about me .ᐟ keiri. ‘04. asian. she/her. infp. writer for mainly jjk, haikyuu, and bllk. i'm open to everyone but proceed with caution as i mostly write nsfw. still this is a safe space.
faves .ᐟ i. shoko, n. kento, f. megumi, g. suguru, o. yuta. hajime padilla, m. issei, miya twins, oyaoya squad. c. hyoma, i. bunny, h. yo, n. noel. kuroshitsuji. ┊ rainy season. savory things. cinnamon creme latte. kiwi and mango. citrusy n floral scents. romcoms n coming of age movies. catss. niki zefanya, alt rock n r&b. i weirdly associate songs with characters when writing. chatty, expressive and perceptive ppl like me.
navigation .ᐟ masterlist :: #.𖥔 ݁aizo.orbits (sfw posts) : #.𖥔 ݁aizo.eclipse (nsfw posts) :: @hioriluvbug is my side blog where i make moodboards for fun hehe. feel free to chat w me, ion bite :3 :: currently busy and writing for fun!
synopsis. your roommates rummaged through your dresser and decided to stretch out your hello kitty pajamas and your beloved juicy couture joggers.
┊ ˚➶ ｡˚ pairing. gojo s. x reader x ryomen s. 彡 content. r18 mdni, fem!reader, oral (m & f receiving), fingering, mutual masturbation slash threesome, a little sukugo moment, handjobs, lowkey cucking (?), foot humping, sukugo greedy over ur cunt, use of petnames. 2.0k words.
uni was absolutely life changing in a sense that you thought the consistent star student in you—the girl that almost always never goes out clubbing and sneaking through fences at 2am never got wasted over hard liquor on weekends and never got sent to the discipline office for five, maybe six, back to back absences—never would've thought that you'd be doing the opposite now. well, it's an exaggeration, of course. you never really did all that as a uni student.
but! but your roommates did. ryomen sukuna and gojo satoru did. despite that, they're absolute sweethearts. well, maybe to a certain someone alone and that someone being you. the three of you had been living together in the loud dormitory off-campus for almost two years already. it was quite a headache to live with two guys who bickered almost everyday—yelling and hollering over who gets to wash the dishes or do the laundry.
yet today, it seemed peaceful. oddly peaceful. as you came home from an overnight stay at the campus studio working your ass off on a project, you were met with a clean sink, an organized cupboard and counter, folded laundry in the hampers, and the sweet, citrusy aroma of the air freshener filling your entire flat.
the two doors down the hall were closed shut but your bedroom door was open. a couple of shuffling sounds and the creak of wooden floorboards resounding through the small crack. then came the gruff voices of your roommates.
"dude i might start stealing these from her. my ass looks great."
"cute. pink's definitely your color. matches your hair."
your brows furrowed on instinct at the casual mention of your name and before the two men knew it, you were already barging through the door. there you saw the pile of clothes on your bed, gojo in a pair of pink hello kitty pajamas and sukuna wearing your favorite juicy couture jogger pants.
"what the hell is wrong with you? take those off!"
"sup, babe–"
"kuna your ass is gonna stretch those out!" you grumpily roared as you clawed on the velvet material hugging his thighs to get them off him.
a groan escapes his throat as he pushed your head away while you persistently tried to tug on the waistband, so much so that you were already down on your knees before him. the image of it however implied something a little more suggestive to the blue-eyed man.
out of amusement, gojo leaned back on your dresser, still sporting your hello kitty pajamas before clearing his throat.
"having a little fun there huh?" he whistles.
"you! take those off too, not my kitty pajamas, toru!"
"whatt? it's comfier than sweats. i should wear them often."
absolutely not, you thought to yourself. if it wasn't already obvious that their proportions were freaking massive, hell, you weren't about to wear stretched out pajamas and most of all, not ones which their bare dicks touched the insides of.
sukuna bursts out laughing at his friend's remark, shaking his head as he looked back at you. for a brief moment, he had let go of the band sitting on his hips which caused the pants to pool around his thighs and you were slapped right in the face with his thick length. him gazing down at you like a predator made you gulp.
"s'what you get for being such a brat. what? you gonna touch it?" he bites, arms crossed over his pecs.
"it's mine–"
"i didn't strip you of my shirt that you borrowed!"
meanwhile gojo stares right at you behind his snowy lashes, his own cock manifesting a print on the pajamas—your pajamas. on instinct, you had averted your gaze from the angry, throbbing dick centimeters from your face. veiny, leaking, musky scent. totally your roommates filling your senses.
"gross.." you muttered, rolling your eyes in an attempt to mask the blush creeping up your cheeks.
to be fair, who wouldn't feel embarrassed and, as crazy as it sounds, turned on by the sight of two piping hot stunners with their athletic builds and bulging cocks so close to your grasp? not to mention the way you were on your knees while they admired you with their smirks and fangs out, ready to pounce on you at any given minute.
"how about a proposal? i return your beloved juicy culture—"
"couture, ‘kuna—"
"fuck do i care, couture, whatever. in exchange for you drooling over our dicks?"
you snorted—actually snorted at his wild bargain. gojo himself couldn't help but guffaw as well but in all honesty, it was a very promising offer. after all, who was he to pass up on this chance to feel your mouth on him and his friend? at first, it sounded like a mere taunt but sukuna's straight face said otherwise. which led you to a few "are you sure's" and a "we're not talking about this after".
and now you were taking the pink haired man's thick manhood down your throat, your tongue pressed flat against the underside, feeling each vein and ridge. the taste of him was mildly salty and hot, eyes glossed over with tears as you desperately tried to swallow him whole. meanwhile the other man was holding back your hair around his fist while he pumped his cock to the rhythm of sukuna's thrusts.
"think you can keep your hands busy, sweet girl?"
the moment gojo had let go of his precum-slicked cock, you spat on your hand to lube him up further and wrapping it around his length, giving him a few languid strokes before pulling off of sukuna's length and replacing him with gojo's. the difference in their taste, the girth, the trimmed bush on sukuna and gojo's happy trail and prominent v-line caused your thighs to press together as wetness started to seep onto your underwear.
"fuuuck– you're too good at this, pretty."
"shit, stick your tongue out like that, yeah,"
no amount of praise from your statistics professor could even come close to how much your roommates were showering you with affirming words and how they knew how to keep you going, bobbing your head up and down, alternating sucking and stroking, all while you kept your gaze on them.
just as you were about to stroke on sukuna's dick, he gently grabbed your wrist and with his foot, he parted your legs therefore exposing the wet spot growing on your cotton panties. to your surprise, the man then brought his bare foot towards your core,feeling the heat radiate through the thin fabric.
"ride it. get yourself off on me."
as the best roommate, you complied, eagerly humping his foot with your mouth enveloping gojo's cock while the other man stroked himself. wet skin slapping filled the room as well as the squelches your throat produced from taking gojo deeper which made him prematurely shoot his load just by looking at his friend and the tight, wet heat around him.
"that's kinda gay, satoru."
gojo whimpered and choked on his moans as he continued to empty himself in your hot cavern, hips canting upwards, fingers tangled in your hair.
"s-shut the hell up, kuna. not my fault her—fuck! her throat's.. tight like that,"
"oh yeah? let me feel that tight throat too, baby. open wide."
you pulled off of gojo the minute sukuna's wrist flicked faster on his cock, sticking your tongue out to accommodate him like he told you. the angry, sodden tip hitting the back of your throat repeatedly as he held your head in place while gojo came down from his high, sparing his still twitching dick a few pumps.
with a couple of strokes later, sukuna's groans filled your bedroom as he released his hot, sticky seed on your tongue. red eyes rolling to the back of his head in immense pleasure. whereas you?
you were thrown over your swivel chair, spun around so they could freely touch you everywhere; grope your curves, your tits, your warm thighs which were then pulled over both of their shoulders as they situated themselves on the hardwood floor. dicks sensitive and still throbbing from release.
definitely, you looked fucked out and straight out of a porno. sukuna was already on you, fingers peeling your soaked panties off, spreading your puffed pussylips apart. a hearty chuckle erupted in his throat when you arched your back at the feeling of his thumb ghosting over your clit.
"that's what we like to see. our pretty roommate getting teased like this. would you like me to feast on you, princess?"
oh god. he wasted absolutely no time darting his tongue out and licking a flat stripe up from your entrance to your swollen bud, lips pressing a soft kiss onto it. all while gojo admired your figure spread open on your chair, juices dripping onto the seat as your fingers guided sukuna by the hair, mouth doubling down on you.
"satoru.."
"yes beautiful?"
"need your fingers please—"
gojo and sukuna frankly were the right men for this work. with the pink haired man lapping at your decadent pussy, the other using his slender fingers to reach spots you couldn't. and oh, when gojo dipped his head down to suck at your inner thighs, his cheek pressing against sukuna? you were on the brink of release.
"fuck—! sato— t-toru—!"
"it's my tongue, babygirl."
"nah, mine."
you were on cloud nine as both of their tongues fought for their spot on your cunt, each flick giving way to the other. gojo totally enjoyed the way he was giving you satisfaction from his tongue and sukuna's that he groaned right onto your mound, gently shoving the other man away but alas, sukuna was unshakable and continued slurping on your sweet nectar.
"make a mess on my face, baby."
"cum on my tongue. cum on it. cum on me, sweetheart,"
with sukuna viciously making out with your pussy and gojo curling two of his fingers upward, a third finger teasingly prodding at your perineum, your eyes rolled to the back of your skull, nails digging into both of their scalps, and your entire body trembled. it had been a hot minute since you came that quick and not to mention that it was barely ten minutes of their ministrations on you. you were being praised left and right, your essence coating both of their greedy tongues and lips, your head was too hazy.
pants and heavy breathing came from all directions, a light suckle sound and a pop! soon after, you were lying boneless on your chair, legs still propped up on your roommates' shoulders.
but the fun didn't stop from you coming all over their mouths, no. sukuna was reaching for his friend's cock, hard and twitching yet again. as if they had their own world and you were their audience. gojo hissed when sukuna's finger pressed on his tip, fist tightening around his shaft as he slowly pumped him up and down, unable to stop the sticky rivulets of cum from escaping.
"you cum so quick, satoru."
"yeah? what are you gonna do about it then?"
"brat."
the two exchanged banters while you watch how gojo, too, was slicking sukuna up with his spit. apparently, he loved it sloppy by the way his head was thrown back. pussy exposed to the both of them, you slowly let go of their locks to give them a show, rubbing slowly at your sensitive nipples, while they please each other. not long after, sukuna's dick was spurting another of his thick load onto his friend's hand which dribbled down onto your floor, thighs tensing in the process.
sukuna took it upon himself to caress your thighs, massage your limbs lightly to bring you to consciousness and a comfortable state. meanwhile gojo peppered kisses all over your legs and your hands down to your fingertips.
"you okay, baby?" you nodded. "you did so good for us. so, so good."
well at least now you know your roommates would bribe you into sucking their dicks so you could keep your pajamas.
iwaizumi hajime (32) athletic trainer in this. you having full control over him, melting like putty in your hands every time you graze his dick and as much as he hates to admit it, he has sensitive nipples and whimpers loudly when you touch them. timeskip!iwa who's struggling against the restraints, his pecs and biceps even more defined, his thighs and abs tensing at your touch. hips bucking upward but oh to no avail. instead of relief, his syrupy tip catches on the rough fabric of his slacks. his pleas consisting of muffled "please touch me", "please let me cum" and "please use me" against the cover on his mouth. he'd have glassy eyes once you pry the blindfold off and he'd immediately beg you to ride his face. when it's all over, you get to admire the nylon marks over his beautifully tanned skin.
that's it. i'm going fucking nuts over this video man😮💨
i just had a thought and maybe it's the queer in me but whenever i develop a parasocial relationship with characters in animes i watch, my mind immediately thinks about their genderbent versions and my mind instantly goes 😵💫🥰🤭 i swear i have too many fem jjk and femlock fanarts saved more than actual fanarts of them as guys
MDI 18+ AUDIENCE ONLY established relationship with oikawa, cheating (done by reader) explicit smut, infidelity, toxic relationships, angst, moral ambiguity, degradation, masochism, sex used as a form of self harm, rough sex, unprotected sex, creampie, cigarette burn used, self destructive behaviour, everyone is miserable + more dark themed stuff, read at your own risk word count: 3.8k
you called for him when the bruises faded.
that was the rule you made for yourself, some fucked up ritual of self preservation that was actually self destruction wearing a clever disguise. you had to wait until the evidence of the last time disappeared - the fingerprints on your thighs, the bite marks on your shoulders, the ache deep in your muscles that made walking a reminder of your sin. you had to wait until you looked clean again, until oikawa could kiss your neck without his lips brushing over proof of your filth, until you could look in the mirror and almost believe you were the good girl everyone thought you were.
then, and only then, you texted iwaizumi hajime.
come over
two words. always the same two words. no please, no apology, no acknowledgment that it was three in the morning and he had practice at six. no acknowledgment that he was supposed to be your boyfriend's best friend, his rock, the one person oikawa trusted implicitly when he was off in argentina chasing his stupid, beautiful dreams.
iwaizumi always came. he hated himself for it, you could see it in the set of his jaw when he climbed through your window because using the door felt too brazen, too real. he hated you for it too, sometimes, and that was part of why you did it.
"you look like shit," he said the first time, three months ago, when you'd shown up at his apartment with shaking hands and a request you couldn't quite voice. you'd just broken up with oikawa for the fourth time that month, some stupid fight about time zones and missed calls, and you'd gone to iwaizumi because you knew he'd be cruel about it. you knew he wouldn't coddle you. you knew he'd give you what you actually deserved.
"feel worse," you'd replied.
he'd stared at you for a long moment, his dark eyes unreadable, his big arms crossed over his chest. iwaizumi had always scared you a little—he was rough edges and blunt force, honesty that cut like a blade, the opposite of oikawa's glittering charm. when you were with oikawa, you felt like a doll on a shelf, pretty and admired and utterly empty. when iwaizumi looked at you, you felt like meat. like something to be used up and thrown away.
"you're gonna regret this."
"i already do."
that had been enough. he'd grabbed you by the hair - not gently, not like oikawa's careful, worshipful touches and dragged you to his bedroom. he didn't kiss you. kissing was intimate, kissing was for people who loved each other, and you didn't want love. you wanted punishment. you wanted someone to hurt you in ways you couldn't hurt yourself, to fuck you until the guilt in your chest was drowned out by the pain between your legs, to make you bleed so you could stop feeling like you were already rotting from the inside.
iwaizumi delivered. he was rough. he took you apart with his hands and his teeth and his cock, and he never once told you you were pretty. he called you a slut, a whore, a fucking mess, and you came harder than you ever had with oikawa because it was true, it was all so true, and finally someone was treating you like the garbage you knew you were.
afterward, he wouldn't let you stay. "go home," he'd said, tossing your clothes at you while you trembled on his bed, your body a map of new hurts. "go home. cry in the shower. don't come back."
but you did. you always did.
---
the pattern became your religion.
oikawa would call, his voice bright and loving across thousands of miles, telling you about his new team, his new life, how much he missed you, how he couldn't wait to see you, how you were his perfect girl, his good girl, his everything. he'd send flowers and gifts and long, rambling texts about his day, and you'd smile and send heart emojis back while your stomach twisted with self-loathing because you knew.
you knew that in twelve hours, when the guilt got too heavy, you'd be texting iwaizumi again.
i need you.
i'm at the door.
answer.
he always answered. he hated you more every time, you could feel it in the way his grip tightened, the way he left marks that lasted longer, the way he stopped looking at your face and just used your body like a thing, an object, a hole to fuck his own anger into. he was rougher now, crueler, and you deserved it. you deserved every bruise, every tear, every time he pinned you down and made you say you were nothing, that you were worthless, that you didn't deserve oikawa's love.
"you're gonna ruin him," iwaizumi panted against your ear one night, his hand around your throat, his cock buried deep enough to hurt. "you're gonna break his fucking heart, and i'm gonna have to pick up the pieces."
"good," you gasped, tears streaming down your face, your nails digging crescents into his back. "let him see what i really am. let him—let him hate me. i want him to hate me."
"you want him to save you," iwaizumi snarled, thrusting harder, making you scream. "you want him to come home and forgive you, tell you it's okay, that you're still his perfect princess even though you're nothing but a bad person and that's not gonna happen. when he finds out and he will find out - he's gonna look at you like you're dead to him. is that what you want?"
"yes," you lied, coming apart around him, sobbing with the pleasure-pain of it. "yes, yes, fuck, yes-"
"liar," he spat, pulling out and flipping you over, forcing your face into the mattress. "you're such a fucking liar. you're gonna destroy everything because you can't stand being happy. because being loved by someone good makes you feel like shit, so you have to go find someone rotten to balance it out."
"shut up," you whimpered, your voice muffled.
"make me," he challenged, and then he was inside you again, relentless, punishing, and you couldn't speak anymore, couldn't think, could only take what he was giving you and pray that this time, this time, it would be enough to kill the part of you that kept wanting to live.
---
you started hurting yourself in other ways, too. little things. skipping meals. drinking too much. picking fights with oikawa over the phone, making him cry, making him doubt himself, making him wonder what he'd done wrong when the answer was nothing, he'd done nothing wrong, he was perfect and that was the problem.
"you seem different lately," oikawa said one night, his voice small and worried across the line. "are you... are you seeing someone else?"
your heart stopped. "what? no. no, tooru, i love you. i only love you."
"iwaizumi says you've been distant," he continued, and you felt ice in your veins. "he says you seem stressed. he says... he says i should come home. that you're not doing well alone."
"iwaizumi doesn't know anything about me," you said, your voice too sharp, too fast.
there was a pause. "since when?"
"since when what?"
"since when does my best friend not know anything about my girlfriend? he used to text me about you all the time, you know. 'check on her,' 'she's sad.' 'she's lonely.' he cared about you." oikawa's voice cracked. "what happened? did you two fight?"
you closed your eyes, remembering iwaizumi's mouth on your neck, his hands pinning your wrists, the way he whispered "i hate you" while he fucked you like he wanted to destroy you. "something like that," you whispered.
"i'm coming home," oikawa decided. "this week. i'm booking a flight. whatever's going on, we'll fix it. okay, baby? we'll fix it together."
"okay," you said, because what else could you say?
you called iwaizumi the minute you hung up. "he's coming back. this week."
"then this ends," iwaizumi said immediately, his voice flat. "we're done. i'm not- i won't keep doing this when he's here. i can't look him in the face and lie anymore."
"one more time," you begged, hating yourself, hating the desperation in your voice. "please, hajime. one more time. make it count. make it- make it so i can't walk. make it so i have to remember, even when he's touching me. please."
"you're sick," he said, but you could hear the way his breath hitched, the way he was already giving in. "you're fucking sick, and i'm sick for letting you- "
"please."
he was at your door in twenty minutes.
you didn't bother with pretense. you opened it wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt, your nipples hard against the thin fabric, your thighs already slick with anticipation and self loathing. he took one look at you and shoved you backward, kicking the door shut behind him, his mouth crashing down on yours with a violence that made your teeth ache.
"you're a fucking mess," he growled against your lips, his hands rough as they pushed up your shirt, pinching your nipples hard enough to make you cry out. "look at you. already desperate to be ruined."
"please," you whimpered, arching into his touch.
"shut up." he spun you around and bent you over the couch, shoving your face into the cushions. "don't fucking speak unless i tell you to."
his fingers were brutal, shoving into you without preamble, two then three, stretching you with a burn that made you sob. he finger fucked you like he hated you, his knuckles slamming against your cervix, his other hand gripping your hip so hard you knew you'd have bruises shaped like his fingers by morning.
"so fucking tight," he snarled, twisting his wrist, making you squirm. "you're gonna rip when i fuck you. good. i want you to hurt. i want you to remember who owns this cunt while you're kissing your perfect boyfriend."
"you don't own me!" you gasped out, the words barely audible.
he laughed, a cruel, broken sound, and slammed his fingers deeper, hitting that spot inside you that made your vision white out. "don't i? whose cum is gonna be dripping out of you when you go to that airport, huh? whose marks are you gonna hide under your pretty dress?"
he pulled his fingers out and you felt empty, aching, your cunt clenching around nothing. he flipped you over, hauling you up like you weighed nothing, throwing you onto the coffee table. glass rattled. he grabbed your ankle and threw your leg over his shoulder, the stretch burning in your hamstring, your pussy exposed and vulnerable to him.
"look at me," he commanded, lining himself up.
you looked. his face was flushed, furious, beautiful in its rage. he was hard, thick, and he didn't ease in - he slammed into you in one brutal thrust that made you scream, your back arching off the table, your hands scrabbling for purchase on the smooth surface.
"you're killing him," he panted, pulling out and thrusting back in harder, setting a punishing rhythm that made the table legs scrape against the floor. "you're killing me. you know that? you fucking know that?"
"shut up," you sobbed, tears streaming down your face, your leg trembling where it rested against his shoulder. "just - just fuck me. don't talk."
"no," he snarled, gripping your throat with one hand, squeezing just enough to make your breath hitch. "you don't get to silence me. not this time. you want to use me? fine. but you're gonna hear exactly what you are while i do it."
he fucked you harder, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room, wet and obscene. you were so full it hurt, the angle making him hit your cervix with every thrust, a deep, aching pain that made you see stars.
"you're a whore," he spat, his hips snapping forward, his free hand digging into your thigh hard enough to bruise. "my whore. oikawa's whore. anyone's whore who makes you feel like shit. that's what gets you off, isn't it? being treated like garbage."
"then hurt me," you begged, your voice breaking. "hurt me more. please, hajime, hurt me—"
something in him snapped. he pulled out suddenly, leaving you empty and whimpering, then flipped you over again, shoving you face down onto the table. he entered you from behind in one brutal thrust that made you scream into the wood, his hand fisting in your hair, yanking your head back at a painful angle.
"you want pain?" he snarled, his voice barely human. "i'll give you pain. i'll give you so much fucking pain you'll never forget it."
he reached into his pocket with his free hand, and you heard the flick of a lighter, smelled the acrid scent of tobacco. he was smoking. he was fucking you raw and smoking a cigarette while he did it, and the image of it the casual cruelty, the way he looked like some kind of demon, sweat slicked and furious and perfect made your stomach clench with something dangerous.
he was so perfect for you. so perfectly wrong. oikawa was sunlight and iwaizumi was the burn, the scar, the permanent damage, and looking at him over your shoulder, his eyes dark and his jaw tight, smoke curling from his lips, you felt that sickening twist of love and hate and need that always brought you back to him.
"you look at me like that," he said quietly, his thrusts slowing, becoming deliberate, torturous, "and i almost believe you could love me. but you don't love anything. you just want to be destroyed."
he took a drag from the cigarette, the ember glowing red, and then he pressed it against your hip, right where oikawa would never see but you'd feel it every time you moved, every time you sat, every time you tried to pretend you were clean.
you screamed, your body bucking against his, your cunt clamping down on him so hard he groaned, his head falling back, his grip on your hair tightening.
"that's it," he panted, resuming his brutal pace, fucking you through the pain, the burn on your skin a brand, a reminder. "take it. take everything. i'm gonna fill you up, gonna make you drip with me for days. you're gonna go to that airport and you're gonna smile at him and you're gonna feel me running down your thighs and you're gonna know you're gonna fucking know that you're mine. that you were always mine. that you chose this."
"yes," you sobbed, the pain and pleasure blurring, your body trembling on the edge. "yes, i'm yours, i'm yours, please-"
"don't say that," he snarled, his thrusts becoming erratic, losing rhythm, his cock swelling inside you. "don't fucking say that to me. not when you're gonna leave. not when you're gonna go back to him."
"i'm sorry," you cried, your orgasm building, sharp and terrible, drawn from the pain and the degradation and the horrible, twisted intimacy of the moment. "i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm sorry, I'm-"
"shut up," he groaned, burying himself deep, his hips stuttering, his cock pulsing as he came, hot and thick, filling you until you felt overflow, until you were dripping around him, marked inside and out. "just - fuck - take it. take it all."
he stayed there for a moment, his forehead pressed to your back, his breathing ragged, the cigarette burned down to the filter where he'd dropped it on the floor. you could feel him softening inside you, feel the wetness spreading between your legs, feel the throb of the burn on your hip and the ache deep in your cunt where he'd been so brutal.
when he pulled out, it was messy, obscene, his cum dripping out of you immediately, running down your thighs, soaking into the fabric of the couch where you collapsed.
he didn't look at you as he dressed. he couldn't. you lay there, spread open, dripping with him, your body a canvas of his rage and your own destruction, and you knew, you knew with a certainty that made you want to die - that you would still be dripping with him in three days. that when you stood at that airport gate, smiling your perfect smile, hugging your perfect boyfriend, you would feel iwaizumi hajime leaking out of you, a secret sin, a permanent stain.
---
oikawa came home three days later. you met him at the airport with shaking hands and a smile that felt like glass. he looked beautiful, tired, his eyes lighting up when he saw you in that way that used to make you feel like the luckiest person alive.
you'd showered three times. four. you'd scrubbed until your skin was raw, but you could still feel it- the ache deep in your muscles, the tenderness between your legs, the phantom weight of iwaizumi's hands on your hips. you'd put on your prettiest dress, the white one oikawa loved, the one that made you look innocent and pure, and you'd stood in front of the mirror practicing your smile until your face hurt.
at the airport, you stood with your hands clasped in front of you, your thighs pressed together, feeling the slick reminder of your sin with every shift of your weight. you were sore. god, you were sore. sitting in the car had been torture, every bump in the road a reminder of how brutal he'd been, how thoroughly he'd marked you. you felt swollen, used, dirty.
oikawa came through the gates like a ray of sunlight, all golden hair and bright eyes and that smile that could stop your heart. he was beautiful. he was perfect. he was everything you didn't deserve.
"baby!" he called, dropping his bag, not caring who saw, not caring about anything but you.
you ran to him. your body screamed in protest - your hips, your thighs, that burn on your hip hidden under the fabric - but you ran anyway, throwing yourself into his arms. he caught you, spinning you around, his laugh bright and delighted and so fucking pure it made you want to vomit.
"i missed you," he breathed into your neck, his arms tight around you, his nose nuzzling against your pulse. "god, i missed you so much. you smell good. you smell like home."
"welcome back," you whispered, your voice barely steady.
he pulled back, his hands cupping your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks with such gentleness it physically hurt. "have you been eating? you look tired. have you been taking care of yourself?"
"of course," you lied, smiling your practiced smile.
in the car, he held your hand, chattering about the flight, about argentina, about how he was never leaving you again, never, not for anything. you nodded and laughed at the right moments, but every time you shifted in your seat, you felt it- the ache, the wetness, the ghost of iwaizumi's cum still leaking out of you, soaking into your panties, a secret stain against your skin.
you clenched your thighs together and smiled wider.
at your apartment - the apartment he'd never seen, the one you'd moved into after he left, the one where you'd betrayed him in every room -he picked you up again the moment the door closed, carrying you bridal style to the bedroom like he couldn't wait another second to have you near him.
"tooru- " you started, panicked, your body too sore, too marked, too wrong for this.
"shh," he soothed, laying you down on the bed with such care, such reverence, that your eyes stung with tears. "let me love you. i've been waiting months to just - just touch you."
he climbed over you, but there was nothing rough about it. he was soft, gentle, his hands roaming your body with adoration rather than possession. he buried his face in your neck, inhaling deeply, making a contented sound like a puppy, nuzzling against your skin with his nose, his lips pressing feather light kisses everywhere he could reach.
"you're so pretty," he mumbled, his voice muffled against your collarbone. "so soft. my pretty girl. my good girl."
you squeezed your eyes shut, your hands fisting in the sheets. good girl. you weren't a good girl. you were filth. you were trash. you were three days removed from being fucked raw by his best friend and you could still feel it, still feel the burn and the stretch and the wrongness inside you.
"ticklish?" he teased, his fingers dancing over your ribs, making you squirm despite yourself, despite the pain.
"stop-" you gasped, a laugh escaping you, tears streaming down your face that he mistook for joy.
"never," he grinned, that perfect, blinding grin, settling his weight over you carefully, carefully, always so careful not to hurt you. "i'm gonna tickle you every day. i'm gonna kiss you every hour. i'm gonna love you so much you'll get sick of me."
"never," you whispered, and it was the first true thing you'd said to him in months.
he propped himself up on his elbows, his eyes searching yours, so full of love it was blinding. "i love you," he said, simple and earnest and devastating. "i love you so much. i'm gonna marry you someday. i'm gonna give you everything. you know that, right?"
you nodded, unable to speak, your throat tight with the weight of your deception.
he kissed you then, soft and sweet and unhurried, his tongue sliding against yours with a tenderness that made you want to scream. his hand slid down your side, your hip, and you flinched involuntarily, just a tiny movement when his fingers brushed over the cigarette burn hidden under your dress.
he didn't notice. or if he did, he thought it was just ticklishness, just playfulness. he smiled against your lips and moved his hand lower, cupping your thigh, squeezing gently.
"you feel warm," he murmured, kissing your jaw, your neck, your shoulder. "are you okay? do you want to rest? we don't have to we can just cuddle. i just want to hold you."
"i'm okay," you lied, your voice trembling. "i just missed you. i just... i don't deserve you."
he pulled back, his brow furrowing, his expression so genuinely confused it broke something inside you. "what? of course you do. you deserve everything good in the world. you're my perfect girl. my everything."
he kissed your tears away, not knowing they were tears of guilt, of self-loathing, of the crushing weight of knowing that while he was holding you like you were precious, you were still dripping with his best friend's cum, still sore from another man's cock, still ruined in ways he couldn't see.
"let's just lay here," he whispered, rolling onto his side and pulling you against him, your back to his chest, his arms wrapped around you like a shield. "let's just be together. i've got you now. i'm never letting go."
but for now, you let him hold you. you let him love you. you let him believe you were his perfect, innocent girl, and you cried silently into the pillow while he drifted off to sleep, his arms still tight around you, his trust complete, his heart in your hands, which were already stained with his best friend's cum and your own filth.
you probably didn't deserve him.
you definitely didn't.
but you were too selfish to let him go.
part two?
a/n originally this was supposed to be with mattsun idk what came to my mind i changed it to iwa
It's hard not to notice how Iwaizumi gets flustered when Mattsun brings up cock warming. You have to know what he's thinking about.
HAJIME IWAIZUMI X FEM!READER | roommates to lovers, smut (mdni), cock warming, fingering, piv, light choking, creampie, praise, casual hookups, 3.8k words. | Read on A03.
"Have you ever tried it?"
Iwaizumi glances up. You're lounging on the couch, wearing your favourite sleep set. The one he secretly hates, because the straps have a tendency to slide off your shoulders when you're unaware.
"Tried what?"
Your lips curl into a grin. Mattsun and Makki left less than ten minutes ago, and you're already smiling like you're up to no good. Sometimes Iwaizumi secretly wishes you had a third roommate. Maybe that would create some needed space, maybe it could soothe some of the electric tension between you. He's not sure he understands the inexplicable change between you that's been growing these last couple of months, but he doesn't want to ruin your friendship.
And at the end of the day, he knows he doesn't actually want a third roommate. He likes that he's the one who gets to see you sleepy and slow in the morning, cranky in the evening. That he gets to cook you meals when you're too tired to do it yourself. He doesn't want to share any of it.
"You know," you say, grin turning wicked. Iwaizumi rakes his brain, trying to figure out what you're talking about. He runs through the things you talked about, Mattsun and the funeral home, Makki being unemployed and broke, Oikawa's game last week, something about your shitty ex-boyfriend—
Oh.
The new girl Mattsun has been hooking up with.
"Cock warming," you say, giggling. Like you're reading his mind, realising exactly what he's thinking right now. He knows you saw. Saw the way his cheeks grew flushed at the conversation. Saw the way he avoided eye contact, while Makki was too distracted with teasing Mattsun.
"There's no way it can be that good," he'd said. Mattsun had leaned back against the couch and smiled lazily, the way he always does, the way Iwaizumi knows makes girls fawn over him.
Iwaizumi hadn't added anything to the conversation, hoping to stay clear of any suspicion. Apparently, that wasn't enough, because when he'd looked at you, you were already looking back. Smiling, in that way that meant your mind was going a thousand miles per hour. Planning. Scheming.
Your tiny tank top slipping off your shoulder all the while.
"Hajiii," you sing-song. His eyes dart towards his bedroom, hoping to escape, and you notice, your eyes narrowing at him. "C'mere,"
You pat the spot next to you on the couch as you sit up. He obliges, because what else can he do? When you're sitting there, hair slightly dishevelled from when Makki ruffled it on his way out, looking so, so sweet.
"Wanna try it?"
Your voice is syrupy sweet, dripping honey and temptation. You're halfway crawling into his lap, one of your hands placed on his thigh. Iwaizumi swallows.
"We shouldn't," he says, and it makes you pout, pushing further. You lean in, and he can smell your perfume now, something sweet and flowery.
You're always flirting with him, but this. This is something different, something heavier. There's no deniable plausibility here, no light teasing.
Iwaizumi will admit that he's always secretly basked in the affection you'd reward him. He's used to girls fawning over Oikawa, or making out with Mattsun at parties, or going on dates with Makki. But you. You've always danced around him, making him feel special. Lightheaded.
"Hajime," you pout, drawing him out of his thoughts. "Why not?"
He swallows again, throat feeling dry. Why not?
You're fully straddling him now, sinking into his lap.
Why not?
Wrapping your arms around your neck, you're looking down at him, still smiling.
"Have you ever tried it?" you whisper, while you play with the hairs at the back of his neck. Poor Iwaizumi has to hold back a groan as he closes his eyes.
"No."
"Do you wanna?"
You know you're being bold. But you've been holding back for so long. Who can blame you for finally breaking when you've been watching him squirm around all night?
"It could be fun. We could put on a movie or something," you say, and you grind your hips into his experimentally. Your grin widens when you feel that he's already half hard. His hands fly to your hips, holding you still as he takes a deep breath.
You can see the turmoil in his brown eyes, feel the storm rising in him.
"Okay," he says, releasing your hips.
The look on your face is victorious, and you move your hands down, squeezing his shoulders in excitement.
"I pick the movie," he manages to bite out, and you nod eagerly, hands flying down to the waistband of his shorts.
"Sure, Haji, whatever you want," you murmur, focused on the new objective at hand. Iwaizumi grabs your hands, placing them behind your back. You look down at him, frowning. Finally gaining some footing, Iwaizumi tuts at you, shaking his head.
"Let me pick a movie first," he murmurs. He keeps your hands where they are, with one big hand on your wrists, while he leans over you, grabbing the TV remote off the coffee table. He leans back on the couch again, casually opening Netflix. You stare, dumbly, waiting for the next instruction.
The thing you've always liked about Iwaizumi is that he doesn't let you get away with any of your antics. With Oikawa, it's a constant game of who'll back down first, of who can get away with the most. Mattsun is largely unaffected apart from the times when he'll tag along to help you torment the others. Makki is so easy to tease that it's not even funny.
When it comes to Iwaizumi, he's steady. It's always annoyed you a bit. When he's with Oikawa, it's like it's second nature for him to get riled up. But as soon as it comes to you, he's like a rock. He never lets your antics reach him. Not even the outrageous sleep sets you'll wear or the innocent cuddling when you're having sleepovers.
It's fun.
But now that he's finally given in, you don't know what to do.
"Go grab your blanket," Iwaizumi murmurs into your ear. It takes a few seconds before you spring into action, shuffling towards your bedroom. You quickly grab it, before checking yourself in your mirror before you head back to the living room.
Your face feels hot, and you fix your hair.
This is Hajime. Your Hajime. The guy you've known since you were fifteen, the guy who used to buy you sodas from the vending machine before class and save you from Oikawa's relentless teasing all the time. The guy you moved in with three years ago when you moved to Tokyo.
Because it's cheaper. And easier. And it's nice to have a friend in the apartment, to rant to and cook dinner with.
The guy you've been flirting with for as long as you can remember. Under the guise that it's friendly. And fun. And that there's definitely nothing more to it.
"Did you fall in there?"
"No!"
You pad back into the living room, blanket wrapped around you. Iwaizumi has already picked a movie. You think it's a comedy, judging by the look of it. He raises a brow at you, and you smile as you make your way back to the couch.
"Hi," you say, and he smiles back, patting his thigh.
"C'mere," he says, echoing your own words from earlier, and you oblige instantly, this time settling with your back against his chest. He lets you get comfortable, and you pull the blanket over you. The movie is already starting, but you're not paying attention.
Not when Iwaizumi smells so good.
"Why are you so nervous all of a sudden?" he asks, and one of his hands finds your hip underneath the blanket, making soothing circles with his thumb.
"I'm not nervous," you protest, and you feel him chuckle beneath you, clearly not believing you.
"Right."
A beat.
"We don't have to do this if you don't want to."
He's giving you an out. A last chance to take it back, to not change your friendship into whatever this is. But even then, you know this has been a long time coming. You'd be an idiot to try to stop it.
"No, I want to," you say.
"We can just watch the movie."
"Hajime."
There's a warning in your tone, telling him not to worry anymore. You feel him relaxing, finally, and he grunts, settling into the couch at last. His hand not on your hip roams your side, before he settles on your tit, squeezing your soft skin.
"Okay, baby."
He flicks your nipple through the fabric of your top, and you gasp, squirming. You feel the bulge beneath your ass, and it makes you a little dizzy to know you have this effect on him.
You try to focus on the movie. A girl is screaming at her roommate, throwing things at her. There's a weird-looking dog. Iwaizumi's hand on your hip dips underneath the waistband of your shorts.
"Proper stretching is important," he says, cupping your pussy over your panties. "To prevent injury."
It makes you giggle, the way he speaks like you're one of his athletes. He keeps playing with your nipple while he thumbs your clit with his other hand, applying dull stimulation. You gasp softly, spreading your legs to give him more access.
You don't need to look behind you to know he's smiling. Especially when he dips his fingers into your underwear, stroking your folds and finding you soaking already. He spreads your arousal over your folds, still not giving you any real relief.
The roommates are in their principal's office. She's telling some other story, something about a real nightmare roomie.
"Did you seriously pick a movie about bad roommates?" you ask, and Iwaizumi presses his lips to your throat, planting a wet kiss there.
"It seemed appropriate."
"Excuse me, I am not a bad room— Oh,"
You're interrupted when he presses a finger inside you, testing the waters. When you melt into his embrace, he adds another finger, slowly working you open. It's easy when you're already so aroused, feeling like you've been ready ever since you saw his reaction to your friends discussing cock warming hours ago.
"You sure?"
"Uh-huh," you answer, too distracted to form proper words. He curls his fingers, and your mouth falls open in a quiet moan.
"Not even when you wear these shirts," He pulls your shirt down, as if making a point, exposing your tits to the cold air of your living room. "Constantly one bad move away from flashing me?"
"I'd say that's just philanthropy,"
He laughs, surprised. Moving your hair to the side, he kisses your throat again.
The main character in the movie is at a summer camp now. Desperately trying to make friends and failing.
Iwaizumi adds a third finger, and you squirm, getting used to the pressure. He palms your clit to help you, and you bite your lip. Even through your shorts and the blanket, you can hear the sounds of how wet you are, as he keeps a steady pace.
"Hajime," you gasp, feeling your orgasm already building. Iwaizumi seems to feel it too, with the way your warm walls flutter around his fingers. He removes his fingers from your pussy, bringing them to his mouth and tasting. He hums at the taste.
You watch over your shoulder, mouth agape. He grins, though his cheeks are flushed, betraying his otherwise calm demeanour. He plays with the waistband of your shorts.
"Take these off."
With his help, you shimmy off both your shorts and underwear, leaving you wearing nothing but a tank top and your fuzzy socks. Iwaizumi guides you forward with a hand on your back, so he can pull his cock out of his pants with the other.
You go to look over your shoulder, wanting to see, but he grabs your chin and points you towards the TV instead. The girl in the movie has made a friend now, and they're rooming together.
You hear the slick sounds of him stroking his cock, and then he taps your ass. With a pout, you straddle his legs properly and sit up so he can position himself at your entrance.
He slowly guides you back on his cock, and you whine at the stretch, still watching the movie, despite being unsure what the plot even is. The girl is angry because her roomie is messy, you're pretty sure. Your vision swims, and you find it hard to focus on anything at all.
"Ease up, baby," Iwaizumi bites out, and you try your best to relax as you sink down further.
Iwaizumi is big. Big and thick, and when your ass finally meets the back of his thighs again, it feels like he's in your throat. He makes you lean back, and you whimper, squeezing your eyes shut. He holds you tight by your hips, keeping your squirming to a minimum as you get used to the intrusion.
Finally, you feel like your pussy is getting used to the fullness, and you relax slightly, leaning entirely on his chest. He rubs soothing circles in your hips, resting his head on your shoulder.
"Good girl,"
He laughs when you clench, as he wraps his arms around you. You feel dizzy, warm all over. A light sweat is starting to form on your forehead, and you grip his arm.
The girls in the movie are at a party, all of them wearing a white top and a pair of jeans. Iwaizumi laughs into your ear, deep and warm.
"They look just like one of Mattsun's girlfriends," he states, and you slap his arm.
"Don't talk about Mattsun's girls when your dick is inside of me," you bite back, and he presses down on your stomach in response, making you moan out.
"You have Mattsun's girl to thank for this, don't you?" he teases, and you roll your eyes. When you don't say anything back, he hums, and you both settle into a comfortable silence.
It lasts about five minutes.
The main character is talking a guy, who you think might be her love interest, in a kitchen.
You can't focus.
It's too hard. It feels like all of your nerve endings are on fire, your pussy growing more and more sensitive with each agonising minute that passes.
You want him to move. To fuck you.
Iwaizumi has the patience of a saint. Maybe it's from the years of diligent volleyball practice every day after school, maybe it's from constantly keeping your three other best friends behaviour in check.
Whatever it is, it's certainly going to be your downfall.
He keeps you still in his lap, the only torturous friction you get being when he laughs at the movie. The movie that's really not that funny.
"Haji," you ask, with trembling lips.
When he doesn't reply, you squirm. That makes him take a deep breath, and he squeezes you in warning when you clench down on him.
"It's too much," you complain. Your mind is swimming, eyes going glassy. The only thing you can think about is getting fucked.
Preferably hard.
"You're being so good," he replies. He rocks into you slightly, making you whine. "You can keep being nice for me, right?"
"No," you say, shaking your head.
"This was your idea." Iwaizumi chuckles. His breath feels hot on your throat, only making your mind even fuzzier.
"I changed my mind."
"We can stop if you want to."
The hands on your hips start to push you away.
"No, please, no, no, no,—" you panic, digging your hands into his thighs as you lean back in his lap. The slight friction makes you moan, squeezing your eyes shut.
"But you changed your mind?" he asks. His voice is teasing, but there's a slight strain there.
Looking over your shoulder, you meet his gaze, batting your eyelashes the way that always works with Makki when you want to steal his snacks. Iwaizumi smiles, taking in the pout on your lips, the pretty way your brows furrow.
You look so cute.
So cute, he wants to squeeze you.
"Hajime,"
There's a lilt to your voice, a saccharine sweetness. The one Iwaizumi has always had a weakness for, even if you don't notice it yourself.
"Yeah?" he breathes. He nods, and you nod along, mirroring him.
"We could do something else instead," you say. He feels you clench down again. Your pussy is so hot and wet, it makes him groan. He thinks he'd do anything you asked of him right now.
The movie is long forgotten now. You're unsure if the roommates are still even friends at this point.
"What do you wanna do?" he asks, and when you lean down to kiss him, he moans, leaning into the kiss. He grabs your chin, angling you so he can kiss you better, moaning into your mouth.
The angle is slightly uncomfortable, and you pull away with a pout, like it's somehow Iwaizumi's fault. He groans, head falling back, when you sit up, his cock leaving your warmth with a slick sound.
You turn around so you're facing him, promptly sitting down in his lap again. It makes you both moan again when he reenters your slick heat. You run your fingers through his hair, tugging on the short locks.
"How are you gonna watch the movie now?" Iwaizumi smiles, taking you in. He must admit, it's better this way. When he can see your every expression, the way you're panting slightly. His gaze drops down to where you're connected. The sight makes his jaw slack, and he can't help but bring his thumb down to your clit, circling the bud slowly.
"I'm watching something more fun."
Your voice is whiny, but you're smiling. You grind your hips into his hand, and he feels you clench when the tip of his cock hits somewhere deep inside you.
"Is that so?"
"You're very handsome, Hajime,"
"That might be the nicest thing you've ever said to me," Iwaizumi says, breathless. You're gathering speed now, but you're still just grinding against him. It's a sweet kinda torture, the way he can feel your pussy pulsing around him, yet you're barely moving.
"That's not true," you object. You kiss him again, only a peck, letting him chase you. "I tell you nice things all the time."
"You question my patience all the time," he responds. He tangles his hand in your hair, holding you still as he ghosts his lips over yours. Your breaths mingle, and you moan into his mouth.
"Like right now, you mean?" you ask, and he nods, before he kisses you again. Firmly.
It's nice. It's nice to run your fingers through his hair and hear his little groans when you tuck hard enough. It's nice how warm and big his hand is on the back of your head. It's nice to feel the firm and steady pulse of his cock inside of you, lighting up all your sensitive nerve endings.
Iwaizumi is nice.
He's more than nice, but your head feels empty, unable to find another word, filled with nothing but the feeling of Iwaizumi's tongue against your own, as he kisses you silly.
"Fuck me, Haji," you whisper when he pulls away for air, and he chuckles, shaking his head.
"You're the one who wanted to change activities," he replies. "You do it,"
He leans back and pats your thighs. You glare.
"I'm the one who suggested movie night in the first place."
Iwaizumi raises a brow at you.
"Movie night?" he teases. You nod, attempting to be the picture perfect of innocence. "This is your version of movie night?"
He motions to where he's still buried inside of you. Where you're dripping, staining his joggers. Hopefully, you haven't stained the couch. Yet.
"Yes."
"Well, I picked the movie. So it's your turn to pick something now"
Something akin to determination washes over your expression. You put your hands on his chest, and slowly you start going up and down. You moan in unison, and your brow pinches as you start to ride him.
The slick sound fills your living room, and you pant, your thighs already beginning to burn. Iwaizumi notices. Because of course he does.
"Your form is—"
"Do not comment on my form," you cut him off, digging your nails into his chest.
"I was gonna tell you it's good." His eyes drop down to your tits, and the smug look on his face is worse than any comment. It only fuels your fire. You ignore the ache, doubling down as you start to ride him harder. You move your hands up, wrapping them around his neck. You don't press, just keep them there, and his jaw falls slack, eyes going lidded.
"Fuck," he says, nodding. He puts his hand over one of yours, and he moans when you press down lightly on his throat. You feel him twitch inside you, and it makes you smile.
"Haji, you gonna come, ah, just from me choking you?" you tease and, he laughs, voice soft, like he's out of breath.
"I'm gonna come from how good you look bouncing on my cock like that," he replies, without missing a beat, and the admission makes you falter. He whines when your knee slips, and before you can think, his hands are on your hips, guiding you up and down.
He does it like it's nothing, muscles tensing deliciously with each push and pull. You collapse onto his chest, moving your hands to his shoulders. He doesn't seem to take notice, too focused on the way you're clenching around his cock.
It doesn't take long for you to feel your orgasm start to build like that, not when he's hitting all the right spots, while telling you how pretty you look taking him. You barely get to warn him before it creeps up on you, making your toes curl as warm pleasure burns through you.
He moans, voice turning pitchy as he follows right after you, pulling you flush against him as he finishes inside, filling your cunt to the brim. It makes you whimper, and you rest your head on his chest. Your eyelids feel heavy as you both take a few minutes to collect yourselves. You listen to the way Iwaizumi's heartbeat slows as he comes down.
He runs his hands up and down your back, occasionally pressing into sore spots.
"You have a muscle knot here," he eventually says, pressing into a spot right between your shoulder blades. You yelp, twitching in his lap. Cum spills out from your sore pussy, dripping down his balls. "Are you doing the exercises I taught you?"
"Hajime!" you scold, getting off his lap. You grab your panties from somewhere on the floor, putting them on and stomping towards your room. Iwaizumi watches the way the insides of your thighs glisten with his cum.
"I was just asking," he says, putting his still half-hard cock back in his pants as he follows you. "Also, you should really go pee—"
It's hard not to notice how Iwaizumi gets flustered when Mattsun brings up cock warming. You have to know what he's thinking about.
HAJIME IWAIZUMI X FEM!READER | roommates to lovers, smut (mdni), cock warming, fingering, piv, light choking, creampie, praise, casual hookups, 3.8k words. | Read on A03.
"Have you ever tried it?"
Iwaizumi glances up. You're lounging on the couch, wearing your favourite sleep set. The one he secretly hates, because the straps have a tendency to slide off your shoulders when you're unaware.
"Tried what?"
Your lips curl into a grin. Mattsun and Makki left less than ten minutes ago, and you're already smiling like you're up to no good. Sometimes Iwaizumi secretly wishes you had a third roommate. Maybe that would create some needed space, maybe it could soothe some of the electric tension between you. He's not sure he understands the inexplicable change between you that's been growing these last couple of months, but he doesn't want to ruin your friendship.
And at the end of the day, he knows he doesn't actually want a third roommate. He likes that he's the one who gets to see you sleepy and slow in the morning, cranky in the evening. That he gets to cook you meals when you're too tired to do it yourself. He doesn't want to share any of it.
"You know," you say, grin turning wicked. Iwaizumi rakes his brain, trying to figure out what you're talking about. He runs through the things you talked about, Mattsun and the funeral home, Makki being unemployed and broke, Oikawa's game last week, something about your shitty ex-boyfriend—
Oh.
The new girl Mattsun has been hooking up with.
"Cock warming," you say, giggling. Like you're reading his mind, realising exactly what he's thinking right now. He knows you saw. Saw the way his cheeks grew flushed at the conversation. Saw the way he avoided eye contact, while Makki was too distracted with teasing Mattsun.
"There's no way it can be that good," he'd said. Mattsun had leaned back against the couch and smiled lazily, the way he always does, the way Iwaizumi knows makes girls fawn over him.
Iwaizumi hadn't added anything to the conversation, hoping to stay clear of any suspicion. Apparently, that wasn't enough, because when he'd looked at you, you were already looking back. Smiling, in that way that meant your mind was going a thousand miles per hour. Planning. Scheming.
Your tiny tank top slipping off your shoulder all the while.
"Hajiii," you sing-song. His eyes dart towards his bedroom, hoping to escape, and you notice, your eyes narrowing at him. "C'mere,"
You pat the spot next to you on the couch as you sit up. He obliges, because what else can he do? When you're sitting there, hair slightly dishevelled from when Makki ruffled it on his way out, looking so, so sweet.
"Wanna try it?"
Your voice is syrupy sweet, dripping honey and temptation. You're halfway crawling into his lap, one of your hands placed on his thigh. Iwaizumi swallows.
"We shouldn't," he says, and it makes you pout, pushing further. You lean in, and he can smell your perfume now, something sweet and flowery.
You're always flirting with him, but this. This is something different, something heavier. There's no deniable plausibility here, no light teasing.
Iwaizumi will admit that he's always secretly basked in the affection you'd reward him. He's used to girls fawning over Oikawa, or making out with Mattsun at parties, or going on dates with Makki. But you. You've always danced around him, making him feel special. Lightheaded.
"Hajime," you pout, drawing him out of his thoughts. "Why not?"
He swallows again, throat feeling dry. Why not?
You're fully straddling him now, sinking into his lap.
Why not?
Wrapping your arms around your neck, you're looking down at him, still smiling.
"Have you ever tried it?" you whisper, while you play with the hairs at the back of his neck. Poor Iwaizumi has to hold back a groan as he closes his eyes.
"No."
"Do you wanna?"
You know you're being bold. But you've been holding back for so long. Who can blame you for finally breaking when you've been watching him squirm around all night?
"It could be fun. We could put on a movie or something," you say, and you grind your hips into his experimentally. Your grin widens when you feel that he's already half hard. His hands fly to your hips, holding you still as he takes a deep breath.
You can see the turmoil in his brown eyes, feel the storm rising in him.
"Okay," he says, releasing your hips.
The look on your face is victorious, and you move your hands down, squeezing his shoulders in excitement.
"I pick the movie," he manages to bite out, and you nod eagerly, hands flying down to the waistband of his shorts.
"Sure, Haji, whatever you want," you murmur, focused on the new objective at hand. Iwaizumi grabs your hands, placing them behind your back. You look down at him, frowning. Finally gaining some footing, Iwaizumi tuts at you, shaking his head.
"Let me pick a movie first," he murmurs. He keeps your hands where they are, with one big hand on your wrists, while he leans over you, grabbing the TV remote off the coffee table. He leans back on the couch again, casually opening Netflix. You stare, dumbly, waiting for the next instruction.
The thing you've always liked about Iwaizumi is that he doesn't let you get away with any of your antics. With Oikawa, it's a constant game of who'll back down first, of who can get away with the most. Mattsun is largely unaffected apart from the times when he'll tag along to help you torment the others. Makki is so easy to tease that it's not even funny.
When it comes to Iwaizumi, he's steady. It's always annoyed you a bit. When he's with Oikawa, it's like it's second nature for him to get riled up. But as soon as it comes to you, he's like a rock. He never lets your antics reach him. Not even the outrageous sleep sets you'll wear or the innocent cuddling when you're having sleepovers.
It's fun.
But now that he's finally given in, you don't know what to do.
"Go grab your blanket," Iwaizumi murmurs into your ear. It takes a few seconds before you spring into action, shuffling towards your bedroom. You quickly grab it, before checking yourself in your mirror before you head back to the living room.
Your face feels hot, and you fix your hair.
This is Hajime. Your Hajime. The guy you've known since you were fifteen, the guy who used to buy you sodas from the vending machine before class and save you from Oikawa's relentless teasing all the time. The guy you moved in with three years ago when you moved to Tokyo.
Because it's cheaper. And easier. And it's nice to have a friend in the apartment, to rant to and cook dinner with.
The guy you've been flirting with for as long as you can remember. Under the guise that it's friendly. And fun. And that there's definitely nothing more to it.
"Did you fall in there?"
"No!"
You pad back into the living room, blanket wrapped around you. Iwaizumi has already picked a movie. You think it's a comedy, judging by the look of it. He raises a brow at you, and you smile as you make your way back to the couch.
"Hi," you say, and he smiles back, patting his thigh.
"C'mere," he says, echoing your own words from earlier, and you oblige instantly, this time settling with your back against his chest. He lets you get comfortable, and you pull the blanket over you. The movie is already starting, but you're not paying attention.
Not when Iwaizumi smells so good.
"Why are you so nervous all of a sudden?" he asks, and one of his hands finds your hip underneath the blanket, making soothing circles with his thumb.
"I'm not nervous," you protest, and you feel him chuckle beneath you, clearly not believing you.
"Right."
A beat.
"We don't have to do this if you don't want to."
He's giving you an out. A last chance to take it back, to not change your friendship into whatever this is. But even then, you know this has been a long time coming. You'd be an idiot to try to stop it.
"No, I want to," you say.
"We can just watch the movie."
"Hajime."
There's a warning in your tone, telling him not to worry anymore. You feel him relaxing, finally, and he grunts, settling into the couch at last. His hand not on your hip roams your side, before he settles on your tit, squeezing your soft skin.
"Okay, baby."
He flicks your nipple through the fabric of your top, and you gasp, squirming. You feel the bulge beneath your ass, and it makes you a little dizzy to know you have this effect on him.
You try to focus on the movie. A girl is screaming at her roommate, throwing things at her. There's a weird-looking dog. Iwaizumi's hand on your hip dips underneath the waistband of your shorts.
"Proper stretching is important," he says, cupping your pussy over your panties. "To prevent injury."
It makes you giggle, the way he speaks like you're one of his athletes. He keeps playing with your nipple while he thumbs your clit with his other hand, applying dull stimulation. You gasp softly, spreading your legs to give him more access.
You don't need to look behind you to know he's smiling. Especially when he dips his fingers into your underwear, stroking your folds and finding you soaking already. He spreads your arousal over your folds, still not giving you any real relief.
The roommates are in their principal's office. She's telling some other story, something about a real nightmare roomie.
"Did you seriously pick a movie about bad roommates?" you ask, and Iwaizumi presses his lips to your throat, planting a wet kiss there.
"It seemed appropriate."
"Excuse me, I am not a bad room— Oh,"
You're interrupted when he presses a finger inside you, testing the waters. When you melt into his embrace, he adds another finger, slowly working you open. It's easy when you're already so aroused, feeling like you've been ready ever since you saw his reaction to your friends discussing cock warming hours ago.
"You sure?"
"Uh-huh," you answer, too distracted to form proper words. He curls his fingers, and your mouth falls open in a quiet moan.
"Not even when you wear these shirts," He pulls your shirt down, as if making a point, exposing your tits to the cold air of your living room. "Constantly one bad move away from flashing me?"
"I'd say that's just philanthropy,"
He laughs, surprised. Moving your hair to the side, he kisses your throat again.
The main character in the movie is at a summer camp now. Desperately trying to make friends and failing.
Iwaizumi adds a third finger, and you squirm, getting used to the pressure. He palms your clit to help you, and you bite your lip. Even through your shorts and the blanket, you can hear the sounds of how wet you are, as he keeps a steady pace.
"Hajime," you gasp, feeling your orgasm already building. Iwaizumi seems to feel it too, with the way your warm walls flutter around his fingers. He removes his fingers from your pussy, bringing them to his mouth and tasting. He hums at the taste.
You watch over your shoulder, mouth agape. He grins, though his cheeks are flushed, betraying his otherwise calm demeanour. He plays with the waistband of your shorts.
"Take these off."
With his help, you shimmy off both your shorts and underwear, leaving you wearing nothing but a tank top and your fuzzy socks. Iwaizumi guides you forward with a hand on your back, so he can pull his cock out of his pants with the other.
You go to look over your shoulder, wanting to see, but he grabs your chin and points you towards the TV instead. The girl in the movie has made a friend now, and they're rooming together.
You hear the slick sounds of him stroking his cock, and then he taps your ass. With a pout, you straddle his legs properly and sit up so he can position himself at your entrance.
He slowly guides you back on his cock, and you whine at the stretch, still watching the movie, despite being unsure what the plot even is. The girl is angry because her roomie is messy, you're pretty sure. Your vision swims, and you find it hard to focus on anything at all.
"Ease up, baby," Iwaizumi bites out, and you try your best to relax as you sink down further.
Iwaizumi is big. Big and thick, and when your ass finally meets the back of his thighs again, it feels like he's in your throat. He makes you lean back, and you whimper, squeezing your eyes shut. He holds you tight by your hips, keeping your squirming to a minimum as you get used to the intrusion.
Finally, you feel like your pussy is getting used to the fullness, and you relax slightly, leaning entirely on his chest. He rubs soothing circles in your hips, resting his head on your shoulder.
"Good girl,"
He laughs when you clench, as he wraps his arms around you. You feel dizzy, warm all over. A light sweat is starting to form on your forehead, and you grip his arm.
The girls in the movie are at a party, all of them wearing a white top and a pair of jeans. Iwaizumi laughs into your ear, deep and warm.
"They look just like one of Mattsun's girlfriends," he states, and you slap his arm.
"Don't talk about Mattsun's girls when your dick is inside of me," you bite back, and he presses down on your stomach in response, making you moan out.
"You have Mattsun's girl to thank for this, don't you?" he teases, and you roll your eyes. When you don't say anything back, he hums, and you both settle into a comfortable silence.
It lasts about five minutes.
The main character is talking a guy, who you think might be her love interest, in a kitchen.
You can't focus.
It's too hard. It feels like all of your nerve endings are on fire, your pussy growing more and more sensitive with each agonising minute that passes.
You want him to move. To fuck you.
Iwaizumi has the patience of a saint. Maybe it's from the years of diligent volleyball practice every day after school, maybe it's from constantly keeping your three other best friends behaviour in check.
Whatever it is, it's certainly going to be your downfall.
He keeps you still in his lap, the only torturous friction you get being when he laughs at the movie. The movie that's really not that funny.
"Haji," you ask, with trembling lips.
When he doesn't reply, you squirm. That makes him take a deep breath, and he squeezes you in warning when you clench down on him.
"It's too much," you complain. Your mind is swimming, eyes going glassy. The only thing you can think about is getting fucked.
Preferably hard.
"You're being so good," he replies. He rocks into you slightly, making you whine. "You can keep being nice for me, right?"
"No," you say, shaking your head.
"This was your idea." Iwaizumi chuckles. His breath feels hot on your throat, only making your mind even fuzzier.
"I changed my mind."
"We can stop if you want to."
The hands on your hips start to push you away.
"No, please, no, no, no,—" you panic, digging your hands into his thighs as you lean back in his lap. The slight friction makes you moan, squeezing your eyes shut.
"But you changed your mind?" he asks. His voice is teasing, but there's a slight strain there.
Looking over your shoulder, you meet his gaze, batting your eyelashes the way that always works with Makki when you want to steal his snacks. Iwaizumi smiles, taking in the pout on your lips, the pretty way your brows furrow.
You look so cute.
So cute, he wants to squeeze you.
"Hajime,"
There's a lilt to your voice, a saccharine sweetness. The one Iwaizumi has always had a weakness for, even if you don't notice it yourself.
"Yeah?" he breathes. He nods, and you nod along, mirroring him.
"We could do something else instead," you say. He feels you clench down again. Your pussy is so hot and wet, it makes him groan. He thinks he'd do anything you asked of him right now.
The movie is long forgotten now. You're unsure if the roommates are still even friends at this point.
"What do you wanna do?" he asks, and when you lean down to kiss him, he moans, leaning into the kiss. He grabs your chin, angling you so he can kiss you better, moaning into your mouth.
The angle is slightly uncomfortable, and you pull away with a pout, like it's somehow Iwaizumi's fault. He groans, head falling back, when you sit up, his cock leaving your warmth with a slick sound.
You turn around so you're facing him, promptly sitting down in his lap again. It makes you both moan again when he reenters your slick heat. You run your fingers through his hair, tugging on the short locks.
"How are you gonna watch the movie now?" Iwaizumi smiles, taking you in. He must admit, it's better this way. When he can see your every expression, the way you're panting slightly. His gaze drops down to where you're connected. The sight makes his jaw slack, and he can't help but bring his thumb down to your clit, circling the bud slowly.
"I'm watching something more fun."
Your voice is whiny, but you're smiling. You grind your hips into his hand, and he feels you clench when the tip of his cock hits somewhere deep inside you.
"Is that so?"
"You're very handsome, Hajime,"
"That might be the nicest thing you've ever said to me," Iwaizumi says, breathless. You're gathering speed now, but you're still just grinding against him. It's a sweet kinda torture, the way he can feel your pussy pulsing around him, yet you're barely moving.
"That's not true," you object. You kiss him again, only a peck, letting him chase you. "I tell you nice things all the time."
"You question my patience all the time," he responds. He tangles his hand in your hair, holding you still as he ghosts his lips over yours. Your breaths mingle, and you moan into his mouth.
"Like right now, you mean?" you ask, and he nods, before he kisses you again. Firmly.
It's nice. It's nice to run your fingers through his hair and hear his little groans when you tuck hard enough. It's nice how warm and big his hand is on the back of your head. It's nice to feel the firm and steady pulse of his cock inside of you, lighting up all your sensitive nerve endings.
Iwaizumi is nice.
He's more than nice, but your head feels empty, unable to find another word, filled with nothing but the feeling of Iwaizumi's tongue against your own, as he kisses you silly.
"Fuck me, Haji," you whisper when he pulls away for air, and he chuckles, shaking his head.
"You're the one who wanted to change activities," he replies. "You do it,"
He leans back and pats your thighs. You glare.
"I'm the one who suggested movie night in the first place."
Iwaizumi raises a brow at you.
"Movie night?" he teases. You nod, attempting to be the picture perfect of innocence. "This is your version of movie night?"
He motions to where he's still buried inside of you. Where you're dripping, staining his joggers. Hopefully, you haven't stained the couch. Yet.
"Yes."
"Well, I picked the movie. So it's your turn to pick something now"
Something akin to determination washes over your expression. You put your hands on his chest, and slowly you start going up and down. You moan in unison, and your brow pinches as you start to ride him.
The slick sound fills your living room, and you pant, your thighs already beginning to burn. Iwaizumi notices. Because of course he does.
"Your form is—"
"Do not comment on my form," you cut him off, digging your nails into his chest.
"I was gonna tell you it's good." His eyes drop down to your tits, and the smug look on his face is worse than any comment. It only fuels your fire. You ignore the ache, doubling down as you start to ride him harder. You move your hands up, wrapping them around his neck. You don't press, just keep them there, and his jaw falls slack, eyes going lidded.
"Fuck," he says, nodding. He puts his hand over one of yours, and he moans when you press down lightly on his throat. You feel him twitch inside you, and it makes you smile.
"Haji, you gonna come, ah, just from me choking you?" you tease and, he laughs, voice soft, like he's out of breath.
"I'm gonna come from how good you look bouncing on my cock like that," he replies, without missing a beat, and the admission makes you falter. He whines when your knee slips, and before you can think, his hands are on your hips, guiding you up and down.
He does it like it's nothing, muscles tensing deliciously with each push and pull. You collapse onto his chest, moving your hands to his shoulders. He doesn't seem to take notice, too focused on the way you're clenching around his cock.
It doesn't take long for you to feel your orgasm start to build like that, not when he's hitting all the right spots, while telling you how pretty you look taking him. You barely get to warn him before it creeps up on you, making your toes curl as warm pleasure burns through you.
He moans, voice turning pitchy as he follows right after you, pulling you flush against him as he finishes inside, filling your cunt to the brim. It makes you whimper, and you rest your head on his chest. Your eyelids feel heavy as you both take a few minutes to collect yourselves. You listen to the way Iwaizumi's heartbeat slows as he comes down.
He runs his hands up and down your back, occasionally pressing into sore spots.
"You have a muscle knot here," he eventually says, pressing into a spot right between your shoulder blades. You yelp, twitching in his lap. Cum spills out from your sore pussy, dripping down his balls. "Are you doing the exercises I taught you?"
"Hajime!" you scold, getting off his lap. You grab your panties from somewhere on the floor, putting them on and stomping towards your room. Iwaizumi watches the way the insides of your thighs glisten with his cum.
"I was just asking," he says, putting his still half-hard cock back in his pants as he follows you. "Also, you should really go pee—"
