Atsumu adores you. Not just what you are or what you can do, but everything about you. How you laugh, how you tell lame jokes. The way you answer calls, “yellow!”. How you pick him up at the airport with Samu every time he has an away game. You even stayed up all night to make freebies for a meet and greet he stupidly agreed to. He fell asleep when only half of the work was done but you let him get rest and just did the remaining work with his brother. You didn’t have to do all that but you did. The way you care for him is like a punch to the chest.
He adores you but you terrify him. You bring him joy but he is scared shitless sometimes. What if you don’t feel the same? What if your friendliness is just for everyone? What if you watch his games but not for him? What if you’re not really there all the time—almost as constant as his brother—he just chooses to remember the times that you were. Because he wants to believe that you are, because it feels good.
It’s ridiculous how much you throw him off. And yet he wants you to know that you have him in knots.
There are three words he badly wants to say to you. But those three words get trapped in his throat whenever he attempts to say them out loud. In all his years as an athlete saying those words is the trickiest thing to do.
So he practices his three words. He says them every morning, he says them in front of the mirror and he feels silly. He screams them in his head before he serves. He mumbles them under his breath before he greets you “hey!”
He gets brave then chickens out. Tries again then says not yet. He kicks himself and says tomorrow, tomorrow for sure. Tomorrow comes and he asks for one more day. Just one more day then he’d do it. And he does.
content warning: smut; mentions of violence, murder and forced abortion
notes: This is a multi-chapter fic, so next chapter will come soon-ish.
Spoiled.
That's what the king said about his son and crown prince. But that king is dead and now the spoiled prince sits on the throne.
He’s beautiful, that was clear, even with just the moonlight and an oil lamp providing illumination in your room you could still see how exquisite his features are. Defined jaw, high cheekbones, an elegant nose, lips that are almost always smiling, dark eyes that have a mischievous glint. The king looked like he was sculpted by the gods themselves.
“Come here,” he beckoned you. Not moving from the mountain of silken pillows he had the servants bring in when he barged into your room, a flagon of wine in hand.
Small bells around your waist made soft jingling sounds as you walked towards the prince, no, king. Brown eyes devoured every dip and curve of your body, the gauzy fabric covering you doing nothing to hide your form.
You stopped in front of him, breath held.
Hand just as beautiful as him reached for the knot keeping your sheer robe closed. One swift tug opened the flimsy garment, giving him a peek of the soft skin underneath.
“Do you like it? Having your king disrobe you himself."
He didn’t wait for your answer, he already knew what it would have been. Instead, he tugged on your sleeve and let the robe fall on the floor. Lust glinted in his eyes and he leaned back to take all of you in.
"You really are quite a gorgeous gift, aren't you? No wonder you were the king's favorite."
He’s right in both regards. You are gorgeous and you were a gift. You came to his kingdom dripping in gold and jewels and smelling like orange blossoms. But unlike all the invited guests who were royalties and nobles, you were an offering to the late king on his fifty-seventh name day. More beautiful than the gems that covered you but not as valuable.
You caused quite a stir at the banquet, it’s not every day they see a woman who was wearing more gold than cloth. People leered and gawked. The men found excuses to get closer and stare. They asked about the emerald pendant nestled between your bosom, the strings of pearls on your wrists, and the delicate gold chains cascading down your thighs.
“The Amirid kingdom must be wanting a heavy favor if they are willing to part with their late queen’s most prized gems,” said a duke who looked not very different from a snake.
While the menfolk stared and marveled at your figure and the treasures you wore, none asked about you. They talked at you and not to you. The only one who approached you with genuine curiosity about who you were instead of what you were or weren’t wearing was the then prince.
“Hello, beautiful” he greeted, “what is your name?”
“Alyssum, your highness”
“Like the flower. It suits you.”
It was not the name you were given when you were born, but it was the name you’ve had the longest. Girls with the same fate as yours were stripped of their birth name and given new ones from pretty things—Rose, Esmeralda, Myrrha—gifts. Just like how they would be.
He looked thoughtful then, quite different from how he’s looking at you now that it’s just the two of you in your quarters.
A smile that makes your chest feel funny bloomed on his face. Taking a sip of wine, he patted his thigh and commanded you to sit. You can feel the heat of his body through the decadent silk of his garb.
Truthfully, you’ve never been this close to him. Always surrounded by friends and admirers, a lady or two clinging to his arms, there was no room for another character in his crowd. So, you contented yourself with looks from afar and stories told by the other concubines. He, however, always greeted you warmly on the rare occasions you crossed paths when his entourage was absent. Inquired about the tea and sweets you were to enjoy with his father and graciously accepted the treats you offered him.
“I did not see you at the ceremony. Did you not wish for me to be crowned?” he asked, hand on your hips pulling you closer still.
The ceremony that would normally take weeks to prepare was held just a mere twelve hours after his father’s passing. Nobles whispered about how suspicious the haste was, but none would say it out loud for they too know that a kingdom without a king is a kingdom ripe for taking. So they kept their voices down, watched the high priest anoint him with holy oil, and wished him a long and prosperous reign.
It wasn’t just the high priest who was moving faster than usual. The advisers and chymists, too, were busy at work. While the advisers sent word to neighboring kingdoms about the start of a new era — King Tōru, the scrolls declared — the chymists were rounding up the concubines and giving them moon tea to make sure no princelings would be born to claim the throne. Those who refused the brew were put to the sword.
You shook your head and said to him “I wished nothing more than to see you on the throne, my king.”
That answer seems to have satisfied him. So much so that the moment you uttered the words ‘my king’ you felt his hand on your nape and his mouth on yours. He licked your lips and coaxed them to part and welcome his tongue. He tasted like the sweetest, most intoxicating wine you’ve ever had. A moan caught in your throat while your hands found purchase on his chest and shoulders.
“Entertain your king, sweet Alys.” His voice low and thick with desire.
Your hands made their way down his torso only to be stopped when they’ve reached his belt. “No, no…” he said grabbing your hands and putting them on your thighs. He shifted underneath you, rolling his hips up and moving yours slightly making your naked cunt grind on his hardness. The movement and sensation of his cock still covered in fabric excited you and conjured up thoughts on what his cock would be like — feel like — when his clothes are off and out of the way.
Eager to please your royal visitor, you braced yourself on his shoulder and started moving. Hips rolling, eyes never leaving his. The lessons in pleasure you received emphasized the importance of eye contact, the women who taught you said lessons spoke of courtesans who can bring men a step away from orgasm with just their gaze alone. You've always thought of it as an exaggeration, a good advice for certain but not the most important thing. However, the way the king’s eyes were blown with lust and cock getting harder and harder underneath you are proving the lessons to be true. Lessons that would serve you well in capturing the king’s favor.
You moved your hip in a slow and mesmerizing pattern, soft breathy moans escaping your lips. A seductive performance for a very captivated audience.
Sounds coming from the other side of the door stole your attention. “Your majesty,” called a voice.
The king made no move to even acknowledge the man. And when he saw your attention diverted when the voice called again, he poured the half inch of wine left in his goblet on your shoulder. Golden liquid rolled from your clavicle down to your breast, a drop getting caught on your erect nipple. He leaned in to lick the trail of wine on your chest then captured the bead of wine on your nipple with his tongue. A gentle bite pulled a gasp from you.
“Your grace!” A familiar voice this time bounced in the room. Unmistakably the king's loyal knight and friend, Sir Hajime. You wondered if they shared lovers before and if the king would share you too.
“Lord Matsukawa brings news,” he continued.
The king let out an exasperated breath, kissed you on the mouth and unceremoniously slid you off his lap then walked out the room. There you stayed, naked on silk pillows with arousal warming up your body and the taste of wine lingering on your lips.
You shouldn’t have been surprised really, a king owes you no explanation or warning. And you have no power to demand either. Newly crowned and with a kingdom to rule, there would be countless people wanting his attention.
All you can do is be patient, wait and try again. Besides, him being the way he is might just be the best thing to have happened. Because if there’s anything you know is that spoiled men, when they are enamored by you, like spoiling too.
Warnings: smut, 18+ content, a bit of angst(?), it’s straight to fucking, friends with benefits
Sounds of moans and groans and the slapping of skin on skin mixes with the audio of the movie that plays forgotten. The two people—you and Kuroo—who took way too long to pick it are too busy with each other to even bother hitting pause.
“This is why you should get a girlfriend,” you tell him in between sighs.
“She can do this with you when you have a bad day.”
Having you bouncing on his cock with one hand on his shoulder and the other grabbing a fistful of his hair is just what he needs after a fantastically shitty day.
He almost forgot that you’d be at his place picking up the books and sandals you left last week. A greeting of ‘hey, you’ from you as the door opens had a funny effect on him. Like the first sip of chilled soda, bright and sweet and stings just right. But you didn’t need to know that.
You sit on him fully and take his entire length, you roll your hips and set a pace and pressure so you can grind your clit on his pubis while your cunt is filled. Doing this to him is definitely more fun than riding a stack of pillows.
“Why should I when you’re already doing-” His arrogance fails a bit as you clench your pussy around his cock. “Ah, fuck!”
He sucks air between his teeth and pulls you closer to capture your lips with his. Your mouth opens right away to welcome his tongue. He tilts his head a bit so he can kiss you like how you like it. He leans forward and put his weight on one knee so he can fuck you how he wants.
“Your pussy feels like heaven.”
A soft chuckle gets lost with the sound of rain that falls in the living room of the couple in the movie.
He gets a good, strong hold of you and puts you down on the bed. Pulling out his cock, creamy with your juices, Kuroo is almost shaking with urgency and desire to bury his length in you again.
He crawls over you and tucks his face in the crook of your neck. You feel his teeth graze your soft skin.
“See, if you have a girlfriend, you can do this with her anytime and you won’t have to share.”
Hilarious. You’ve always had a quite a mouth on you. One of the things that make you so attractive.
He braces himself with his left arm and his right hand finds the back of your knees to lift your leg up.
“I can just not share” he says as he lines up his cock at your entrance.
“You can just forget about that one.” He pushes the head of his dick back in your pussy.
“Mmm, I dunno…I like Ren.”
His lips crack into smile. He pulls out completely then sheathes himself to the hilt. Deep and hard thrusts bring out load moans from you. Hips rising to meet his. Kuroo’s breathing starts to speed up and in between hard breaths he curses and groans.
“More than me?”
You pretend to not hear his question and he pretends to not notice your evasion.
Shit.
Two sensations compete for his attention—both intense and demanding to be felt. He chooses to focus on the incredible friction on his cock over the annoying tickle in his chest.
You both know what you signed up for, ground rules were clear from the start. You even had it in writing because you both are weirdos who just can’t help themselves.
Just fucking.
No titles, no feelings.
Can have other partners but needs to be disclosed.
You want something, you say something.
It stops when one party wants it to stop.
It ends when it’s not fun anymore.
It ends when one party gets weird about shit.
He gets the drinks, you get the snacks.
Signature here. Initials here. Shake my hand here. May this friendship bring many fun and frequent benefits. (It did. It does.)
Kuroo feels your legs wrap tighter around his hips, bringing him closer and deeper. Every nerve ending of your sensitive spots firing simultaneously.
His orgasm hits him like a tsunami. One big wave, anything and everything on its path wiped out. But he doesn’t stop his movement. Can’t think about anything else if he fucks his own brains out. And he doesn’t want to feel think about anything else. He just wants this. Just you and your nails scratching up his back. Just your cunt squeezing his dick. The feeling of your warm skin. The taste of the melon candy you were eating and your flavor when he ate you.
He tries to maintain the cadence of his pumps as yeses and fucks tumble from your lips. He pumps through tight shoulders and buckling hips. He grabs your ass so he can fuck in you in the way he knows would have you screaming. He takes pride in knowing how to get that angle perfectly. You can be standing or on all fours or dangling at the edge of the bed. He knows how to position his hips and yours to get the same result.
His fingertips dig into your flesh as he thrusts and grind to give you your release. You reach your peak and he almost comes again.
This part. This part is always his favorite. Fucking you is amazing but having you lose yourself after you cum around his cock is unbeatable. Reducing you to whines and whimpers is always the goal.
The pleasant buzz of endorphins fills his head and he stays in you for a few more moments to feel the tiny tremors that are running up and down your thighs. He rolls off you with a hiss, turning over as he catch his breath
On screen a man runs hand in hand with a red-haired woman as people around them disappear one by one.
“No.”
He turns to you with half-lidded eyes, his breathing starting to slow. “What? D’you say something?”
Two pairs of serious eyes fall on the little girl barging in the CEO suite. Automatic smiles painting their faces.
“Hello, sweetheart,” says the man with black hair, crouching to pick up the fair-haired child.
“We brought snacks!”
It’s amazing to see the intimidating Shota Aizawa, CEO of three Fortune 500 companies, smiling and cooing at his daughter babbling about snacks. Not for you though, you’ve known this fact and seen this side of him. In the months you’ve worked as Eri’s nanny you got to see how caring and hands-on he is when it comes to raising her. He’s incredibly attuned to what she likes and needs and is attentive to all the things and stories she tells him. He shows up at parent-teacher meetings, all the recitals and sports meet and he is determined to get her the best of everything. Any and all things related to her development goes through him. He was the one to interview you for the position and not an assistant or a house manager.
Even as Eri turns her attention to the purple-haired man next to your boss to tell him about the aquarium in the lobby you can see the softness in his eyes.
“Do you want to take a closer look? I heard they just added Nemo this morning,” the young man tells her.
Excited pleas of being allowed go see the fishies fill the room and soon enough Eri is marching towards the door, small bag of snack in hand to share with the CEO’s protege.
“How was the playdate?”
“Cancelled. Hana needed to go to the dentist so Eri and I just made caramel.” You hand him a paper bag with apple slices, caramel dip and a small squeeze bottle of caramel sauce.
You see his brows furrow when he spots the irritated patch of skin on your forearm. “What happened there?”
“Had a bit of accident with the melted sugar,” you admit. “None of it got on Eri though!”
“I know, I saw nothing on her. I’m asking about you.” This side of him gives you butterflies. Authoritative voice laced with real concern and eyes that stay on you. It really isn’t surprising that you developed a crush within the first week of working.
You wave him off assuring him that it’s fine and instead insists that he try what you ladies brought him. Leaning on his table he starts with the fruit and decadent dip.
How can he look so sexy eating apple slices and caramel? He looks great all the time but gazing at him right now is making you feel things and none of them are innocent. He’s not even wearing anything different from his normal work attire; a simple but perfectly tailored suit, white shirt and a sapphire blue tie yet for some reason your mind is running a mile a minute about the possibilities of what that tie could be used for.
His hum of approval snaps you out of it. “Good, right?” You try to recover, hoping that your voice didn’t sound weird. “Made that version with some black tea and caramelized the sugar more. And the one in the bottle you can use for your coffee.”
“This version? How much did you two make?”
“A lot. A lot a lot.”
“So is this the only sweet thing I get from you today or….”
Fuck no.
You walk over to him and pull him into a kiss. His hands instinctively find your waist and he pulls you even closer. He tastes like the caramel you made, bittersweet and perfect. The warmth from his hands, his cologne, the way his tongue is moving…they’re assaulting all your senses and your mind is starting to get fuzzy.
This is not the first time you kissed but it has been the first time in a while. Work was hectic for him because of the acquisition so there wasn’t a lot of opportunities for you two to indulge in each other. The last time you had sex was a week ago, definitely a long time for you two. The only intimate moment you had since then was when he kissed you four days ago. A kiss so deep it left you breathless.
He was hungry for you and you felt it. You felt his hard dick on your hip too. He was pressing his crotch on you while his tongue explored your mouth. He wanted to have you right there and then but he had no time. And the kiss just exacerbated the situation. It didn’t satiate his desire. How could it? It’s like giving a starving beast a tiny scrap of meat. A taste won’t be enough, he has to have it all.
He pulls away just enough to say, “Take this off,” while pulling at the fabric of your dress. It’s taking all his self-control to not just rip it off your body.
Like an obedient little thing your hands worked fast on undoing the buttons and letting the dress fall on the floor. Dainty pieces of black silk and lace are now the only things covering your body and not much of it really.
God, he missed this view. He missed you.
“These the ones I got you?” Fingers tracing the pattern on your bra.
You nod. It’s silly of him to even ask that. All the pretty underthings you wear nowadays are from him. It’s been the case since you became a stay-in nanny. You weren’t from the start, you went home every day when all your duties were done and your ward was in bed. But a stormy night had you staying over and a trip to the kitchen for some water had you running into him where you ended up on your knees and him fucking your mouth. You never really got your drink but you swallowed every single drop of his cum. He pulled you up on your feet after cumming down your throat and gave you a kiss. That wasn’t the end of it though because he then practically carried you to his room where he proceeded to make you cum on his tongue and fuck you into his mattress.
Aizawa didn’t tell you then but that was the night he decided you’re his. And he made you his again the morning after.
“Is it okay—I mean here?” Suddenly remembering where you are sobered you up a bit.
“Darling, I own the damned place. If I say it’s okay then it’s okay.”
He takes your hand and rounds the table. Pushing financial reports to the side he sits you on top of his desk. He moves between your open legs, hands on the table caging you in. He captures your lips in a kiss again, tongue coaxing your mouth to open and welcome him.
You feel his hand travel to the closure of your bra, adept fingers make quick work of the clasp. You let out a gasp when you feel him snatch the flimsy thing away and see him toss it aside. Cupping one of your breasts as soon as they are uncovered.
He likes the way your skin feels under his hands. Soft and warm. He likes the way your body reacts to his touch. Always coming closer to him as if it knows where it belongs. It wants him. You want him.
“Be good for me,” he drags his lips down your jaw and leaves a kiss. Lips trailing kisses down your neck and giving your shoulder a gentle bite.
Confusion mars your beautiful face when he stands back up. Why is he moving away from you? The cold air feels odd on your hot skin. You need him close, it feels wrong to not have him on you.
“Sir, please…”
The way you say those two words make his cock twitch in his pants. You’ve called him that before. He is your employer after all but it takes on a different meaning when it’s just the two of you. When you’re sitting on his desk wearing nothing but lacy panties. When you’re looking at him with lust-blown eyes.
“I said be good for me.” You were so confused about the sudden distance that you failed to notice the bottle he has on his hand. The bottle you gave him not even 15 minutes ago. He draws a line of the golden brown syrup just above your erect nipple and smiles to himself.
“Ah, fuck!”
He’s not a sweets guy but he likes anything if he licks it off you. Him sucking on your sensitive nipple has you moaning and grabbing his hair and cursing once again. The sweet and slightly bitter taste of burnt sugar and the smell of your skin has him going crazy.
He lets go of the sensitive nub, shiny from spit and reaches for the bottle again to give the other one the same treatment and attention.
Did he think he’d have you on his desk like this when he left for work this morning? No. He didn’t even get the chance to kiss you since you were busy real early getting ready for the playdate. The playdate that ended up not even happening. But he shouldn’t be too mad about it since if it wasn’t for that you won’t have come to him bearing caramel that he is now licking off your tits.
“Ah, daddy, fuck!”
That’s it. He’s going to fucking destroy you.
There’s an animalistic glint in his eyes as he pushes you to lay down on your back. He gives the side of your ass a few taps, a non-verbal instruction to lift up your hips. He can barely contain himself as he grabs your panties, pulling them up and off your legs.
His thumb finds the wet, plump folds of your pussy. You are so ready and eager for him. Whines and whimpers escape your lips as he draws circles on your clit. Hips moving, wanting more of his touch.
Seeing you get wetter with the ministrations of his finger has him rock hard and his mouth watering. He needs to taste you. So he does. He brings his thumb to his lips and taste your slick.
Fuck.
He drops to his knees and buries his face on your mound. A groan rumbles in his throat the moment his tongue meets your sweet cunt. Better than any fucking caramel.
Plush thighs pressing on his ears muffle the load moan you just let out. Strong hands pull your legs apart and keep them open. A higher pitch moan fills the room when you feel his tongue on your entrance.
Normally, he’d take his time devouring you. Make you cum with just his mouth at least once before he even gets his cock involved but he can’t help it right now. He fucking wants you and if you are going to cum you are going to do so around his cock.
Standing up to his full height he unzips his pants and pull out his cock, fully erect and hard with precum glistening on the tip. The way you yelped as he pulls you closer to the edge of the table makes him harder still, if that was even possible.
“Daddy’s going to fuck you so good, baby.”
“Please, I want you! I want you so bad. Daddy, please!”
He takes hold of one of your legs while he rubs the head of his cock on your pussy lips then lining it up on your entrance. He almost loses it as soon as he pushes the head in you. Fuck you are tight. And wet and hot.
“Yeah? You like daddy’s cock?”
You can’t even answer him. Your back is arching as soon as he starts his thrusts. The rhythmic movement of his hips seem to be erasing every thought from your mind as soon as they form.
He doesn’t have time to think either. Seeing your naked form, head thrown back and pussy taking his cock has him mesmerized.
A string of daddy and daddy please tumble out your lips. He almost tells you to stop because if you were going to keep calling him that he might just make you a mommy. But, fuck, that doesn’t sound like a bad idea at all. Sounds like a great idea actually. Fill you up with his seed and make you have his babies.
Aizawa’s beastly side takes over and it demands for you to fuck like animals. He pulls all the way out and gets you off of the table. The abrupt absence of his cock in your cunt has you feeling empty but not for long.
He positions you with your back turned to him, your hands on the table. Jelly legs barely holding you up. If the table weren’t there you’d be on the floor. You feel his large hands grab your hips and without missing a beat he sheathes his entire cock in your sensitive cunt.
Tears start to gather in the corners of your eyes. It’s too much. It’s so good and it’s too much. Aizawa has only been the only one to make you cry while fucking. You were so overwhelmed then. You’ve come twice already but the pounding of your abused pussy has not let up. He was thrusting hard and deep but the kisses he’s peppering on your face were soft and gentle. Your brain couldn’t process all the stimulation and conflicting sensations. He was fucking up your mind while fucking your cunt.
He feels your velvety walls tighten around his cock. You are close. So close. One hand reaches for your clit to help you reach the peak of your pleasure faster. The added pressure of his fingers on your clit makes you collapse and fall on to your elbows on the table. You feel his chest on your back as he leans down to ask you if you’re okay. His hips never stopping though. The moans you make were the only answers you can give him and the only answers he need.
So he continues his unmerciful movement. Each thrust ending with extra push of his hips. You hear him grunting and not much else. You feel his hardness drag on your sensitive spot and you lose more and more of your senses.
The moment of your unravelling almost drives him mad. He feels you clamp down on his cock and hears you let out something like a combination of a sob and a moan. The sounds you make whenever he makes you cum is music to his ears. It’s the only thing he hears at the moment, everything else is drowned out and silent.
A few more thrusts and he joins you in your euphoria. He utters a curse and your name as he spills every last drop of his cum in you.
He can hear his heart pounding in his ears. His breathing heavy and labored. He doesn’t pull out right away because any additional friction would be unbearable at the moment. He retains enough senses to check on you though. And looking down he can see that you are absolutely demolished. He can’t help but feel a bit guilty but also a bit proud. He wanted this. He wanted to ruin you.
“You okay, baby?” Aizawa plants kisses on your back. Gentle and slow. Not wanting to move you too much while you are still coming down from your high. You can only whimper when he pulls out of you.
It was a few minutes after when your wits are finally together enough to take in your surroundings and what happened. You come to sitting on his lap wrapped in his jacket.
“You did so good, honey. Took me so well.” He’s wiping the sweat on your forehead and the tears on your cheeks. Another round of praises said gently and he’s asking you if you want some water. You nod. He knows you do. He’s done this routine many times. As many times as he’s seen you come undone underneath him.
Your breathing settles and match each other’s pace and rhythm. He leans back on the chair, completely relaxing his body that still has residual adrenaline coursing through it.
“I think I’ll keep that here.”
“Keep what?”
He motions towards the bottle on his desk. You aren’t quite all back yet so all you can say is “’s nice in coffee.”
Oh he has plans on using it. Use it often really. But never for coffee.
Warnings: smut, 18+ content, mentions of violence and blood, minors DNI
He was the good guy. Great, really. You can even say one of the best.
And you’re a good person, too. A law-abiding citizen. The type to say something when you see something. The kind to help someone in need, even if that someone looks a little bit more than suspicious.
Anyone would have been terrified of a man covered in blood with a knife in hand. But the good—and frankly sometimes kind of dumb—person that you are thought that he might need help specially when you had a good look at him. Green hair, green eyes, a spray of freckles on his cheeks.
You’ve stood in line for his first autograph signing. He smiled and thanked you for coming and for your patience. He shook your hand and leaned in to hear what you were saying when you were fumbling your words. The way he smelled that day was forever etched in your brain. Was it cologne? Soap? Was that just him?
It’s crazy to dream of a guy’s scent from three years ago when the same guy is standing before you smelling like sweat and blood and anger. Does anger even have a smell?
You shake off your hardly appropriate thoughts and ask if he’s okay and offer to treat his wounds. He’d take you up on it of course, because really this is not the first time this has happened. Or even the second or third. You’ve had this thing going for a few months now it’s almost routine.
He shows up looking like he just came back from fighting a hundred demons. Half of them from hell, half of them his. You open your door and help him get cleaned up. He’s gone by the time the sun sets the next day.
He shows up with a big duffel bag that from time to time seem to move. You don’t ask questions about it you just ask him if he’s hungry.
He’s wondered why you help him. At first he thought you’re after the bounty on his head. But there were no sneak attacks or poisoned drinks or hidden weapons. You help him because that’s just what you do. You’re just a good person.
A good person who takes his hand when he asks you to join him in the shower. Still gets a bit shy when you see his naked form. Broad back and thick arms littered with healed scars and fading bruises.
A good person who so obediently follows him to your bedroom after a shower that involves more kissing than soaping up. Someone who so willingly straddles his lap when he sits on your bed and pats his thigh.
His lips find yours and you can’t help let out a soft moan because he tastes like a fruit that the gods tell you to not touch. You get a little drunk with every swipe of his tongue.
He pulls away and puts two of his finger in your mouth to get them wet so he can prep you to take his girth and length. He can feel your wetness on his hard dick and it’s taking all of his control to not just throw you on the bed and sheath himself in you.
His hands travel down to the place between your legs and he pushes a finger in you. You are fire hot and wet all for him. He curls the finger inside you and touches the spot that makes you arch your back. He repeats the movement for a while then puts another digit in to help you stretch a bit more.
You beg him for his cock and you sound so sweet and desperate how can he say no? He pulls his fingers out and grabs your hips, helping you line up on his hardness. You brace yourself on his shoulders and slowly sink down to take him in. His size makes you take a deep breath, you feel bit of pain but nothing you can’t handle. Your tightness makes him curse and seeing his dick disappear in you is making him lose his mind.
You lift yourself up and sink down again getting your hole used to him. The pain is gone and in its place is pure pleasure that’s making your legs shake and your hips move faster. You feel his large calloused hands grab your ass and hips helping you with your pace.
The fatigue is starting to set in your thighs but you keep chasing the pleasure that’s been building in your lower belly. You take all of him fully sitting down on his lap. You move your hips to maintain the friction that’s been making you moan out his name.
“You getting tired?”
You shake your head weakly and it amuses him how good people lie about the silliest thing.
The green haired man wraps an arm around your waist and gets up from the bed, cock still inside you and sets you down on the mattress. The change of position was smooth and seamless that by the time your back is fully flat on your cool sheets he’s already pounding in you. Waves of pleasure washing over you.
The knot in your lower belly gets tighter and tighter with every thrust. You’re trembling by the time it snaps and your orgasm set your body ablaze and numbs your senses. You can hear him groaning and the sound of slapping of skin on skin. Your eyes are half-closed, cumming always takes a lot out of you. But your partner doesn’t seem to be letting up. He has his hands behind your knees getting your legs up and out of the way. He felt you clamp down on him when you came and he continued to move his hips to let you ride out the delicious feeling.
You lose sense of time for a bit and came to when his leaning down, his mouth next to your ear, a litany of curses pouring out his lips.
“Fuck, you feel so fucking good. Fuck!”
You feel another orgasm coming and he seems to be getting close to his too. His rhythm is getting a bit sloppy and his hips are buckling. He makes you wrap your legs around him as he thrusts deeper and faster. You bite down on his shoulder to muffle the scream that comes with your second orgasm and he stills when you clamp down on him once again as he spills his seed in you.
Heavy breaths from you both are the only sounds you can hear, the alarms and announcement from outside warning the citizens of a villain attack are ignored and forgotten.
It takes a few minutes for you both to come down from your high and even then you are still quite out of it. Your senses are a bit haywired still but you feel his lips planting kisses on your neck and sucking marks on your skin.
Loud speakers out on the streets blare out another announcement. Villain Deku has caused explosions that affected several buildings downtown and heroes in the area are asked to respond.
The desire to do your part and do the right thing pulls at you. You should do something. The man they are searching for is with you. You should do something but you don’t. Because you are good person but man does it feel great to fuck the bad guy.
Akaashi Keiji deals with a lot of words every day.
He reads numerous emails from colleagues, pages upon pages of manuscripts from the writers he work with, minutes of the meeting with the publisher. Texts from old friends and new.
He writes notes for the chapters he’s editing, opinions on where the plot is going. How the action of the lead doesn’t really match his motivations. Replies to the coworker who sent an email to the entire company. Confirmation of his attendance for the get together this weekend.
Thousands of words every day for work or other purposes. Rarely does he have the time to read or write for his own enjoyment so he savors it when he does. Like starting the paperback he bought weeks ago or putting to paper the first pages of the story that’s been bouncing in his head for months now.
The words he read and write for himself feel and taste different. They have a weight that he feels in his hands, colors that he sees even when his eyes are closed.
But the words he like the best are the ones that are for you.
He picks them with great care. Choosing the ones that will tell you how he feels. Not too many so the message doesn’t get lost but not too few either lest you think he doesn’t have time for you.
He writes and speaks them to you each and every day.
The text to remind you to take a breather, the message of good morning or good night when he’s away. The whispers of affection when it’s just the two of you at his apartment or in a crowded place to calm your anxious heart.
The note he leaves you when he goes out with friends.
Darling,
I’ll be back before 11
I’ll leave you my heart
But you can still hold on to it when I return
-K
Akaashi deals with a lot of words every day... and the ones for you are his favorite.
Akaashi didn’t really believe in luck. That is until you came into his life.
What else would he call the chance of meeting you? What were the odds that your lives would intertwine? Working for the same publisher but different departments, different magazines. Him, an editor and you, a reporter.
What is it if not luck that you found out that he used to play volleyball and it just happens to be one of the things you cover. That you came to him to ask some questions. That you got to spend time talking about volleyball, careers, life and other things. That he got to know you, that he fell in love.
Luck must be real and he must be a lucky man.
He got to introduce you to his coworkers and volleyball friends. And you got along with them. You got along with them real well.
He felt so lucky when you moved in with him and he got to see you every day. Got to see you when you’ve just woken up, that you’re always the first one to greet him good morning. That he felt his love for you grow in his heart and see you blossom with yours.
That you said yes to the ring he picked.
He feels incredibly lucky right now to be a part of your special day. So lucky to see you before the ceremony. He’ll see you again in just a few minutes when you’re walking down the aisle and he’s standing at the end of it but he couldn’t resist. He just wanted to see you.
“You look great,” you say with a smile as if you’re not the loveliest.
“I tried my best. It’s a special day.”
“It is.”
What did he do in his past life to deserve this? To look at you at your most beautiful and happiest.
“I think I should go,” he tells you. “I have a very important part, can’t be late.”
“Yes, go go!” You give him a push towards the door. He feels your hands shake a bit. Looking back he sees your face painted with excitement and a bit of nervousness. An invisible hand squeezes his heart.
He opens the door and comes face to face with a tall man with golden eyes. “Bokuto-san, you can’t be here. It’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding.”
“Wait, really? Babe,” the panicked man calls out to you, “I didn’t see you! It’s okay!”
He hears you laugh as he closes the door and drags the groom away.
Akaashi is indeed a lucky man…just not as lucky as his friend.
Warnings: smut, it’s just filth, 18+ content, minors DNI, public sex, semi-public sex, choking, collaring
Gojo Satoru is in trouble.
It’s odd considering it’s him and he never really gets in trouble that warrants concern. He can handle anything and everything. He is the strongest after all. And according to your friends it’s actually you who’s in trouble. They said he’s the type of guy who only wants to have you in his bed.
They’re wrong. He didn’t just have you in his bed, he had you in yours too.
He also fucked you in a coffee shop once. Sat you on the sink and pumped you full of his cock while he sucked on your lips.
He bent you over your kitchen counter. You made quite a mess that day but it’s okay since you learned that your counters are the perfect height for fucking. And doesn’t learning require a bit of a mess, anyway? He knows this, he’s a teacher.
He had you on your knees and choking on his entire length behind a tree at the park. He bought you ice cream after and asked you which tasted better, him or the ice cream.
He had you over his knees in his office. Made your ass a glowing red. You were so good for him, you counted each slap and kept really quiet. He rewarded you with gentleness while you rode him, rubbing the welts blooming on your cheeks.
He made you say hi to your neighbor while you were on the balcony. The old man only saw you but Gojo was behind you, on his knees having a fill of your sweetness. He likes sweet things and you are one of the tastiest treats he’s had in a while.
He had you on all fours wearing only a collar in his living room. Such sweet sounds you made on a summer afternoon. The jingling of the bell made it even better. Your knees were a bit bruised though. Maybe a collar and knee pads next time.
He can think of a few more ways to have you. He thought about sharing you with a certain blonde coworker but he felt a bit greedy.
Fuck. Maybe he is in trouble. That’s an issue. No. It’s not him. It’s you. You’re the problem. He never minded sharing. He rarely ever does repeat performances either. But he’s done both with you. It’s you, you’re trouble. He only needs to quit you and he’s in the clear again.
Gojo Satoru is not in trouble. Not yet...but he will be tonight. Maybe even multiple times.
OH MY GOOOOOOD THE BOKUTO MINI FIC ? WHERE THE READER SAYS NO TO HIS PROPOSAL ? IT WAS SO GOOD HOLY SHIT I LOVED IT SO MUCH ! If only there were more fics like this, thank you so much for blessing me with such a great little piece writing, can only hope you'll write more of them, where the end is so abrupt and unexpected !
Have a very nice day !
hello! glad you liked it! and thank you so much for taking the time to message. i will try to make more. <3
He tells you to bring an umbrella because forecasts say it’s going to rain today. To which you would just hum a yes to because you like the rain. You don’t think it’s something to worry about. And sure it’s okay, it’s just water but he doesn’t like you coming home drenched after a full day of work.
He checks your workplace and route when he’s on patrol and keeps tabs of any kind of activity in and around those places.
He hugs you tight when you fall apart. As if he’s trying to keep your broken pieces together.
He let’s you sleep in. Because you get even less shut eye than he does and that’s something. Concerning, really.
He remembers the book you’ve been reading. How you like your coffee. The things that kept you up a week ago; whether we’ll actually know if we are in a simulation or not. He thinks it’s not really important if we do or do not but he listened anyway because it matters to you.
He knows the difference between your sad tears and angry ones. And overwhelmed and exhausted. And miserable and defeated. That you don’t want him to solve problems for you. But you do want him beside you.
He indulges you in your little dance parties. Even if your dancing is just shimmying shoulders and tiny hops and some awkward arm flailing. And when he joins in it’s him wrapping his arms around you and swaying you slowly from side to side. It doesn’t suit the lively music that’s playing but it’s a ball just for the two of you.
He sneaks the umbrella he told you to bring in your bag because even if you said you’d bring it, you forgot to grab it. Sometimes he thinks you’re worse than his students when it comes to listening.
He says thank you and kisses you on the shoulder when you cook him dinner. Wears the shirts you got him even if he’s not a fan of the colors. Why did you get them in purple and green? Were they on sale?
He wakes you up with gentle kisses. Trails them down your body, puts your legs over his shoulders to get you nice and ready before he takes you. He likes it quite rough and you seem to crave that too.
He grabs your thighs and holds you down when your hips are buckling up. Wanting more of him. All of him. He whispers filthy and sweet things while he pounds into you. Tells you that every inch of you is his and that he is yours too.
He kisses the marks he sucked on your skin. Massages the handprints he left on your hips. Asks if you want something to drink. Cleans up the mess he’s made of you.
Shota Aizawa does not say that he loves you, he expresses it in different ways. No, he does not say that he loves you but he hopes you know that he does.
It’s not even 8 am and already you can feel Bokuto’s eyes on you.
He loves doing that…just looking at you. He gazes at you with love and reverence as if you’re a blessing from the seven lucky gods. Or one of the seven lucky gods.
“You’re staring,” you say turning to your side to face him, eyes still closed because it’s not even eight in the morning on your day off and it’s too early for anything.
“You’re amazing, you know that?”
That’s another thing he likes to do, tell you you’re amazing. Which is quite amusing and weird to you. No, you don’t think you’re some pathetic, talentless person. You’ve outgrown that phase. You’re at peace with what and who you are now. Most of the time. You think you’re pretty alright but between you and him, a pro volleyball player who also happens to be on the national team that’s about to go to the Olympics, you won’t be your first choice to give those words to.
“Oh, yeah? What,” you ask him, closing the short distance between you two, “makes me amazing?” The last part being muffled as you bury your face on his chest. You take a deep breath and you feel like you can stay in bed with him the whole day. He smells like the laundry detergent and the sheets and him and you. He smells like home.
He wraps an arm around you and pulls you up, bringing you face to face with him. “You’re smart,” he starts, “so smart. And you’re gorgeous.” He kisses the tip of your nose and brings his face down and nuzzles in the crook of your neck.
“You tell me I did great after my games. You always remember the things I forget. You let me do sexy things to you. And with you. I really like that.”
This gets a smile from you. He’s like this in the mornings. So clingy. And needy. And adorable and sweet and maybe just a bit of a perv.
“You don’t get too mad at me or yell at me when I break things. And I break a lot of things. I’m sorry, baby.”
You rub the back of his head letting him know it’s alright. “You have to be more careful.”
“I will be. I promise. I’m sorry I broke your favorite cup,” he says. You feel his arm tightening a bit around you and he pulls you in a little closer. Like he’s afraid that mentioning the broken thing will make you get up and leave. Leave him.
He’s right though. It was your favourite cup. It was a really good cup. It holds the right amount of water for your tea. And the glass is thin so you can really taste your drink. And your superstitious self thinks that whenever you use it while working on projects both personal and not, the final product always end up so much better than you expected. It was the perfect little thing. You’ve had it for so long and you loved it.
“It’s okay,” you tell him, planting a kiss on his head, “I like you more than the cup.”
It’s still a few minutes before 8 and already you feel his warmth. Maybe waking up earlier than you’d like on your day off isn’t all that bad.
You learn a lot about someone when you live with them.
After a few months of sharing the same space, Daichi has learned quite a bunch of things about you. He learned that you are one of the few people who can function without coffee. That you’re not fond of it either because it makes your heart race.
He learned that you have trouble sleeping but him telling you about his day or stories from his high school days help you relax and eventually drift off to dreamland.
That you like going to natural science museums more than art museums. And he made a mental note to ask an old friend about a few things.
He learned that you like drizzly mornings. And freshly baked bread. And honey and tea. But not honey in your tea.
He learned that you’re quite a good cook but your knife skills need work. He gets nervous watching you peel or chop things so he offers to do them for you.
That when you work at home you put on lipstick. He asked why you do that and you said it helps you be in the zone. He learned that he likes kissing off the lipstick you put on. That the reds and pinks look lovely on you and you both learned that the orange-red shades look best on him.
He learned that you have quite a ticklish neck. That trailing kisses from your shoulder to your jaw is a great way to make you flustered and giggly.
He learned that as much as he likes hearing your moans and gasps, he also really likes kissing you on the mouth while you moan out his name. Drinking the beautiful sounds you make.
That he loves seeing you under him—arching your back, moving your hips to meet his—but he likes you on top too. His back on the headboard, one hand on your thigh and an arm around your waist to help you with the pace. Lifting you up and bringing you down on his dick, making you take all of him.
He learned that you like tasting yourself on his cock. And that you look mesmerizing licking him clean.
That after an intense fuck you ask for a glass of water. And a kiss. That more than words and praises, you like being held. He learned that he likes to feel your weight on him while he rubs circles on your back. Feeling you relax and fall asleep just like that.
Daichi has learned quite a few things about you and, surprisingly, a few things about himself too.
If you were to ask Hawks what attracted him to you, he’d say your brain. And he’s being honest too. Truly. Don’t get him wrong, he adores how you look. He’s never seen someone so lovely and enchanting. You give him butterflies whenever he looks at you. But your brain knocks him out.
You are sharp as a tack, sly like a fox. And he can’t really think of another way to say brainy but he can bet you do. Maybe even a couple more actually.
You can keep up with his sarcasm and jokes and can dish out your own. So quick on your feet with clever retorts and observations you actually made him pause. The chatty bird lost for words.
You know a little bit about everything. Can discuss topics from politics to entertainment to history to literature to science. Such impressive vocabulary when you talk about the things you love. Your eyes don’t just sparkle when you get started on your interests, they are— you are incandescent.
So insightful and astute…that is until you get fucked.
When he has his mouth all over you and his cock deep inside you, your brain turns to mush. Your extensive vocabulary reduced to moans and whimpers. Smart comebacks are now just “please” and “fuck” and “more”. Sometimes he even needs to remind you to breathe. Brain empty but the pleasure he gives you.
You scratch at his back when your words fail you as he thrusts faster and deeper, hitting the spot that sends electricity through your body. He fucks you hard and slow, he fucks you to the edge and you fall. He continues to move his hips and let you ride out your ecstasy.
He gets you on all fours, grabs your hips and thrusts his entire length in you. All you can do is groan and grab at the sheets. He pulls another orgasm from you or two or three more. You aren’t quite sure how many really because for a few moments you’ve forgotten how to count.
He loves seeing you all blissed out of your mind, can’t even reply when he asks you if you’re okay. Just shaky breaths and a bit of laughter that catches in your throat. Humming while he whispers sweetness and praises for taking him so well and being so good for him.
He loves the smart, clever you. But he likes you fucked dumb in his bed too.
Bokuto loved how decisive you are. You’ve been together for years and he was always in awe when you put your foot down on something. When you made a decision it’s always final. Unlike him who second guesses a lot of things, flip-flops on this and that. Honestly, he’s only been sure of a few things.
He was sure that he was going to continue playing volleyball after high school. He was sure that he was going to try to be one of the best if not the best.
And you. He was sure of you.
He was going back and forth on what the ring would look like because he made a mistake of asking his teammates’ opinions. Atsumu said the classic diamond is the best. He agreed. It seemed the best and you deserve the best. But Shoyo said the blue one's pretty. It was. It was almost as pretty as you. He couldn’t pick which one but he knew it’s your finger he wants to put it on. He was sure of it.
Some people say that it’s nice to love someone with no self-esteem because they are so grateful of whatever little crumb they get. Kuroo thinks people who say that are full of shit. They are fucking wrong. At least in your case. Because you’re seriously hard to love.
It’s not that you whine about how you look or how you are. He hears nothing of that. Or the countless calls and texts asking where he is. You don’t do that. Or the irrational jealousy because that has never happened.
It’s in the way you just accept things like that’s how they should be no matter how crappy they make you feel. How you didn’t get mad when he forgot it was your birthday. You even had the audacity to assure him that it’s okay and that it’s not his fault, he’s just been really busy.
In the way you wait until it’s 3 am, thinking that he’s for sure asleep, to cry. To let go of the tears that you’ve been holding in all week. Even then you sob quietly, as if you’re terrified of being found out. Embarrassed of the terrible secret that you are in fact human and tire of the shit you face every day.
How he only hears of your problems and troubles when you’ve already solved them. Not when you are having a break down for the third time that week even though it’s only Tuesday. Or even when it’s almost solved but it still can go either way. No. He only hears about them when you can happily tell him about how it’s a relief now that the whole thing is over.
You are hard to love. Sometimes he doesn’t know if he’s doing too much, or enough or nothing at all.
Most of the time he doesn’t know what to do. Or how to love you.
It is tough to love you but if it’s you, it’s not a chore. He’s just gonna love you for that much longer and that much more.
