“Tsukki,” you say, louder this time.

He finally opens one eye to look at you, annoyed. You’re looking up at him with wide eyes, pleading with him silently to let you go.

“Uhm,” you start.

“Why are you so close to me?” he asks, voice thick with sleep.

Instead of answering, you move your eyes down to look at his arms currently wrapped around your waist. It takes Tsukishima a long second to realize why you’re so close to him. Then he is shoving you away from him as if he had touched a hot stovetop. You shriek as he launches himself away from you and off the bed, waist throbbing in pain from where he had hastily shoved you away. You rub the spot with a hand.

“What the hell, Tsukishima?” You glare at him. “You didn’t have to push me that hard.”

“Let’s not talk about it,” he suggests before turning on his heel and heading into the bathroom.

So, you decide to ignore what happened. For days. If the team advances every single day, you could be sharing a room with him for the next seven days. Lo and behold, they do. You had been avoiding each other since you woke up somehow encased in his arms, eating meals separately and coming back to the hotel room at different times.

But the night before the championship game, the coach makes everyone go to their rooms early, saying something about how everyone needs to get a good night of sleep.

And so here you are, at 10:00 PM, wide awake next to the wide-awake Tsukishima whom you haven’t spoken to in days simply because you haven’t had to. Nor did you really want to, for that matter. You’re separated by pillows, but it feels like he is closer than ever to you. If you concentrated hard enough, you could hear his breathing.

“Ugh,” you finally groan. “I can’t sleep.” You frown up at the ceiling.

“Maybe if you changed your attitude, you’d be asleep by now,” Tsukishima says from beside you.

You sit up to glare at him. “I don’t see you sleeping either,” you point out.

“I’m not sleeping because I’ve chosen not to sleep yet,” he replies.

You scoff. “Yeah right, I bet its because you’ve had to sit the bench the last two games.” You were taking a low blow, you knew that. But still, you said it.

He shoots up into a sitting position on his side of the bed now, returning your glare with just as much fervor. “It’s not my fault I’ve been off my game the last couple of days. It’s because I have to share a room with the most aggravating person on the planet!”

“Oh yes, because it’s certainly not the fact that you suck at volleyball.”

Suddenly, he’s in your face. “Say that again,” he dares you.

You swallow thickly before shaking your head, glare nowhere to be found now.

“Funny how you think I suck at volleyball, but I must be good at something else in your dreams.”

You feel your face heat up. “W-what are you talking about?” you stutter.

“You mean to tell me you haven’t been dreaming of me every single night since that first morning?”

“No,” you answer, a little too quickly. You avert your gaze away from him.

“You trying to tell me you aren’t the one I hear every night moaning ‘Yes, Tsukki, right there, Tsukki’?” His voice goes up an octave as he imitates your voice and you’d very much like to crawl in a hole and die.

You had had dreams about him this week, yes, you couldn’t deny that. But were you really moaning for him in your sleep?

“You’re lying,” you accuse, voice shaky.

“Am I, though?” His hand finds its way underneath your chin, tilting your face up to his. When your gazes meet, you find that he is suffocatingly close to you. One wrong move and your lips could be touching. “Look me in the face and tell me I’m lying.” His voice oozes confidence.

Suddenly, your tongue feels too big for your mouth. You can’t even form words as you try to look away from him. To be honest, you didn’t know if he was lying or not, but you can’t exactly hear yourself while you sleep.

“Huh, look at that,” he muses as his hand moves from your chin, gliding across your jaw and into your hair at the nape of your neck. “Cat got your tongue?” He’s mocking you now. His hand fists into your hair as you avert your eyes again and he yanks your head back to look at him. You gasp out, surprised. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.” When you make eye contact with him again, he smirks. “Good girl.”

You feel your face heat up at his words, heat pooling in the pit of your stomach as butterflies erupt across your chest.

“Oh? Did you like that?”

You try to shake your head no but find that you can’t move because his hand is still in your hair.

“Use your words, Y/N,” he tells you, voice stern.

You swallow. “N-No,” you stammer.

Suddenly, his lips are by your ear. “Liar,” he whispers, sending a shiver down your spine. The feeling of his lips brushing against the shell of your ear has your sex throbbing. God, you feel like such a virgin right now.

He chuckles as he pulls back to look at your face, lips tilting up into another smirk. Your eyes are wide and doe-like, shining with a few tears, almost like you’re begging for him to take it a step further. Your bottom lip is quivering slightly, and he thinks it’s cute. He searches your face as he shifts onto his knees in front of you, hand loosening in your hair as he cups your head in his hands, thumbs underneath your jaw to direct your face up to his.

“Tell me if I’m taking things too far,” he murmurs, voice suddenly soft.

You don’t even have time to react when he crashes his lips roughly into yours. You gasp out of surprise, and he takes the opportunity to shove his tongue into your mouth. As his tongue strokes yours for the first time, you let out a soft moan at the feeling and finally return his kiss.

Tsukishima almost sighs in relief as you come alive beneath him, and he begins shoving you down onto the mattress. You let him, back hitting the mattress as he moves his mouth to your neck. You part your knees to accommodate his body as his hips make contact with your own. You crane your neck to give him more access as he sucks a bruise right into your jugular. He’s pushing your shirt up and grabbing both of your breasts roughly in his hands. Involuntarily, you thrust your hips up into his, causing his clothed cock to rub right up against your core.

He moves his mouth down quickly to capture a nipple. You cover your mouth to keep yourself from moaning as his tongue flicks across the hardening bud, hips grinding down into you to rub his hardening dick against you again. You moan at the feeling, essence leaking out into your panties as he switches sides, giving the same treatment to your other nipple, hands holding your hips in place as he relentlessly grinds against you.

Your hands are in his hair, back arching to push your tit further into his mouth as you moan out a soft call of his nickname.

His weight leaves your body as he moves to loom above you, hands planted by your head to hold himself up. He’s looking down at you, annoyed, sizing you up. Your chest is heaving, tits on full display with your shirt pushed up past your chest. Your lips are swollen, and your face is flushed.

“It’s Kei to you, right now,” he informs you, voice low. “Got it?”

You nod at him as you try to catch your breath.

Before you realize what he is doing, he has a hand in your sleep shorts and two fingers buried knuckle deep in your dripping hole. You gasp out, hand reaching to wrap around his wrist.

“Words, Y/N,” he reminds you as he watches your face contort in pleasure beneath him.

His fingers begin to pull out. “Ye-” you begin, but he shoves his fingers right back into you, smirking as you finish the S, the sound somewhere between a hiss and a moan.

“Thatta girl,” he praises as he slowly begins fucking you with his fingers, mouth finding its way back to your left nipple.

He sucks the bud into his mouth harshly, ripping a loud moan from your chest as he hooks his fingers up inside of you to hit your g-spot at the same time. He pulls his fingers from your shorts as he begins kissing down your body, fingers moving to pull your shorts and underwear off as his tongue glides across your navel. He sits up and tosses the garments to the floor. Suddenly feeling shy, you close your legs off to him. He makes eye contact with you as his hands find your knees and roughly push your legs apart, baring your pussy to him for the first time.

“Fuck,” he mutters as his hands glide down your inner thighs, body moving to settle his face right where you wanted him the most.

He makes eye contact with you as he brings his mouth closer to your sex, tongue darting out to lick a stripe right between your folds. He groans, eyes closing for a moment.

“Just as I thought,” he comments, “taste so fucking sweet.”

Your face heats up at double the speed, but before you can respond he dives right in, eating you like a man starved. His tongue makes figure eights over your clit, and you tangle your hands in his hair, shoving him deeper into you.

“Yes, Kei,” you moan out as he sucks your clit into his mouth. The sound of his first name falling from your lips like that sounds so hot to him that he finds himself leaving your core in favor of quickly pulling off his own clothes.

You watch as he settles over you, now naked, cock finding its home right between your folds as his lips find yours in a searing kiss.

“Let me fuck you,” he begs as he pulls back, voice almost coming out as a whine, lips millimeters away from yours. He grinds his hips into you for emphasis, cock head bumping into your clit.

To answer him, you reach down to grab up his dick in your hand, eyes never leaving his. You give it a few good pumps before guiding him into you. Your mouth falls open as he slowly pushes past your entrance, small gasps leaving your lips at the feeling of him filling you.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he grounds out. “Relax, Y/N.”

You groan as he continues to push into you. Relax? How can you relax when the man you’ve been secretly pining for is currently all over you? Not to mention in you.

You reach up and pinch his bicep.

“Ow, what the hell?” He rubs the spot you pinched, glaring down at you.

“Oh, good. I’m not dreaming,” you reply, voice shaky, breathy laugh pushing past your lips. Without thinking, you bury your hands back into his hair and yank his face back down to yours, planting a kiss on his lips and licking into his mouth when he opens it to you.

His hips begin moving of their own accord, slowly rolling into you as your kiss gets more and more desperate. With each roll of his hips, it feels like he keeps reaching deeper and deeper inside you. You pull away from his lips to let out a load moan as the head of his cock grazes your cervix. His mouth heads south, licking and nipping at the skin on your jaw, neck and collarbones.

“You feel so fucking good,” he says into your skin before he’s reaching to push your knees up into your chest, effectively reaching a new depth inside of you.

You gasp out, finding it hard to catch your breath as your hands reach out to press against his abdomen. It does no good, though, as he relentlessly continues fucking you with a smirk plastered on his face.

“W-wait,” you gasp out, head falling back as stars find the edges of your vision when he picks up the pace. You feel the pleasure building up in your abdomen.

“No,” he tells you simply, voice breathy.

“No, wait,” you try again as the pleasure nears its peak. You want to hold out for as long as possible, but you don’t think you’ll be able to at the rate you’re going.

He shoves two fingers into your mouth, pressing your tongue down.

“Shh,” he shushes you.

You’re too stunned to push him away, but at the same time the action has your pussy clenching around him, and he curses from above you. With every thrust, the cord pulls tighter and tighter in your belly. It becomes almost painful trying to keep it at bay.

“Come on,” he encourages you, fingers leaving your mouth and opting to wrap around your neck. “Cum for me.”

At his words, you let yourself go, cumming around him as he continues fucking you, slowly pushing in and out of you while he tries to slow his own orgasm.

“That’s my girl,” he praises as you come down, letting your feet fall back to the bed and planting a sweet kiss on your lips.

Before you can react, Tsukishima suddenly flips over onto your stomach and pulls your hips up, putting you on your hands and knees. You look back at him with wide eyes as he prods your entrance with his still hard cock before fully sheathing himself back inside you in one thrust.

Your back arches at the action, head falling back as a moan escapes your throat. He takes the opportunity to fist his hand into your hair and yank your body up so your back is flush against his front. He wraps his free arm around your waist, the hand that was wrapped in your hair coming around to find its home back around the column of your neck.

Your head falls back onto his shoulder as he continues fucking you, small gasps of “yes” leaving your lips as he builds you right back up to the edge.

“Look at you,” he comments. “You’re so fucking hot. It’s almost a shame I get to be the only one to see you like this.”

You can’t form a single coherent thought as you warn him of your approaching orgasm. He presses you right back down into the mattress to pick up his pace, slamming into you from behind as you bury your face into a pillow, crying out as you teeter right over the edge.

He fucks you through it again, pulling out at the last second to pump his length a few times before spilling his seed right onto your bare ass.

You both stay still as you come down, catching your breaths. It’s suddenly silent in your hotel room as the reality of what just happened dawns on both of you. You wait a few more beats, giving him a chance to break the silence before you do.

“Oi, Tsukishima…” you start, usual tone settled back into your voice. “You better clean that up.”

“Right…” he mutters. He leaves the bed to get a wet cloth, coming back to thoroughly wipe his cum off your ass.

You settle back onto your side of the bed as Tsukishima tosses the rag back into the bathroom. When he settles back onto his side you finally speak.

“Let’s… not talk about this,” you suggest.

He’s silent on the other side, probably in agreement, you think. So, you close your eyes in an attempt to fall asleep, tears hot on your cheeks as they silently stain the pillow beneath your head in the dark.

Only you don’t know that Tsukishima is on the other side of the bed, hoping just as much as you are that that meant as much to you as it did to him.