hibiscy

Latest Posts by hibiscy

Suna Rintarou has ignored you for seven hours, twenty-three minutes, and forty-five seconds. Not that you’re counting. He hadn’t looked at you when you waved good morning. Didn’t reply when you texted him during lunch. And now, during practice, he’s pretending you don’t exist—unless it’s to rotate away the second you step near him. Which is why you’ve had it.

You march across the gym floor with fire in your veins, stopping right in front of him during a water break. The rest of the team goes quiet, curious eyes flicking between you and the tall, unbothered middle blocker who’s carefully unwrapping sports tape like it's the most fascinating thing in the world.

“Rin, what the hell is your problem?”

Suna doesn’t even look at you. “I don’t have a problem.”

“Bullshit. You’ve been ignoring me all day.”

He scoffs. “Why don’t you just go hang out with your boyfriend?”

You blink. “I’m sorry— my what now?”

Now he looks at you. Flat expression. Bored tone. “The guy you hugged this morning.”

You stare at him. Then you laugh—one short, incredulous breath. “You mean my little cousin?” 

Suna freezes. A beat. Another beat. A visible oh, shit creeps across his face as the team collectively chokes behind you.

“Oh,” he mutters. “Well. He was… tall.”

You slap his arm. “He’s, like, an inch taller than me. And he was just thanking me for lunch money.”

“Well, it didn’t look innocent,” he grumbles, ears now bright pink.

“Are you serious right now?! You’ve been sulking all day over my cousin?”

He shrugs and drops his gaze. “Didn’t know he was your cousin.”

You narrow your eyes. “And what if he wasn’t?”

Silence. The team holds its breath.

Suna exhales, then mutters, “Then I wouldn’t like it.”

Your heart stutters.

His eyes meet yours again—and this time, he really looks at you. His voice is no longer bored. It’s quiet. Honest. “Seeing you with someone else, I mean.”

You tilt your head, a smile curling on your lips—sharp and smug. "Then do something about it.”

Behind you, Atsumu lets out a low, delighted cackle. “Ohhh, shiiit—she got you.”

You don’t wait for a response. Just turn on your heel, walking out of the gym with your head held high. But not before glancing back once—

And catching Suna frozen in place, face red, as the entire team starts swarming him with grins, whistles, and way too much noise. You smile to yourself.

Let him squirm.

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

brother's best friend suna who barks out a laugh when you brazenly ask him for a cigarette, knowing you never smoked one before (not under your brother’s watchful eyes) but here you are, tugging on his sleeve and eyes nervously flicking between him and the party that’s bustling inside. you will never hear the end of it if osamu or atsumu—worse: both—caught you outside in some dark corner with suna, begging him for a smoke. they just don’t get that you’re not a fucking baby anymore.

but suna? suna doesn’t care. or at least he acts like it. he takes a drag of his cigarette, the cherry red tip gleaming in the dark, his big hand encircling your wrist and pulling you closer until you’re nearly standing between his legs. you can feel his body heat, smell the cologne, cigarettes and sweat on him and it’s alluring.

“be good for me.”

his voice is quiet and sultry against the shell of your ear. idle fingers trace across the puls point on your wrist before letting go, cupping one side of your face instead. you have to tilt back your head to catch his gaze—famished, yearning, something dark, too. his thumb brushes over your bottom lip, coaxing your mouth open for him.

suna has a feeling you’d swallow anything he’d put on your tongue when he softly exhales the smoke into your mouth, slender fingers tapping your chin, a silent command to keep it in until he says so. your breath is a little shuddered when you exhale but you don’t pull away, fingers twisting in the front of his shirt, more, more, more, until the half-smoked cigarette is crushed and forgotten under his boot and tongue sliding against yours in a feverish kiss.

Thoughts of knight! Megumi are hitting me hard.

From the age of ten, knight! Megumi grows up glued to your side. As the princess, your Father insisted upon someone guarding you at all times. He’s not a real knight as a child, but he’s training to become one! Megumi takes it seriously, mimicking everything Gojo, his mentor, does. He wouldn’t if it meant protecting anyone besides you.

Knight! Megumi is your best friend. It’s a secret of course, that you share inside jokes with him. That you whisper silly commentary about the stuck up citizens at the yearly ball thrown in your honor to him as he stands guard. Megumi has to hide his laughter with a cough or slam the metal face plate shut so he’s not caught slacking.

Knight! Megumi chases off all the sketchy suitors who wish for your hand in marriage. He knows you hate not being in charge of your own destiny, so if he can delay the inevitable even by a second, he will.

Knight! Megumi is the first boy you fall in love with. The only boy you fall in love with. He’s strong and loyal and pretty, and he scares away all the icky men. He’d strike down anyone for you if you’d only ask.

Knight! Megumi can’t say no when you plead with him to sneak into your bedroom in the dead of night. He’s wrapped around your finger, even more so when your pussy’s wrapped around his cock. When he shoves your knees to your chest he covers your mouth with his hand, or slips two fingers past your lips, presses on your tongue, and whispers “hush, princess.” The other guards can’t be allowed to catch on that Megumi’s fucking the princess, right? Surely the King would have his head.

Knight! Megumi knows that climbing into your bed every night contradicts just about every rule he’d been taught. He gives no fucks. He’ll never let another man lay hands on his princess. Megumi looks the King in the eyes and lies straight to his face, swearing on his life to protect your “virtue.” As if he hadn’t had his face in between your legs an hour ago.

Gojo’d be proud he’s sticking the middle finger to the man.

master list

─── ハイキュー!! SUNDRESS SEASON

kenma, tsukki, kageyama, hinata; 2,321 words; highly suggestive, fluff, no "y/n", slightly sadistic!tsukki, gamer!kenma, jealous!kageyama, needy!hinata

summary: sundress by a$ap rocky plays loudly in the back

a/n: this wasn't supposed to be horny but then tsukki happened....

─── 研磨 KENMA

he’d never been against the idea of you becoming a streamer, even though some of his friends (kuroo, mostly) had objected with the fact that “you know you’re gonna have to beat off weird dudes on the internet thirsting over your girlfriend, right?” to which kenma’s response had been a nonchalant shrug, followed by a series of expertly aimed button-mashes.

“we’ll get mods for her chat,” he’d said, “it’ll be fine. plus, she’s not doing gaming stuff, she’s just gonna like talk about her day and stuff.”

kuroo’s exasperation was tangible, even though the voice call.

“right, yeah, that’s so much better.”

but now, kenma thinks, kuroo might’ve been onto something.

“yo ken, flash—” someone says. kenma jerks, yanking his eyes away from a small window of your stream, pulled up on one of his dozen or so screens, where you’re currently doing what you’d called a “summer haul” stream, popping in and out of the bathroom in your room, trying on dresses for your subscribers.

“and this one is one of my absolute favs,” you say, doing a twirl in front of your camera. kenma’s mouth goes dry — it’s a sundress, dotted in tiny little daisies, ruched at the waist, the thin straps tied in twin bows on your shoulders, the square neckline underlining the delicate curve of your collarbones.

“ken — the fuck —”

“sorry, one sec —” kenma rips off his headphones and mutes his stream, his video going dark.

a second later, on your stream, the door opens and kenma appears behind you, making you jump slightly as he loops a possessive arm around your middle.

“k-kozume! what’s up?” you blink, letting out a surprised laugh as he leans down to squint at your chat, nose crinkling at some of the comments flying across the screen.

“sorry, i forgot that we made reservations for dinner,” he says into your mic before ending the stream. you make an affronted noise, pouting.

“hey!”

kenma turns, his arm still tucked around your middle, and cocks his head.

“i don’t think you should stream anymore.”

“w-wait, what? kozume, where’s this coming from? you were so supportive of me streaming in the beginning —” you wave at your set up, “you even helped me with the rig.”

kenma frowns, not looking at you, his teeth worrying at his bottom lip as he sighs.

“i know but —” he cuts off, feeling a raw heat crawling up the back of his throat at the image of you on his screen, spinning in that sundress (the one you’re still wearing — god the fabric is so soft beneath his hands). he curls his fingers into the new material of your dress and drops his face into your shoulder.

“sorry, just —” he waves a hand vaguely at the setup, “this dress…” he manages, finally, still not looking up, “i saw you and…” he swallows around the lump in his throat.

you let out a tiny laugh, leaning back, your palms on his chest as you search his face.

“kozume… are you… jealous?”

kenma scowls, “no — i just don’t want my girlfriend prancing in a dress like this in front of a bunch of strangers on the internet.” the words tumble out of him, almost too fast to catch. he sucks in a long breath when he finishes, his eyes widening as he stumbles half a step back.

“a-ah — sorry — i don’t know where that —” he stutters, looking bewildered.

but you grin, looping your arms around his neck to pull him back. you tug him into a long, slow kiss, and you feel him soften against you, his thumbs drawing tiny circles just beneath the last rung of your ribs.

“how’s this — the next time i do a haul stream… you can get a preview of all the outfits and veto the ones you don’t want me wearing on stream.”

kenma crinkles his nose, bites back the urge to tell you that maybe he’ll just veto every single one. but the imploring look in your eyes is too sweet to deny. he sighs, nodding.

“fine,” he takes a step back as you reach for mouse to resume your stream; he pulls you back.

“we’re getting better mods for your chat.”

you laugh, rolling your eyes, “yeah, yeah, whatever you say, ‘zume.”

─── 月島 TSUKKI

“quit squirming.” tsukki swats at your hand as you try to tug at the hem of your dress. you whine, scowling down at him as the pair of you arrive at the top of the escalator and step off with the crowd.

“it feels weird —” you protest, but tsukki only tsks, his glasses flashing in the bright mall-interior lighting as he guides you by the small of your back towards the next store on your list.

“you were the one who wanted to come out shopping,” he says, his voice lilting into a sardonic tease. you sigh, feeling your cheeks prickle with heat as you feel another breeze between your legs.

“i — not like this!” you hiss as the pair of you duck into the clothing store, the bright lights flooding the colorful displays of summer outfits. you resist the urge to tug at the hem of your dress again, regretting every decision in your life that’s brought you to this moment, including the late-night purchase of the a-cursed sundress currently hugging your body.

tsukki wanders towards one of the meticulously set up displays and tugs at a shirt.

“this one’s cute.”

you frown at him. he cocks an eyebrow at you, watching for a solid three seconds before he drops the sleeve to the shirt, shrugging up a single shoulder.

“well, if you don’t like it —”

you hurry to his side, shuffling into one of the tighter aisles.

“it’s not that i don’t like it — i just —” you drop your voice, feeling your whole body burn as you press your legs. “i can’t believe you’re making me walk around without any panties on!”

tsukki’s smirk goes lopsided; his glasses flicker as he gently adjusts them up the bridge of his nose.

“like i said,” he heaves an exaggerated sigh, leaning down to back you up against a wardrobe full of pastel-colored croptops, “if you wanted to go prancing around outside in a dress like this… then i get to keep your panties.”

you chew on your lips, fidgeting with your fingers, heat roiling in your belly as tsukki leans back with what could only be called a sadistic shrug.

“kei,” you whine, but he only roll his eyes, unmoved. you sigh, deciding to change tact.

“what if someone sees?” you counter, to which tsukki only pins you with a deadpanned look.

“then let them see —” he leans down again, a hand coming up to brace against the shelf behind you, pinning you to the clothing rack. you let out a tiny squeak as his nose nearly brushes yours.

when he speaks, his voice is soft, sweet, smug and tantalizingly sadistic —

“then let them see… and they’ll have to live with the fact that they’ll never get to do anything else but a single look… cause this pretty little pussy’s mine, got it?”

─── 飛雄 TOBIO

the picnic had been your idea, so tobio tells himself as he leans patiently by the door with a large basket full of picnic-stuff — everything from chilled rose wine to finger sandwiches to strawberry tarts and just about a million other tiny, delicate, edible items.

“sorry, sorry —” you say, rushing out, putting in a pair of earrings as you stumble into the hallway by the door, “i couldn’t decide what to wear but i remembered that i got this a few months ago when it was still too cold to wear outside —”

tobio looks up, and the rest of your words fade out into a strange, muted silence as his head fills with a white-noise buzzing. he sees your mouth moving, the waterfall of your hair as you flip it over your bare shoulder, but the thing that catches in his chest like a loose thread around a chain-link fence is the dress —

and sweet god, what a dress —

dotted in tiny red strawberries, the hem frilled with a rim of delicate lace, the pleats pooling out from the scrunch around your waist, accentuating the flair of your hips.

he swallows, his mouth suddenly very dry.

“— ready to go?” your voice fades back in as if someone had suddenly turned the volume back on as tobio shakes his head, feeling not unlike a wet dog, ridding his ears of water.

“no.”

you blink, “huh?”

tobio frowns, his eyes flickering back down to your dress, where it lingers on the neckline, the soft, stomach-clenching rise of your chest, the pendant necklace he’d gotten you for your anniversary two years ago sitting pillowed between the dip of your tits.

“not this one,” he says, shaking his head.

you stare up at him, your mouth slightly open.

“not… this one… of what?” you ask, clearly confused.

tobio grabs your hand then, tugging you back down the hallway towards your bedroom.

“t-tobio!” you yelp as he jerks you into the room, pulling open the door to the walk-in closet, “w-what’s going on?”

tobio huffs, whirling around to wave vaguely at you with an exasperated hand.

“you! i — we can’t go out like this!”

your eyebrows shoot up as you look between him and the dress on your body, a dull, pulsing heat creeping up the back of your neck.

“w-wha — i — i thought you’d like this dress — i picked it just for **—”

“i just… don’t want anyone else to see,” he says, his shoulder shrugging up and for a moment, he doesn’t look like an international sports star, for a moment, he looks like the awkward boy who’d stood outside the gym and asked you to be his girlfriend who knows how many years ago.

you let out a breathy laugh, looking down at your dress.

“so… i take it you like the dress?” you ask, a teasing lilt to your voice.

tobio sighs, closing the space between you as he tugs you to him, his large hands circling your waist as you press your palms to his chest.

“i love it… and i’ll be damned if i let anyone else see you in it but me.”

─── 翔陽 SHOUYOU

you’ve always loved shopping with shouyou, because who could ask for a better hype man? and for his part, he loves shopping with you, because who could ask for a better model?

you’d already been to a good handful of stores, and shouyou’s admittedly muscular forearms are slowly starting to run out of real estate.

“alright — you ready?” you call from behind the changing room doors.

“yep!” shouyou’s voice answers, bright as sunlight.

you giggle, pushing open the door and stepping out in front of him. he’s sitting on a large couch, surrounded by the proof of your very successful shopping trip.

you tug on the hem of your dress, shifting from one leg to the next, feeling a familiar heat creep up your chest as you watch him look you over with molten-honey eyes.

“so… what do you think?”

“whoa…” shouyou gulps as you do a twirl for him, a dull humming settling behind his ears as the lace-hemmed dress flairs up, showing more of smooth, buttermilk thighs. he clears his throat and sits up just a bit straighter, “it’s — really nice — i mean — you look so good,” he says, though he’s not sure if he’s doing a good enough job of impressing upon you just how fantastic you look in the sundress.

you still look doubtful, looking down at the thin material of the dress, the cute little pleats, the tiny tangerine pattern.

“yeah?” you ask, turning towards the full length and looking yourself over, twisting this way and that.

shouyou fights down a groan as you roll up onto your tiptoes and he catches a glimpse of your lacy panties as the edge of the dress kicks up.

“yeah — holy shit —” he swears, clearing his throat, suddenly feeling very, very warm for reasons he doesn’t really want to go into.

“so…” you trail off, turning back towards him, a silent question in your eyes.

shouyou quirks a grin before calling for a shop clerk and handing over one of his cards.

“oh! you didn’t have to —” you cut off as the clerk bows and takes his card to the checkout. shouyou coughs into fist as the clerk returns with the receipt. he signs without so much as glancing at the final number.

“it’s a pretty dress,” he says, even as he gently guides you back into the spacious changing rooms. you squeak as he squeezes in behind you, locking the door with a sharp click.

“sh-shou! what’re you —” you let out a bitten-off moan as he drops to his knees, his eyes blown dark and lightless, his warm, callused hands flipping up the hem of your newly purchased sundress, his touch nothing short of reverent.

“you just look so good,” he says, his voice debauched as he tugs down your panties, “i — c-can’t i just —” he breaks off as your breath hitches, your back hitting the floor-length mirror. you press the back of your hand to your mouth as his fingers inch up the back of your thighs.

“shou — please —”

“mm… you can be quiet for me, right? god, you’re so pretty — just lemme make you feel just as good as you look in this sundress, yeah?”

taglist: @yaoduriaa @ominouslywritinginmyhead @naomihatake @cheesypuffkins87 @crispynutella @unriding @phroggii @fennecnco @inloveinsickness @simpingdailyforthem @jkj33w10 @ryescapades @katiekawls @ally-all-around @arahiraaai -- join the taglist

shouyou truthers: @dearru @neiptune @shoyosh

tobio nation: @mcdonaldsnumberone @lale-txt @hiraethwa @inloveinsickness @hiraethwrote

LAST SEEN WITH:

LIKE A HIGH SCHOOLER, ATSUMU MIYA

DESCRIPTION: apparently, you know nothing about your best friend. apparently, she’s friends with nearly the whole national japanese volleyball team. she gets tickets and, oh, she’s inviting you?!

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION: profanity. pro vball player!atsumu. uni student!reader. ooc!yachi, probably. love at first sight if you squint reeeeeaaally hard.

word count: 2,072.

“yachi. yachi, yachi. yachi, what do you mean you have tickets for the fucking olympics?”

the blonde girl in front of you glances to the side, gauging the reactions from the nearby people in the coffee shop. “um,” she hesitates, letting out a little giggle. “i went to high school with some of the team? i was the club manager- haven’t i told you this before?”

“i mean, probably, but!” you shake your hands, obviously frazzled. you can’t wrap your head around the fact that you’re about to go to the olympics. “you never told me that they made it to the national team!”

she shrugs and takes a drink of her tea. “it never came up.”

two weeks later, you’re sitting in one of the front rows at the japan v. germany volleyball game, popcorn in one hand and a soda in the other. yachi sits next to you, decked out in merchandise from some players—a hat with bokuto koutarou’s number on it, a jersey with kageyama tobio’s number on it, and a large sign with a baby picture of hinata shoyo.

“this is insane,” you note, leaning forward to get a better look of the court. it’s huge, bigger than anything you’ve ever seen. “i mean- holy shit, yachi, we’re at the olympics.”

she laughs and nods. “i know, y/n. wanna know something even cooler?” you look at her and tilt your head. she leans forward, voice dropping to a whisper. “you get to meet the team after this.”

your eyes go wide, mouth dropping open to say something, but loud music erupts from the speakers and both of your heads snap to the court. from a door in the far corner of the arena, a crowd of men enter. they’re wearing red jersey’s and you realize it’s the japanese team. cheers sound from everyone around you, including yachi. when the german team walks out of the same door, you don’t pay attention; your gaze is stuck on your team, eyes roaming over their faces, trying to see who looks familiar.

hinata shoyo, bright orange hair; kageyama tobio, tall and bored looking; bokuto koutarou, loud; ushijima wakatoshi, intimidating.

you don’t recognize anyone else, but there’s a head of blonde hair that entices you to no end. he’s rough housing with one of the other players, laughing and smiling wide. and, even from your spot in the bleachers, you can tell he’s handsome. the kind of handsome that people only see in movies.

“who is that?” you point down at the court, turning to yachi. “number eleven, the blonde one.”

“uh.” her brows furrow and she follows your direction. “oh, that’s atsumu miya. he and shoyo are really good friends; they played on MSBY together. bokuto and sakusa, too.”

you don’t ask who sakusa is—you don’t care. you direct your gaze back to the blonde and are surprised to find him seemingly staring right at you. in fact, four or five of them are staring directly at you and yachi.

“yachi!” hinata yells from the court, waving his hands wildly.

you look at her just as red begins to creep up her cheeks. she sends a wave back at them, smiling nervously. it hits you that he’s not staring at you, he’s staring at yachi. disappointment fills your stomach and you shove a handful of popcorn into your mouth.

of course, japan wins. it’s a close call, germany tries their best, but to no avail. the aftermath is crazy—cheers from your side of the arena, groans and complaints from the other side. yachi is losing her mind, screaming at the top of her lungs, shaking you aggressively. you’ve never seen her like this, but, with a laugh, you decide you like it.

she drags you up by your hand, gracefully maneuvering through the crowd of people until you exit into an almost empty hallway. you’re not sure where you are—you’re not sure how yachi knows where you are—but anxiety thrums through your veins.

“uh, yachi? where are we going?” she’s still leading you by your wrist. “are we lost?”

“what?” she glances back at you, laughing. “no, we’re not lost. we’re going to wait outside the locker room.”

you blink a couple times at the back of her head. “w- won’t they have to, like, talk to the press or something? and- and sign stuff? kiss baby’s on the forehead?”

again, she laughs. “yes, they have to talk to the press. we’re going to wait until they’re done and then we’re going out for dinner.” she comes to a stop in front of a door and you nearly bump into her with how abrupt it is. she looks at you and smiles widely. “are you nervous?”

“me, nervous? just because i’m about to meet the entirety of japan’s national volleyball team? of course not!”

“perfect.” she rolls her eyes playfully, ignoring the sarcasm. there’s a pause and then she wiggles her brows at you. “not even nervous to meet atsumu? i saw the way you were ogling him.”

your head doesn’t leave its position, but you look at her out of the side of your eye, glaring. “that’s so not funny,” you say monotonously. “i wasn’t ogling him. what am i, a high schooler?”

she just hums, rocking back and forth on her heels.

after forty-five minutes of small talk and teasing from yachi, the door to the locker room opens and a gaggle of men all rush out, talking loudly to each other. your veins go ice cold, a stark contrast to how sweaty your palms get.

“yacchan!” a large man shouts—bokuto koutarou, you recognize. he rushes to the girl and sweeps her up in a hug, spinning her around. “we got gold, yacchan! did you see my awesome spike at the end? i totally won the game for us!”

he seems to have no volume control, and yachi doesn’t seem to care. “bokuto! yes, i saw! good job, you guys all did so good!” a couple other men walk over, parting from their team. hinata, kageyama, atsumu, a tall brunette man, and a curly-haired man.

you cross your arms over your chest and take a step back, hitting the wall. you want to give them time to visit, time to catch up. she regards them all by their names—suna and sakusa, the two men you didn’t know. they talk for a small moment before yachi turns to you, surprising you when she introduces you.

“this is y/n, she’s my best friend.” when you don’t move, she raises her brows. “say hi, y/n.”

you press your lips together, narrowing your eyes, then turn to the men and bow lightly. “hello. it’s nice to meet you all. you played a very good game.”

without meaning to, you let your gaze drift to atsumu. god. he’s still slightly sweaty, his hair sticking to his forehead just a bit. now that you’re closer, you realize that, yeah, he’s hot. he smiles at you, wide and unabashedly, and you look away immediately, choosing to look at yachi again.

“nice to meet you, y/n!” hinata exclaims, pushing through the crowd to approach you. he sticks his hand out to you, presumably for you to shake, and grins. “i’m glad you could come and support us.”

you shake his hand, giving him a small smile. this is so overwhelming. yachi clears her throat, like she can read your mind, and claps her hands together. “all right, who's hungry?”

the restaurant is barren. you later learn that yachi had rented the entire place out, then briefly wonder how much money she makes to be able to afford that.

you’re sitting at the end of the table, yachi on one side, hinata on the other. atsumu is sitting across from you, sparing you quick glances every so often. he’ll look at you, smile, cover his face with a hand, then look away. if you’re being honest, it’s freaking you out.

you pick at the skin around your nails under the table—a habit you’ve never been able to get rid of. yachi leans forward, talking to bokuto, who sits next to atsumu. you haven’t said a single word, too nervous to join the conversation in fear that they’ll think you’re weird.

“so, y/n,” bokuto looks at you. the use of your name scares the crap out of you and your knee jerks up reflexively, hitting the table. he laughs and you feel your face heat up. “where do you work? with yacchan?”

you shake your head. “oh, no. i wouldn’t even know where to begin doing what she does. i barely know how to work photoshop.” it earns a laugh out of a few people and you exhale, feeling your nerves dissipate. “i work at an animal shelter, for now. i’m studying kinesiology at university though. i want to be a physical therapist.”

“no shit?” atsumu chokes out, setting his water down on the table with a clink. he coughs again and wipes the side of his mouth, cheeks getting red. “jesus- i mean, really? the team is looking for a physical therapist.”

“oh, well, i don’t have my degree in anything yet.” you shake your head, letting out a nervous laugh. “and i don’t think i’m quite experienced enough to work for the national team, y’know?”

he hums, putting his chin in his hand and leaning forward. his eyes bore into you, seemingly staring straight into your soul. the energy is so charged, so tense. you’re not sure how you should feel. you turn to yachi for help, but she just laughs quietly and returns her attention to bokuto.

“do you like school?” atsumu’s voice is quiet, barely audible over the chatter of the table. you meet his eyes—his beautiful brown eyes.

you swallow hard and shrug. “it’s okay. a little stressful, but, hey, i can handle it.” you laugh, hoping to calm yourself. “um, what about you? do you- do you like volleyball?”

“yeah,” he laughs, nodding, “it’s alright. i’ve been playing since middle school.”

suddenly, it seems like no one else is at the table with you. atsumu talks to you, his voice low and just raspy enough and—god, you’ve never felt this way when meeting someone for the first time. time flies by quickly, talking about family and high school and anything under the sun. before you know it, it’s 10 o'clock and sakusa is paying for everyone’s dinner. you all walk to the parking lot, talking loudly, as usual, and laughing. you walk next to atsumu, peering up at him as he recalls one of the many pranks he and his twin brother pulled in their childhood.

“—and she didn’t even see it, ran right into it,” he says, barely able to finish his sentence because of how hard he’s laughing. the story isn’t even that funny, but you can’t stop the laughter that bubbles out of your throat. “god, we terrorized that poor old woman. we got in so much trouble.”

you laugh again, covering your mouth to try and be quiet, but it fails. he looks at you and, for a moment, it’s quiet again. you arrive at the passenger side of yachi’s car and a pang of disappointment shoots through you. is this it? you talked all night, but is it just going to end here? you look up at him and smile, tight-lipped.

“you’re real funny, y’know,” he says, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. the rest of the team is clambering into different cars, saying their goodbyes, promising to text yachi more.

you duck your head, smiling. “you’re funny too, atsumu.”

the car beside you rolls down its window, revealing sakusa, stone faced. “atsumu, hurry up. i will leave you here.” the window rolls back up and both of you laugh.

“can i–” he cuts himself off, taking a deep inhale. “god, that makes me sound like a high schooler. can i get your number?”

so that’s not it. he wants to talk to you again. you reach for your pocket, fumbling for your phone, before unlocking it and handing it to him. he punches his number in, then hands it back. “it was really nice talking to you, atsumu,” you say quietly, reaching for the door handle.

he smirks, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “yeah, it was nice talking to you too, y/n. i’ll see you around.”

“see ya.”

guards! read me my bedtime yaoi

─── ハイキュー!! INSATIABLE

kenma, tsukki, kageyama, hinata; 2,472 words; smut and fluff, porn w/out plot, oral (fem!receiving), oral (male!recieving), throatfucking, multiple orgasms, tipsy!sex, fingerfucking, cumming inside, cowgirl, morning sex, almost cockwarming, needy!kenma, meanie!tsukki, wine drunk!tobio, and truly insatiable!hinata

summary: they always want more, more, more.

a/n: rmbr when i used to write mostly fluff and plot? yeah. me too. this, sadly, is not one of those instances. i guess in the spirit of kinktober... hooray?

─── 研磨 KENMA

it is never enough — even though at first glance, you wouldn’t think of kenma as the kind of person to be so needy. but something about you sets him off — something about the way you fist your fingers in his hair, or the way your voice always hitches over the syllables of his name —

“ken — ma — ah - hah…”

“mm? wh-what is it?”

he licks his lips, reveling in the tang of your juices currently coating his tongue, his darkened eyes flickering over the length of your body; there’s sweat beading at his temples, but years of being in sports has desensitized him ever so slightly to the sticky discomfort. and plus, this is exactly the kind of strenuous activity he doesn’t mind participating in once in a while.

you squeeze your eyes shut, the strain in the backs of your thighs burning as he casually presses you knees back and back and back, dipping down to lick at your sopping cunt.

"ken - ma — ngh!” you ruck up against his mouth, only for him to grin and pull back, wiping a hand along his lips to gather the slick.

“think you can come again for me?”

you whine, peering up at him through damp lashes, your body still buzzing with the remnants of the last two (or was it three?) orgasms he’d pulled out of you just with his fingers and mouth. your mind fizzles white at the edges, your thoughts disjointed and static.

“wanna — want your cock kenma —”

“mm,” he hums, pressing a soft, placating kiss to your knee as he runs an absent thumb over your clit just to watch your hips jump, “i know but… i like watching you cum like this. so…” he drops another kiss at on your inner thigh before dipping back down to lap softly at your puffy folds, “gimme one more and i’ll give you whatever you want, yeah?”

─── 月島 TSUKKI

so everyone knows he’s just a bit childish, just a bit petty, just a bit vindictive. so everyone knows he likes getting his way, and is a bit too stubborn.

so, when you swallow over the length of his cock as he bullies it down your throat, a hand fisted in your hair, his gaze almost cool as he watches you struggle to keep him in your mouth, you can’t say you didn’t kind of ask for it — mouthing off the way you did, pushing all his buttons from the second he’d gotten home till he’d dragged you out of the kitchen and into the bedroom and told you to get on your goddamn knees.

you’d dropped like a good little girl, a thrill tingling up your spine, because isn’t this what you’d wanted? missing him all day, a delicious, delirious heat curling at the base of your tummy, itching for the way he’d fuck you till your vision blurs.

“c’mon, i know you can open wider than that,” tsukishima runs an appraising thumb along the curve of your cheek, thrusting his hips forward even as you struggle to catch a breath. he thumbs at a tear, a smirk twisting the edge of his lips, a sadistic glint flashing behind his bespectacled eyes.

“there we go — that’s it — nngh — shit —”

you revel in the way his hips stutter, in the sting of pain that comes from his fingers fisting your hair too tight. you brace yourself and lave your tongue along the underside of his twitching cock, feeling the veins pulse angrily beneath your touch. he hisses above you, color pluming in his cheeks as he resorts to taking you by the back of the head and fucking your throat proper.

you hum around him as he jerks into your mouth, your own cunt clenching around nothing, the material of your panties sticking uncomfortably to your skin as you shift your thighs. above you, tsukishima narrows his eyes and tuts.

“quit that.”

you whine, going still even as he continues to fuck your throat, his breath going shallow, the faintest fog tinting up his glasses before he shoves you down on his cock and you feel him pulse over your tongue for a second before he yanks back and lets the white ropes of cum splatter across your face. you squawk slightly, licking at your lips before pouting up at him.

“you got cum in my hair!”

tsukishima only scoffs, wiping a bit from your cheek to press a finger into your mouth. you shoot him a half-hearted glare before sucking the digit clean, your nipples now straining against the materials of your shirt, feeling rubbed raw with sensitivity. there’s a damp patch on your panties and you tug at his hips eagerly before he swats you away.

“oh now you wanna be nice?” he asks, squinting down at you as he jerks your chin between two fingers.

you purse your lips, “i just missed you, okay?”

tsukishima scoffs, but he doesn’t deny you as you push him back onto the mattress and straddle his thighs.

“fine then, show me how much. and i might let you cum tonight.”

you pause halfway through kicking off your panties. he chuckles, laying back, propping both hands behind his head, his long, lanky form stretched out like a five course meal over the material of your sheets.

“you’re being mean,” you say, finally ridding yourself of your panties to crawl over his body, settling yourself over his hardening cock one more.

“you started it,” he hisses, even as his palms land on your hips, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass to shift you along his length, your lips falling open at the friction.

“s-so if i ask nicely enough…” you say, circling your hips if only to hear him gasp, “will you finish it?”

─── 飛雄 TOBIO

you should’ve known, you should’ve known what you were getting yourself into when you’d decided to send him a cute little mirror-selfie, dressed in nothing but one of his huge t-shirts, the hem hiked up just enough to let him see that you’re wearing nothing underneath, your nipples tenting the fabric in the wane light, your face half-covered by the phone — you should’ve known.

“m-mm—fuck —!” your heels kick uselessly against the bedsheets as tobio holds you to his mouth, his eyes sharp and dark and focused, his fingers holding your thighs open, his grip pressing divots into your skin as he sinks his tongue into your greedy cunt, sucking on your clit with a loud, gratuitous moan. there’s a flush working up his cheeks, and a glassy, glazed-out look to his eyes, amplified by the half-finished bottle of chianti sitting on the bedside table.

“one more —” he pants out, his breath hot against your twitching clit, your thighs straining against his hold as you whine, glancing down to find him running his tongue over his lips, his chin glazed with your sweet slick, bangs stuck to his forehead as he presses his cheek to your leg and smiles up at you.

“jus’ gimme one more, i know you can do it —” he drags his mouth along your skin before lowering his mouth back to your puffy lips, sinking his tongue into you far enough to make you scream. pleasure frissons up your body, making your toes and fingertips tingle — you can’t help but whine at the fact that he hasn’t even put his cock into you yet tonight but you can’t find it in yourself to complain. he’s made you cum more times than you can count, and still he’s relentless.

once, you’d asked him, jokingly, if he kept a sex journal — like his volleyball journal — where he meticulously tracks his progress, successful sets vs. unsuccessful ones, wins and losses, game strategies and various attack and defense formations. he’d cocked his head, his mouth half-full of a flatbread, that yes — he does. and did you want to see?

“i — i thought i’d just… keep track because…” he swallows his mouthful of food and looks anywhere but at you, “i want to make sure ‘m always making you feel good.”

and right here, right now, you can’t find it in yourself to do anything but fist your fingers in his hair and moan his name into the humid summer air as he works you towards yet another climax with nothing but his mouth and tongue.

“t-tobio — fuck-fuck — fuck — !”

he moans against you, grazing his teeth along your swollen clit just hard enough to push you over the edge, and when you cum around his tongue again, he pulls back with a savage, blissed-out grin, licking his lips even as he cages your body below his, trailing delicate fingers along your sides till he’s cupping your cheek.

“so pretty…” he mumbles, more to himself than anyone else, his gaze flickering over your face, down the length of your now sweat-slicked body, your knees falling open for him, your stomach rising and falling with the weight of your uneven breaths.

“tobio — tobio — n-no more teasing — please —”

he grunts, puffing out a laugh against your lips as he leans down to kiss you, sucking your tongue into his mouth as he nudges your legs apart with his knees.

“look so good like this… gonna fuck you now, yeah?” he asks, reaching down between your bodies to tease at your entrance with his cock, groaning as you whimper and ruck up against him, sensitive from the overstimulation. you make an abortive noise as he pushes into you, your knees jumping slightly as your abused hole flutters around the intrusion, his cock stretching you out the way his fingers and tongue hadn’t before.

“s-slow — tobio —” you tug weakly at his arms, your mind a hazy mess of pleasure and pain and the feeling of tobio’s lips trailing along your neck.

“nnph… sure… we’ll go slow… but we’re not done till i say we are.”

─── 翔陽 SHOUYOU

too much — it’s like he doesn’t know the meaning of the word. or, maybe he’s nothing’s ever too much when it comes to you, because like this, with you trembling above him, your thighs shaking on either sides of his hips, your hands braced against his chest, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough, let alone too much.

“mm — so — so good —” he soothes, panting slightly as he digs his heels into the mattress and fucks up into you, bouncing you over his lap, licking his lips at the way your mouth falls open, “so cute — fuck — s-so wet —”

he bites back another groan as you clench down around him, head falling forward as he shifts beneath you, reaching up to tug you down, catching you in his chest as he chuckles by your ear.

“a-ah… tired?” he asks, his pace never once faltering even as he strokes your hair, his thumb kneading at the nape of your neck as he presses a soft kiss into your shoulder. he feels your thighs clench as he adjusts his angle and your whole body tenses.

“sh-shou — mmngh —”

“f-fuck — so tight —” he grunts slightly as he twists his whole body to swap your positions, lying you gently on your back so he can hoist your knees up and fuck into you proper, letting out a pitched whine, when he feels you fluttering around him, the unmistakable signs of yet another orgasm coursing through you. he fucks you through it, leaning down to mouth at your tits, the nipples hard and raw from his fingers just minutes before.

he’d woken up with a prickling want twisting his gut and he knew nothing but an entire morning in bed with you would sate it. outside, the brilliant brazilian sun is already slating into the hotel room from the wide, drop-floor windows, and he considers — briefly — that later, the pair of you might go for a dip in the ocean, just to cool off. he grins at the thought, pushing your legs up till he’s got you folded in half.

“c’mon — c-cum for me again —” he coaxes, rucking down into you till your eyes roll back, fucking into you so deep you can nearly feel it in the back of your throat, the white, pin-prick flashes of pleasure popping behind your eyes as he hooks your knees over his arms to hoist your entire lower half off the mattress.

“c-can’t — can’t shouyou — ‘s t-too much —!” you’re almost babbling, tears caught in your lashes as you try to look up at him, but you can’t help squeezing your eyes shut every time he teases his cock against your g-spot, pulls back slow just to fuck back in fast, make you feel each ridge and bump and vein as he rocks down into you.

“mm… i know, i know…” he coos, biting his own lips with a rough pant, “but… you look so good cumming on my cock — i just — wanna — wanna see it again — hm?” he leans down to press a sloppy kiss to your mouth, sounding at once somehow whiney and demanding both, “just — just one more —” he says, nosing along your jaw to suck a hickey into the junction of your throat.

you arch up into him, fingers scrabbling at his back as he starts to pick up the pace, whimpering as another orgasm rockets through you, leaving you squirming beneath him as he chases after his own orgasm, groaning as he watches you fall apart for him, his cock twitching inside you before he’s dropping his head into your shoulder with a hard shudder.

“mm… good morning, yeah?” he asks, even as he pulls back and you pout up at him, swatting weakly at his arm.

“d-don’t move so fast — m’still sensitive…” you make to cover your eyes with your arm but he tugs it away, leaning down to kiss you.

“i like you sensitive,” he murmurs, shifting to keep his cock pressed inside you, chasing shivers through your limbs at the friction.

“don’t be mean…” you say, letting yourself be pulled into his chest even as he laughs softly.

“sorry waking you up so early in the morning — will breakfast in bed make up for it? i think the room service at this hotel’s pretty good!”

you peer up at him with a tiny grin, “yeah?”

shouyou smirks, cocking his head, “mhm! i mean… you’ll need more energy for our second round later, right?”

taglist: @yaoduriaa @ominouslywritinginmyhead @naomihatake @cheesypuffkins87 @crispynutella @stunies @phroggii @fennecnco @yogurtkags -- join the taglist

thinking abt younger brother's best friend matsukawa whom you've seen grow up from being a scrawny, lanky, and awkward teenager to a charismatic, handsome mf. he really grew into his features, especially after high school, and now that you're back in miyagi for the summer, you're constantly reminded of that fact bc like the good ol' times, he comes around to your place every so often.

(you struggle with the fact that you actually find him handsome after all these years of viewing him as just another younger brother. it's not that he was ever ugly to begin with, but it feels a little weird to be seeing him in a different light)

matsukawa, on the other hand, who always had the tiniest crush on you takes this very opportunity to finally do something about it. don't mind him as he continues to gravitate towards you whenever he visits hiro, always taking his time to have a conversation with you, always with a hand ghosting close to you. or when his thigh is pressed up against yours on the couch for movie nights, his body heat dizzying and comforting at the same time.

don't mind him, giving you his full attention whenever you speak, always taking your side regardless of whether you're right or wrong (much to the dismay of hiro). always bringing your favorites over because he loves the way your face light up, loves to see you enjoying his mother's food.

so don't mind him, when he's got your back pressed against the kitchen counter, effectively trapping you between the counter and his body, but not forcing himself on you. he's always attentive to you and your moods, so when you gingerly reaches out to place your hands on his shoulders and gives a little tug forward, he slowly leans down to meet your lips.

(don't mind him when he smiles into the kiss because he feels you reciprocate)

JASON TODD does not have a soft spot for you.

if anyone asked, that’s what he’d say. flat. absolute.

because he doesn’t.

doesn’t matter that he lets you get away with things that would have anyone else eating pavement. doesn’t matter that when you touch or poke or kiss or bite him, he does nothing to stop you—and when you do stop, there’s something almost like… disappointment.

he most definitely doesn’t go out of his way for you, either. doesn’t swing by that café you like just to bring you your favourite beverage. sure as hell doesn’t automatically search for your face when he enters a room full of people…

no. jason todd does not have a soft spot for you.

(he has a weak spot for you. a vulnerable spot. an achilles heel lodged just behind his sternum, nestled between his lungs—right where a bullet would do the most damage. but never a soft spot.)

sex with seijoh 4 where they leave matsukawa for last because of the monstrosity that sits between his legs, the other three boys are nice enough to prep and stretch you out before he finally takes you. they do their absolute best, whether it be making you cum on their fingers, tongue or cock but all it does is reduce you to a violent quivering mess—your body convulsing as your sopping cunt greedily swallows matsukawa’s tip, and he thinks it’s the hottest fucking sight ever. the way you take short, rapid breaths to steady yourself and hide the ecstasy consuming your whole being but the shaking of your thighs painfully gives it away. iwaizumi, hanamaki, and oikawa watches with a carnal glint in their lustful eyes as your face contorts in pure bliss. matsukawa has an arm rested behind his head, the other resting on your bare hip, a lazy smile plastered upon his handsome face as if you weren’t fighting for your sanity before him.

he bites his lip as your nails painfully dig into his naked chest, your own face mirroring his expression as you sink into him further—eyes threatening to roll back, pleasure pulling you further and further into the void called insanity. your body sways with every heavy breath taken, teetering on the boundaries of pain and pleasure. the man beneath you runs a free hand over your sweat-covered body, a way to somehow soothe you but deep down it was to keep him in check as well—his patience wearing thin at the way your velvety walls eagerly sucked him in. matsukawa felt so fucking good inside you, stretching you out like no man ever could, and kissing spots inside you that you didn’t know even existed. the funniest thing? he hasn’t even bottomed out yet.

thinking about the groan that comes out of mattsun’s mouth when you climb into his lap, bury your fingers in the soft strands of hair at the back of his head and pull until his lips part and his eyes go dark.

© xiaoyuOuO | do not edit and/or crop logo

You know how tighnari goes into heat right? Can you imagine if male reader is actually teasing him saying, 'oh my~ dude can't even stop being horny lmao!' or 'aww what a cute fox being horny, can imagine you begging on the ground!' and just making fun of his heat jokingly

And then he got enough of it, so when his heat came. He just pushes male reader to the ground and shows him who's the one is going to turn into a mess

Anyway this is like 8. In the morning and weirdly enough, I am curious to see mad and Dom tighnari

tighnari nsfw drabble 11

cw: amab!reader, bratty reader, tighnari’s in heat

nsfw content below, dni if uncomfortable

aren’t you mischievous, poking fun at a clearly suffering man! he’s humiliated by your incessant teasing, burying his face into his hands. you glide your hands over his tail, his ears, and you’re even so cruel enough to lightly tug at them. he tries to swat your hands away with an uncharacteristically strained smile. he can’t stand this. what man could? but patience is a virtue, and he’s sure to take his revenge once the perfect moment arrives.

yet as you’re laid underneath him with your clothes almost ripped to shreds by his near inhuman claws, you can’t help but tease him. you coo at how cute he looks when he’s irritated, how he must be so desperate to fuck you. well fuck you he did, making sure to dig his nails a little deeper into your hips.

“you’re a lot more bearable to listen to like this.” tighnari scowled, his ears flattened against his head. “my ears are sensitive, i’ve told you many times.” he wants to be gentle to you, he knows he should. he salivates just looking at your weeping cock, and it takes everything for him to not stop fucking you and to suck you dry instead. but every man has his limits, and he will not make exceptions.

how many years late am i? far enough tbh… i hope to get back on track with writing!! i am a little rusty to say the least, not to mention i’m not totally familiar with tighnari. i apologize if this is REALLY ooc!!!

“i think iwa-chan’s in love with you.”

startled, you whip around to see the pensive look on oikawa’s face as he sits down on your new couch and looks around at the equally new furniture that now fills the rest of the living room.

glancing up from inspecting the array of trinkets on the bookshelf, mattsun nods in agreement.

you look between the two of them, bewildered.

sure, iwaizumi’s one of your best friends. but so are they.

(the years-long crush you’ve had on him is neither here nor there.)

“it’s the ikea effect,” mattsun says with a shrug, reaching out with a finger to spin your miniature globe on its axis.

“the what?”

makki sprawls out on the couch as well, kicking his feet across oikawa’s lap; they’re promptly shoved off. “i asked iwaizumi if he’d come over and help me build ikea furniture once. he told me he’d rather die.”

“to be fair, we almost killed each other building that tv stand,” mattsun adds.

“i tricked him into coming over after i bought an ikea dresser that needed to be built, and he took one look at the box and walked right out,” oikawa scoffs.

you blink at all three of them, heart doing something funny in your chest. “i mean, maybe he just felt obligated because he went with me and helped me pick most of it out—“

“i’m sorry, he fucking WHAT—“

“—HE WENT WITH YOU?”

“IWAIZUMI HAJIME STEPPED FOOT INTO AN IKEA OF HIS OWN FREE WILL?”

at that, the door to your new apartment swings open, and there’s a familiar, affectionate flutter in your chest at the head of dark hair that steps inside.

“i picked up those curtains you were talking about last night…” iwaizumi immediately starts talking, trailing off when he belatedly realizes you’re not alone.

oikawa hops up off of the couch, pointing an accusing finger at the logo on the shopping bag clutched in iwaizumi’s hand as he looks from mattsun to makki and trills in a singsong tone, “remember what happened last time one of us tried to get him to come to bed, bath, and beyond?”

“he said he’d rather die,” mattsun and makki reply blandly in unison.

iwaizumi gives the three of them a weird look and shakes his head as he turns down the hallway to use the bathroom. makki and oikawa start making kissy faces at each other until you smack them both with a throw pillow.

—and you try to hide the slight trembling of your fingers, shuddering in tune with the rapid beating of your traitorous heart, as you reach into the bag to take out the curtains.

(you decide not to announce when you subsequently find a bag of your favorite candy waiting in surprise at the bottom.)

◟♡ ˒ ʾʾ the dim light of the room flickered, shadows dancing along the walls as megumi’s body pressed you into the bed with a force that was raw and searing, his every movement deliberate, sharp, and soaked in frustration. he was grinding deep, his cock buried to the hilt, your slick walls gripping him like a vice, milking him with an obscene tightness that had him teetering on the edge of losing control.

“god—damn it,” he hissed, his voice laced with a mixture of irritation and desperation as he paused mid-thrust, head hanging low with his jet-black bangs plastered to his sweat-slicked forehead. his glossy lips curled in something between a snarl and a groan as your walls fluttered around him again, sucking him deeper in reflex. “i fucking can’t with you—you disgust me. s-so pathetic."

your answer was a high-pitched, breathless moan that spilled out before you could stop it, the sound breaking free from your throat like you didn’t care how sensitive he already was. it made his cock twitch violently inside you, and his patience, already razor-thin, snapped.

“shut up,” he growled, leaning forward to clamp a hand over your mouth. his palm was rough, firm, pressing down just enough to muffle your sounds but not stop your ragged breaths. “i mean it—shut the fuck up. if you keep making those fucking noises—" his sentence broke off into a sharp groan, his head dropping to the crook of your neck as his hips started to move again, almost against his will. "—you’re gonna make me cum. is that what you want? for me to bust early like some idiot just because you can’t stop moaning like a slut?”

you couldn’t help it; his frustration sent a fresh wave of heat flooding through your body, making your back arch into him, your cunt clenching involuntarily around his cock again. the way you wrapped around him, the wet, obscene squelch of every thrust, the way your body seemed designed to wring him dry—it was driving him fucking insane. he didn’t even realize his free hand had moved to lock around your throat, pulling you into a loose, rough headlock. it wasn’t tight, but it was possessive, controlling, the flex of his arm telling you exactly who had the upper hand even as he muttered curses under his breath about how you were ruining him.

“you don’t get it, do you?” he said through gritted teeth, his words rasping against your ear as his thrusts picked up again, harder, angrier. his balls slapped against you, heavy, full, and growing tighter with every second. his voice dropped lower, a dangerous edge to it that sent shivers rippling through your overheated body. “every fucking time you moan—every fucking time—i can feel it. you think i don’t notice how my cock twitches when you do that? how close you get me? you’re—fuck—you’re so wet, it’s disgusting.”

he buried himself even deeper, his cock hitting that spot inside you that made you see stars, his words paired with the relentless pace pushing you closer to the brink. but when another helpless moan escaped your throat, muffled beneath his hand, his control snapped completely.

“god, shut up,” he barked, his voice shaking with barely restrained need as his arm tightened just enough to send a thrill racing through you. his cock throbbed inside you, every vein pulsing, his balls drawing up tight against his body as he tried to stave off the inevitable. “i can’t if you keep making those noises—i swear to fucking god, you’re going to make me—fuck—”

but you couldn’t stop yourself, and neither could he.

i think satoru would be mildly irritated if you turn out to be good at giving blowjobs when you suck him off for the very first time because it only means that someone else taught you before him and it fills him with murderous intent to the point where he can’t even finish bc he’s so pissed but it’s going to get you so fucked later out of pure jealousy and frustration that he can’t change the past

its hiro missing hours

hanamaki takahiro loves your pussy. it's gotten to the point where you're five orgasms in, and he's still begging you to cum for him.

"please, pretty girl? just one more."

"that's- ah! what you said just now!" your voice comes out in a broken whine as hanamaki pushes the vibrating dildo against your g spot. "h-hiro, i can't- no more!"

your thighs tremble around his head. the soft, pink tufts of his hair tickle your sticky skin as he kisses your clit.

"yes you can, you've cum more than eight times before. this is nothing. just for me? please?" he pouts, though you can't see it.

your half-lidded eyes roll back into your head as hanamaki thrusts the dildo in and out of your sloppy cunt. your poor, abused clit throbs. yet, each nudge against your favourite spot makes your womb melt. you barely even fathom your next high creeping over the edge as you rut your hips into hanamaki's face.

"guh- mmph! hiro, m'close! feels so good!" you babble, back arching off the bed.

his lips suck on your clit, tongue lapping on the underside of it as you cum for the sixth time on his mouth. hanamaki humps the bed desperately and his weeping cock squirts all over the sheets. a gush of fluid dampens his face, but he moans through it, his brain going blank as your pleasure doubles as his.

"f-fuck," he gasps. "fuck. you're so good to me. thank you, thank you, baby."

he kisses your inner thigh, pulling out the dildo as you try to catch your breath.

"we're stopping at three next time," you huff, but make grabby hands towards your boyfriend anyways.

his ears would've perked up if he were a dog. hanamaki eagerly dives into your embrace, snuggling against your face and peppers your hot cheeks with kisses.

"four?" he offers.

you pause. "we'll see."

Evil monsters should have big fat cocks they wanna bully into holes too tight for them and use their big wet tongues to lick up all your slick while leaving behind even more spit and wetness and slide their claws experimentally inside you while you cry big pathetic tears and let them find heaven between your legs

Big bad boss Nanami who doesn’t say much, doesn’t socialize much, doesn’t reveal anything about his personal life to his employees. But one early morning meeting he comes in dishevelled with your pretty red lipstick smeared all around his stern mouth, apologizing because his “beautiful wife” held him up, and the office loses it. 

IS IT CASUAL NOW?

issei matsukawa x f!reader

Casually asking your werewolf roommate to put his scent on you to ward off creeps is...well. It's platonic, until it's not.

wc: 2k tags: 18+ only, werewolf!matsukawa, roommates to lovers speed run, dry humping, mattsun's big dick, werewolf scenting -> 2k event

“Matsukawa.”

Your roommate looks up from where he’s idly scrolling through his phone on the couch, eyes widening a fraction once he sees your outfit. 

Self-consciously, you tug at the hem of the short dress, steeling yourself to ask the question that’s been idling in your mind all afternoon. “I’m supposed to be going to The Black Crow tonight for my friend’s birthday—”

“My condolences,” he cuts in, face blanching slightly as he puts his phone down on the coffee table. 

Sighing, you nod. “Yeah, it wasn’t my first pick either. But anyway, I kind of wanted to ask you for a favor.”

He winces. “Please don’t tell me your friend is still trying to get you to hook her up with me.”

It’s embarrassing how relieved you were when he shot that down months ago—not that you’d ever tell him that. 

You shake your head, snorting. “No, definitely not. I just…I want to have a good time without having to deal with the weirdos that always hang around there. And one of the girls in my lit class the other day was talking about how nice it is to have a were boyfriend, because she’s always scented when she goes out now. Nobody bothers her.”

Matsukawa waits patiently for you to continue.

“SoIwasmaybewonderingifyou’dscentmebeforeIleave.”

He blinks.

“As a friend,” you add, for good measure, to punctuate your mortifying word vomit. 

He blinks again, lips parting.

Heart pounding with embarrassment, you turn on your heel and squeak out, “God, I knew that was going to be weird. Forget I said anything please and thanks. Bye!”

“Wait.”

You’re stopped by a hand loosely wrapping its way around your wrist, Matsukawa leaning forward off of the couch cushions. 

Soul three-quarters into its journey of leaving your body, you slowly turn to face him once more.

“I don’t mind. I just want to make sure you know what you’re asking for.” 

There’s something slightly odd that wavers in his voice when he says it, his throat bobbing as he swallows. 

“You just have to like, hold me for a little bit, right?”

He looks up at the ceiling before returning his gaze to you. “Yeah, uh. It’s not that. You’re a human, so it might not affect you in the same way. But it’s…scenting is very intimate for my kind. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, if it ends up being too much.”

Crossing your arms, you furrow your brow. “We’ve been friends for like, eight years, Mattsun. We’ve hugged plenty of times. I’ll be fine.”

Scratching the back of his head, he nods, gesturing for you to come and sit next to him on the couch. “Just tell me if you want me to stop, okay?”

He puts an arm around you, his skin warm against your bare shoulders. Your heart knocks against your ribcage at his proximity, as it always has, but that’s a secret you’ll keep firmly locked behind your teeth. You asked Matsukawa to do this because you trust him, nothing more. 

Slowly, gentle notes of pine begin to settle over you, drifting and settling like delicate needles atop freshly fallen snow. 

It’s subtle, but something inside of you stirs all the same, rising like dust motes in a cracked window’s breeze.

Your skin prickles.

Your toes curl. 

Matsukawa leans in, his nose pressed to the side of your neck, and like a carefully twisting dial, the smell is amplified. A sweet, herbal scent dances across your nostrils, tickling the back of your throat—lavender. A field of purple flowers sways delicately in the wind, and you feel warm all over.

Your tongue rests heavily in your mouth.

“Is this okay?” he asks, lips moving against your neck as he speaks.

Your ribcage shudders beneath the weight of what’s blooming behind it, a trellis for the edges of your fragile heartstrings. 

You nod.

Matsukawa inhales and begins to drag his nose down the side of your neck, the day-old stubble on his cheeks tickling your skin as he rubs his face against it.

Lemon. The clean scent of lemon trickles in, buried beneath the pine and lavender. You want to tip your head back and part your lips, feel drops of sour juice sink onto your tongue. 

(You want Matsukawa to grasp your chin, to slip his thumb into your mouth and hold your tongue there as you inhale—)

Your fingers dig into the couch cushions.

You swallow. 

Matsukawa’s wavy black hair is soft against your face as he moves to the base of your throat. And it’s funny, because you know the eucalyptus scent of his shampoo like the back of your hand, can picture the brown bottle where it sits nestled between your shaving cream and body wash.

But right now, while you specifically remember the sight of his dripping wet hair this morning when he walked into the kitchen after showering, right now—

You can’t smell it at all.

Not over the all-consuming scents that permeate you from head to toe. 

“Oh,” you gasp, unable to hold back the noise that slips out of you, gut churning at the sensation as his lips skirt your collarbone.

He pauses, slowly going to pull away, and before you can think better of it, you thread your fingers in his hair.

“No, no,” you exhale, a little dazed. “It’s fine, it’s…keep going.”

He’s still for a moment.

“Please,” you add.

Matsukawa breathes out, his breath hot and damp against your sternum, and you roll your shoulders.

Pine and lavender and lemon and heat—

“I should move to your other side to get the rest—”

You shift, not waiting for him to finish his sentence as you start to throw a leg over his lap, your body acting before your mind can fully contemplate the action. Matsukawa grunts, and the room sways as strong hands grip your waist, pulling you fully into his lap in one swift movement. Your dress is rucked up enough to allow your thighs to spread wide, and you try not to think about the way your panties are now on clear display. 

Forehead falling against his, you’re both quiet, save for the sounds of your breathing.

“Okay?” he asks, voice a little rough.

“Yeah.”

Matsukawa leans back in, bringing his face to the other side of your neck that he’s yet to rub his scent on. It’s more difficult to mask how affected you are by this, now that you’re straddling his lap. Your mind floats untethered in a lush forest, and you unconsciously press closer.

Something rumbles in Matsukawa’s chest, and the hand that’s still curled around your hip flexes, thumb pressing into your hipbone. His free hand slides up to the back of your neck, fingers slipping through the hair at your nape. 

Lush lavender interspersed with pine needles.

Matsukawa’s face strays a haphazard path as he scents his way across all of the exposed skin he can reach, his breathing going a bit ragged. 

Lemons and tall trees and a soft forest floor.

You tilt your head to the side, and he buries his face in the tender juncture between your shoulder and neck.

“Matsukawa,” you exhale. 

Matsukawa shifts, and teeth graze your skin.

You’re on the verge of combusting. 

“Issei, please.”

It was an accident, the slip of his name. But Matsukawa just shudders beneath you, one hand cupping the side of your face. “I can stop, if you want.”

He misunderstood.

And you’ve slipped so deeply into the cradle of his lap, his erection now lies flush against your cotton panties.

“No,” you whisper. “No, I don’t want you to stop.”

“Why?” he rasps. 

Your lips move of their own volition, “It feels so good.”

He growls, but the sound is somehow soft. It goes right to the simmering heat between your legs all the same. “Yeah?”

You nod, inhaling slowly as you run a hand over your sternum, body arching into his. 

“Then enjoy it,” he murmurs, both hands now on your hips.

He breathes hot and heavy against your shoulder, and you card your fingers through his black hair. Giving in to the urge, you tug, just a little. Just hard enough for him to—

“Hah—” he exhales, tongue sliding in a firm, broad stroke over the low neckline of your dress, skirting the swell of your breasts. 

Matsukawa rocks his hips upward, fingers pressing into your skin, and you gasp at the friction of his hard cock against your swollen clit. You belatedly realize just how wet your panties are, the material now soaked through with sticky arousal as it clings to your sopping folds. 

“You have no idea,” he grounds out. “How good you smell.”

“Me?” you ask, breathless. You thought scents were strictly a werewolf thing. 

He nods, dragging his nose from the hollow of your throat to the sensitive spot behind your earlobe. “Humans can't smell themselves, but wolves can.”

He inhales deeply.

“Salt water and oranges,” he groans.

Your chest flutters at this new information, and he nips at your earlobe.

“But when you’re—” He groans, rocking his cock against your clothed cunt again. “When you’re like this…”

In any other situation, you might be mortified over what he’s implying. But right now, all you can do is whimper as he places a hot, open-mouthed kiss over the corner of your jaw and tells you how you smell when you’re aroused with a gravel-rough voice that will fucking haunt you until you die, probably. 

“It gets sweeter…like a peach,” Matsukawa murmurs. “Drives me fuckin’ crazy.”

Oh.

Your cunt aches as you dry hump his erection, mouth watering at the sheer length of it. When you look down, the back of your neck heats up as you see the dark stain on his gray sweatpants, your slick arousal having soaked clear through your underwear.

He must see you looking, because one of his hands slides to the small of your back to urge you to keep going as he murmurs, “I don’t mind.”

You gasp when he presses up into you harder, and the zap of pleasure that ricochets in your chest and settles in your gut leaves you dizzy with need. Shiny precum pools on his abdomen, the head of his cock flushed red as it pokes out from the waistband of his pants. 

“Issei, can you—” your chest heaves as you try to get the words out. “Will you ki—”

Matsukawa doesn’t let you finish, one large hand cupping the back of your head as he brings his mouth crashing into yours. He swallows down your gasp of surprise, the moan of pleasure that leaves you at the feeling of his plush lips slotted against your own. 

His stubble caresses your chin as his tongue skirts the seam of your mouth, beckoning your lips to part. Matsukawa deepens the kiss, his other hand wholly palming your ass while you drag yourself up and down his length. It’s possessive, the way he’s touching you now. Your entire body shudders and trembles with pleasure, your raw nerves alight as your composure slips with each thrust.

Pine and lavender and lemon and Issei, Issei, Issei—

You don’t realize you’re crying out his name until you feel him cup your face and start to murmur your own, his pupils blown wide with lust as he watches you come in his lap. 

When you can finally breathe again, you look down to find thick ropes of cum all over his t-shirt as he tugs up the waistband of his pants to cover his spent cock. 

Pine.

Lavender.

Lemon.

Issei.

He blinks a few times, dragging a hand through his hair before he stares at you, dazed.

Your phone vibrates on the coffee table, and there’s a banging noise at the front door, followed by the distant shout of one of your friends yelling, “Let’s paaaaaarty!”

But what the fuck just happened—

You glance between the door and Matsukawa, and he gives you a lopsided smile. “Go.”

Sighing, you start to pull yourself out of his lap, but a firm grip on your hip stops you. Matsukawa takes your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before he adds, “We’ll talk about this later.”

18+

osamu always thought coming untouched was locker room talk bullshit.

that is, until a late evening finds the two of you tired and loose, laughing quietly and lazily making out on his couch after years spent on a tightrope of friendship and flirting and what ifs turned to why nots.

until his pants are on the floor and you’re left in nothing but a bra and a short skirt, and you end up in his lap with your legs wrapped around one of his own. you’ve made suggestive jokes about it before—about how stupidly thick and muscled his thighs still are even now, this long after hanging up his volleyball uniform. (about how rideable they look—your words, not his.)

osamu always thought coming untouched was complete and total bullshit—until he grasps your hips from beneath your bunched up skirt and sees the way your jaw falls slack in pleasure when you experimentally rock forward. until you bury your hands in his hair and whimper his name as you drag your bare pussy along his firm thigh again and again with increasing desperation, leaving behind a slick, soaking wet trail of arousal across his skin.

until you’re moaning and trembling against his mouth into a spit-soaked kiss as your pussy gushes with a climax so intense, you nearly break skin where your nails are digging into his back.

until you reach for the zipper of his pants after only to find his boxers soaked through with a messy, hot load of cum, his neglected, throbbing cock already spent of its own accord.

“oh,” he chokes out, voice rough, chest heaving.

ok but think about….men who get carried away when they kiss you. their breathing gets heavier, grip gets harder, and suddenly they cannot let go of your lips.

Pulling you back into them if you even think about pulling away. Air? Who is she? They kiss you like you’re the last breath of air on earth, kissing you like they’ve been drowning forever, and you’re the first gasp of air breaking through their lungs—a desperate, consuming need.

Their hands roaming over your body, keeping you in place, keeping you agonizingly close. You know that it will bruise, but you don’t mind. How can you when they’re kissing you with such fervor? You try and make some distance, but all you get is a warning nip in your lower lip. But oh, when their hands reach your face, they hold you so tenderly, like you’re a dream they’re afraid to let slip away.

And when it gets too much—their teeth pulling your lips, chasing after you in a guttural groan, you try to pull away. To just breathe, even if it’s for a second. But as soon as you do that they dive back in, pulling you flush against them, almost whimpering, mindless babbles.

“no no, no. pretty you don’t get to do that, don’t go away. come back here. i’m so, so fucking lucky to have you. so sweet, you’re so sweet for me.”

And then they finally pull away, a saccharine string of saliva connecting your lips to theirs. It’s honestly filthy, but all you can think about is breathing, and you’re breathing them in, their scent clouding your senses. Their forehead resting against yours and then they smile. They smile as if they haven’t completely mushed your thoughts.

“I love you, pretty girl.”

──────────────────

Yuji Itadori, Yuta Okkotsu, Satoru Gojo, Rafayel & Sylus (L&DS), Ken Sato + your favs!

also: merman boyfriend (because duh.)

MANEATER

kinich x saurian! reader

cw: no pronouns. reader is an ancient sealed saurian much like ajaw but you’re in your human form all the time. flirting and makeout. 3.5k words. not proof-read.

There were a lot of adjectives Kinich could use to describe you. Irritating would be the first, though it barely scratched the surface. 

You were cunning, nosy, and far too pleased with yourself. He could have gone his entire life without meeting you and slept soundly at night. You enjoyed testing his patience, dancing around with that sharp smile as if you knew something he didn’t. 

In your eyes, everything seemed like a game—a tiresome one, at that, with endless rules Kinich had no interest in learning. His life had been simpler—at least—before you’d come along; before your mocking laughter, your constant, uninvited insights, and that way you had of observing him, as though he were an oddity you couldn't quite figure out, or a mere prey to hunt. 

But despite everything, there was no ignoring that you had added a strange new rhythm to his days.

The memory pulled him back to that pivotal moment—the point where, he realized now, everything had shifted. 

______________________________________________

He and Ajaw had been partners for some time already, surviving one mission after another. So when another one arrived, promising a huge payment in exchange for exploring ancient ruins, Kinich barely batted an eye. The contractor was vague and evasive about the reasons, claiming he needed a specific artifact hidden within. Suspicious, maybe. But money was money.

Navigating the ruins was a gauntlet. Kinich lost count of the traps, the decaying pillars that threatened to collapse with each step, the puzzles and mechanisms clearly designed to keep intruders out. The place was a maze of broken stone and silent challenges, yet he felt a familiar surge of satisfaction with each step deeper into the heart of the ruin.

At last, he reached a final chamber, where the object of his commission stood on a dais—a fragment of the past unlike any he’d seen before, emanating a strange energy that felt older than time itself. It was no wonder his contractor had wanted it, though Kinich couldn’t begin to guess what it was for.

The moment his hand brushed the relic, a surge of ancient power pulsed through the room. Ajaw, strangely quiet but ever alert, shifted beside him, his eyes narrowing with a cautious awareness. And then, from the shadows, a voice drifted through the room, light and smooth with an undercurrent of menace.

“Well, well. Another little human wandered in.”

Kinich whirled, looking around through the darkness of the place for the source of the voice, when he finally met you.

The figure before him was both mesmerizing and unnervingly unnatural. Even as he felt his guard rise, there was no denying you were the most otherworldly, hauntingly beautiful being he had ever seen. But your draconic eyes betrayed your true nature. You were one of Ajaw’s kind, another ancient sealed entity—alive and as dangerous as the power coursing through the chamber.

Ajaw stirred, his presence crackling with a familiar hostility. “Hunf. Long time no see, (Y/N),” he greeted you, his tone a blend of wary sarcasm and grudging acknowledgment. 

You met his words with a raised brow and an amused smile.

“My, you’re still alive, Ajaw? And leaning on humans above all. How unfortunate,” you replied dryly, crossing your arms. Ajaw grumbled irritated earning a gaze from Kinich who was watching your interaction with almost amused interest. 

“So, human”, you said, your voice edged with a touch of boredom as you sat on a rock, “What do you want with me? What’s the plan? Drag me off to that contractor of yours perhaps?”

Kinich maintained his composure, though he was a bit surprised by how you already knew the reason why he stepped into your domain.

Without further ado, the hunter started to explain the details of his commission—he was the first, but surely he wouldn’t be the last either. 

The moment he finished, your expression twisted, a flicker of disdain evident.

“As if I’d go along with that. Typical mortals, always seeking what they don’t understand, eager to trap things they have no right to touch,” you hissed, earning a followed amused chuckling from Ajaw. 

You paused, the resentment burning in your chest, however, Kinich noted there was something else too as your eyes lingered on him.

Leaving your throne behind and stepping forward, your presence filling the space between all three of you. 

“I have a proposition for you only, though. A contract, let’s call it,” your smile was both inviting and taunting. “We’ll work together, for our mutual benefit. To be frank it is more for my selfish desire than to help you. I’m tired of talking to walls, you see,” your eyes traveled through his body before meeting his gaze again, “Surely, you wouldn’t want to go back with nothing, right?”

Kinich weighed your words carefully, his mind racing through the possibilities and costs. 

He already bore the weight of a pact with Ajaw, and he understood the price of balancing multiple contracts with creatures of such power. Yet the allure of your knowledge, your abilities, was too great to ignore.

Ajaw seemed to be on his edge, cursed both of you facing the absurdity of the offering and what it could bring. 

Nevertheless, Kinich’s mind was set already. With a final, steady breath, he nodded, sealing his decision. Your eyes flashed with a glint of satisfaction, your smirk widening into something altogether dangerous, seductive. You leaned on his ear, your voice dropping to a near-whisper.

“I look forward to working with you, Kinich.”

______________________________________________

That day, Kinich hadn’t earned a paycheck. However, he hadn’t left the ruins empty-handed, either.

From then on, his life became a delicate balance of managing two unpredictable forces. Ajaw, with his bristling sarcasm and an unending appetite for murder, had been challenging enough on his own. But adding you, with your teasing demands and cryptic ways, turned Kinich’s daily life into a finely tuned exercise in patience.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks to months with Kinich adapting himself to the peculiar rhythms of his two ancient companions. 

Ajaw kept volatile, ever-ready to lend his power with a razor-thin line between aid and sabotage. Kinich could call on his abilities freely; but each time, the pixelated dragon took the chance to push him to his limit, toying with him like prey and testing the boundaries of their contract.

You, however, were different. Your contract was filled with stipulations, each one more elusive than the last. Kinich could request your power, your wisdom on ancient lore and mystical ruins, your understanding of secrets hidden for centuries—but each favor required a price. 

He remember the first time he’d needed your help, you smiled wide and said, “Fetch me a Cecilia.”

At first, Kinich hadn’t thought much of it—a flower, seemingly simple enough. Then he realized that Cecilias only bloomed on the cliffs of Mondstadt, a land far from Natlan. And anyone leaving Natlan without permission of the Wayob risked losing themselves, a curse bound by ancient magic. 

That he’d managed to find one spoke to his sheer stubbornness, his ability to navigate through obstacles that should have been impossible.

When he’d finally placed the flower in your hand, your satisfaction had been infuriatingly clear.

It was never straightforward with you. Another time, he’d requested a map of an old ruin rumored to be full of hidden dangers. In return, you’d demanded a simple luxury—a crystal pendant, clear as water, something you could admire as you traveled through dark caves and shadowed forests. A trivial thing, but your smile as you held the pendant was somehow worth the trouble.

Through it all, Kinich found himself unwillingly entangled in your games, constantly navigating the space between the three of you, keeping a balance that was tenuous at best. And even as you continued to provoke him with your playful, cutting comments, he found himself grudgingly relying on you.

There were commissions where you proved to be an invaluable ally. Your intelligence was formidable; your strategies were sound, your insights swift, and you saw through traps that Kinich sometimes missed. Your pride might have been infuriating, but your strange loyalty, he realized, was something rare. 

You kept him on his toes with your challenging personality, pushing him to improve even as you drove him to distraction. And on rare nights, after a long day’s journey or a grueling fight, you’d sit in silence, the air between you calm and oddly comfortable. There were times, with the firelight flickering and casting shadows on your face, that he found himself almost… dazzled.

If he had to do it all over again, he wouldn’t have done it differently. Not that he’d ever admit it to you.

Now, back to present on yet another commission, Kinich found himself partnered with you once more. 

Ajaw had declared the mission too dull to follow, muttering something about it being more suited to “(Y/N)’s ridiculous logic puzzles” than to his taste for battle. Kinich was grateful for the reprieve, though he knew the real challenge would be handling your endless demands and your habit of testing his patience.

You were intelligent and efficient, he could admit that much, but your sharp wit and flirtatious ways were exhausting. You never missed an opportunity to prod at him, to see if you could break through his carefully constructed guard.

As you two moved deeper into the cave, Kinich couldn’t help but feel your eyes on him, watching for every reaction, every flicker of emotion. 

You’ve made a sport of it, brushing close, a sly smile playing on your lips whenever you sensed his irritation, always aiming to get under his skin. And yet, you had an uncanny sense of his well-being. You’d sidestep a trap just in time, then look back to ensure he’d done the same. It was an odd, unspoken protection, one that both irritated and relieved him.

The ruin was as treacherous as any he’d encountered, with more than a few puzzles that made Kinich silently grateful for your presence. You disarmed traps, deciphered carvings he’d never have managed, and stepped through mazes with a precision that bordered on the supernatural. And though you complained all the way through, your pride and determination drove you to succeed.

You both just completed the commission, retrieving the artifact you’d come for, when you turned to him, wiping the dust from your hands. You gave him an amused look, a glint of mischief in your eyes.

“Well,” you started, your tone laced with that familiar teasing edge. “We’re done here.”

He nodded, grateful for the relative quiet that would follow—until you tilted your head, regarding him thoughtfully. “You’ve been awfully quiet today, Kinich. More than usual. A mora for your thoughts?”

Your tone was light, almost offhand, but your gaze was anything but casual. Something was probing in the way you looked at him, as though searching for an answer he hadn’t voiced. The saurian hunter held your gaze, his own expression carefully neutral, as he considered his response.

He stood still, his gaze lingering. Kinich told himself it was merely to study your expression, to gauge your intentions. But his mind betrayed him, tracing the fine details of your face—from the sharp line of your jaw to the glint in your dragon-like eyes and the slight curve of your lips that seemed forever on the edge of a knowing smile. Your beauty was the kind that defied logic, pulling him in even as he resisted.

“It’s nothing,” he replied finally, his tone measured, distant. He turned, motioning for the two of you to leave. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

But you didn’t follow. Instead, you remained where you were, arms folded, head tilted to one side as if you’d only just begun to consider something. The look you gave him was a little too knowing, the glint in your eyes far too familiar. He knew that look of yours. Most of times it meant only thing one: problem.

“Kinich,” you said, a slow smile spreading across your lips. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

The hunter stopped, exhaling slowly as he turned to face you. His eyes narrowed. You were up to something—that much was clear. You had that dangerous, cat-like look about you, your gaze dark and sharp, as though sizing him up, anticipating his every move. He lifted an eyebrow, his voice a shade more cautious than he’d intended.

“And what would that be, (Y/N)?” he asked.

For a moment, you didn’t reply. Instead, you took a single step closer, your eyes never leaving his. He felt his pulse quicken, though he kept his expression blank.

You moved toward him slowly, a faint, predatory gleam in your eyes. You were close now, close enough that he could feel the heat radiating from your skin, and could catch the hint of some exotic scent lingering in the air. A blend of something earthy and sweet, entirely unique to you.

Kinich steeled himself, forcing his mind to stay sharp, though he found himself captivated despite his best efforts. You paused just a breath away, your gaze flickering over him with the lazy, confident ease of someone who knew exactly the effect you had.

A hint of amusement crept into your smile. “It’s payback time,  Malipo”, you began, your voice low and smooth, laced with an almost sinister edge, “I’ve worked hard today, you see, so I’m feeling a bit… greedy.”

His eyes narrowed further.

“What do you want, (Y/N)?”

You giggled. “Oh, I could ask for any number of things,” you took a deep sigh and started to circle him. “Power… influence… control of your soul, even.”

He remained quiet. Your smile widened at his lack of reaction, your teeth flashing in the dim light of the ruins. You were enjoying this, taking your time, savoring every second as if you were unwrapping a carefully chosen gift.

“But…,” you murmured, drawing the word out, “I think I’m more fond of something else.” You paused, letting the silence build, each second stretching as you watched him, relishing his quiet wariness.

Finally, your eyes locked with his, and you spoke with deliberate slowness. “Kiss me.”

Silence.

For a moment, Kinich felt his mind go blank, his eyes widening briefly in stunned silence before he quickly regained control, his expression hardening. 

It had to be a game. Another one of your tricks, another way to unsettle him, to get under his skin. But your gaze didn’t waver, your expression calm, almost serene, though he saw the gleam of anticipation behind your eyes.

A dozen thoughts raced through his mind, each one colliding with the next. His heart hammered in his chest, the sound loud and unsteady, and yet he kept his face neutral, his stance calm. This was you, after all. You thrived on unsettling him, on watching him squirm—though he’d learned, over the months, never to give you the satisfaction of seeing his reactions.

But your eyes… you weren’t blinking, weren’t moving. You waited, utterly still, your lips curved into the faintest smirk as you watched him wrestle with himself. He almost thought he saw something genuine in your gaze, something more than the surface-level teasing, but he dismissed the thought quickly. You were you. Cocky, calculating—you had to be playing with him.

“Don’t tell me there’s something you can’t manage, Kinich,” you sighed, your tone equal parts challenge and mockery. “Well. That’s rather disappointing,” you turned, as if prepared to leave, already dismissing the moment with that same enigmatic smile.

Without fully thinking, Kinich’s hand shot out, catching you by the wrist. You stilled, surprise flickering across your face before you concealed it, though your eyes flashed with something he couldn’t name yet. 

For a heartbeat, you stood in silence, your pulse quick and light beneath his fingers. Slowly, he drew you toward him, his arm encircling your waist, anchoring you against him as his other hand found your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze.

He exhaled a soft, reluctant sigh. “You’re nothing but trouble,” he murmured, his voice laced with resignation.

You only laughed softly, a sound that was both daring and pleased, and he could feel your smirk against his skin as he leaned down, finally pressing his lips to yours.

The first contact was a mere tentative brush, barely more than a fleeting touch between your mouths. It was a moment suspended in uncertainty, as though both were testing the boundaries of this unexpected closeness. 

For a breath, you held still, neither moving nor daring to deepen it. But something simmered beneath the surface, a quiet intensity that broke through the silence with an undeniable pull.

Before either could pull away, though, the kiss grew deeper, hungrier, an unspoken desire erupting between you two. 

Kinich’s hand tightened at your waist, pulling you closer, feeling the warmth of your body pressed to his. He could taste the faint, exotic sweetness of your lips as you yielded to him instantly, only to counter with your own ferocity. But it was when your lips parted that a dam seemed to break. 

Eagerly, Kinich took this opportunity and deepened the kiss, your tongues meeting in a dance of defiance and passion. There was a taste of something otherworld in you, a hint of mystery and danger that drew him in even as it warned him. But he ignored the caution, letting himself be consumed by the moment, by the heat, by the softness of your mouth against his, the way you met his every movement with your own, never yielding, never backing down.

It was a silent battle, a clash of wills and sublime frustration as each sought to take the lead, the kiss growing fierce and excited, your breaths mingling with a fervor you could no longer contain.

Your hands slid up from his chest, your touch lingering, savoring the feel of him as your fingers trailed up his neck and into his hair. You tugged slightly, demanding, as if daring him to give you more. Your fingertips were cool yet electric against his skin, igniting something primal, something he rarely let surface.

Kinich responded instinctively, his own restraint slipping as he pressed you back, guiding you toward the rough wall of the ruin. The space between you dissolved entirely as your back met the stone as he lifted you, the pressure of his body firm, claiming.

Your breaths grew heavier. Your hands gripped both his hair and shoulder, your nails lightly pressing into his skin. His hand slid from your waist, tracing the curve of your thighs and ass, pressing your body into his as though anchoring you there. Every inch of him was focused on you, on the feel of you against him, on the pulse of energy that crackled between you, too powerful to ignore.

When you finally broke apart, the world around seemed to settle, the heavy silence filling the air once more. 

Kinich’s breathing was ragged, his pupils wide, and dilated, his pulse still pounding with an intensity he rarely allowed himself to feel. He could feel the warmth of your breath still lingering close, your lips barely an inch apart, almost as if you were challenging him to give in again.

Your expression was slightly unfocused, your usual composure replaced by something vulnerable, exposed. Kinich caught himself enjoying this version of you. There was a faint flush across your cheeks, a look of astonishment that you quickly masked, though it didn’t disappear entirely. 

For a moment, neither of you spoke the weight of what had just happened hanging heavy, charged with unspoken thoughts, things that might have been, things neither of you would admit.

And then you chuckled softly, your voice laced with amusement, your lips curving into a smirk. “My,” you murmured, your tone both teasing and provocative, “I didn’t expect that. Although I can’t say I didn’t like it either.” You tilted your head, your eyes gleaming with a playful glint. “As always, it’s a pleasure to do business with you, Kinich.”

Kinich didn’t reply immediately, his gaze steady, his expression indecipherable, but there was a depth in his eyes that betrayed him, a lingering trace of something he couldn’t quite banish. 

With a sigh, he finally stepped back, putting a carefully measured distance between you. “Anytime,” he said, his voice low, raspy. “So? Let’s get out of here?”

He turned, giving you space to follow, his demeanor returning to its usual calm, composed state. 

Yet as he moved, he couldn’t ignore the lingering taste of you on his lips, the faint, intoxicating trace that refused to fade. The rational part of him knew this shouldn’t change things—that it couldn’t. You were tied by a pact, bounded by terms he should have expected. This was simply one of your “favors,” a twist you’d added, nothing more.

But as you left the ruins, a sense of awareness settled within him, the quiet realization that for all his caution, he’d succumbed, letting himself be drawn into your orbit, your game. It was dangerous, foolish even, to think this meant anything, to risk feeling for someone who thrived on unpredictability and cunning.

Even so, he couldn’t shake the way you had looked at him, the warmth of your touch, the sensation that still lingered, refusing to be dismissed.

And though he would bury it, push it away, he knew, somewhere in the depths of his guarded heart, that this would stay with him, a taste of something forbidden, lingering, marking him in a way he’d never intended.

"I am malicious because I am miserable !"

hq recs || more to come!

r. suna

on sight || sandwhitches debt || eggyrocks talk too much || honeekyuu [mdni] from the start || mayariviolet white demin overalls || zumicho love notes || causenessus

k. sakusa

hope you know || eggyrocks smudged lipstick || jadeoru [mdni] hush || yogurtkags try again || causenessus drunk || itsmiyamore

s. kita

dancing to you || afyrian smile || bokutoko falling behind || angelkiyo routine || bokutoko

h. iwaizumi

the maneater || eggyrocks rot || eggyrocks hey cupid! || mollyrolls poker face || aozui

i. matsukawa

stop the clock || mollyrolls

e. semi

if not for you || yogurtkags wouldn't it be nice? || mollyrolls

o. miya

my bisque beau || afyrian space between thoughts || hyunteru

s. hinata

all shades of blue || mollyrolls get back || eggyrocks

riding megumi until he cries. every breath he takes shaky and sharp because it hurts, his cock hurts so much, but he keeps bucking up into you, fat tears beading at his pretty lashes, begging you to stop. he can't keep up, he can't cum anymore, he feels like every nerve on his body is on fire and your walls are hugging him so tight and he can't stop you because it feels so good, hands weakly gripping at your hips. you're basically just grinding against him at this point, his swollen tip pushing at your gummy spot and you just wanna be greedy.

ur fav who sees you wearing one of his shirts for the first time and is just stunned still by the image -- doesn't care about your bedhead or how you're yawning after your little nap but can't take his eyes off the way the garment hangs so wide on your shoulders, how it's seconds away from slipping off, and when it eventually does, finds himself sucking in a breath he didn't even know he was holding, feeling something deep and possessive twist in his gut as you turn to look at him questioningly like "what?"

is barely able to piece together a sentence so he says, "that's... mine."

and for a second he can't even tell himself if he's talking about the shirt or you.

you look down and pluck at the shirt with a sheepish grin, "oh -- yeah, sorry. i got lazy and didn't wanna grab something fresh to wear for a nap --"

but he's on you in seconds, raking his fingers through your hair and burying his nose into the juncture of your neck, breathing you in like a man depraved, holding you so close you squeak, "w-what's wrong --?"

he groans, slowly pressing you back into the sofa or the mattress or wherever else, his eyes glazed over with want, licks his lips, and says in a hoarse voice --

"n-nothing. you're just... perfect, y'know that?"

to which you blush and try to turn your head, "if i knew this would be your reaction, i would've stolen one of your shirts sooner."

he just grins and leans down to nudge your nose with his, lips hovering over yours.

"well... better late than never, right?"

[purring] satorrrruuuuu~💕

240701 / @ PANG!

suna likes to keep fucking you even after you cum. he doesn't care that you're crying, fat tears rolling down your temples as you tremble and whine and claw at his back saying "s'too much, just came! rin, please- ah! too sensitive- g'nna cum again!". christ, woman. just cum again. your pussy has never been tighter and sloppier than ever before. why would he want to stop now? if it's too much, you just need a small push to finish again, right? so he'll keep thrusting into you, hard and fast, head of his cock hitting your favourite spots.

too sensitive? too bad. suna doesn't give a fuck.