Stiles gets very good at putting himself back together. He learns which cuts just need butterfly bandages and which need actual stitches and he knows to keep a needle threaded because trying to get everything ready when you're shaking from blood loss is fucking hard. (Not impossible though, he learns that too. There's not much that is impossible when you don't have any other options.)
Post 5A - Stiles may not be in the pack anymore, but that doesn't mean he's going to stop fighting.
She left for summer break as Scott’s annoying little sister and she came back glowing, confident, and gorgeous. Stiles can’t stop looking, but he finds he isn’t the only one.
Warnings: none
———————————————————————
The heat pressed down on Beacon Hills High like someone had draped a giant, sweaty blanket over the entire state of California. Even the asphalt in the parking lot shimmered with it, waves rising like a mirage as you, Scott, and Stiles trudged toward the Jeep. Your backpack dug into your shoulder, your hair stuck to the back of your neck, and your brain already felt like a dripping ice-cream left out in the heat.
But Stiles Stilinski had apparently found a new source of energy that defied all known laws of biology. He kept bumping you. Shoulder to shoulder. Hip to hip. A little nudge every few steps, just enough to be irritating but not quite enough to justify committing a felony.
You shot him a glare after the third hit. “Seriously? Can you not?”
He widened his eyes in mock innocence. “What? I’m just walking. Normal walking. Completely standard-issue, FDA-approved walking.”
“You’re swerving like you’re drunk.”
“I don’t swerve,” he gasped, placing a dramatic hand on his heart. “I glide.”
Scott groaned, adjusting the straps of his own bag. “Dude, it’s ninety degrees and school just ended. Can you maybe not harass my sister for five minutes?”
“I’m not harassing her,” Stiles said, immediately bumping you again.
You elbowed him so hard he stumbled. “Oops.”
He caught himself, mouth falling open in a scandalised gasp. “She assaults me and you say nothing? Unbelievable. I am a victim.”
You rolled your eyes so hard you felt your skull shift. “You deserve it.”
His grin was bright, stupid, and annoyingly infectious. “Maybe. But you love it.”
And there it was, the line he’d been tossing at you since freshman year. The line that always made your stomach twist even though you denied it every time. You fought the heat rising in your face. Don’t let him see. Don’t let him know. Scott would never let you live it down. Stiles would never let you forget it.
“What I love,” you said coolly, “is the idea of getting to the car without you touching me again.”
“That’s gonna be tough,” Stiles said, swinging his Jeep keys. “My orbit naturally pulls people toward me. Gravity and whatnot.”
“You mean your giant ego the size of a black hole?” you muttered under your breath.
He heard it. Of course he did. You meant him to, after all. His grin sharpened. Scott climbed into the passenger seat. You tossed your bag inside and slid into the back.
Stiles turned to look at you, pointer finger extended. “No kicking the back of my seat.”
So you kicked it.
“Hey!” He whipped around like you’d committed treason. “I literally just said—”
“You deserved it,” you repeated.
Scott sighed, leaning back. “Can you guys not fight for, like, one drive? Just one?”
“No,” both you and Stiles said at the same exact time.
And then all three of you laughed. You looked out the window as Stiles started driving, heart doing that annoying fluttery thing you wished you could surgically remove. You wished your crush on him would stay in the backseat when you left for the summer. You wished it would disappear entirely.
But crushes were stupid. Especially when they involved boys with messy hair, sarcastic mouths, and brown eyes that always, always saw more than he admitted.
———————————————————————
Spending summer with your dad felt like stepping out of your own life for a while. No Beacon Hills. No petty highschool drama. No school stress. No Stiles. Just sunlight, lake water, and long days that stretched lazily into warm nights.
Of course, Scott had chosen to stay back in Beacon Hills to spend the summer with his best friend, but you? You were eager to spend some time with your father. Lord knows you didn’t get much of that anymore.
You hiked, swam, read, helped your dad fish on the dock, and practically lived in bikini tops and bare feet. You barely checked your phone. The days blurred together in the good way until suddenly people were staring at you differently.
Your father said it first, “Sweetheart, you’ve really grown up.”
Then the niece of the local corner shop owner, “When did you get so…pretty?”
Then the mirror said it, too. You had sun-warmed skin, ocean bleached hair, brighter eyes, confidence that hadn’t been there before. Your clothes fit differently. You stood differently. You felt different. You felt better.
———————————————————————
You arrived home mid-afternoon, suitcase wheels rattling over the walkway. You lifted it up the porch steps, expecting to hear your mom calling, or Scott bounding outside, or even total silence.
You did not expect Stiles sitting on the deck beside Scott, legs kicked out, leaning back on his hands, talking a mile a minute about something involving animal activity and a conspiracy theory. His head snapped toward you mid-sentence, and the rest of the sentence died on his tongue.
For the first time in your entire shared history, Stiles Stilinski went silent. Completely and utterly silent.
His eyes widened. His mouth parted the tiniest bit, and then he stared. Not in a rude way, and not in a boy-ish ‘oh wow’ way. This was different. This was careful, and stunned, and intense. You felt heat bloom in your cheeks.
Scott noticed a second later. “Oh! You’re home early!”
You smiled at him, letting him pull you into a hug. “Yeah. Dad had work stuff, so I came back a few days sooner.”
Stiles didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Didn’t breathe correctly. When Scott pulled away, Stiles finally croaked, “Uh. Hi.”
You raised a brow. “Hi.”
His gaze flickered down, then up again slowly, like he was afraid he’d miss something. You saw his throat bob as he swallowed. His fingers twitched on his knees like he didn’t know what to do with his hands.
You’d imagined this moment before - Stiles actually seeing you - but you never imagined it would knock every thought out of his head.
“Stiles,” Scott said, confused. “Dude. You good?”
Stiles didn’t answer. He was too busy staring at you like you’d rewired his brain.
———————————————————————
Scott invited you with him to the lake the next day. You said yes, mostly because you missed swimming everyday. Totally not because Stiles was going.
You stepped out of your shirt and shorts, leaving you only in your new leopard print bikini. The one you’d bought because you liked the way you looked in it, not for anyone else’s eyes. But Stiles looked anyway.
He was sprawled across the warm rocks by the bank, shirt half off, sunglasses in hand. He froze mid-motion when he saw you, arms awkwardly tangled in cotton, like someone had paused his animation. Your stomach flipped, tension tugging warm and sweet behind your ribs.
He pulled the shirt the rest of the way off and promptly dropped it on his foot, tripping over it when he got up and tried to walk, stomping on a sharp piece of dry clay. “Ow, dammit! Sorry, ignore me…uh, hi,” he stammered, waving with zero coordination.
You felt yourself smile. “Hi.”
Scott tossed you sunscreen. “Want me to get your back?”
Before you could answer, Stiles blurted, “I can! I mean, I…could do it. If you want.”
Scott shot him a look. “Why would she want that?”
Stiles kicked Scott’s ankle. “Shut up.”
“I don’t need help,” you said quickly, even though part of you curious what his hands might feel like. “I’m good.”
Stiles nodded too fast. “Yeah. Cool. Awesome. Independence is important.”
You dropped your towel, walked toward the edge of the bank, and felt his gaze follow you like the sun. You slipped into the water, cool greenish-blue swallowing your skin, and walked until it was deep enough to dunk your head under. When you wandered back to the surface, wiping your eyes, Stiles was still watching. He didn’t look away. Not even a little.
You dove under again just to hide the smile blooming across your face.
———————————————————————
Two days later, Scott suggested bowling. You came along. Stiles arranged himself on the seat next to the shoe rack like he belonged there with one leg bouncing, his hands fidgeting, and his eyes constantly drifting toward you.
“Okay,” he said, leaning forward as you grabbed your bowling ball, “don’t be offended, but please don’t throw it backwards.”
You smirked. “You think I’m going to drop it?”
“I think,” he said, pointing dramatically, “that physics will betray you.”
Scott rolled his eyes. “Ignore him.”
You lined up your shot, raised the ball, and released in a clean and smooth motion. It rolled straight down the center like it had been waiting all its life to do exactly that.
Stiles and Scott leaned forward comically and you held your breath until the pins clattered down. All of the pins. You’d scored a strike!
“Woah! When did you get good?” Scott arched a brow in surprised
Stiles only gawked at you, his mouth hanging open. “Since when can you bowl?”
You brushed imaginary lint off your shorts. “Since now.”
Stiles stared at you like you’d personally rewritten the fundamental laws of the universe. “You’re doing this on purpose,” he said suspiciously.
“What am I doing?”
“Being good at…things. That you weren’t good at. Before.”
“People learn, Stiles.”
“Yeah but, you learned suspiciously quickly.”
You bent to pick up your ball again, aware of his eyes flicking down, then away, then back again because he absolutely couldn’t help himself. Your heart fluttered, but his did too. You could see it this time.
———————————————————————
Scott dragged both of you to the store later that week. You showed up in cutoff denim shorts and a fitted tank top, hair still damp from a shower. Stiles saw you walk toward the aisle and literally forgot how to stand still.
He pushed the cart into a shelf of canned beans because he wasn’t watching where he was going. The clatter made Scott jump. “Dude, what the hell?”
Stiles whispered harshly, “She’s doing it again!”
You raised an eyebrow, reaching for some chocolate ice-cream. “Doing what?”
“Existing,” Stiles snapped helplessly. “In clothes. With legs. And, hair that’s shiny, and distracting, and illegal.”
Scott blinked. “What?”
“Nothing,” Stiles said quickly. “Shut up.”
You hid your smile behind the freezer door.
———————————————————————
The night before returning to school was a warm evening, the air thick with the smell of grilling from a neighbor’s yard and the hum of crickets. You and Scott were carrying grocery bags to the house. Stiles lingered by the Jeep, keys hooked on his finger, watching without really watching.
You laughed at something Scott said and when you looked over, Stiles was staring again. But this time was different. He wasn’t shocked. Or flustered. Or surprised. He was…soft, and quiet.
His eyes followed the curve of your cheek, the shape of your smile, the way your hair fell forward when you set the bags down. His expression shifted, slow and dawning, like a realisation on had been working its way through him all week and finally clicked.
You felt it. You felt him seeing you. Not as the kid who’d once thrown popcorn at him. Not as the girl who always fought with him in the Jeep. Not as Scott’s little sister. But as a young woman standing in the soft summer light. As someone he wanted. Someone he couldn’t stop looking at.
You caught his eye staring and this time he didn’t look away. Neither did you. Your heart pounded loud enough you were sure he heard it. His breath hitched, just barely.
Summer was ending. But whatever this was? It was just beginning.
———————————————————————
The first day back to school after summer always carried the same exhausted buzz. Students dragged themselves across the courtyard, teachers pretended they didn’t want to disappear, the smell of too much body spray and freshly sharpened pencils lingered in the air. But this year felt different. You felt different.
You walked beside Scott and Stiles toward the front entrance, backpack slung over one shoulder, the morning sun catching in your hair. You weren’t trying to draw attention, you were just existing, but apparently that was enough because people stared.
Boys you’d known since kindergarten. Upperclassmen who had never looked twice at you before. One guy from the lacrosse team walked straight into a trash can because he wasn’t watching where he was going.
You bit back a laugh but Stiles didn’t seem to find it as funny as you did.
“Hey!” he shouted, pointing aggressively. “Eyes forward, buddy! Eyes on your own legs, or whatever.”
Scott gave him a side-eye. “Dude, what is your problem this morning?”
“My problem,” Stiles muttered loudly, “is that this school is full of hormonal gremlins who apparently never learned what personal boundaries are.”
You snorted. “They’re just looking.”
“Yeah,” he said sharply. “That’s the problem.”
You rolled your eyes. “Relax.”
“I am relaxed,” he insisted, immediately proving himself a liar by tripping over his own shoe. “I’m the picture of relaxation.”
Scott stopped at his locker. “Why are you so on edge?”
Stiles pointed at you with both hands like you were exhibit A in a courtroom. “Have you seen her? Everyone else has! The whole school is staring at her like she’s…she’s…”
“Stiles,” you sighed, “I can handle myself.”
“Yeah, well,” he said, falling in step behind you as you kept walking further down the hall to your own locker. “you shouldn’t have to. I’m obligated.”
You blinked. “Obligated?”
“Yes.” He gestured dramatically between you and Scott. “Sister of best friend. Basic bro code. Article 5, subsection C. I’m required to protect you.”
“That’s not a real thing,” you said dryly.
“It is,” he insisted. “It absolutely is. It’s my duty.”
“Your duty,” you repeated, amused and annoyed in equal measure. “Right.”
He opened his mouth to argue further, but then Isaac Lahey walked up. Isaac, with his beautiful curls and his shy smile and his lovely, gentle voice. You knew Isaac decently well. He was in your brother’s grade, but quiet. He kept to himself. You’d both found yourselves alone in the library at times, exchanging polite conversation.
“Hey,” Isaac said, smiling in a way that was way too charming for a Monday morning. “You look different. Good! Good different.”
You felt your chest warm. It wasn’t even the flirtation - well, it was - but it was also just nice. Nice to be seen. Nice to be noticed.
Stiles made a noise - a noise that was barely human - that sounded like something between a choking sound and a suspiciously canine growl.
Isaac looked over. “Stiles. You okay?”
“I’m great,” Stiles said tightly. “Perfect. Peachy. Never better.”
Isaac turned back to you. “If you ever want to hang out sometime—”
Stiles stepped between you like a malfunctioning traffic cone. “She’s busy.”
You frowned. “I am?”
“Yes,” Stiles said. “Very.”
Isaac raised an eyebrow. “Uh…okay? You can let me know if—”
“She won’t,” Stiles snapped.
Isaac blinked, taken aback. “Right. Well. See you around.”
He left and you turned to Stiles slowly. “What the hell was that?”
“What?” he asked innocently. “I was helping.”
“No, you weren’t! You were being rude, and weird, and…controlling!”
His eyes widened. “Controlling? I’m not controlling.”
“You won’t even let a guy talk to me!”
“Because he wants to talk to you!” Stiles said, as if that explained anything.
You threw your hands up. “Yes, Stiles! That’s the point! That’s what happens when a girl is interested in someone or when someone is, God forbid, interested in her!”
He froze, mouth opening and closing. “You were…interested? In him?”
“That’s not the point!” you groaned, pacing in a small frustrated circle. “The point is that you’ve been glued to my side all morning like some overprotective…jackal!”
“A jackal?” he repeated, offended. “I’m more fox-like, thank you.”
“Stiles!”
He held up his hands. “Okay! Fine! I’m sorry, alright? I just—” He cut himself off, eyes darting away.
“Just what?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t do that. Don’t hide behind whatever excuse you’ve been giving yourself for the past week. Tell me.”
He swallowed hard. His voice was lower when he said, “I just don’t like it.”
“Don’t like what?”
“All the guys looking at you.”
You rolled your eyes, assuming where this was going. “Why? Because of the bro code?”
“No.” His voice cracked. “Not because of the bro code.”
You crossed your arms. “Then why?”
“Because I see you differently now!” he blurted. His hands were shaking. “Okay? Is that what you want to hear? That I don’t just see you as Scott’s annoying little sister anymore? That I can’t stop looking at you? That all summer I didn’t know what changed but suddenly you were just everywhere in my head and I can’t…God, I can’t turn it off!”
Your breath was snatched away by his words, but he kept going, words tripping over each other like he’d been holding them back for too long.
“I hate when other guys look at you because I want to look at you. I’ve been looking at you. All the time. And I don’t want to pretend it’s because of Scott or some fake duty or whatever. It’s because I like you. I like you so much it’s making me insane.”
Silence punched the air flat. Your heart hammered. Warmth flooded your chest, so bright it felt like sunlight. “It’s about time,” you whispered.
Stiles blinked. “Wh…what?”
“It’s about time you realised,” you said, stepping closer. “Because I’ve liked you for a lot longer.”
His mouth fell open. “You have?”
“Yes,” you breathed, fingers reaching up to curl into his shirt. “Idiot.”
And then you kissed him. His shocked inhale melted instantly into something hungry, desperate, relieved. His hands cupped your face, pulling you closer like he couldn’t believe you were real. You felt him smile against your mouth. It was wide and giddy and unbelievably sweet.
You broke apart just barely, foreheads touching, both of you breathless.
“Just for the record,” he said softly, “I still hate when guys look at you.”
You snorted. “Too bad. I’m hot.”
He groaned dramatically. “Trust me, I know.”
You kissed him again, slower this time. Somewhere down the hall, Scott shouted your names. You pulled back and Stiles paled.
“Oh God,” he whispered. “We’re dead.”
You grabbed his collar, smiling. “Later. Right now? We’re busy.”
And Stiles kissed you like he couldn’t stop. Not now, not ever.
𝖯𝗋𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗍: You and Stiles finally decide to have sex for the first time. (readers first time)
stiles stilinski x fem!reader
IN RESPONSE TO A REQUEST! Please send me more.
warnings: 18+ kissing, sex, cursing, first time, NOT PROOF READ!
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It was the one time Stiles had ever bought a box of condoms, not sure what would fit him and if there was a difference you could tell. He was always thinking about how it was feeling for you, you could say he was an overthinker or just paranoid, but his nervous system was trained to make you his top priority.
So when he finally had you under him, his hands were scouring your body and appraising you like a family heirloom, one hand tangled in your hair and the other cupping your face as he kissed you, letting small words of love slip out of his lips. He was painfully hard, but that wasn't his priority, his priority was making you comfortable especially since you both had decided you were ready to take that step with Stiles. He had his virginity taken by Malia which you were thankful for because he knew what he was doing now. You knew guys didn’t last long usually so knowing he would take care of you even if it wasn’t his first time was still special to you.
He wanted your first time to be perfect, everything you wanted, he would do it all.
You kissed him back with fervor, your hand under his shirt gently grasping onto the skin of his waist and squeezing occasionally, causing Stiles hips to gently grind against the bed while kissing you.
You smiled into the kiss when you realized he was that turn on, but he still wasn’t doing anything about it yet.
“M’sorry..” You said softly against his lips.
“For what?” He asked, his lips trailed down your jaw to your neck, breathing heavily, his back rising, seeing his shoulder blades through his shirt.
“Going slow..” You said.
He paused completely, meeting your eyes and then grabbing your face with both of his hands, looking at you with blatant confusion and slight loving frustration.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” He said with a scoff.
He didn’t let you answer, kissing you softly and cradling your face as if to convey how crazy he thought you were for saying that. As if he was offended you would even assume he wouldn't want to take all of his time making sure you're ready.
“We can go slow.. Or as fast as you want..” He said softly against your lips, his hand sliding down your stomach to edge up your shirt with his finger.
“Can I take this off sweetheart?” He asked softly, pressing a kiss to right below your belly button.
“Mhm..” You said softly.
“Can you lift your arms for me..” He said, sliding up your shirt.
You lifted your arms and he pulled it over your head, gently discarding it on the floor and taking a minute to admire how beautiful you were, his hands gently tracing the outline of your breasts through your bra, practically drooling at the sight of your perfect chest in front of him like some type of offering from the heavens.
“God you're so gorgeous..” He said softly, pressing a kiss on your sternum, his hands slipping behind your back and unclipping your bra, sliding it off gently and discarding it with your shirt on the floor. “How did I get so lucky..” He whispered.
His warm hands gently traced around your waist, and then to your breasts, his thumb barely coming over to brush over your peaked nipples, watching you as you gently sunk your teeth in your bottom lip, your eyes fluttering shut.
“Does that feel good?” He asked.
You nodded, arching up into his touch, your hand rested on his waist traveling up to his back, your fingers going over textured skin and moles, gently tracing our finger nails down and up his back.
He pressed a kiss to your peaked nipple, dragging his lower lip over it and letting a steady stream of his warm breath fan over your skin, his eyes as big as cue balls and his hips still lazily moving against the bed. He looked up at you with a small smile, his face flushed.
“Can I?” He asked, pressing another slow kiss, his eyes on yours.
“Please..” You said softly, your free hand coming to interlace with his hair, rubbing his head gently and tangling your fingers in his hair.
He smiled and moved his eyes back down to your chest, his lips coming down and gently sucking on your nipple, his tongue gently lapping at the bundle softly.
You whimper to your surprise, your hand from his head coming up to cover your mouth, embarrassed.
He smiled against your skin, continuing to take in your nipple to his mouth, breathing over the wet patch of skin, causing you to shiver and your nipples to get more hard then they already were. They were so sensitive and a dull ache of lust was spreading down your body.
“You sound so good.. Don’t stop..” He said softly, pulling your hand away from your face and interlacing his fingers with your hand, pinning it up slightly and having you fully submit to him and let him take care of you and guide you through this.
His mouth gently covered your nipple again, flicking his tongue over it and alternating between gentle squeezes and tasting you.
Your legs were squeezed together, thighs grinding slightly as you tried to get any friction you could, this was euphoric but you were greedy.
He noticed, his knee sliding up in between your legs, pressing against your core, giving you that gentle release to grind on, still not even close to what you truly desired in the moment.
He seemed to notice this and his hand followed his knee gently, sliding down your stomach and toying with the button of your jeans, his eyes locked on yours as he pressed a kiss on the button before undoing it.
“Is this ok?” He asked softly, sliding down your fly.
You nodded softly, your nipples slightly sore from the treatment.
“Lift your hips for me sweetheart.” He said gently against the denim, his large hands bunching up the fabric and helping you kick it off, a mound of clothes forming on the floor next to his bed.
He leaned back on his knees and took off his shirt, a trail of slightly defined abs and a happy trail leading down into his pants, your eyes memorized as you looked at him, appraisal and a caress in a stare.
He seemed to notice and smiled, gently leaning back over you and capturing your lips tenderly, his tongue just barely touching yours before his hand started its descent again, sliding his middle finger along the fabric and feeling how wet you were.
He smiled, and kissed you deeper, his finger gently sliding through your folds over the fabric, just gently tracing your tight entrance.
You were panting slightly, struggling to keep up with his multitasking and kissing, your hips trying to meet his hand but pinned by his weight over you, subduing you to his treatment.
He gently pulled the damp fabric out of the way, not off, just to the side, his fingers still tracing you tentatively.
“Is this ok?” He asked in a horse whisper.
You nodded and he gently started to push his finger in, slowly, feeling how tight you were and getting nervous that him being inside you might be too much for you. But the way you hummed gently he gently curled his finger made him doubt his thoughts.
“Can you take another?” He asked, pressing a kiss to your collarbone and gently biting down, not too hard, he didn’t want to be rough with you.
“Yeah-.. Fuck.. yeah..” You said, feeling his gently squeeze another next into his middle finger, his eyes watching your face contort with pleasure, your lips parting and gently moans falling out.
“M’feel good?” He asked, pressing an open mouth kissing to the side of your neck, continuing a steady pace of curling his fingers inside of you, each time, stretching what you could take.
“So good..” You said breathlessly, clutching onto him and burying your face in his neck, your lips and teeth finding purchase on the space between his shoulder and neck.
You felt him hit a certain spot when he curled, causing you to whimper and bite down harder.
“Right there?” He asked in your ear, gently nipping on your earlobe and curling there again before you could answer, letting out another noise and squirming under him slightly.
You didn’t respond coherently, just mumbles and pleas to not stop, your eyebrows scrunched together.
They snapped open when you felt his tongue gently tracing your clit, pulling out his fingers and slowly tugging down your underwear.
The wet heat of his mouth slowly became the only thing you could focus on, his tongue gently circling your clit while his fingers slipped back inside you, the dual sensations making your eyes roll back and mewl.
“Sti.. I wanna feel you..” You said through choked moans, your hips arching up.
His tongue was still tasting you, gently alternating between helping his fingers out and sucking on your clit, he looked pussy drunk like he never wanted to stop.
“5 more minutes..” He said with a small groan, his nose buried in your pussy, breathing and tasting you.
“Stiles.. I'm gonna finish..” You said with slight concern, but too wrapped up in your own pleasure to fight it.
“Can you last a little longer for me?” He asked softly, his breath fanning against your folds as he collected the wetness that was leaking out of you. He had never seen anyone this soaked before, and he was so hard it hurt.
“I c-..can’t..” You murmured like a child complaining.
“Stiles please..” You said, looking down at him, watching his tongue trace over you before you felt the knot in your stomach start to unfurl.
He gently pulled away his tongue when he saw you start to finish, being slightly cruel for your first time but greedy with giving you an orgasm purely from being inside you.
You arched up and let out a loud moan, your hips bucking into nothing as you tried to chase the feeling of his lips on you, your chest heaving and bright red, your eyes landing on him with sexual frustration.
Until you saw his hand, gently tracing over his hard on in his jeans and realized he wanted to give you something better.
His hand started to unclick his belt and sat back on his knees, on top of you, slightly straddling you in this position. His belt half undone as he looked down at you, his eyes slightly scanning your face to see if you still wanted this the way he wanted you.
“Listen, we don't have to.. It's really your choice and you can always change your mind..” He said softly, looking down to admire your body, how flushed you were.
“No.. I want to..” You said dazed from the pleasure he had already given you tonight.
He looked skeptical, but then subsided when he felt your hand trace his length through his jeans, looking down at your hand like it was magic. He leaned over to his nightstand and pulled out a condom.
He finished undoing his pants and discarded them, leaving him in his boxers. He leaned down fully, and let you feel him pressed against your core, his eyes on yours. He reached down and took himself out of his boxers, giving himself a desperately needed stroke, his eyes closing slightly at the final relief.
“You ready..?” He asked, pressing a kiss to your cheek, rolling on the condom with a groan.
“Just go slow..” You said, feeling his tip press against your entrance, sliding in painfully slow inch by inch. You already felt so full and he was only half way.
“You're doing so good.. God you're so tight..” He whispered, one of his hands coming up to softly brush over your nipple again.
Your lips parted in shock at the feeling of him bottoming out, sharp pain sort of shooting through you but then subsiding when he let you get adjusted fully.
He held you in the pain, not moving and staying still, telling you get fully adjusted to his length, he bit down on his bottom lip, burying his face in your neck and whimpering gently, he was so sensitive for such a long time while he was pleasing her that he had neglected himself, and was fighting his instinctual need to move.
“You can..-you can move..” You said, your eyes fluttering open slightly.
“You-.. fuck..- you sure?” He asked with a hoarse voice.
“Mm.. mhm..” You said.
He gently started to pull back, and then sank back in slowly, causing you to loudly moan. The pleasure was painful at first, but as he continued to move it got better and better. He hit spots inside of herself she couldn't reach with her fingers and hearing his small groans in her ear made her feel special.
He eventually got into a good rhythm, gently thrusting into him, his hand coming up to gently sling one of your legs around his shoulder, which may be a bit adventurous for right now but you certainly weren't complaining.
You moved together like this until he hit a spot inside of you, one that had your hands clutching onto him and your finger nails gently sinking into his back, leaving red marks that stretched down his shoulder blades.
He hit that spot again, with more power, both of you melting into moans and whimpers, interlaced in the sheets of his bed.
He felt your walls tighten around him, and your nails sink into his skin one more time before he finally finished too. Staying inside of you for a moment and breathing through his climax, he pulled out carefully, and laid down in the bed next to you.
You both breathed, not saying anything, until you rolled over and tangled yourself in his body, burying your face in his neck as you closed your eyes.
“Thank you..” you said.
“So polite.” He said back, kissing your forehead and pulling you closer to him.
The involuntary gestures and moans that escape Stiles as you ride him are pure glory. He can’t stay quiet not when your hips move like this: every lift, every drop, every circular motion drives him wild. His head tilts back, lips parted, and a rough moan escapes him every time you sink down onto him. His fingers dig into your thighs, as if he’s trying to anchor himself to this world before pleasure drags him under completely.
His brain is mush. You know it by the way he blinks, confused, as if he doesn’t even remember his own name. He wants to warn you that he’s about to come, but the words get stuck, coming out in broken, incoherent stutters:
"I... I... fuck..."
"I know, Stiles", you murmur, trying to catch your breath, but seeing him like this, undone, panting, eyes glazed over, sends electric shocks down your spine. Every spasm of his body, every time his hips lift to meet yours, brings you closer to your own orgasm. The wet sound of your bodies slapping together fills the room, mixed with his moans and your gasps.
You go faster. Stiles can only grip your hips, and you know you’ll have bruises tomorrow, if you weren’t a werewolf. His nails dig into your skin, but the pain blends with the pleasure, and it only makes you move harder, with more determination. Sweat slides down your bodies, and the scent of sex and hot skin fills the air.
You make one last slow, torturous circular motion before slamming down hard. Stiles’ grip tightens, his fingers sinking into your flesh, and then you feel it: his body tenses, a deep spasm, and his hot release paints your walls. A guttural moan tears from his throat, and the sound of his pleasure pushes you to the edge.
You pause for a second, feeling him pulse inside you, feeling his seed slowly drip out. But it’s not enough. Not when you still feel him hard, when his hips still twitch in small, desperate movements, as if he can’t, or won’t, let go of the rhythm. You lean forward, brushing your nipples against his chest, and whisper in his ear:
waaaiiiit- stiles eating out his gf for the first time
“EAT IN? NO BABE, EAT ME OUT!”
a stiles stilinski x fem!reader fic
— ౨ৎ masterlist CW! 17+ SMUT ✮⋆˙. oral intercourse f!receiving ꩜ lav speaks.. literally got this request so long ago and finally doing it! please send in plenty more, i beg. update: 2 years later and i’m finally posting this 🥹
“are you sure i’m going to do this right?”
“yes sti — it’s not that hard, i swear”, you guided him to take off your lacy panties. he was already flustered, there was no doubt about it. but the way you were guiding him, god did it make his pants even tighter.
grabbing the hem of your panties, stiles slowly pulled them from you, slightly lifting your body up in the process. the feeling of his hand on your back was enough to already have you soaking wet, and he could tell.
discarding the panties on the floor, stiles kneeled on the hardwood floor, all while you were on your back seeping into the mattress.
“i just don’t wanna fuck this up you know — eating out my girlfriend for the first time and making myself look stupid”, he rambled. a blush spread across your cheeks as he spoke those words, especially the ones regarding you being his first.
sure, stiles could be cocky at times. and sure, he could also be a little too confident. but seeing him like this made you go completely crazy. “you won’t fuck this up sti, i promise.”
a look of distress still spread across his face, until he finally looked down at your cunt. each time he was faced with it, he was in complete awe. not knowing what to say, stiles acted instead.
he grabbed your hips, and pulled you closer to his face. inches away from your throbbing core, all stiles could do was stare. “sti, are you really that nervous?”
“no, i’m just admiring.”
you laughed, which caused your body to move closer to stiles face. his breath hitched, being faced with your pussy was a baffling thing. now, without a doubt, he wrapped his arms around your thighs, and pulled you as close as can be. the tighter he pulled you in, the more comfortable you felt. you felt his breath on your core, sending a shiver to run through your body.
“already shaking for me baby?”, he joked. before you could reply, he set himself up and took the opportunity. stiles licked one stripe from your hole to your clit. already nervous, the ball in your stomach intensified. the way his tongue felt on your body made the ache even worse.
stiles continued at his work, licking and sucking in all the right places. to say the least, he seemed pretty experienced. a loud moan escaped your lips before you suddenly shot your hand towards your mouth. stiles stopped in the act immediately, “uncover your mouth.”
without a fuss, you did as told, uncovering your mouth and letting a string of moans and whimpers escape your lips.
stiles licked circles around your nub, causing you to writhe. “right there sti”, you whimpered softly. “hm — right there?”, he questioned. immediately nodding, stiles knew that he found the special spot for pleasing you.
your fingers interlocked with his sweaty, brown hair. pulling at the seems, you need some type of support to keep you from falling over the edge already. already, at this pace he was going, you were going to come quicker than ever.
“sti, you’re doing so good”, you spoke with a slight smirk on your face. stiles looked up at you, and god — when he did, it motivated him to work harder. not even just harder, but more passionately. he wanted to make you feel good, fuck what he felt at the time; even if his pants were so tight that he might just come in them.
he freed one of his hands from under your thigh, replacing the gap with his cock. slightly palming the load through his sweatpants, he was coming undone as quick as you were. just at the sight of him pleasing himself to you was enough to come undone. your hand moved from his hair, directly to his bicep in attempt to gain some sort of traction.
the ache was slowly coming undone as a series of “stiles”, and “please” dropped from your mouth. he wasn’t quite finished yet, your orgasm still at it’s peak, stiles came. his game began to get sloppy, and eyes hazy as his load shot directly into his pants. of course just by seeing your boyfriend come, made a chain reaction occur. the knot in your stomach was no more as your cum ran into stiles mouth.
your breathing was heavy, and so was his. he lingered away from your soaked core, heading back up to be face to face with you. feeling his cock against you was enough to start another battle for more. you whimpered just by the mere touch at your sensitive heat. “was i good?”, stiles chucked. his attempt was to make you boast about him, and boy did it work.
Summary: You get paired with Stiles to write a paper for Coach's class. But when had Stilinski grown into his awkward features? When had he grown out his buzzcut? Why was he suddenly so insanely fuckable?
Contents: NO Y/N, afab!Reader, smut, Stiles is a bit cocky lmao, fucking in the jeep, reader is related to Coach (wether adopted or not doesn't matter), vaginal fingering, p in v sex, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, clumsy sex, playful banter, oral sex (v receiving), casual sex, coming inside, mentions of birth control, making out if I missed any warnings please let me know!
3.5K words
Had to get Stiles out of (pls into plEASE) my system SOMEHOW, so here you go. This one is dedicated to @uglypastels for indulging my obsession and continuously sending me Dylan O'Brien thirst edits <3 <3
“Just so you’re aware, this paper is as high on my list of priorities as the Pope is in Amsterdam,” Stiles dropped his binder on the table, startling you out of your daydream. He was exactly 4 minutes late, not that you were counting. It was still impressive, seeing as he just came from practice.
“Believe me, I, too, would rather be hanging around with Isaac Lahey, yet we’re both here. Let’s just get it over with.” Stiles snorted a laugh, but didn’t comment.
You didn’t not get along with Stilinski. You weren’t sure if you could be called friends, exactly. You’d known each other pretty much all your lives, just like the majority of your school. Beacon Hills wasn’t exactly a metropolis.
You sighed and laid out your notes, Stiles following your example. You raised an eyebrow, giving him a pointed look. “Those are your notes?”
There were only doodles, random calculations and sporadic keywords scribbled on the loose piece of crumpled paper he straightened out next to your notebook.
“I’m surprised, too. There’s actual words. I don’t usually get that far.” The smirk on his face could only be described as smug. You groaned. This was going to take forever. You divided the topics for the paper amongst yourselves and silently got to work. The ‘silently’ part didn't last long, however. It never did with Stiles.
“Are you still living with your uncle?” He questioned suddenly. You frowned at the question, confused, but nodded either way.
“So can’t you just, I don’t know, cook him dinner and have him give us a good grade?” The gleam in his eyes nearly made you laugh. Nearly. Instead, you flicked him on the side of the head. He whined something about unnecessary violence, but it fell on deaf ears.
“I’m not bribing my uncle just so you can slack off, Stiles. Besides, I’m never really sure if he even likes me,” you wondered out loud.
“You and me, both…” Stiles grumbled.
You glanced at Stiles as he scribbled furiously, seeming to finally get some of his research done. His knees wiggled excessively as he wrote about the economic effects of pandemics. You wrote down a few key parts of the paragraphs in your book before turning to your laptop and beginning the outline of the paper. Stiles hummed quietly as he read the entry he’d just written, tapping his pen furiously against the table.
“Can you stop that?” You requested, his incessant movement distracting you more than his general being already did. He glanced up, an amused expression on his face.
“What,” he tapped his pencil faster. “This?” You contained the urge to roll your eyes and stared at him blankly. He stopped the movement for perhaps one whole minute before picking it back up again.
You only glanced up pointedly this time. He added a jiggle of his knees in challenge. You rose from your chair, leaned over and snatched the pen out of his hand, throwing it across the library. “Fetch.”
Stiles gaped up at you in surprise. The timing of it was very unfortunate, but you’d never really noticed how Stilinski had grown into his awkward features. Something must’ve shown on your face, because Stiles now looked just as confused, perhaps intrigued, as you felt. While you’d been confident in throwing his pen across the room in annoyance, having him look up at you like that made it so you weren’t sure if you wanted him to get up. You cleared your throat and sat back in your chair.
“Unbelievable…” Stiles muttered under his breath as he got up to get the pen. It gave you time to recompose. You didn’t look at him as he sat back down, but felt his eyes burn a hole through the side of your head.
An unfamiliar tension hung in the air while you worked in silence. You snuck glances at Stiles, who was finally focussed on his writing once more. His hair was longer, still messy and unstyled from practice. The grey workout gear perfectly accentuated his broadened shoulders. He bit his lip after reading a complex entry, and you couldn’t help but wonder what they’d feel like on your own, or on your neck while your hands tugged on his now perfectly tuggable locks.
A few times his eyes met yours. You’d quickly dart them back to your notebook, pretending you hadn’t been looking, knowing damn well he’d seen.
Oh my god. Get. it. together.
“Did you finish?” You dared ask after a while, having completed your own part. All you had to do was put your parts together, wrap it up and finish.
“I’ll give it to you, but you have to give something to me first,” Stiles spoke in a challenging tone. For a split second back there you’d wondered how he was still single after all this time, but now you were reminded. He was insufferable.
“What could you possibly want from me, Stiles? Just give me your damn part.”
“A kiss.”
“What? No!” You sputtered. Stiles’ tongue poked the inside of his cheek cockily as he raised an eyebrow, pointing to his lips.
“Guess you’ll have some explaining to do to your uncle why you’re only handing in half an assignment, then.”
“This is coercion, Stilinski! Should I call your dad?” You crossed your arms, refusing to look him in the eye. The librarian shushed you loudly. You could feel heat rush to your face, but didn’t relent. Asshole.
Stiles leaned closer, running a finger over the side of your face. Your heartbeat increased what seemed about tenfold.
“It’s not coercion if you want me to.” His breath hit your neck as he spoke, sending goosebumps down your arms. “And I’m getting the feeling you really want me to.”
You jerked away from his reach, coming to your senses. You gathered your things into your bag, mumbling something about your GPA being fine, anyway. You stomped away from the table, heart racing. You were mad, not because he was suggesting something you didn’t want, rather that he’d clocked exactly what you wanted so easily.
Concerned Stiles would follow you out of the library, you hid behind a few bookshelves in a section nobody usually visited. You caught your breath, placing your palm on your chest. You dropped your bag on the floor, turning to peek around the bookshelf to see if Stiles was still stationed at the table. Relieved, you saw he’d indeed decided to follow you out of the library.
You turned back to grab your bag and head out, but were met with Stiles’ face mere inches from your own. You were startled, but he grabbed your waist before you could fall over. His hold was strong. Your hands instinctively went up to his chest, steadying yourself. Had he always been this tall?
One of his hands wandered slightly lower, rubbing small circles on your lower back. Your eyes met his, which were just shining with mischief and an underlying sense of self-satisfaction. His tongue darted out, licking his lower lip.
“Can I be frank? You’re incredibly annoying,” you stated, slinging your arms around his neck, finally giving in.
“You can be whoever you want as long as I get to kiss you, Frank,” Stiles laughed. You groaned but pulled him close either way.
“Shut up.”
Stiles obliged and put his mouth to yours aggressively, tugging your body against his. One of his hands wandered up, cupping the back of your head to bring it closer. You tugged at the small locks at the back of his neck, eliciting a sighed moan from Stiles.
“You’re so hot,” he confessed when you broke apart for a second. He turned you so you were pushed with your back against the bookcase, a few books falling to the floor. Neither of you cared as your kiss continued, deepening by the second. His hands held your hips as he started grinding against you, sweats low on his hips. His mouth made its way down your jaw, moving to suck hasty kisses on your neck.
“Stiles…” you sighed blissfully. Heat gathered in your stomach at the soft, breathy noises coming from his lips combined with the sound of them against your skin. He put his knee between your thighs.
“Knew you wanted this as much as I did, fuck,” Stiles groaned. The pressure from his knee was delicious, but not enough. It was almost as if he could read your mind as he slid his hand into your bottoms, working your underwear out of the way somewhat clumsily.
“God… so wet for me,” he moaned. You could only reply with breathy whimpers, trying to make as little noise as possible. Stiles shushed you, placing his unoccupied hand over your mouth as the other started rubbing small circles over your clit. You closed your eyes and let your head fall against the bookcase. Your knees went weak at the sensation, not much holding you up besides Stiles.
He slipped his hand out of your underwear, bringing a finger up to his mouth. He casually licked it clean. He hooked his thumbs into your bottoms, seeking eye contact and asking for non-verbal permission to tug them down. You bit your lip and nodded enthusiastically. When your underwear hit the floor, so did Stiles’ knees. Your eyes darted around your environment, but the school was nearly empty at this time, especially the library.
You had to slap your hand over your mouth when Stiles made contact with your clit, his tongue tentatively licking between your folds. Your breathing was laboured, chest heaving as Stiles took his time exploring. Your bottom lip found itself between your teeth, holding in your moans. Your hands shot to Stiles’ hair. Perfectly tuggable, indeed.
He groaned when you gave an exceptionally sharp tug, taking the time to look you in the eyes. The vibrations of his lowered voice felt good. You had seemingly no control over your hands, fingers tightening their grip the closer you got to the edge.
“Shit, baby… So good for me. Gotta stay quiet…” Stiles mumbled. A small, high pitched keen left your lips. You weren’t sure how long you’d be able to keep the silence up. You looked down once more and saw Stiles palming himself over his sweats as he continued eating you out, rhythmically grinding his hips in time with his mouth.
The sound of a bag zipper closing got your attention. You smacked Stiles’ shoulder to stop, wanting to whine in frustration at just how close you’d been. Stiles paid you no mind, lost in giving you pleasure. You put both your hands on his shoulders and pushed him away, careful not to tip him over. It was only then Stiles noticed the noise of someone packing up to leave. He scrambled to stand up, trying to help you get redressed.
“I got it, I got it,” you hissed quietly.
“Who’s there? You can’t be here anymore! Library’s about to close!” It was the librarian who’d shushed you earlier. You grabbed your bag in a hurry.
“Would you still rather be hanging out with Isaac?” Stiles asked jokingly, wiping his chin. You whacked his arm, storming past him to the doors. He followed quickly, arm wandering over your shoulders as you walked out of the now deserted school. You didn’t speak as Stiles led you over to the Jeep, insisting on driving you home, at least.
You sat in the passenger seat as Stiles ran around to the drivers’ side. You wiped your hands on your thighs, huffing a frustrated breath. You hadn’t even finished the paper, and now you got cock-blocked on top of it. So not worth it. You turned to Stiles as he put the keys in the ignition. He’d never looked hotter than that very second, lips bruised, hair tousled and still pent up, besides maybe when he looked up at you with his face buried between your legs. Okay so maybe a little worth it.
“If you keep looking at me like that I’m gonna pull over and we’re gonna have sex in the back seat like right now,” Stiles joked. Or at least, you assumed it was a joke.
You raised an eyebrow. “Is that a challenge, threat or invitation?”
“Option D? All of the above? I mean, D is definitely an option.”
“Pull over and we’ll see how much of an option it is.”
Stiles didn’t need to be told twice, pulling over in a small clearing as soon as he saw the opportunity. He took off his seatbelt, scrambling to get out of the car. He opened the door for you, closing it and letting you in the back seat. You laid back across the seats and manoeuvred your top off, throwing it at Stiles. He caught it, quickly discarding it somewhere in the car. He shimmied his pants down his legs, not bothering to take off his shoes. You did the same, leaving you in your underwear. Stiles stopped to take a proper look.
“You’re gonna kill me. You’ve already killed me and this is my pre-hell Heaven trailer of what could’ve been. God iwantyousobad.” You pulled him on top of you as you laughed.
“Less talking, more fucking, yes?”
“Yes, I agree. Wholeheartedly,” Stiles nodded furiously, tugging his shirt over his head with only one hand. Hot. He finally closed the car door behind him before he could forget.
“I’m going to assume you don’t just casually keep condoms in your car?” You questioned. Stiles closed his eyes and tightened his lips in frustration, mentally scolding himself. He finally had you in his Jeep, half-naked, ready to fuck, and he didn’t have a freaking condom??? He finally shook his head no, sighing and pulling away from you slowly.
You leaned up on your elbows and whispered in his ear. “Hmmm… Guess you’re just gonna have to come inside of me… Wouldn’t want to make a mess of the car…”
Stiles pounced at that, kissing you like his life depended on it. He tugged your underwear back down your legs, now very familiar with your pelvic region. He struggled to undo your bra, cursing under his breath. You laughed and lended a hand, undoing it and slipping it off your shoulders.
“Holy shit,” Stiles groaned. “Promise me to thank Coach for pairing us up.”
“You did not just mention my uncle as a reaction to seeing me naked,” you complained.
“I did. Not sorry. He did me a favour.”
You ignored the comment and decided to kiss him to shut him back up. Him and his mouth… God his mouth. You were still pent up from the library, and if he didn’t fuck you soon you were pretty sure you’d go crazy.
“Stiles, want you,” you whined impatiently. He was too busy paying attention to your nipples, taking one between his teeth as he made eye contact. “Shit,” you gasped.
Your hands wandered down his torso, stopping at the hem of his boxers. You tugged them down, setting his very hard cock free from its confinement. The tip was red, dribbling with pre-cum. He was obviously just as pent up as you felt. You gave him a few experimental tugs with your hand before lining him up with your entrance.
Stiles took over, taking his time to slowly push inside you. You put your hands on his shoulders, holding your breath at the stretch. He was so much bigger than you’d expected. You both moaned when he bottomed out. You felt so full, it was insane. You dug your nails into his shoulders and gave him a nod, indicating he could move.
He set a slow pace, testing the waters. He was enthralled by the jiggle of your tits with every movement. Typical. His hands moved up to hold them, almost as leverage, as he picked up his pace.
“Fuck, so good,” Stiles moaned. You were about to move a hand down to touch yourself, but Stiles stopped you.
“Let me make you feel good, let me make you come.” He put one hand on your shoulder to steady himself and brought the other down to where you were joined. He continued to thrust, putting his fingers on your clit. It took him a second, but he found a rhythm where he could thrust and stroke at the same time.
“Oh my god, Stiles!” You moaned, the added sensation feeling amazing. The sound of his hips slapping against yours was filthy to say the least. You moved to hold onto something above your head as Stiles sped up. Your hands soon found the little ledge, and you gripped it to the best of your ability.
Stiles bent down to kiss you, pace still unrelenting. The new angle of him bent forward sent his cock exactly where you needed it.
“Shit, oh my god.” It was all the confirmation Stiles needed to keep it up.
“So pretty, so tight around my cock. Such pretty tits. You feel so good,” he mumbled against your lips.
The pace of his hips became more erratic, both of you nearing the edge. Your knuckles turned white with how tight you were gripping the car door.
“Gonna come inside you,” Stiles moaned. “Fill you up so nice.”
“Yes, Stiles, please!”
“Fuck, so good, so good for me,” Stiles was becoming more talkative and less coherent as he lost himself in the pleasure. He was mouthing at your jawline, sucking another hickey where there were already plenty.
“Fuck, Stiles, gonna come,” you whined. You could feel his smile against your neck. Smug idiot. He then started rubbing your clit exactly the way you liked it. Combined with him hitting that spot inside you over and over and over again, you were seeing stars.
“Don’t stop, please,” another moan left your lips.
“Come for me. Come on my cock. So pretty, so good,” Stiles blabbered.
“Fuck! Stiles!” You keened, tightening around his dick as you came. He kissed you again as his hips stuttered, thrusting a few more times before painting your walls with his cum. His head fell on your chest as you both caught your breath.
When his breathing had slowed, he groaned before lifting himself off you, chuckling as he pecked both your nipples, then your lips before looking for something to clean you with. He settled on the shirt of his lacrosse uniform.
“Ugh, gross,” you mumbled as he wiped you clean. Stiles shrugged. “It was going into the wash, anyway.”
Stiles put his underwear and sweats back on, opening the door and getting out so you could have the space to redress yourself. When you reached under the seat for your bra, you pulled out a baseball bat. “Why do you have a baseball bat in your car?”
“No… Particular reason. Safety. Lots of dangerous animals… out there.”
“So you settled on a bat?” You wondered, holding the object. Stiles nodded, not meeting your eyes, his locked on your still naked chest. You threw the bat at him and laughed, reaching under the seat again and this time pulling out your bra.
When you were finally dressed, you got back in the passenger seat so Stiles could drive you home. It wasn’t a long drive, as you’d already been halfway there before pulling over. He drove up the driveway, and you cringed on the inside, hoping your uncle wouldn’t see who dropped you off. You took your bag and got out of the car, walking around to the drivers’ side where Stiles was already leaning out the window.
You looked at him and gave him a small smile. You leaned forward to give him a kiss goodbye. “You better email me your part of the paper tonight, Stilinski.”
“You bet, babe,” he winked and gave you a salute, watching as you laughed and turned to walk inside the house.
You closed the door and took off your shoes, hanging your coat and leaving your bag by the door. “I’m home!”
Coach took one look at your appearance and frowned. Right… maybe you should’ve straightened yourself out before walking into the living room. Disheveled hair, hickeys on your neck, it wasn’t exactly rocket science as to why you were home later than usual.
“If you’re gonna be having boys over, do it when I’m not around, please? I have enough of them to deal with at practice and in class. And at least have the decency to tell an uncle who he’s dealing with.”
You cringed as the Jeep’s headlights very obviously flashed through the window at that very second, Stiles driving home. It was anything but unrecognizable.
“Stilinski!? You’re sleeping with STILINSKI?! God, kill me now. If I’m now expected to have him over for Christmas dinner you better throw me off a bridge. And you BETTER use protection because I’m NOT gonna have Mini-linski’s running around.”
summary: you and stiles make a break for the supply closet the second a fight breaks out at the bank. a series of unfortunate events ensues.
wc: ~1k
masterlist and taglist!
“holy shit — janitors closet, go go go!” stiles shoved you towards the door, stumbling over you to get away from the vault scene going on just in the other room.
both breathless, you squeezed into the dark and cramped room, both of you fumbling to shut the door and turn the lock. despite the commotion happening on the other side, the finally locked door gave you relief, and you took a breath for what felt like the first time in hours.
you turned around, feeing around for the pull chain lighting in the dark. when you found it and yanked, you regretted it immediately. your stomach turned at the sight on the floor in front of you.
before you laid a body, too maimed to recognize. you started the step back, realizing how close you were to the blood pooling on the ground, and tried but failed to suppress a shriek.
“s-stiles!”
internally, stiles wasn’t doing any better at the scene before him, but he kept his composure and moved quickly to cover your mouth before you made anymore noise and gave away your hiding spot as the pack continued to fight off the Alphas.
he pulled you close, taking to keep you as far away as he could from the body. you murmured against his hand so he released it, hands still on you as they rested across your shoulders and kept your back flush against him as he had his own pressed against the door.
“holy shit we should’ve stayed in the car.”
you nodded fervently, the hairs standing on the back of your neck as he whispered against your skin. you realized now just how close you two were. you sat in silence for a minute before you noticed something else as well.
“stiles is that-“
“hm?” he hummed in your ear, looking past you to see what you were referring to.
“are you, i mean — is that what i think…”
you shifted against him and he immediately knew what you were talking about. his eyes shot open and he tried to press himself against the door, trying to create any possible space between the two of you as he could. he would sink into the wall and disappear forever if he could.
“uh, is what? i don’t, i don’t know, or i mean i don’t —“
“stiles —“
“i think uh,” he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to will this conversation over. “it’s something else —“
“stiles, are you hard right now?”
surely this had to be worse than his fate out there in the fight.
he let out a huff of air against the back of your neck, and you could feel how tense he was.
“no, i no of course not, i mean,
i, no yeah okay,
yeah, maybe, fuck”
a smirk plastered across your face, a new emotion beginning to overshadow the fear from night you were having.
“there’s a dead body less than a foot away from us, are you serious right now?”
“listen im not proud of it, alright? okay so,
shit, jesus christ im sorry.” he tried desperately to find the door handle behind him, willing to face the violence outside the door if it meant getting the hell out of there.
you didn’t move a muscle, still standing flush against him, the silence in the closet only being met by the sound of stiles’ hand struggling with the door lock.
“is that because of me?”
stiles let out an exasperated breath of air. “jesus (y/n), it’s not from the fucking body, what kind of question is that?”
you held back a chuckle, his remark reminding you of the body you had momentarily forgotten about, and you subconsciously pressed harder into stiles, disgust winning as your primary emotion again at the sight of whoever was in this closet before you.
he couldnt take the silence, nor you getting even closer to him.
“i’m - im sorry y-you’re just really close and im not trying to and —“
“stiles don’t worry about it, we’ll talk about it later. we need to get out of here.”
stiles sighed, worry overtaking him. “okay but talk about it as in you yelling at me and calling me a perv and that you never want to be near me again, or talk about it as in —oh,”
you pressed your hips hard against his, grinding against how hard he was. you smirked at the whine that escaped his lips as you did so.
“i said we can talk about this later, stiles, maybe not in front of someone while their organs hanging out.”
“right yeah let’s, yeah no of course yeah let’s—“
before he could even get his hand on the doorknob, the door swung open, causing him to fall backwards and hit the ground with a groan.
“jesus fuck” stiles collected himself and met the eyes of isaac, not impressed with the inquisitive look on his face.
“we’re done and headed out. nice hiding spot, guys”
you rolled your eyes at him. “yeah whatever, let’s head ou-“
“what’s that smell?”
“huh?”
isaac looked towards stiles with a smirk. “you reek of lust.”
stiles couldn’t move a muscle if he wanted to. there was no way this was happening.
“what the hell happened while we were out here fighting for our lives?”
you swore all of the blood drained from stiles’ face, and you matched isaac’s smirk at the sight.
stiles tried to stutter out a sentence, only to be met with more amusement from issac. he grumbled and shoved him out of his way.
cw: MDNI!! dubcon (bc there's an aphrodisiac involved), oral (f!receiving), fingering, lots of dirty talk, unprotected p in v, mating press, creampie, multiple orgasms, friends to lovers!!, HUNGRY peter
masterlist, taglist, and kinktober 2025 masterlist!
you weren't sure when it became a habit to sneak into the chemistry building after hours with peter to help him work on his web fluid; all you knew was it was your turn to pay for the pizza.
it was nearing midnight as your full belly laughs echoed through the empty lab, crusts long forgotten on the table behind you, as you lost yourself in a story. peter's smile was visible through prickling tears.
he knew it was a bad idea to invite you from the start — there was no shot in hell he'd get any work done as long as you were around him. peter had figured that out by the senior year of high school: he just couldn't seem to focus on anything other than you. he began to lie and say he was finished with his homework whenever you would hang out, covering his lack of progress in your presence.
peter had been distracted by you for the last few years, yet he could never seem to resist your company anyway. he beamed as you laughed at your own joke, relishing in the alone time he got to spend with the one person who made him feel like himself.
you let out a snort, and peter was done for, tears in his own eyes as he joined you in hearty laughter. he reached down and grabbed a vial through blurry vision, adding the final touch to his web fluid 3.0.
except that, instead of a sticky web-like substance, peter was met with a bright flash of hot pink from the liquid in the beaker before a cloud of magenta powder exploded from the glass, dusting the room, and in turn, you and peter.
he was on you instantly, shielding you from the flying shards of glass before the beaker even burst, though the aerosol impact was inevitable. the reaction was quick to hit your lungs, dragging out hoarse coughs, rough and heavy in your chest as you fought to regain a sense of your surroundings.
the headache was almost immediate as peter leaned down to say something, and you winced as you looked up at him.
"what?"
"are you okay? did you get cut at all?" peter frantically examined for any tears in your sweatshirt, checking your hands for any possible nicks.
"i'm okay, rea—woah," peter placed a hand on your jaw to inspect your face, and the touch activated something deep inside of you.
suddenly, you felt the hottest you'd ever been, and the headrush made you weak in the knees. your vision began to cloud, senses on overdrive as you felt an aching pain rising in your chest. meeting peter's gaze with panicked eyes, you began to really take in the state of the situation.
"peter, what did you just mix?"
"i-i don't know, i must've grabbed the wrong thing..." he trailed off as he turned to search through the drawers, but the movement stopped him dead in his tracks.
peter was instantly met with a rush of vertigo, the room spinning violently around him as he braced himself on the countertop. he felt like he did when he was first bitten: hypersensitive and overwhelmed. fuck, what did he mix?
amidst the rest of the world in his ears, peter picked up on the sound of your heartbeat and immediately knew something was wrong. really wrong. he took a moment to analyze you, everything moving in slow motion as he fought to figure out what the hell he mixed together, and where these symptoms were headed.
your current state didn't give him much comfort; peter quickly noticed how you were starting to sweat, your chest heaving as you struggled to catch your breath, despite not having left your chair. your full-body flush made him wonder if he looked just as disheveled.
"are you feeling okay?" peter asked, heavy with concern and guilt.
you shook your head at him, words fighting to escape your trembling lips. "i-i don't know. i feel... warm. i don't know."
and then peter felt it. his cock twitched, and he realized for the first time how painfully hard he was. he looked down in horror, hoping you hadn't yet noticed in your own haze. peter quickly sat down again to cover the evidence, praying to any god who was listening that this wasn't happening.
while successful in his concealment, the slight friction in the movement of his pants was enough to elicit a groan from his throat; he hoped you didn't hear.
but you did. because each little noise he made, conscious or not, egged on every dirty fucking thought you were having right now. and about peter. in front of peter.
"maybe we should get some... some fresh air, or something," peter says weakly.
as you nodded in response and moved to get up, it became horribly apparent to peter that he had to stand up with you, and not only would you also know just how hard he was, but the friction alone might be enough to kill him.
and then he had a thought:
are you feeling this way too?
no, don't think like that. that's your best friend, and whatever's happening, clearly neither of you was in your right mind.
but peter had always felt this way about you. this time, it was just so physically painful for some reason. what the fuck was in that beaker?
he didn't have any more time for his mind to race, as you stood from your stool and he watched your knees buckle underneath you. peter rushed to stabilize you, grabbing your shoulders and keeping you steady. it was pointless, though. somehow, the feeling of peter's hand against you knocked your breath out, far worse than falling ever would've.
you had no idea what was going on, but it was getting harder and harder to think about anything other than peter (as if that wasn't the norm anyway, bffr). but this was heightened. this was all of your wildest desires pulled to the forefront of your mind in the middle of your ochem 403 lab at 11pm on a tuesday night.
what the fuck was going on with you?
you tried to shake off the way peter's touch relieved some of the haze clouding your brain, and tried to shake off the feeling that maybe he was also feeling this way. your thighs clenched at the thought — that peter was also thinking of every possible way to take you on this counter right now.
but this was your best friend, and you needed to get your shit together long enough to handle whatever this feeling was on your own.
"woah, are y'okay?" peter slurred, your body heat under his palms radiating down to the rest of his body and nearly sending him down as well.
"i... i don't know, i think..." you stuttered out, not trusting anything coming from your mouth right now. "i-i think i have to go, i'm, i'm not feeling well."
you turned to make a run for it, hoping to get out of peter's sight before you either passed out or pounced on him. he stopped you, though, grabbing your hand with a pleading "wait!" falling from his lips.
before you could stop it, a whimper escaped from your lips at his touch, and you went bright red in seconds, hand flying up to cover the unexpected noise.
peter didn't help as he stared at you with his mouth agape, pupils blown to shit. he looked fucked out beyond belief and you'd barely even touched.
you cleared your throat, hoping to get out as coherent and PG a sentence as you could. "peter i-i feel really weird. a-and, i think i'm freaking the fuck out."
knowing you were hurting as much as he was broke his heart, and peter struggled to put all his energy into focusing on you. "i know, it's okay, bug. just take some deep breaths, a-and let's try to make it outside, yeah?"
he tried to pull you, but your legs forgot how to work, and you were frozen where you were, breath quick as everything grew downright painful.
peter's breathing picked up as he heard you hyperventilating, panicking himself as he watched you crumble in front of you. he needed to find out what was in that vile, and fast.
but all he could fucking think about was being on his knees in between your thighs.
fuck.
"p-peter, please. please, i-i, i need your help. you have to make this stop."
"fuck— it'll be okay, i promise. i'll do whatever i need to get you better. i-i just..." he clamped his eyes shut, desperately trying to come up with a way to make an antidote of some kind without dying or ruining your friendship along the way.
"peter... i—"
"what?" he cut you off, concern heavy in his tone.
despite his ever-growing problem, peter reached out to cup your cheek, and though not an unnatural thing to do, it was one definitely influenced by a gravity drawing him towards the feeling of your skin on his.
you stared at his lust-blown eyes, wondering if yours looked the same. wondering if he felt the same.
peter spoke your name softly, his thumb grazing your cheek softly and lingering far too closely to your lips to not mean anything.
fuck it.
you grabbed his shirt and pulled him forward, nearly headbutting him in the process as you locked onto his lips, surprised when you felt him immediately reciprocate and tangle his hands in your hair. everything about the kiss was desperate, and the feeling of peter all over you was fucking radiant.
peter was nothing but a moaning mess against you, sloppy and wet against your lips as he pleaded your name as though each time he said it, it took away the pain in his chest. truthfully, it did.
peter pulled away to take a breath, and the lack of contact brought the sharp pain immediately back, earning a whine to fall from his lips. he shook it off, grabbing the sides of your face and doing his best to refocus.
"f-fuck, should we talk about this?" peter asked relectantly.
"i-i don't know. i don't know what's happening right now, pete. all i know is that i need you to touch me. anything, please. i'm sorry. just, please make it go away."
yeah, you could talk about it later.
"nonono, hey. im so sorry, baby, this is all my fault. i'll do whatever you need, i mean it. i'll make it better, i promise."
peter pulled you back into a hungry kiss, rough hands roaming your body in a way he'd never touched you before. the feeling of your curves under his palms was only something he'd dreamed of, and peter was insufferably hard as he pulled you into him further.
there was a nag in the back of his mind, something telling him to stop before you did something you'd regret. because there was no possible way he had you, his best friend, tangled in his arms and lips heavy on his own. and yeah, peter had been smitten with you since the day you met, but he was never going to do anything about it. you didn't feel that way about him, of course. right?
cause right now, you kinda did.
no! fuck! just the chemicals! this was a one-time thing, friends helping friends.
yeah, friends helping friends.
but the pretty little moans that came out of your mouth as peter trailed his way down your neck? those sounded awfully more than just friendly. and the way you whined as he moved his hands up your waist, palming your tits through your shirt as he growled for permission in your ear? peter was never going to be able to look you in the eyes after tonight.
but right now, he was entranced as you bunched his shirt fabric in your hands and begged for it off, pulling the material over his head and immediately attacking his firm chest with a series of hickeys. you shifted your hands down towards his waistband, tugging him by his belt loops as you left a wet, hot trail of kisses down his abs. peter couldn't help but cant his hips forward into you, absolutely fucking losing his mind.
his own hands made their way around your frame, trailing down to your ass and grabbing hard. you gasped at the feeling, then lost your breath fully as peter nipped at your ear and told you to jump. he caught your thighs, shifting to set you on the lab counter and wedging his body between your legs.
everything was hot and heavy, and the effects were evolving and worsening. it was growing stronger with each touch, and though feeling each other was helping ease the pain, the need for more was growing too strong to ignore.
you pulled away from him, tears threatening to spill from your doe eyes as you stared up at peter, who didn't look much better.
"what? what is it, what do you need, baby?"
"i-i... i need you to touch me, pete."
peter went pale at your confession. it was asked so quietly, but it held so much weight. weight he'd think about after he got to find out what you tasted like.
with a deep rumble in his chest and another sloppy kiss to your neck, peter began to fumble his way around your waistband, asking you a thousand extra times if this was okay.
yeah, i fucking think so.
peter's index fingers hooked the hips of your pants; feeling his hands on your bare skin for the first time covered you in goosebumps. it was numbing the pain in your chest and igniting something in it all the same. you were so caught up in the moment, gobsmacked over peter parker, your best friend of six years, tugging your pants down, that you almost didn't notice that he'd pulled them back up.
your cheeks instantly bloomed in mortification. "fuck, i-im sorry, i-i don't know what's come over me—"
"no! stop apologizing, please. i just..." peter took a dramatic pause, and the only thing that could be heard was the two of you heavily panting, taking in the scene unfolding before you as the pain hammered in each of your chests.
"i need to tell you something before anything else happens."
you gave him a worried look, and peter returned it with a heavy sigh.
"i don't know what the fuck is happening right now, and why i feel like im fucking going to die if you don't touch me right now, and this is all my fault and i'm so fucking sorry—"
"peter. what's wrong?"
well, we're already in this deep.
"i don't know what fuck-ass aphrodiasic i just created, but i need you to know that the real me means this too. i can't let anything happen without you knowing that i love you, and this still means something to me. even if i'm not myself right now. a-and i'll do whatever you need me to do, and we can never talk about this again, but you don't deserve me keeping that from you."
you sat on the counter, stunned, as peter anxiously bit his lip, worried he'd just fucked up one of the best relationships that had ever happened to him. and he was still so fucking hard.
the only response you gave him was hopping off the counter and taking your bottoms off for him.
and peter was immediately on you again.
he had a hand rough in your hair as he kissed you, his other firm on your bare ass as he kneaded the soft flesh with a hunger. through his moans and downright whines, he almost missed it:
"i love you too, peter. so fucking much."
something inside of him snapped, and this time he didn't even ask you to jump, wrapping his hands around your waist and lifting you to the counter like you weighed nothing. you wrapped your legs around his hips and pulled him close, the make-out nothing short of a frenzy.
the entire time, peter was in your ear, moaning things into your mouth you only ever dreamed you'd hear:
"this. this isn't how this was supposed to happen."
"you deserve better than this, fuck. deserve better than an empty fucking chem lab, christ's sake."
he was quick to get his hands back on you, traces of mischief left behind as he massaged your thighs and stared at your lace thong with a look you'd never seen from him before. peter had been so caught up in it all, he'd almost forgotten the effects of the reaction. his actions were genuine and intentional. but as he pulled back to get a proper look at you, the pain in his chest settled back in, and his senses reheightened to a million
"fuck, i need to touch you. please, can i touch you?" peter whined.
you were breathless in response, "please peter, do whatever the fuck you want to me. just please, do something. anything."
he groaned and ran his hands up your thighs till he reached the delicate lace, teasingly tracing the hemline. "don't fucking say that. i-i don't think i can control myself right now."
"pete, i don't want you to control yourself," a shudder ran down his spine.
"please. fuck me."
peter didn't have the energy left in him to delay this any longer.
he ripped the underwear clean from your body, pulling you to the edge of the counter and dropping to his knees in front of you. he wasted no time running his tongue through your glossy folds, latching his lips over your clit.
peter was so hungry, and the mixture of the fading pain in your chest and the pleasure blooming inside of you was an insane feeling. he added a finger? oh my god. you were fucking incoherent. he added another? you were pretty sure this rivaled the time you tried molly.
you pulled at his hair, begging him (to stop or to go harder, you didn't know). it was all so overwhelming, and every time you looked down to see the source of your pleasure and remembered it was your peter parker? you were close to the edge the quickest you'd ever been.
"pete, i-i..."
"what is it, baby?" he breathed, quickly returning to your dripping cunt.
baby. jesus fucking christ. that almost did you in right then and there.
"i wanna touch you too."
peter groaned deep inside you in response, and the vibration was enough to send you over the edge. you felt your body fly over the moon as you came, peter not letting down for a second as he fucked you with his tongue so you could ride out the high, lapping up every drop you gave him.
he stood up, breathless, glistening, and a little cocky if you knew peter the way you thought you did. "how are you feeling? did that help, d-does it still hurt?"
you were panting as you came down from your high, taking a second to be aware of your body and headspace again. you couldn't help but feel emotional as you noticed the effects starting to creep back in. you shed a tear and nodded as you felt the headache thundering in the distance.
peter pulled you into a hug, and it was almost enough to sober you up again, because something about this one felt different. more weighted.
"im sorry, baby, fuck. i-i'm sorry, what can i do? how can i help?" fuck, this was all his fault.
you sniffled in his ear, but the movement of your hips against his contradicted your melancholy demeanor. "it's better when you're touching me. please, just don't stop."
between your words and you snaking your hand down to palm him softly, peter parker was a wreck, and wrapped around your finger.
he was quick to envelop you in a kiss and drink you in, and you moved to claw his shirt off of him. you pulled back to look at him, and it wasn't like you hadn't seen peter shirtless over the years, but you'd never seen him this close, in this context. it made your chest hurt in a different way.
"fuck, you're so hot," you groaned, almost as though an inside thought had slipped out.
he snickered. "me? are you kidding me right now?"
peter roughly kissed you before tugging your shirt off, absolutely elated at the discovery you'd forgone a bra under your crewneck. he stared at you like a deer in headlights, starstruck as he saw you for the first time.
"jesus christ, you're a fucking dream."
his hands were on your tits before you could even register it, but the feeling only made you crave him more. you messed with his pants, and he took over amidst your frustration. boxers and all, he sprang free in front of you, and Holy Shit Peter Parker. that's fucking obscene.
"this is your last chance to change your mind. because once i start, i dont think i'll be able to stop," he warned.
"please fuck me, peter."
he attacked your chest with his lips, hands firm on your hips as he shifted you again to the edge of the counter. you wrapped your soft fingers around his leaking cock, and he was almost done for before you'd even started.
peter moaned loudly and moved to put his large hand over yours to line himself up. you were still soaked from peter's previous meal, making it easy for him to slide his head through your slit. you were a begging mess in his ear, nails scraping down his back in anticipation.
peter nudged your entrance and pushed in easily (whether from the pollen or his ample prep, no one knows). the two of you moaned in filthy harmony, the feeling a definition beyond indescribable.
his legs were shaking immediately, and despite his inhuman strength, it became apparent that he couldn't do this standing for much longer if you felt this good.
"fuck, sweetheart," peter grabbed you roughly and pulled you towards him, pushing to the hilt and pressing hip to hip with you. he picked you up, spun you around, and laid you on the cool tile
"this isn't what you deserve, fucking you on the ground like this. fuck, baby."
and then peter was relentless.
he pounded into you with such a force, his mouth still focused on your tits and how they bounced for him. both of you could breathe again, the pain lifting and now replaced with a newly discovered pleasure that made you emotional again. you looked completely fucked out, tears streaming down your cheeks as peter lifted your thighs higher to get as deep in you as possible.
"fuck, please don't cry," he begged, though he kept drilling into you, knees now meeting your own chest. "i'm sorry, i'm so sorry."
you pulled him down, his chest pressing against the back of your thighs, and your foreheads connected as you breathed him in, exhaling a rough "i love you so much, peter".
he stuttered for a moment, eyes as wide as they were the first time he heard you say it. not for long, though, as he stayed pressed against you and picked up the pace like never before.
"oh my god, i fucking love you."
peter had you seeing stars, and you didn't know how long you'd even been in the lab. five minutes could have passed, maybe three hours. all you knew was that you didn't care, and you were close. peter knew it too.
"babe-baby, you're close. i-i can feel it, you're so fucking tight around my cock." you couldn't help but clench him in response.
"fuck, yeah-y-yes. god, squeezing me so good. god, i knew you were made for me."
it was the sentimentality of everything that sent you over this time. hearing the way he talked about you, you came around his cock, and it felt so fucking magical. but peter didn't slow down, determined to ride out your orgasm. he was quickly losing his composure, though, at the feeling of you fluttering around his cock.
"sweetheart, w-where—"
"inside, please."
peter didn't even have time to question the outcomes to his actions because the second he heard you, his best fucking friend, moaning for him to cum inside of her? oh fucking hell.
he let out such a guttural moan as he came, hot and thick, deep inside of you. you felt so warm and full, so much so that it triggered a third orgasm, sobbing peter's name as he just kept going. mixed arousal spilled down your thighs as he continued to fuck you, and through your fucked out haze, you could feel his cum drip down and pool around your ass.
you were barely conscious at this point, but peter kept going as he muttered "i'm sorry" over and over again.
luckily, he'd released the goddamn mating press and released your legs, allowing you to stretch out. peter was able to cover more of your body with his, lying chest to chest with you as his hips rutted into yours. the new position was so much more intimate as he leaned in to capture your lips in a kiss again.
"please. please, just one more. one more and i'll stop."
peter said that three more times that evening before he was done, and he felt like himself again.
he looked down at you in awe, though concern slipped through his fucked out eyes. "you okay, bug?"
"i can't believe you really just gassed us with an aphrodisiac."
peter laughed, a blush creeping on his cheeks at the memory of his fatal mistake. "yeah, that was, uh... that was my bad."
You’re Beacon Hills High’s golden girl. Popular, polished, besties with Lydia, and secretly obsessed with the one boy no one else sees the appeal of - Stiles Stilinski. When a biology partnership forces you together, your carefully hidden crush spirals. One night, one assignment, and one very overwhelmed Stiles later, you finally get exactly what you’ve been fantasising about.
Warnings: sexual references, smut, kind of fade to black
———————————————————————
You were halfway through telling Lydia about the absolute dumpster fire that was yesterday’s physics quiz when the sharp crash of textbooks slamming onto linoleum echoed down the hallway. Lydia didn’t even flinch, but you did. Your head snapped toward the lockers, and there he was.
Stiles Stilinski. In all his lanky, chaotic, flannel-wearing, graphic-tee-underneath, frazzled glory.
He was kneeling on the floor, scrambling after a rainstorm of books and loose papers that had spilled from his locker like it personally hated him. His backpack was half unzipped, one shoelace untied, and even his buzzed hair somehow looked messy. In other words, he looked perfect.
You felt that familiar, shameful little kick of attraction deep in your stomach. The one you never admitted out loud, not even to Lydia. Especially not to Lydia.
Lydia arched an eyebrow when she caught the direction you were staring. “God,” she muttered under her breath, “how is he still alive with motor skills like that?”
You tried to play it cool, texting something on your phone that you would absolutely not remember typing later. “He’s…uh. He’s fine.”
“Fine as in ‘not dying,’ sure,” she said. “Fine as in ‘hot’? Absolutely not.”
Your face heated. You prayed Lydia didn’t notice. Across the hall, Stiles shoved the pile of disaster into his locker, missed completely, and dropped everything all over again. He let out a frustrated noise, cheeks pink, mumbling to himself.
You quickly looked away. You weren’t supposed to think he was cute. Not when everyone else saw him as the weird, awkward loser who talked too fast and tripped over air. But you did. God, you did. And you hated how much you wanted him.
You cleared your throat, forcing your voice steady. “Let’s just go. We’re gonna be late.”
Lydia linked her arm with yours. “Lord help the soul that ever hooks up with Stilinski,” she said casually, “He’d probably shove it in the wrong place.”
You laughed like that idea was hilarious. Like hooking up with Stiles wasn’t something you fantasised about at night.
———————————————————————
You were barely listening when your teacher announced partners for the semester project. A couple names, some groans, flipping pages. You were scrolling through your phone under the desk while you waited for your name to be called.
“Stilinski…and Y/L/N.”
Your head shot up. Stiles froze in his seat two rows over, eyes wide like someone had pointed a gun at him. He looked at you, startled, almost apologetic, and completely unaware of the way your pulse jumped.
You sat up straighter, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear like you didn’t care at all. Like your heart wasn’t slamming against your ribs. Lydia glanced at you from the next table. She was suspicious, and too perceptive for her own good.
You forced a shrug. “Ugh. Of course I get stuck with him.”
But inside? You were screaming. Absolutely thrilled.
Stiles awkwardly approached your table, nearly bumping into the chair behind him. “H-hey,” he said, voice cracking halfway through. “So…um. We’re partners.”
“Looks like it.” You crossed your legs slowly, pretending to be bored while you fought down a grin. “We’ll figure something out.”
His eyes flicked down to your legs, then up so fast you almost laughed. “Right. Yeah. Totally. I’m, uh, I’m good at biology. Well, not good. Medium. Like, average. But! I try hard.”
Lord help you, he was adorable. Too adorable. You smirked in amusement. “I’m sure we’ll make a great team.”
He visibly swallowed, and boy did you love the effect you had on him.
———————————————————————
At lunch, you spotted Stiles before he saw you. He was at his locker, muttering to himself as he rummaged through an avalanche of papers. His flannel was rumpled, his backpack was sliding off one shoulder, and he kept ruffling his buzzed hair in these nervous, distracted little motions that made you want to grab him by the collar and ruin him against the locker door.
This was perfect. You needed to get him alone, needed to get him into your room and on your bed and…Focus.
You walked straight up and touched his arm. He jumped like you’d tasered him.
“Shit! Oh, hi,” he sputtered, hand flying to his chest. “Sorry, I didn’t, uh, see…Hi.”
You slid your hand down his forearm slowly, casually, like you weren’t imagining how you’d be dragging it down his ribs later. “Relax,” you said gently, giving him your best smile. “You free to come over today? We should start the assignment.”
He blinked. Twice. Then a third time for good measure. “Today?” His voice cracked on the word. “At your house?”
You almost laughed. The way his brain short-circuited at the idea of being someplace as private as your bedroom? God, it made you want to drag him into the nearest storage cupboard and kiss him breathless.
He looked like someone had hit him with a frying pan. Like a very confused, startled, incredibly-cute, frying pan victim. You stepped closer. Close enough that he had to tilt his chin down just slightly to look at you. Close enough to let him know you were invading his personal space on purpose.
“Unless you’re busy,” you teased, voice dropping into something lower and sweeter. “But I figured getting a head start might be good.”
His mouth opened, closed, then opened again. He was goldfish-ing. “No, no! Oh my God, no, I’m not busy,” he blurted. “I’m, uh, I’m free. I’m completely free. Totally free. Like…aggressively free.”
You had to bite your lip hard to hold yourself back. This boy was going to kill you. “Good,” you murmured, leaning in just a little bit more. “I like a guy who’s…available.”
His eyes widened. You could practically see the thoughts hitting him one after another, like dominos falling. Does she mean that? Is she joking? She smells really good. Why is she so close? Do NOT look at her lips. Oh god, I looked at her lips.
He did. He absolutely did. And you let him. You loved it. “So,” you said softly, letting your fingers trail up the sleeve of his flannel before pulling back, “come over at five?”
He swallowed so hard you saw his throat bob. “Y-yeah. Yes. Five. I can do five. I’m, uh, very punctual. I can be earlier if you want earlier I can—”
“Five,” you repeated with a slow smile. “I want five.”
His ears turned pink. Deep pink. The kind of pink that told you he was fully imagining it - imagining being in your house, in your room, alone with you. Good. That was the goal.
You stepped backward, walking away with deliberate sway in your hips, and he watched. He tried not to, but he absolutely failed. Just before you disappeared around the corner, you glanced back over your shoulder.
“Don’t be late, Stiles.” You called back to him, and he looked like he was about to faint at just the sound of you getting his name right. He stood frozen, locker still hanging open, looking like he had just been both blessed and attacked.
You couldn’t wait for five o’clock.
———————————————————————
You had spent the entire hour before five obsessively checking your hair, your outfit, your bed, your perfume, everything. It wasn’t nerves, it was strategy. You wanted Stiles walking into your room and short-circuiting so hard he forgot how to blink.
When the doorbell rang at exactly 4:59, you smiled. Of course he was early. Adorable. Your parents were out until late. Everything was ready.
You opened the door, leaning one shoulder against the frame, a picture of effortless confidence. Stiles stood there gripping his backpack like it was a parachute and he’d just been thrown out of a helicopter.
His eyes dragged over you and stopped. Hard. “Oh,” he breathed. “Wow. I mean, hi. Hi. Sorry. Hi.”
You smirked. “Come in, Stiles.”
He obeyed instantly, like you’d flipped some internal switch. You led him up the stairs at a slow pace. Slow enough that he had no choice but to look at your legs, your hips, the casual sway you added just for him. And boy, did he look. He tried not to. But he did.
You closed your bedroom door behind you and paused, waiting for him to walk further inside before you.
He set his backpack down, clearing his throat. “S-so! Uh. Chapter five. Cell division. Pretty riveting stuff.”
You sat on the edge of your bed, crossing your legs, letting your already-short skirt ride just a little higher. “We can start there…if you want.”
Stiles sat in your desk chair like he was afraid it would bite him. He tugged at the strings of his hoodie, eyes darting everywhere but at you. You tilted your head. God, he was nervous. It was intoxicating.
He fumbled with the textbook. “Right, so, um, mitosis…”
You stretched out luxuriously on your side, fluffing your hair as your camisole lifted just enough to show a hint of stomach. “Stiles.”
“Mm?” His voice squeaked.
“You don’t have to pretend you’re not looking.”
He swallowed. Hard. “I wasn’t! I mean, I was, but I wasn’t…Looking is…sometimes it’s involuntary, like blinking, and, ah fuck.”
You laughed softly and patted the bed beside you. “Come sit over here. We’ll work better side by side.”
He hesitated, then stood and crossed the room like a man approaching a dangerous animal aware he might be devoured, but unsure if he minded. He sat beside you, leaving a polite gap. You closed that gap immediately, sitting up and sliding your thigh against his. His breath stuttered.
“Comfortable?” you asked, pretending innocence.
“Not even a little,” he whispered before he could stop himself.
Your smile grew. Good. You leaned over him to grab a pen from your nightstand, intentionally brushing your chest against his arm. Stiles went absolutely still, like you’d pressed a freeze button on him. When you sat back, your faces were incredibly close.
“Stiles,” you murmured, “why are you so nervous?”
He blinked rapidly. “Because you’re…You’re you. And we’re…we’re on your bed, in your room, and you’re wearing that and looking like that, and I’m…I’m a normal human man with, uh…organs.”
You snorted. “Organs?”
He covered his face with both hands. “Oh my God.”
You gently pulled his hands away. “I like when you ramble.”
“You do?” he said, completely thrown.
You nodded, voice dropping lower. “I like a lot of things about you.”
His cheeks flamed. “Name one.”
You leaned close enough that your lips almost brushed his ear. “Your smile. Or maybe it’s just your mouth in general.”
He made a helpless sound that was half choke and half whimper. That noise ignited something deep and hungry in you. You pulled back, watching his pupils blow wide. He was so into you. So flustered. So unbelievably, deliciously out of his depth. It drove you insane.
“Stiles,” you said softly, “do you know I’m flirting with you?”
He stared. “I…had suspicions?”
You bit back a smile. “No. I mean I am aggressively flirting with you.”
“You…are?”
You sighed dramatically, swinging a leg over his lap in one smooth movement, settling onto him with slow, deliberate pressure. His breath punched out of him. His hands shot to your hips like instinct.
You looked down at him, pinning him with your gaze. “Let me make it very, very clear.” You braced your hands against his shoulders, leaning in. “I want you, Stiles.”
A beat passed and his mouth fell open. “You…you do?”
You rolled your hips once, watching his eyes roll back just a little. “Yes,” you breathed. “I’ve wanted you, for a while.”
Stiles made another strangled noise. “You…? You want to…? To—”
“Hook up with you?” you finished for him. “Yeah. I do.”
His hands tightened on your waist. “Oh my God.”
You kissed him before he could spiral further. It was firm, slow, wanting. He gasped into your mouth, surprised but instantly responding, grabbing at you like he was afraid you’d vanish. He tasted like spearmint gum and he kissed like he’d fantasised about this just as much as you had. You shifted closer and he pulled you tighter. You nipped at his bottom lip and he let out a soft, desperate sound you felt in your core.
You broke the kiss only long enough to breathe against his mouth. “Lie down.”
He did. Instantly. You loved how obedient and responsive he was. You crawled over him, hair falling around your face, watching him pant beneath you, eyes wide, chest rising quickly. He looked wrecked already. Overwhelmed. Turned on out of his mind. You kissed down his neck, slow and lingering.
He arched under you. “Oh God! Okay! Oh, wow, yes!”
You smiled against his skin. “Sensitive, huh?”
“N-not usually,” he managed, “but you…holy shit!”
You rolled your hips down onto his again, and his head thumped back against your pillow, a helpless moan slipping out before he could catch it. “You like that?” you whispered.
“Yes,” he breathed, hands gripping your thigh, your waist, your back, anywhere he could touch. “Yes, fuck, yes.”
You kissed him again, though this time it was messier, deeper, and hungrier. He kissed back with enthusiasm that made your stomach flip, his hands skimming under your shirt, trembling but eager. You tugged off his hoodie, then his shirt. He made a nervous little sound, like he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands now that his brain was soup. You guided them to your hips.
“It’s okay,” you whispered. “Touch me.”
He did. Carefully at first. Then less carefully when you gasped. “Stiles,” you whispered, “I want you.”
He swallowed, eyes blown black. “I—I want you too. So much. You have no idea.”
“Oh,” you murmured, grinding down deliberately, “trust me. I do.”
What happened next was a blur of heat and breathless laughter, of him whispering your name like it meant something, of you scraping your nails over his buzzed hair and watching him fall apart under you. He was needy and sweet and overwhelmed in a way that made your whole body thrum.
And when you finally pulled him fully beneath you, skin to skin, his voice broke on a sound that made your stomach drop into your knees. “God, you’re perfect.”
You kissed him breathless for that one.
———————————————————————
The room smelled like you, and Stiles, heat and sweat and something musky that made your whole body hum like a live wire. You lay on your back, sheets beneath you rumpled, hair a complete disaster across the pillow. Your breathing was slow and heavy, every nerve ending relaxed in a way you hadn’t felt in…a while. And fuck, you were satisfied. More than satisfied.
Stiles was lying beside you, flat on his back, hands still half-curled in the air like he hadn’t figured out what to do with them after using them so very well on you. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his face bright red, wide eyes even wider than usual. He looked wrecked. Adorably, completely, wrecked.
You rolled your head to look at him. He immediately jolted like he’d been caught committing tax fraud. “I swear I don’t usually do that, like that. I mean I don’t usually do anything, actually, I’ve literally never…Well, I mean, I have hands, obviously, so technically I’ve done things but not with a real person who’s, uh, alive. Oh my God, please tell me to shut up. Why aren’t I shutting up?”
You laughed softly, still breathless. “Stiles.” He shut his mouth instantly. You propped yourself on one elbow and let your eyes glide over him, slow and deliberate. His cheeks turned even redder. “I liked it.”
He blinked. “You…what?”
“I liked it,” you repeated, leaning closer. “A lot.”
Stiles sat up too fast. Way too fast. So fast that he immediately fell off the side of your bed with a loud thump.
You dissolved into laughter. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he wheezed from the floor. “Totally fine. Nothing damaged except my dignity. Actually no, that’s been gone for years.”
He scrambled upright as he tugged his pants back on, tripping over your backpack, then your laundry basket, then nearly launching your lamp off the nightstand trying to steady himself.
You watched him, chest warm, a stupid smile tugging your lips upward. He was so nervous. So messy. So wildly flustered. And you were obsessed with him. More than before. Way more than before. And honestly? You were impressed. Stiles Stilinski - anxious, fidgety, always-apologizing Stiles - had been extremely good with his hands. Not confident, exactly…but diligent. Intentional. Focused like he was trying to ace a final exam he’d studied for all year. You wanted more. Immediately, if possible.
Stiles was finally pulling on his shirt when you decided to test something. You slid a hand along his bare back, nails lightly dragging.
He choked on air. “You’re…uh…you’re gonna kill me,” he whispered, voice cracking. “Literally. I’m gonna die.”
You smirked. “I’ll be gentle.”
“No, see, that doesn’t help—”
Before you could tease him further, you heard a door open downstairs. There was the echo of voices and keys hitting the kitchen counter. Your parents were home.
Stiles went white. “Oh! Oh God! Oh no! Nope! Nope, absolutely not. I cannot be here, I should not be here, your parents will shoot me, your mom will throw holy water at me. Where are my shoes?!”
“They’re right there,” you laughed, pointing.
He grabbed them, tripped over your rug, caught himself on your dresser, sent two perfume bottles toppling, caught those mid-air, looked proud, then hit his head on your open dresser drawer. “OH THE PAIN!” he whisper-screamed.
You buried your face in your pillow, laughing so hard your stomach hurt. He pulled his hoodie over his head and the zipper got stuck on his shirt, trapping him. You had to sit up to help him. He thanked you like you’d rescued him from a burning building.
Downstairs, your dad’s voice called, “Honey? We’re home!”
Stiles froze again. “I have to go. I have to go right now.”
You stepped close, fingers hooking the front of his hoodie, pulling him down into a slow, warm kiss. He melted instantly, grip tightening on your waist. When you pulled back, his lips were parted, eyes wide, breath shaky.
“I want to do this again,” you whispered.
Stiles stared like he’d just witnessed a miracle. “Y-you do?”
“Definitely.”
He made a soft, overwhelmed sound. “I…I’ll text you. Or you text me. Or we could, uh, coordinate schedules. God, I’m so sweaty! Is it hot in here? It’s hot in here.”
“Stiles,” you whispered, amused, “go.”
He nodded vigorously, kissed you one more time - quick but desperate - and bolted for the stairs, trying to tiptoe but failing miserably.
Halfway down he whispered-shouted, “I LIKE YOU SO MUCH, THIS IS TERRIFYING.”
You smiled into your pillow again. Yeah, you needed more of him. Soon.
———————————————————————
You walked into school the next morning feeling different. Not outwardly different. You still looked like yourself, still had your perfect outfit and mascara and the confidence everyone expected from you. But inside? Inside you were warm. Glowing. Buzzing with the memory of the night before. Your body still hummed. Your brain still replayed his hands, his mouth, the way he’d looked at you like he couldn’t believe you were real.
And now, here he was. Stiles Stilinski, leaning against his locker, attempting (and failing) to open a granola bar without tearing it into shreds. His jacket was messier than usual, his hoodie slightly crooked, his shoelaces completely untied.
You couldn’t look away. Your eyes went straight to the faint red mark on his neck. The one you had put there. Heat curled through your stomach.
He spotted you before you could pretend you weren’t staring. His whole body froze like someone had hit the pause button. His eyes went wide, his face instantly flushed, and he accidentally crushed the granola bar in his hand. It exploded everywhere.
“Oh God, no! WHY? Why does food hate me,” he muttered, dropping to the floor trying to gather the crumbs.
Your lips curved into a smile you couldn’t hide. You walked toward him slowly, and he visibly panicked, eyes darting left-right-like he was calculating an escape route. “Morning,” you said, low and warm.
Stiles nearly fell backward. “M-morning. Hi. Hello. HOW are you?” He articulated each sound like he’d forgotten how English worked.
You bit back a laugh. “I’m fantastic.”
He swallowed, staring everywhere except at you. When he finally met your eyes, it lasted half a second before he looked away like you were the sun.
“See you around, Stiles.” You winked at him and started to walk away, making sure to add a sway into your hips that made your skirt rise.
He was freaking out, and you found it adorable. Dangerously adorable. You were still admiring him from your locker when Lydia suddenly appeared at your elbow like a stylish jump scare. “Why are you staring at Stilinski?”
You didn’t jump. You did not jump.
Lydia narrowed her eyes. “You flinched.”
Okay, maybe you flinched a little. “I didn’t.”
“You did,” she said. “And you’re staring at him.”
“I’m not,” you said too fast. Way too fast. “He’s just…being weird. As usual.”
She raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. Stiles glanced over and saw Lydia looking at him. He immediately dropped all his textbooks. All of them. It was like his body couldn’t handle being perceived by Lydia Martin.
Lydia frowned, confused. “What is with him today?”
You shrugged, trying to look disinterested when all you wanted to do was pull Stiles into an empty classroom and kiss him until he forgot his own name. “I have no idea,” you lied smoothly.
But Lydia wasn’t stupid. She followed your gaze back to Stiles, who was currently spinning in a circle because his backpack strap had gotten caught on his locker door and he didn’t realise it. “…something is off,” she muttered.
You forced a dramatic sigh. “Lydia, nothing’s off. He’s always like that.”
“Hm,” she hummed, unconvinced, and marched off.
Stiles looked relieved like he’d escaped a predator. You approached him again once Lydia was gone. He backed into his locker like you were cornering him. Like last night had short-circuited his entire nervous system.
“Oh shit,” he whispered, eyes flicking to your lips then away. “What are you doing? You’re still…you. And I’m still…me.”
You stepped closer, voice soft. “Is that a problem?”
Stiles made a noise that sounded like a dying kettle. “Not a problem. Just a…situation. A, uh, unique challenge.”
Your smile widened. “Stiles. Look at me.”
He did, for exactly one moment. And in that moment, his expression softened. It was almost reverent. Like he was remembering every second of last night. Like he wanted more but had no idea how to function now that he’d actually gotten you once.
Your chest tightened in a way you didn’t expect. But then you heard footsteps, and Stiles practically launched himself away from you like the hallway floor was lava.
“I CAN’T TALK TO PEOPLE RIGHT NOW,” he blurted, speed-walking down the hall.
You pressed your lips together to hide your grin. God, the way he panicked after hooking up with you was almost just as fun as the actual hooking up part.
———————————————————————
He didn’t look at you for the next two classes. Correction, he didn’t look at you directly. But he stared constantly. Through the gaps between books, around corners, over his shoulder, and in the reflection of classroom windows. Every time your eyes met his - accidentally - he spun away like a malfunctioning Roomba.
During lunch, Lydia kept watching the both of you suspiciously. After fourth period, you found Stiles at his locker again, pretending to look inside it even though it was almost empty. You walked past casually, brushing your fingers against his hand. Just a graze, lightning quick.
Stiles shivered. Full body. You slipped a folded piece of paper into his palm. He looked down at it like you’d handed him a live grenade. He unfolded it, then stared at it, swallowed hard, then looked up at you. He didn’t speak, he just nodded. And it wasn’t nervous. Not this time. This time it was hungry.
———————————————————————
You and Lydia sat on the bleachers like you always did, your skirts smoothed neatly beneath you, your bags dropped at your feet. Jackson and the rest of the team were running drills on the field, shouting, cursing, and sweating. It all should’ve had your attention. Jackson was objectively good to watch. Everyone knew that. But your eyes weren’t on Jackson. They were glued to Stiles.
There he was in full lacrosse gear that looked like it weighed more than his entire body. His helmet was slightly crooked, he kept adjusting his gloves like they were personally torturing him, and his stick handling was…well, abysmal.
“God,” Lydia scoffed, flipping her hair. “Stilinski and McCall are actual public embarrassments. I swear to God, watching them play is like watching baby giraffes try to walk for the first time.”
You snorted on instinct, but your eyes were glued to Stiles’ thighs as he sprinted. Jesus. Why were his legs that good? You followed the way the muscles in them tightened, how his jersey clung to his back, damp from sweat. At one point he pushed his helmet up to wipe his forehead, and you got a full view of his messy, sweat-mussed hair, cheeks flushed pink.
And all you could think of was how he’d looked the night before. Flushed. Breathless. Gorgeous. You crossed your legs tightly and tried to play it cool.
“Totally,” you said, even though your voice came out breathier than intended.
Lydia didn’t notice. She was too busy dissecting Jackson’s technique and muttering coaching tips he’d never hear. But you kept watching Stiles. Watching the way he stumbled and caught himself. Watching the way he laughed at something Scott said, chest heaving with exertion. Watching the way the uniform clung to places you’d had your hands on last night.
And all you could think was, God, I want him again. I want him pressed against me in that stupid uniform. I want him sweaty and breathless for an entirely different reason. He bent down to tie his shoe and you swallowed thickly. You were done for.
Lydia elbowed you lightly. “You’re zoning out. What are you even looking at?”
“Uh, Danny,” you lied quickly. “His…form.”
Lydia hummed. “Hm. Must be a new angle, because you are staring awfully far down the field.”
You forced a laugh, but your stomach twisted. You had to get out of here before she put anything together. When the coach finally blew the last whistle, the team started heading toward the locker rooms.
Lydia stood, brushing off her skirt. “Practice is over. Want a ride home?”
Your heart thumped. You heard yourself say, light and airy, “Oh, no, I’m gonna stay back and study.”
Lydia paused, her eyes narrowing into that terrifyingly observant Lydia Martin look. “With who?” she asked, voice sharp in that sweet way of hers.
You shrugged with practiced casualness. “Just by myself.”
Suspicion colored her whole face. “You’re acting weird.”
“I’m acting completely normal,” you insisted. “You’re the one who’s been strange today.”
Thankfully she didn’t push further. She just gave you that look, like she’d circle back later, and grabbed her bag. “You better text me later,” she warned, heels clicking away down the bleachers.
You exhaled shakily as she disappeared. Then you grabbed your own bag and slid quietly beneath the bleachers, stepping into the shadowed space underneath. The air smelled like grass and dirt and old metal. The sound of the team laughing somewhere near the locker rooms drifted through the field.
You waited exactly where you’d told him to meet you in the note you’d slipped into his hand earlier. Your heart fluttered with anticipation, nerves, and excitement. He’d come. You knew he would.
You leaned against one of the beams, pulse picking up at the thought of seeing him again. Of what you might end up doing to him if he let you. You bit your lip. God, you hoped he’d let you.
———————————————————————
You heard the footsteps before you saw him. They were fast, uneven, like he’d jogged the whole way from the locker room. Then Stiles appeared through the shadows.
His hair was damp and sticking up in ridiculous directions, clearly from a rushed shower. A few droplets still clung to his temples. He wore low basketball shorts slung loose on his hips and his lacrosse jersey, the fabric stretching deliciously across his shoulders. His cheeks were pink from the heat of the shower, or nerves.
“Hey,” he said, stopping short like he’d run face-first into an invisible wall. “I got your note. Obviously. Because I’m here. Uh, hi.”
You didn’t bother answering. You stepped forward and grabbed the front of his jersey, yanking him under the bleachers fully, into the shadows.
His breath caught. “W-wait, are we…? Are we doing this again?” he stammered.
“You took too long,” you whispered, and before he could reply, you kissed him. Hard.
Stiles made a startled noise against your mouth, like his brain short-circuited in real time. But then his hands were on your waist, hesitant at first, then gripping tighter when you deepened the kiss. His lips were warm, soft, a little desperate (he was always desperate) and you loved it.
You pressed him back against one of the metal beams, kissing him again and again, biting his bottom lip just to hear the sound he made when you did.
Stiles exhaled shakily. “You…you can’t just…God!”
“You smell good,” you murmured against his throat. “Fresh out of the shower?”
He nodded, dazed. “I ran. I didn’t want you waiting and thinking I ditched you. I would never ditch you. I mean, unless you wanted me to ditch you. In which case I—”
“Stiles,” you breathed, “shut up.”
You kissed him again, deeper this time, and he made a soft, helpless sound that lit you on fire. Your hands slid under his jersey, over warm skin and tense muscle. Stiles jolted, inhaling sharply.
“Oh my God,” he whispered. “I think I’m gonna have a heart attack.”
“Not today.” You tugged him closer by his waistband, feeling his breath hitch, watching the way his eyes went wide and dizzy. You loved how every thought he had showed right on his face. Panic, want, awe, panic again.
“I’ve been thinking about this all practice,” you said, voice low. “About you. In this stupid uniform.”
Stiles swallowed like he physically had to work moisture into his mouth. “Yeah? Because I-I’ve been thinking about last night.”
That heat shot straight through you. He was so painfully honest. So bad at hiding what he felt. So good at making you feel wanted without even trying. You kissed him again, dragging him by the wrist as you started walking. “Come on.”
“Where are we—“
You anticipated his question before he could finish and cut him off in a hurry. “To your car.”
Stiles nearly tripped over his own feet. “My car? Like, now?”
“Unless you want to stay out here,” you teased, pulling him past the last metal pillar and into the open. The parking lot was empty, with just his powder blue Jeep sitting alone, a far distance from the nearest light pole.
Stiles stopped dead. “We’re…we’re not seriously…?”
You didn’t let him finish. You pushed him back against the passenger door and kissed him again, hard enough that he gasped slightly. He was warm and flustered and breathing too fast, hands hovering uselessly like he didn’t know where to put them.
Then he finally settled them, one on your hip, one at the back of your neck, and kissed you back with a sudden confidence that made your knees weaken. “Back seat,” you breathed.
Stiles fumbled with the door handle. Dropped his keys, picked them up, then dropped them again.
“Jesus, Stiles,” you laughed softly, “you’re adorable.”
“That’s not…I’m not trying to be. I’m just…you’re—” He made a vaguely strangled sound and finally yanked the door open.
You climbed in first, pulling him by the jersey until he practically fell into the Jeep on top of you, laughing breathlessly as the door slammed shut behind him. His hands were steadier this time. His kisses deeper, more sure. Still clumsy in the way that made your heart ache, but better. So much better.
“Last night probably wasn’t the best,” he murmured, almost embarrassed. “But I paid attention. I can do that. I like doing that. Paying attention to you.”
That spark shot straight through your spine. You kissed him again, and the rest unfolded in a tangled rush of heat, hands, breathless laughter, soft curses, and the kind of desperate closeness you’d been thinking about all day. The windows fogged. The Jeep rocked just a little.
And Stiles - sweet, frantic, unbelievably good Stiles - was even better than he’d been the night before.
———————————————————————
The world settled slowly around you. Your breathing, your heartbeat, and the soft hum of the Jeep’s engine cooling. The windows were fogged so heavily you could barely see the field outside, and the air inside was warm and sweet and full of the lingering adrenaline between you.
Stiles lay half on top of you, half beside you, one arm braced awkwardly near your head, the other somewhere on the seat because he genuinely didn’t seem to know where to put it. His buzzed hair was a mess again. His cheeks were flushed. His breathing was uneven in that adorable ‘trying to pull myself together’ way.
“Wow,” he said softly, blinking at the ceiling of the Jeep like it had personally changed his life.
You laughed, brushing your fingers gently over his forehead. “Yeah. Wow.”
He swallowed, his eyes darting anywhere but yours. To your face, the window, the car ceiling, your lips, and then immediately away from your lips like they were radioactive.
“You…you keep doing that,” he mumbled.
“Doing what?” you teased, tracing your fingertips down the side of his neck.
“That.” His voice cracked. “Being…like this.”
“Like what?”
“Like, into me.” He said it like it was a foreign language.
You felt your chest warm. “Stiles. I literally climbed into your car to have my way with you until your windows steamed up.”
“Yeah, but, like, on purpose.” He sat up slightly. “That’s wild.”
You gently pulled him down for a soft, slow kiss. It was sweet and unhurried. The kind that made your stomach flip in a different way. Stiles melted into it, then immediately shot up again like he remembered something embarrassing.
“Oh my God. My car, my jersey, I probably smell like…like locker room death!”
“Relax,” you laughed, pushing lightly at his chest. “You smell good. And you look cute.”
He blushed all the way to his ears. “Cute?” He repeated it like it was a holy word.
“Very.”
He tried to get off the back seat gracefully. He failed spectacularly. His foot got caught in the strap of his duffel bag and he pitched sideways into the front seat console with a loud clunk.
“Ow, okay. No, I’m good, I’m good,” He scrambled up, knocking something else over. A water bottle rolled, hit the door, and fell onto the floor of the car.
You pressed a hand over your mouth to keep from laughing too loudly. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” he said quickly, rubbing his elbow. “Totally fine. Not in pain. Definitely not in pain. I’m…I’m gonna drive you home now.”
“Okay,” you giggled, sliding out of the back seat.
You climbed into the passenger seat, still a little breathless, still a little flushed. Stiles started the Jeep, cleared the fogged windshield with his sleeve (somehow making it worse), and finally got the wipers to do their job.
He was still nervous. But something in him had shifted. There was a warmth now. A glow of confidence under all the fluster. He tapped the radio on. Fleetwood Mac filled the Jeep - ‘Dreams’ drifting softly through the speakers.
You blinked. “You like Fleetwood Mac?”
Stiles glanced at you, surprised. “Uh, obviously. I’m not a monster.”
You grinned. “I love them.”
His shoulders relaxed. “Yeah?”
“Especially their Rumours album.”
Stiles’ mouth slowly curved into a smile you hadn’t seen before. It was shy, but proud. “Okay hold on, wait, what else do you listen to?”
“Dad rock,” you admitted. “My parents raised me on classic rock and 80s hits.”
Stiles slapped the steering wheel lightly. “No. No way. I thought you were like, top forty hyperpop, or whatever Lydia listens to.”
“I mean I like that too,” you said. “But I love the old stuff.”
He turned down the music just a little. “Name your top three.”
“Bon Jovi, Nirvana, some Lana.”
Stiles’ jaw dropped. “Bon Jovi? You like Bon Jovi?”
You raised a brow. “You don’t?”
“Oh my god, this is insane!” he muttered, shaking his head dramatically. “You’re like a sleeper nerd.”
You burst out laughing. “A sleeper nerd?”
“Yes. A nerd hiding in a popular girl’s body. A stealth nerd.”
“I’m not a nerd,” you insisted, still laughing.
“Really?” Stiles shot you a sideways look. “Because that’s what they all say before I find out they know every line to Star Wars.”
You froze. Then raised a slow eyebrow. “Does it have to be every line?”
Stiles gasped. Loudly. “NO.”
You bit your lip. “Yes.”
He threw his head back against the headrest. “Oh my GOD. You like Star Wars! This is…this is huge! This is like discovering a new species.”
You shoved his shoulder playfully. “Shut up.”
“No, I mean it,” he grinned. “I had no idea you were secretly cool.”
“Secretly?”
“I mean, you’re hot,” he said immediately, then panicked. “I mean like, obviously, you know that. Everyone knows that. BUT you’re also secretly cool and kind of a nerd and it’s honestly messing with my brain.”
Your heart fluttered and you looked at him and for the first time, the crush in your chest didn’t feel like just lust. It felt like interest. Connection. Something warmer, deeper, and sweeter.
You smiled. “Maybe you just never bothered to get to know me.”
Stiles’ voice softened. “I’m getting to know you now.”
———————————————————————
Stiles practically burst through his front door when he got home.
“Hey son, how was prac—”
“CAN’T TALK, DAD!” he yelped, sprinting past Sheriff Stilinski like he was escaping a crime scene.
He bolted upstairs, slammed his bedroom door, and immediately collapsed face-first onto his bed with a loud, muffled groan. It was the groan of a man who had just gotten everything he ever wanted and had no clue how to emotionally process it.
He lay there for a good ten seconds, kicking his legs like an overwhelmed Victorian maiden, before ripping his phone out of his pocket. He dialed Scott and his best friend picked up on the third ring, sounding tired. “Dude, it’s almost nine. What’s up?”
Stiles inhaled like he needed fresh oxygen to speak. “SCOTT.”
“…Stiles?”
“SCOTT.”
“Why are you yelling?”
“She kissed me.”
There was a pause. “Who kissed you?”
“She kissed me.” Another pause.
“…Stiles, you need to use a name. Preferably a real one.”
Stiles sat up, eyes wide and wild as he told Scott your name. “You know, Lydia’s best friend. The girl who wears lip gloss that costs more than my monthly car insurance. The girl who sits two rows ahead of you in Econ. The girl who is - objectively - way too hot to be seen with someone who collects limited edition Star Wars socks.”
Scott blinked audibly through the phone. “She kissed you?”
“YES.”
Scott’s voice softened, warm and supportive. “That’s great, man!”
Stiles choked. “It…it gets better.”
“Oh.” Scott hesitated. “Uh, define ‘better.’”
“She kissed me under the bleachers.”
“Okay…”
“She dragged me to my car.”
“Uh-huh…”
“And then we…We…” He violently flailed one hand in the air, even though Scott couldn’t see him. “WE DID…THINGS, SCOTT.”
“Oh my God, Stiles.”
“WE DID THINGS TWICE. This was the second time it happened.”
Scott made a strangled noise. “STILES.”
Stiles threw himself backward onto his pillows, kicking his feet in the air like a flustered hamster. “And she likes Fleetwood Mac, Scott. Fleetwood. Freaking. Mac.”
“Okay, cool—”
“And STAR WARS.”
“Everyone likes Star Wars.”
“No, Scott. She knows the lines.” He sat up, deadly serious. “She’s a total sleeper nerd.”
Scott paused. “…Whoa.”
“RIGHT?” Stiles stood up, started pacing. “She’s, like, the hottest girl in school, and she’s secretly a nerd and she likes me and she keeps kissing me and I don’t…Scott, I don’t know what to do with ANY of this information.”
“Stiles, it sounds like she just…likes you.”
Stiles froze mid-pace. His brain short-circuited. “No,” he said immediately, too quickly, voice cracking. “I physically can’t deal with that. I’m not…nope. That’s not…I don’t—”
Scott sighed. “Dude. You’re gone.”
“Gone where?” Stiles asked, panicked.
“Gone. Like…crushing. Hard.”
Stiles’ mouth opened, closed, opened again. “I, no, I don’t…Okay, I like her but not like…I mean, okay, I do like her but that’s only because she smells really good and laughs at my jokes and is secretly a nerd and has really nice…well, everything.”
“Stiles,” Scott interrupted gently. “I can hear you blushing through the phone.”
“What if she wants to do this again? What if she wants it to be like a regular things?” Stiles collapsed back onto the bed again with a loud dramatic groan. “Oh my god, Scott. I’m going to die.”
“You’re not.”
“I am. I am catastrophically unprepared for this.”
“Just…talk to her,” Scott said. “Hang out. Be honest. You don’t have to freak out.”
“I DO have to freak out,” Stiles shot back, gripping his pillow like it was a flotation device. “Because she…Scott, she kissed me like she meant it.”
There was a smile in Scott’s voice when he answered. “Well…maybe she did.”
Stiles went silent, his heart thundering as eyes wide. “…Holy crap.”
———————————————————————
It happened slowly, then all at once. A pattern formed between you and Stiles. A rhythm. A secret life you lived only with him. What started as desperate kisses and rushed hookups - stolen moments after school, under bleachers, in dark corners - turned into something else entirely. It became routine. Comfortable. Addicting.
You started meeting up without even needing to plan it. You’d text ‘hey’, and he’d reply ‘on my way’, and within ten minutes he’d be at your doorstep, half-panicked, half-excited, always breathless.
Sometimes it was at your place, sneaking him up to your room while your parents were at work. Sometimes at his house, while his dad worked late and Stiles pretended to do homework. Other times it was the back seat of the Jeep on a back road off the highway, windows down, wind blowing through your hair while Stiles kissed you like he couldn’t believe you were real. Once, it was on a blanket in the preserve under a sky full of stars - a moment that surprised both of you with how soft it felt, how slow, how unhurried.
And slowly, something shifted. Because it wasn’t always physical. There were days you two didn’t hook up at all. Days where you just…hung out. You watched movies together. Old ones he loved, new ones you made him watch. You talked for hours, lying upside down on his bed or sprawled on your carpet, laughing about the stupidest things.
You listened to music together, trading songs and arguing about which album was best. Little by little, you began to crave his presence, not just his touch. And he started relaxing around you. Getting funnier. Goofier. More Stiles. Before you even realised it, you and Stiles weren’t just sneaking around anymore. You were seeing each other. You were becoming something. Even if neither of you said it out loud.
The night it shifted fully, you were in the preserve again. You’d driven with him into the trees until the path grew narrow and the canopy blocked out most of the sky. The Jeep sat in the clearing, engine off, crickets humming around you. The two of you climbed into the back seat automatically, the same way you always did, but something felt different immediately.
Stiles looked at you like he was trying to memorise you. Not like he was nervous you’d disappear. Not like he was overwhelmed. Just…struck.
“You okay?” you whispered, brushing his hair back without thinking.
“Yeah,” he breathed. “I just…I like being here. With you.”
Your chest tightened in a way that scared you and thrilled you at the same time. You leaned in to kiss him, expecting the usual rush of heat, urgency, the frantic rhythm the two of you always fell into.
But Stiles kissed you slower. Softer. Like he had all the time in the world. His hand slid into your hair, fingertips brushing your scalp gently, sending a warm shiver down your spine. His other hand rested on your waist, steady and sure, guiding you closer instead of pulling frantically.
His lips moved with yours in perfect, tender sync. You melted. It wasn’t the familiar wildfire of wanting him. It was something deeper. You pulled back slightly, breath shaky, eyes meeting his in the dim light.
“Stiles…” you whispered, not even knowing what you were about to say.
He touched your cheek, thumb tracing along your jawline like he couldn’t help it. “I know,” he said softly. “Me too.”
You kissed him again, your fingers sliding into the hair at the base of his neck as he moved with you, warm and gentle and so heartbreakingly present. It felt less like hooking up. More like falling.
Your bodies found each other naturally, slowly, hands exploring with intention instead of urgency. His kisses trailed along your jaw, down your neck, and for once you didn’t feel rushed, or hidden, or like you had to stifle your breathing. You felt seen.
Stiles paused only to look at you again with the kind of look you usually avoided out of fear it would reveal too much. This time, you held it. Your hands rested on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. He covered your hand with his own, fingers lacing with yours without hesitation. You’d never held hands during…this. But now, it felt like the most intimate thing you’d ever done together.
Everything between you moved gently - warm breath, warm skin, warm hands - like you were synced without needing to talk. And when you came together, it wasn’t rushed or chaotic. It wasn’t about desperation or thrill anymore. It was emotional. Connected. Equal. It was the kind of closeness that made your eyes sting in a way you didn’t dare acknowledge.
Stiles held you afterward, his arms wrapping around you, your cheek resting on his chest. His heart was still beating a little too fast, but steadier than usual. He stroked your back absentmindedly, like he was touching you just to reassure himself you were still there. You swallowed hard, overwhelmed by how safe it felt.
He whispered, almost too softly to hear. “This…feels different, right?”
You nodded against him. “Yeah,” you whispered. “It does.”
Stiles exhaled, shaky but hopeful, and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. Neither of you said the word for it. Neither of you dared to. But you both knew, it wasn’t just hooking up anymore. Not even close.
————————————————————
You didn’t even notice Lydia watching you at first. You were at your locker between classes, still a little dazed from the night before. The memory of Stiles’ hands on your waist in the back of the Jeep occupied the forefront of your mind - the slow, aching kisses that had made your chest tighten in a way you weren’t prepared for. You were smiling at your books like a complete idiot when a manicured hand slammed the locker door shut right in front of your face.
You jumped. Lydia stood there with her arms crossed, hip cocked, eyebrows raised like she had just solved a murder case.
“So,” she said. “You want to tell me why you smell like men’s deodorant? Specifically cheap men’s deodorant?”
Your heart stopped. “I…what? Lydia, I do not. That’s insane.”
She scoffed. “You’re a good liar, but you’re not that good. You’ve been hooking up with someone, and I wanna know who. Spill the beans.”
“There’s no one, Lydia.” You insisted, shaking your head.
“I know there is, so why don’t you just tell me?” Lydia scoffed.
Your stomach flipped. You forced a laugh, tried to look casual. “Why would you even assume there is anyone.”
“Come on.” Lydia leaned closer, lowering her voice. “You disappeared for all of lunch last week and when you finally got to English, you had closet hair. I’ve never seen you going to the library to ‘study’ this much in your life. You never answer your phone late at night anymore, and you’re always busy but you’re never doing anything.”
You touched your hair automatically. Damn her. She missed nothing.
“So?” she continued to prod sharply, “Come on, it’s not like it’s Stilinski, right, so how bad can it be?”
You froze. Lydia watched your face, saw the reaction, and her eyes widened. “Oh. My god. No! Stilinski? You are!”
“Lydia—” you began.
“You’re hooking up with Stiles Stilinski?”
You looked away, cheeks burning, and that was answer enough.
Lydia blinked at you like you’d just told her you were dating a garden shovel. “Why? He’s…he’s Stiles.”
Something ugly twisted inside you. Embarrassment, yes, but anger too. Shame. And suddenly you were ashamed of being ashamed. You straightened slowly. “And what exactly is wrong with Stiles?”
Lydia opened her mouth. You didn’t let her. “No, seriously. Tell me. What’s wrong with liking someone who’s smart and funny and actually treats me like I matter?”
Lydia looked startled. “I didn’t mean—”
“Yes, you did.” Your voice trembled, but you didn’t care. “And I’m really tired of pretending I don’t care about him just because you and Jackson think he’s some kind of loser.”
Her face tightened. “I just…don’t want you to tank your social life for someone who—”
“Someone who what? Isn’t Jackson?” you shot back. “Newsflash, Lydia, I don’t want someone like Jackson.” She flinched. You felt the hit land but couldn’t stop now. “I like him,” you said, soft but firm. “I like Stiles and I’m not embarrassed about it. Not anymore.”
Lydia stared at you, but for once, she had no quick reply. You turned on your heel before she could form one.
Stiles was at the end of the hallway, rummaging in his backpack like he was fighting with it. Scott was beside him chatting. A few other students walked past. Normal scene. Totally ordinary. Except everything inside you was rushing and roaring. Stiles looked up and froze when he saw you marching straight toward him.
“Uh, hi?” he said, voice squeaking in that adorable Stiles way.
You didn’t even slow down. You grabbed the front of his shirt, pulled him down, and kissed him full on the mouth right there in the crowded hallway. A wave of gasps rippled across the student body. Someone even dropped a binder with a loud BANG!
Stiles made a shocked little noise against your lips, then melted. Hands grasping your waist, pulling you closer, kissing you back like he’d been starved for days. When you finally pulled away, Stiles blinked rapidly, dazed and breathless.
“Wh—what? What is happening?” he whispered.
“I’m not hiding us anymore,” you murmured, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “If you still want this.”
His swallow was audible. His eyes were so wide and warm and stunned. “If I still want this?” He gave a helplessly smitten laugh. “I’ve been in, like, a constant state of cardiac arrest over you for weeks.”
You grinned, grabbed his hand. “Good,” you said softly. “Come on.”
Still in shock, Stiles let you drag him away down the hall, past the staring students, past Lydia frozen with her mouth slightly open, past everything. You didn’t look back. And Stiles didn’t stop smiling.
————————————————————
By the time the afternoon bell rang, the entire school knew. You and Stiles had kissed. Not just kissed, but kissed kissed, in full view of a hallway full of gossips and amateur Instagram detectives. Everywhere you walked, people whispered.
“Wait, her? And Stiles?”
“How did that even happen?”
“Well, good for him.”
“Did she lose a bet?”
“No way, I think she actually likes him.”
You squeezed Stiles’ hand tighter every time someone stared too long. He squeezed back, though his ears had been pink since third period.
“Are you okay?” you murmured as you walked toward the exit.
He inhaled sharply. “I’m either fine or I’m dying. Hard to tell. But I’m definitely holding your hand so that’s…winning.”
You bumped his shoulder with a smile. “You’re adorable.”
He made a little strangled sound but didn’t let go. You were two steps from the doors when someone grabbed your elbow and tugged you aside.
Lydia.
Stiles blinked, startled and wary. “Uh, I can wait over there? Or, like…pretend to be invisible? Which is my specialty.”
“It’s fine,” you said quickly, but Lydia’s expression was unreadable.
Stiles hesitated, then moved a few feet away. He was close enough to keep an eye on you, far enough to give you space. You turned to Lydia, already bracing.
“If you’re going to tell me how big of a mistake this is—”
“I’m not,” she cut in.
You froze. Lydia folded her arms, not defensive, just…small. “I’m here to apologize.”
That shut you up completely. Lydia looked down at her shoes before meeting your eyes again. “I was awful earlier. Judgmental and and honestly? Really rude.”
You blinked, thrown off balance. This was not the ambush you were prepared for.
She exhaled shakily. “I think I reacted that way because…I didn’t understand. And maybe because I’ve never seen you choose someone based on how he makes you feel, instead of how he makes you look.”
Your irritation softened a fraction.
“And Stiles…” Lydia shrugged helplessly. “He’s not what I imagined for you. But that doesn’t mean he’s wrong for you.”Her voice gentled. “I see the way he looks at you. Like you hung the moon. And I saw the way you looked at him today.” Lydia’s lips curved in a small, sad smile. “No one’s ever had you look that soft.”
Heat pricked the backs of your eyes unexpectedly.
“I’m sorry,” she said again, sincere and quiet.
You exhaled slowly, the tension leaving your shoulders. “I love you, Lydia. But you were being a bitch.”
Lydia nodded. “I know.”
“But,” you added, “I forgive you.”
That earned the faintest relieved smile. Lydia squeezed your hand. “Just…don’t get hurt, okay?”
“I won’t,” you said, and you meant it. You stepped away from her and walked back toward Stiles.
He perked up immediately, like a golden retriever waiting for permission to wag his tail. “Everything okay?” he asked softly.
“Yeah,” you said, threading your fingers through his again. “Everything’s perfect.”
His grin lit up his whole face as you pulled him with you out into the parking lot. The two of you no longer a secret, no longer hiding, and no longer pretending this was anything less than real.
please please PLEASE do a part 2 of the 'nerd ya out' fic i need more😞💓
☆ nerd ya... in?!
— a haikyuu fanfic // you might have feelings for the class nerd.
continuation of nerd ya out!
synopsis: your class nerd, kuroo tetsurou was supposed to be a commodity, use 'n throw for whenever you wanted your assignments done. however, seems like things are changing for the two of you.
pairing: afab! mean!reader x nerd!kuroo
wc: 6.6k (what was that about it being a short drabble? yeah.)
cw: DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT. CONTAINS DRUNK S*X AND D*BCON ASPECTS. PLEASE SKIP IF NOT OKAY WITH IT!!
shimizu, fratboy! oikawa, fratboy! iwaizumi cameo. kuroo kinda goes feral?? sm*t. DRUNK sm*t. d*bcon. p in v. jealousy. dom!kuroo. mean!kuroo. cre*mpie. marathon. p*ssy spanking. egd*ng. overst*mulation. multiple position. multiple org*sms [both m, f]. crying. b*mbofication. that's it??? let me know if i missed any :p
old m.list | new m.list
☆ assignment 42.
"if anyone—" your eyes widen to emphasize, your body juts forward as you jab your index finger right into his solid chest. "and i mean, anyone asks if I was with you tonight, what do you say?"
kuroo blinks at you, slow to react. "that I haven't seen you."
"if I was with you last night?"
"same answer." he scratches the back of his head — still naked, on his bed where you two had fucked not twenty minutes prior. his neck and face are still flushed, hair a mess of his usual spikes and the ones you had tugged and formed.
"okay, and if i was with you the day i was supposed to be at oikawa's houseparty?"
kuroo obediently answers, "same answer, still."
"okay." you breath in deeply, "also remember to add that we haven't seen each other in a very long time." you add strictly. "add that. add that we haven't seen each other in a long, looong time."
"o-okay?" he's pushing the rim of his metallic glasses by his doughy fingertips, pushing them up his nose as he watches you put on your pair of shorts. "but why would anyone ask me this?"
"my friends— ugh!" you keep dressing, grumbling under your breath, "kiyoko is catching on. she thinks we're been spending time together and i'm hiding it from the group or something."
"but you are." he mumbles lowly. you drop your gaze and ignore his quip with a big, miserable sigh. "i can't believe she thinks we're together—" the words have barely left your mouth when you snap your head up at kuroo, squashing the little embers of hope frolicking about in his irises with a stern tone. "we are not together."
"yeah..." his eyes search for yours wantonly, "we— we're just..." he gulps, his words faltering. "f-fucking. right...?"
"yes." you nod, chasing your eyes away from his before something akin to guilt starts gnawing at your skin. "but my friends cannot find that out, so, be a doll and don't spill out little secret to anyone, yeah?"
kuroo nods but his features pull sour, "i know. don't worry."
"yeah, kay." you pat down your head, "since we're done here, see you later!"
"uh— wait!" kuroo calls after you, catching you mid-step. you look back, "yeah?"
"are we..." his cheeks flush a deep ruby red, eyes falling down to his lap. "are we seeing each other tomorrow?"
you cock your head to the side with a sly smile, despite fucking your cunt in those obscene ways, he was always so bashful when referencing sex. you tease, "seeing each other for what?"
"for—" he snaps his head up and grows impossibly redder. "for y-y'know—?"
"sex?" he nods, still red and steaming, and you grin all cashmere at his reaction. your expression falls off quickly, though. "sorry, can't tomorrow. i have plans with the girls."
"o-oh? is it?"
"yup. i'm sorr—" the sincerity of your words surprises you, making you purse your lips immediately. you were never the one to apologize, especially for not something as trivial as not being able to see this nerd one day?!
you bite your tongue and taste metal. and frankly, the taste of iron is a welcome distraction from how you were feeling a minute ago. "and anyways, i don't think you can finish off my organic chem paper by tomorrow. i heard it's plentyyy long. so, y'know... i need that paper in exchange for the sex, so..." you trail off, shrugging and already bolting for the door without showing your obvious urgency. "see ya. later. bye."
you don't wait for his reply. it echoes in the empty corridor as you shut tetsurou kuroo's apartment door at 2.40 a.m. in the morning and practically run away before you can come to terms with your little slip up. you were probably just exhausted from sex, probably just delirious from how good he made you feel and how all of your blood had abandoned your brain for your nether regions instead. yes. that was it.
"oi!" you hear the door snug open and kuroo run out. he's still naked, save for his boxers (which he has put on inside out.) you turn around and freeze. what the fuck was he doing?! chasing after you half-naked in the middle of the night?! w-was he about to confess something you didn't wanna hear?! was he out of his goddamn mind—?!
he holds up a stack of papers in his hand, raising it up to your eye-level, "you forgot to take your assignment."
"oh?" you blink, realizing that you forgotten the very thing that you had come to take in the first place. well, like i said, you were exhausted, delirious, seep-derived, and hilariously off your wits. you swallow and nod, "right. the paper. the paper."
he steps closer, "yeah, you just, uh, bolted right out."
"oh- pfft— as if!" you roll your eyes, waving your manicured hand in the air, "i just wanna go home and sleep. it's late. sorry i forgot to take that..." you take the paper from his hands, and your fingers brush against his gingerly. you swallow again, hiding your eyes away from him by focusing on the imprint of your name on the very first sheet. "right. thanks."
"no problem. and-" he pauses, wincing to himself as if he shouldn't say it, "and you are... you're always welcome to sleep over at my place. you must be exhausted and it'll be a long way back home—"
your eyes widen at the prospect of laying in the same bed as him. fucking and sleeping together were different. the former was a transaction to you, the latter — something much, much more intimate, something which begged you to confront why exactly you kept returning to get your assignments from this one four-eyed freak, and why the abovenamed freak kept doing them for you.
you shake your head, "no."
at your answer, kuroo swallows, scratching his jaw, "it was ever only a suggestion..."
your eyes widen to the size of saucers, afraid your hurt him with your quick retort. "i mean, it's just your- your bed is so tiny, it'll be uncomfortable."
"i can take the floor—" he begins to offer when you clutch the paper against your chest so hard they crinkle with the impressions of your nails indented into the pristine white. you purse your lips and harden your tone, "i'm exhausted, kuroo. let's just..." you sigh, "goodnight. thanks for this." you nod to the stack in your hands.
you see his expression fall for a second before he nods, bidding your farewell with a small smile, "bye."
you turn around without answering. taking a few steps forwards, you glance back and find him still standing there, his gaze fixated on you like you were one of his personal chemistry lab experiments. you falter but manage to say, "your boxer's on backwards, by the way."
you see his ears tint pink, eyes behind his glasses shooting down to his crotch. he chokes, "o-oh... yeah. yeah. sorry."
you turn away, and you can't help the smile that pulls at your lips. oh, he was such an embarrassing man. you couldn't even stomach the idea of being with someone like him — so... so nerdy and so boring and so timid and so... whatever! you were getting ever more exhausted, delirious, and sleep-deprived by the second. you needed to get back home.
━━━☆⭒
☆ assignment 43.
"i-i told you we couldn't today—!" your voice pitches higher as kuroo sinks his canines into your plush neck. the puncture is addictive, even more so as he licks and sucks in bruises into your skin. "i mean... how did you even finish that assignment in a day?"
"stayed up the entire night." he mumbles against your skin, desperate, "just wanted to— fuck— wanted to see you today."
you had decided to go shopping with your girls, a plan that had then turned into a dinner and then an impromptu sleepover at kiyoko's place. you had just left the restaurant when a text buzzed your phone, a message from kuroo: i finished your assignment. meet me tonight? please? please? please.
you had furrowed your eyebrows at his words. how the fuck did that crazy bastard do it so quick?! you typed back: no way. you're lying about the assignment.
kuroo typed back: am not. i finished it. please just come see me? please?
"—and what's got you smiling ear to ear?" one of your friends had jerked you out of your thoughts. you hadn't been smiling while texting him. no. you hadn't been. why would you have?! you had quickly shut off your phone, shrugging it off. "nothing. 's nothing."
"someone special?" kiyoko had asked softly and you had shaken your head, "no. just was my mom."
"hm? okay, then." though the glint in her eyes had told you she didn't believe you, your group began moving forward, leaving you to trail behind. you had pondered upon kuroo's proposition, and almost instinctively you came to a halt. you had started off slowly, "hey guys, i- i think i'm gonna head back to my apartment."
the girls had turned around to face you, confusion etched into their pretty features. kiyoko had been the one to ask, "why?"
"uh, my mom wants to show me how she's redecorated our home, it'll be long and if- if i don't call her back, she'd feel really, really sad."
kiyoko had offered, "you can talk to your mom at my place, i don't mind."
"no, no. the call will run really long. really, really long." you had nodded, "i will just see you guys at uni tomorrow!"
and then you had knocked on the door to kuroo's door. he had opened with a crazy glint in his eyes, hiding his intentions behind those metal rimmed glances as he had grinned, "hey."
now, he is sheathed so deliciously inside you — all snug and warm and familiar — as you you wrap your arms around his neck and rock yourself on him. your flimsy skins slot against each other's, chest on chest, thighs on thighs, breathing in what the other was breathing out.
he groans like you're breaking him, ruining him. "i— i mean it. i wanna see you every day."
"ugh, d-desperate nerd—!" you laugh airily at that, a sound that is quickly cut off with a gasp as he brings his big palms to your waist and makes you grind down on his length. the stutter in your voice in contrast to your sass is not missed by kuroo. you tease and kuroo laughs. and then, you realize with a startle that you like the way he laughs — loud and sort of airy. before you can think about the sound of his laugh, though, he is manhandling your body up and down the length of his cock. his tip bludgeons itself to the top of your cunt and you fall into his chest, achy and sensitive.
at this point, you're sure kuroo knows more of you than you do yourself. you were sure that if you blindfolded him and asked him to point every mole on your body, he could. if you asked him the shape of your lips and the taste of your lipgloss, he could recite them from memory. he had worshipped you. he had taken his time in learning you. it unnerved you. it terrified you, and yet you ground down on his cock with that utterly wrecked expression.
you blinked up at him with tears brimming the edge of your eyes, "feels good— nghh—" you babble, "feels s-so good?"
kuroo grins, wide and proud, "am i doing good?"
you nod, meeting each one of his thrusts with the roll of your own hips, "yesyes, so good— ah!"
he guides your jaw to his lips and kisses you softly. kuroo tetsurou was a quick learner, because when you had found him, he couldn't even give you a smooch without nearly passing out and now he was slipping his tongue into your mouth and kissing you so, so nasty. he keeps pulling you into his cunt, keeps rocking the his skin against your hooded clit.
you press your naked chest to his and cry into his mouth, convulsing as your pussy trembles with the shockwaves of your orgasm. he kisses you through it, fucking your overstimulated cunt with such slow, gentle rocks that it has tears spilling over and guttural, lewd moans dropping out of your lips. his tip keeps grazing your sensitive spot, making you shudder in his arms as he fucks you to his completion. your greedy cunt squeezes him so, so well, as if it's made for him. you wouldn't be surprised if his very indentation was inside you at this point.
"sh-shit. ohgod— y-you're perfect. fucking perfect— hah!" he chokes and weeps out dribbles of his thick cum inside you. you feel warm. every inch of you feels warm — from your cunt, flowing with his cum, to your stomach, to your cheeks.
he holds you in his arm through the aftershocks of your orgasm and once both of your breathing evens, you look at him. he looks as he always does after you two are done fucking — tired, with that droopy look in his eyes. red. breathing hard. pretty. err, maybe not the last part.
he gives you a grin, "and to think you almost didn't come today."
you roll your eyes, hitting him on his shoulder with a quick thwap! of your hands, "i came for the chem assignment."
"right. yeah." his eyes shift into an expression of melancholia but his lips stay tugged into the same smile. you pretend you don't notice as you climb off. his load seeps out of you and onto his lap, painting his entire thighs and cock white and slippery. you sigh at the familiar mess of fluids, "ugh, gotta clean this now. and god, i'm so sweaty."
kuroo nods, "just shower here." and before you can refuse, he's running you a shower. well, you suppose showering here once won't hurt, right? right.
━━━☆⭒
a week later.
"yoohoo!" the familiar voice of oikawa tooru surprises you. you lift your head up from your phone to look at him. "oikawa...?"
he's with iwaizumi, as always, and takes the seat right in front of you in the cafeteria. he smiles at you, the kind that doesn't reach his eyes. oikawa was president of AOBA JOHSAI fraternity, and the type of man you had decided in year one you were going to one day date. the feeling was not reciprocated from his end, but that never stopped the man from squeezing in a fuck session or two when you both were too wasted to make good decisions. the fantasy of dating him had, however, tanked in the last month or so. ever since a certain bespectacled man had entered your head (or err, your heart.) it now seemed like oikawa was less charming and more irksome.
"you didn't come to our last party at the frat." he pouts, "i was expecting to see you."
correction, he was expecting to fuck you. iwaizumi rolls his eyes at oikawa's statement and you're sure he also catches onto his friend's lie. you ignore his charming words and shrug, scrolling your feed, "yeah, had something come up."
"sometimes, i don't see you with your friends either and..." he casts a glance around, dramatic as always and then leans in, "and there's rumors that you're hanging out with someone else." he grins, "i didn't know nerds were up your alley. did you, iwa-chan?"
iwaizumi doesn't respond but the hint in oikawa's words isn't lost on either one of you. you shrug again, "i got a guy to do my assignments, so what?"
"so, nothing." oikawa shrugs, "i think it's an effective use of those smartasses, anyways. but well, i haven't seen you in so long and there's going to be another party next friday, so, i assume you're comin'?"
the way he says it, there's no debate about it. oikawa tooru, president of AOBA JOHSAI had himself come to invite you. this was probably what half the girls on the campus dreamed of. and yet, you find yourself mulling over his words, "i'd check my schedule, see if i can come."
"what?" he laughs, "you're debating it?"
"no." you emphasize, "i just said i'll think about it."
oikawa leans back into his seat and his ripped muscles pull taut against his tee. he grimaces, "how sad that you are preoccupied with something else, you're usually the life of the party, hm?"
you pause, attempting a candid laugh, "hm, guess so."
oikawa takes your laugh as an affirmation and stands up, iwaizumi following behind. their chairs are dragged back with a dull screech. "then, see you this friday, yeah?"
"sure." you smile, "since you want me there so bad."
━━━☆⭒
friday.
you knew you shouldn't feel queasy being at one of AOBA JOHSAI's famous frat parties. this was practically your home for the past few semesters, with you being the most at ease in the confinements of the huge mansion. you practically knew the entire place inside out, and yet you found yourself standing to a side and making dull conversation with kiyoko.
after three sips of cheap beer from a red, plastic cup and thumping EDM music from the background, you come to the paling conclusion that it wasn't the party that bothered you, it was what it implied.
you and oikawa slept together after almost every party ever. you two never talked of it, and though you wanted it to be something bigger than it was, oikawa was never down for such a commitment. so, you had gotten used to keeping parts of him even if it meant he would be drunk and horny. tonight, however, you didn't want to sleep with oikawa.
you know you're under no obligation to not sleep with him. after all, you and kuroo tetsurou aren't together. not even close to that. you two were business partners, two people so honed in the craft of the barter system that nobody could even define your relationship. but you find your fingers fidgeting and eyes shying away as oikawa eyes you from a distance. you could sleep with a hundred men and it still wouldn't be wrong morally... but it felt wrong.
you hated this feeling, like bile rising to your throat at the prospect of anyone but that nerd - kuroo tetsurou. and the idea that you wanted to see that nerd instead of sports hunk, frat president oikawa made you want to kill yourself even more.
"do you wanna dance?" kiyoko hums lowly and you nod, trying to ease your bunched expression into a smile, "oh, yeah. sure."
the two of you take to the dance floor, swaying to the familiar beats as you join with your other friends. it doesn't take long before oikawa's making his way to you. he fills in behind you, a hand wrapping around your waist and pulling your back to his front. your ass brushes his crotch and you wince, "h-hey?"
"hey," he hums in your ear, "you look good in this dress."
"thanks." you say, growing stiffer as you move his hand around and gain distance, "oikawa, listen." he leans over to hear you better and you manage over the loud music, "i don't wanna fuck... like tonight."
oikawa doesn't seem mad, just amused as he utters, "is that so? i thought this was our tradition."
"yeah, no." you confess, "'m not feeling it tonight. on my period." that's a lie. you're sure oikawa knows it but you nod nonetheless as if it'll drive the point home. he shrugs, "alright, no worries. see you around."
"see you."
oikawa leaves, weaving in between the bodies to return to his group of friends and you're left to dance with your girls. you're swaying to the music when you find kiyoko come close to you and whisper, "isn't that kuroo?"
you snap your head to where she's looking and right there, in flesh and blood, stands kuroo tetsurou, the very man you were aching to see till now. but now as he stands there, a red cup in hand his narrow eyes fixed on you, blood roars in your ears.
before you can be bothered to answer kiyoko, you are moving to where he's standing at the very side. you approach him with a smile, "kuroo! what are you..." you swallow as he doesn't smile back, "what're you doing here...?"
"oikawa invited me."
"he- he did?" you're swerving your head back to oikawa to look at him. that bastard. kuroo replies and you snap your head back to him, "yeah, we know each other. sometimes, we play each other in volleyball."
"is it?" you ask and kuroo nods. you purse your lips. "nice." there's a pause, one in which you calculate what to ask next. did kuroo see you? even if he did, why would it matter? it shouldn't. you weren't together, to begin with.
"when did come?" you try next.
"ten minutes ago." he answers curtly and you feel like his gaze is piercing needles into your skin. the very skin he's touched so softly before. so, you soften your voice and explain, "uh, me and oikawa... we have slept together." kuroo stiffens and you explain, "before. like, not right now. before. but uh, he thought we were on and we aren't. we aren't fucking. i said no." you ramble. "i told him i'm on my periods."
"but you're not." he says sharply because he knows your cycle.
when you had told kuroo that you couldn't fuck (courtesy of the blood pouring out of your vagina), you had assumed you had to procure your assignment from someone else. but kuroo had done it, not asking for sex in return. he had even been as kind to come drop the assignment off, alongside some chocolates and teas. you thought he was idiotic, that he was doing too much for someone who didn't even like him in the slightest. you thought he was just another desperate nerd. but somehow, it was the nicest thing anyone had done for you in a long time.
you nod, "yeah, 'm not... on my periods."
really, there's no reason for you to explain any of this to kuroo. he doesn't need to hear this. he doesn't deserve to hear this or anything. he's nothing to you. and right now, you should remember that because you're at a seijoh party and everybody and their moms were watching you chat up the resident nerd of the campus. it's tanking your reputation, it is adding fuel to the fire of the rumors about you two and you don't even seem to care!
kuroo shrugs, "it's fine if you both..." he stills, breathing deeply, "we're not together."
"we're not." you echo, and despite being the one who always said this, somehow it sounds so much more devastating coming from kuroo's mouth. you purse your lips and nod, sensing the end of the conversation, "are you here with someone?"
"yeah, a few of my friends. i'm just gonna go..." he points in a vague direction, throwing his thumb over his shoulder. you nod, "yeah. me too. have fun."
and as you walk away, you feel your stomach drop lower with every single click-clack of your heels. you shouldn't care, this conversation should mean nothing to you. if you lose kuroo tetsurou, then you just lose a guy doing your work. nothing more. but you're throwing your head back to look at his broad back as he walks away from you and disappears into the crowd and your mouth pulls itself into a frown without your permission.
"hey?" kiyoko asks, "are you alright?"
you nod, "just fine. it's nothing." your grin stretches wider and you're sure kiyoko can see it's fake but she chooses not to comment as you say, "let's dance again! i need to get wasted."
kiyoko smiles wide, "attagirl! let's pour some of those shots, yeah?"
━━━☆⭒
you are wasted. wasted. utterly and completely. first, you had drank to forget the abysmal conversation that happened between you and kuroo, then you drank to forget how much that conversation mattered to you, and then you drank just because.
now, you're walking through one of the many halls of aoba johsai frathouse, aimlessly walking the place until you found a bed to crash in, or worse, oikawa. you are on the second floor when you have a run-in with your favourite resident nerd.
he stops in his path at the sight of you, you stop right in front of him. there's a sway in your step, a slight bleary look to your eyes that confirms that you're drunk. completely out of it.
he scoffs. the sweet, shy asshole scoffs, "going to see oikawa?"
you pull your features into a scowl, "none of your fucking business." you come closer and jab an index into his chest, all mean and pointed, "we're not together." you spit the last word out like it is venom.
"yeah." kuroo breaths, "we aren't." but he's pulling you by your forearm, leading you into one of the many doors in the hallway.
"oh, fuck off, kuroo." you protest with a whine, pawing off his hand as he locks the door behind himself and locks the two of you in. "fuck off, you asshole! you and your high and mighty, smart little ass!"
he turns to face you and in his eyes, there's nothing decipherable. he steps closer and you step back, suddenly remembering that he's bigger than you, stronger too. you swallow, "what do you think you're doing?"
"you're wasted."
"...and?"
"what are we?"
you open your mouth to answer and nothing comes out. he looks at you intently. venom lines your lips in an attempt to self-destroy, "you are just the guy that does my assignments."
his eyes soften, lips parting with a shivering sigh, "that's all we are?"
"yeah." you nod. "i don't like you."
"because of your social standing?"
"no—" you begin when he's stepping even more closer, "because there's some stupid fucking hierarchy telling you that you shouldn't be with a guy like me?"
you push him back, trying to gain distance and trying again 'n again 'n again, "no."
but he's continuing his speech, stepping closer again, undeterred by your effort to push him back. "because your friends think we're not a good match?" you try to push him back with your palms but as soon as your palms are pressed to his chest, he holds them there with a broad hand and closes the short distance between you two. his warm breath fans your nose, "because you have some sort of reputation to uphold?"
your breath stutters, your body grows still as he holds your two hands against his chest with one. there's silence, silence that gnaws at your skin. you take in a shuddering breath, "none of th-those. i just don't want to be with a man like you."
the way you say 'you', it's like an insult. instinctively, kuroo grins, "right. like me. a fuckin' nerd." his grip against your hand tightens, holding you in place lest you try to run away. you squirm and he grins wider, "y'know since all we do is fuck in exchange of assignments, let's do just that. since i'm only one of the guys doing your assignments, let me do just that. let us just keep this relationship physical, yeah?"
"w-what?" though, this is what you technically wanted to hear, you're stuttering and faltering at his crude words. this wasn't your kuroo. this wasn't your kuroo. what the fuck was he saying?! or were you so drunk that you were talking to a made up image of him?
"you want me to fuck you?" there's this look in this eyes, unsuppressed lust. "let me fuck you."
and 54 minutes later, you cry out tears of overstimulation after three orgasms of your own and one of his. kuroo presses your head into the foreign mattress with one of his large hands, another pressing the fat around your hips so, so mean as he fucks his cock into your gaping hole so, so mean. the thwacks! resound in the room alongside your pitiful cries as you sob chants of pleasure into the fabric under you. you clench the sheets under your fists to ground yourself, to let yourself hold onto your waning sanity as he fucks into you. but even that resolution is robbed from you as kuroo pulls your body up by your arms.
he's on the king-sized mattress, supporting his body with his knees as your body is pulled such that your back is flush against his front. he wraps a hand around your waist, stabilizing your pliant body against him as another wraps around your neck. you gasp, bringing your hands to his forearm and digging your nails into his skin with a wrecked sob, "k-kuroo— nghh- no, no 'stoomuch... too much." you babble incoherently, flailing against his vice-like grip to run away from him, from him and his lengthy cock that was currently spearheading itself into your gooeist, most sensitive spots.
"hah. why?" you hear his words punctuated with heavy breaths, each in line with the rough roll of his pelvis against yours. "i thought you wanted this, to j-just- hah, fuck—?"
before you can babble again, before you can apologize or even think to apologize, he's switching positions again. kuroo's bed in his dorm was small, insanely so to fit the two of you. but with this king sized mattress? the man was unstoppable.
he pulls his achy cock out of you, doused in precum and ribbony ropes of your cum but he doesn't give you time to even register that your hole is so vacant now. instead, he pushes you to the mattress, turning you around with swift tugs that have you lying on your back and blinking up at him. as your blurry vision meets his, he grins. through it all, the fucking nerd — dripping in sex and sweat and everything unholy — still has his glasses on. they fog up around the rim, slightly obscuring his eyes.
"tell me..." he's panting as he pushes your thighs up to your chest and pressing down, down, down until you're gasping at the feeling of being folded in half. the pressure of it pushes out his previous load down your pussylips. your sex quivers, covered in rivers of sin in the shade of his cum.
"w-what...?" tears prick your eyes again, face flaming hot as you feel him guide his glinting, sinful mushroom tip back into that overstimulated cavern. you clench your eyes shut, already feeling the fullness of his cock before he even enters you and then, kuroo tetsurou stops. he collects the pouring stream of his cum on his cockhead and nudges it upwards till it catches your clit. your body stutters at the feeling and he grins, maniacal, "tell me, tell me— hah— does oikawa fuck you better?" he swipes his cockhead against you and smears all of that syrupy cum onto your fluttering, swollen nub. "or do one of your other 'boys' fuck you better?"
you try to open your mouth, to give the venom back to him, to say, yeah. and you can't compare. but instead, you're rendered useless. your entire body shivers with as much as a mere kiss of his tip on your clit. you're so, so sensitive. god, he had been fucking into you mercilessly for such a long amount of time. even after he had fucked his cum into your pussy once, that wasn't enough. it wasn't enough. he had started up again, like clockwork.
"aaa—" he parts his lips open, as if to mimic you, still not pushing his cock inside you. "what? can't answer? already fucked senseless, hm? i thought that's all you wanted from me? a fuck session."
and you want to argue, want to tell him to not be so cocky but he leans down and captures your kissbitten lips against him in a sloppy kiss. it's a mix of tongue and spit and sin. you can taste yourself on his tongue. you groan into his mouth, "y-yer so cocky—ohh!" your eyes roll back as he thrusts his dick inside of you in one, smooth motion.
"oh, no." he mumbles against your lips, his tone so sweet despite the carnal way he has you pressed in half. "'m not cocky enough. cause after having you fucked dumb on my- fuck, my cock over 'n over again, you still seem full of yourself."
he bottoms in and you genuinely see white taint your vision. your stomach pulls itself inwards again, teetering on the edge of another orgasm as you cry, "k-kuroo— no, no, no. 'mgonnacumagain— please. kuroo. please—"
"please what?"
you groan, frustrated as he halts his movements, simply sheathing his cock inside of you as he repeated, "go on. please what?"
"p-please don't stop."
"hah?" he throws his head back, still unmoving, "not until you answer... answer my question. does anyone fuck you like this?"
well, you had had your fair share of men. some cocky, some dominating, some submissive. none kuroo tetsurou. but you don't wish to admit it, so, you decide to beg instead.
"kuroo... k-kuroo, baby—" he flinches at the petname. you had never called him anything other than nerd or by his name. tears fall down your perfect face, "please, please, please make me cum—"
"answer." as if to drive the point home, he kisses your jaw in time to rut himself in. you moan at the small stimulus. "or i won't go on."
and so, despite being prideful and drunk, you admit it, "n-no one."
"what is that?" he hums, "no one... what?"
a new bout of tears hit your eyes, this time out of humiliation, "no one... fucks me like you."
"attagirl." he grins, reeling his hips back and pistoning them back in once, twice, thrice. his tempo builds up your orgasm again, you begin to feel the abyss grow inside your body. but then, he stops.
you whine, on edge — quite literally. "kuroo."
he tsks, "another question. answer it and i promise i'd fuck you till you can't walk, till you..." he peppers kisses across your feverish skin, anywhere from your face to your neck to your jaw and ears. "till you can only remember me, and me, and me."
you whine again, barely retaining any sanity at all as he asks, "so, what are we?"
you still. god. was this orgasm worth destroying your pride? you stutter but answer, "n-nothing. just fuck-buddies."
"hm?" kuroo picks himself up off of your body, pulls himself back on your knees till you lay in front of him — bare and trembling — and his dick is still sheathed inside you. he guides his attention to your cunt instead. your sweet, sweet cunt. before you can process what's happening, he brings his fingers down on your clit with a thwap! you jolt, crying, "ohmygod—?!"
"that's a lie." he grins. sweat trails down the sides of his cheeks and down his chest. his glasses have slid halfway down his nose. "answer me correctly or i'm gonna have to get it out of you the hard way." he pushes the metallic rim up, "what are we?"
"nothing!" you say it forcefully this time, like it's a binding vow, and he grins, slapping your sensitive pussy again. your cunt clamps around his length at the harsh hit and he grins, "again? yeah? what are we, now?"
you see his fingers glistening with the mix of your arousal and his cum as he holds it up, readying it for another hit. you wince as you realize just how badly you want to cum. it hurts. all of you hurts. you want the release, you want the high, the feeling of weightlessness as he tips you over your orgasm.
you try to swallow down your pride but your mouth's too dry. you croak, slow and shy, "you like me."
he brings down his hand but stops before the impact. he raises an eyebrow, "i do. and?"
"and-and i think i..." you bite down on your lips, "i like you too."
kuroo blinks, as if he cannot believe you just said that. he blinks again, as if he truly cannot believe you just said that. in an instant, he's reeling his hips back and immediately fucking your pussy with reckless abandon. a grin decorates his face, "thanks. j-jus' wanted to hear you say it."
but you're too lost in the feeling of your impending orgasm to care about your confession or the humiliation it will bring forth. with a few pumps, you squirt all over his dick and washboard abs. your pussy clamps down on his length, choking it so mean till he has no choice but to paint your insides with white a second time.
as soon as he fills you up to the brim, he's collapsing on top of you. his breath is laboured, as is yours. the two of you clutch onto each other, hugging each other's naked bodies as if it's the only thing that can ground you to reality. once your breathing evens, kuroo pulls himself out and rolls over. you feel the mix of fluids taint your thighs, as well as whatever unfortunate man's bed this was.
you chest falls up and down rapidly and you cannot even bring yourself to look to the side and see kuroo. you two lay in silence, staring up at the ceiling. eventually, kuroo breaks it, "so, you like me?"
"no." you snap your head to him, glaring, "you-you, devil! you practically tortured me into saying that."
"i didn't torture you." he smiles, proud, "i just asked for the truth, and when you gave it to me, i fucked you."
"it wasn't the truth!" you argue and he nods, as if agreeing, "sure."
"you're such an asshole, kuroo!" you groan, bringing up your hands to your face and pressing them flat against your feverish skin. you feel his fingers tug yours, asking to you let him see your face. you reluctantly agree and peek open your eyes to see him on his elbows, looking down at you. he is so pretty, it hurts. and it hurts even more that you want to say it out loud, to admit it.
he rubs a gentle circle into your cheek, giving you an easy smile, "we're not together, don't worry. i... i just wanted to hear you say that you liked me. even for a second." he averts his gaze, "i guess that's pretty pathetic."
you snort, "well, nerds are pathetic."
he looks back to you, "well, a nerd did fuck you to tears."
whatever retort you had dies on your lips as he leans in and kisses you softly. his thumb keeps circling your skin. you close your eyes as kiss him back. he pulls back and before you can stop yourself, you admit, "i like you. i do."
he blinks and then grins ear to ear, "i know."
you punch his arm, "if you knew, why did you make me go through all that?!"
he settles back down against you, pulling you against his chest, "because you happen to be a liar and i have to push you to your limits for you to say the truth."
"huh?! when has that ever happened?!"
kuroo tetsurou presses a kiss to your temple, "don't mind."
you snuggle your face into his chest, wrapping your arms around his body. you mumble against his skin, "you'd still do my assignments, right?"
"pshh— sure."
"OI, WHOEVER IT IS THAT IS FUCKING IN THAT BED OF MINE, IT IS MEMORY FOAM—" a voice carries itself from outside the room, accompanied by bangs on the door, "HEAR THAT? MEMORY FOAM. AND IF IT HAS THE MEMORY OF Y'ALL FUCKING, I WILL SUE YOU."
"that sounds like..." kuroo starts and you finish, "oikawa, yep."
"we fucked in oikawa's bed?" he asks.
"yep." you answer.
"i thought you would have remembered his room since..." he trails off and you shrug, closing your eyes and relaxing despite the echoes of agony from outside. "i was too drunk and preoccupied to notice."
"so, we fucked in oikawa's room?"
"yep."
"nice."
"yep."
"OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR, I SWEAR TO GOD. IT'S FUCKING MEMORY FOAM— NO, I WON'T CALM DOWN, IWA-CHAN! THIS IS PROPOSTEROUS—!"
a.n: NOT PROOFREAD. NERD!KUROO IS BACK ON POPULAR DEMAND. this is the first fic i have written in ONE sitting (don't ask how long it took. (it took like 5 hours and i feel feverish after finishing this shit.)) i know i won't make it long but my hand slipped and oopsie daisy :')
old m.list | new m.list
— a haikyuu fanfic // you strike a deal with the class nerd.
synopsis: you decided to strike a deal with that nerd in your class, kuroo tetsurou. pairing: afab mean girl!reader x nerd!kuroo [uni AU]
wc: 6.1k (i honestly thought it was longer)cw: NOT PROOFREAD. mean girl x nerd dynamics. switch!kuroo. feral kuroo. he's a YEARNERRRR with ZERO sexual knowledge. crackfic if you squint. they're both sorta dumb. nsfw includes: c*nnilingus, "teaching s*x", p in v, raw, overst*mulation, sq*irting, marathon s*x, switch kuroo, dom-ish hypers*xual reader, multiple org*sms, f*ngering, semi-public mast*rbation. let me know if i missed any :p
part 2!!
old m.list | new m.list
☆ assignment 01.
when kuroo tetsurou raised his head up, his cheeks were flushed, hair spiky with sweat beading on his temple, and chin and full lips dripping with your sex. the bottom rim of his glasses were coated in your slick. he heaved, chest raising up and down as he looked at you with anticipation burning through his chest, "w-was that good...?"
you let the question hang in the air for a minute. his dorm room — in which you're both currently holed up — was small. the white of the walls was bland, the fan rotated with a soft creak, and the light on the ceiling flickered sometimes. his bed was small, too small to fit the two of you together. you weren't sure why you were even here. oh, wait. right. to repay him for doing your assignments.
━━━☆⭒
kuroo had approached you, all stuttering and tomato-red two days ago. you were chewing gum, scrolling on your phone in the halls, waiting for him. when you had spotted him, your eyes had assessed his face with a sly grin, "what is it, nerd?"
"i-" he swallowed, pushing the assignment towards you. although he towered over you, 6'2 of a man drowning in oversized sweaters, his demeanor shrunk him down till you felt like you could all but step on him and leave him for dead. his hair was always a mess of bed head, untamed spikes spread sporadically over the expanse of his head. one of his eyes was obscured by his bangs. tall, well-built, angular face. he could have been hot if he wanted you, you had presumed.
he had averted his gaze from you, pushing the assignment towards you again, "here's your... your assignment. but... uh, i wanted to ask you something."
"shoot." your manicured fingers had brushed against his as you took ahold of the handwritten, binded folder. he had shuddered at your faint touch. you had teased him, "ya okay, nerd?"
"i..." he had lifted his gaze up to your face and swallowed again. "in exchange for the assignment..." his gaze had dropped to the ground again, his voice a mere whisper. "are you actually gonna... like- come to my dorm tonight?"
"yeah," you had shrugged, your gloss glimmered lips stretching into a grin again. "you did my assignment right?" he had nodded, far far too quick. you had booped his nose with your index, "okay, see ya then."
━━━☆⭒
now, here you were, in his bed. his narrow, hazel eyes raked over you. he held his bottom lips between his teeth, awaiting your response. you rolled your eyes at the man, sighing as you pulled your body up from the small bed of his dorm room. "well, i didn't cum."
the expression kuroo gives you was a cross somewhere between complete devastation and absolute ruination. his brows furrowed and he fumbled to push his glasses up, "i- you didn't cum...?"
"nah." you shrugged, "good try, though." you were already attempting to sit up, fixing your denim skirt to fit over the gentle slope of your ass and cover your apex. your chest jiggled with those lewd actions. kuroo felt his mouth grow drier, not even registering as you yammered on. "most guys don't offer to eat a girl out. and y'know, it wasn't bad for a virgin."
kuroo was still on his knees. he stared down at you. he tried to clean off his face with the back of his hand, his erratic gaze looking at your disapproving expression, "l-let me try again. i can- i'll make you cum."
you cocked up an eyebrow, your eyes tracing from his flushed, determined face down to the clear tent in his sweats. there was a patch of wetness right where his cockhead weeped out beads of pre. subconsciously, you swallowed. he was big. you didn't have to take off his sweats to realize that. too bad the fucking nerd didn't know how to use it. you looked back at his face and shrugged, "nah. it's fine. i gotta get going anyways."
as you stood up, kuroo did too. he followed after you to his door, "b-but i can try again."
you turned around on your heels, crossing your hands over your fitted shirt. your chest held snugly against the fabric, with your enticing nipples tempting him. kuroo swallowed, towering over you and yet trembling with fear, "give me another chance, please?"
you blinked up at him, your glimmery lips stretching into a smirk, "do my next assignment, and you'd get another chance, hm?"
"o-okay." his words shook, eyes hardening with resolve. "b-but i'll get you to cum next time."
you grinned, "whatever ya say, nerd."
and with that, you were out. his door shut behind you with a sharp sound. your breath shuddered as soon as you were out of his line-of-sight. you pressed your thighs together, felt as your soapy essence stuck to your inner thighs. sure, kuroo didn't make you cum but you were sure that if you let him, he would have.
sneaking down to the empty fire exit staircase of his apartment complex, you looked around for a cctv. finding none, your fingers ghosted over your own wettened cunt. closing your eyes, your breath shuddered as you slipped in one finger within yourself, then another. you were so wet, god.
you increased your pace, curling your digits inside your cunt to hit that gooey spot. you bucked forward, mouth falling agape and labored breath echoing in the empty staircase. you clenched eyes shut, thinking back to the flushed image of him — kuroo.
his stupid specs, the cherry red blossom of his cheeks, his pink lips dripping with your sheen, his carnal need to please you. you curled your digits faster, eyes rolling to the back of your skull as images of him flooded your brain. the labor of his breath, the desperation of his syllables, the way his hair felt in your grasp as he licked your cunt with such soft stripes.
"fu-fuuck. k-kuroo." you mewled, arching your back off of the wall and keening into your own experienced palm. your orgasm came crashing with trembling thighs and ever-more-trembling breath. you slumped down the wall and sat on one of the many steps of the stranded staircase. as your breath evened, you opened your eyes. your slippery essence stuck to your two fingers, you looked at your fingers and then around you. what the fuck did you just do?! fuck in an emergency exit while thinking of that nerd?!
well, whatever. it's not like he knew. it's not like anyone knew you just came to the thought of kuroo tetsurou. he was just one of the many nerds on campus that was thirsting after you. that's all. you picked yourself up on your jelly-like limbs and practically dashed down the staircase. you should probably forget this incident for yourself.
━━━☆⭒
☆ assignment 02.
but forgetting didn't come by easily.
kuroo gave you the next assignment the very next day, stopping you in the hallways to hand over the bound text, even with your friends surrounding you. you ushered him to a side, glancing back at your friends to give them a strained smile as he hurried him away.
you cocked up an eyebrow, hissing at him once you were out of your friends' earshot. "kuroo, what the fuck?"
"assignment." he seemed unwinded, already feverish and burning red from the excitement of what came next according to your deal. you narrowed your eyes as you shifted between his face and the stack of papers he held in his palms, "this assignment is due next thursday. why are you giving it to me right now?"
"i-" his eyes darted from behind his metal rimmed glasses, he looked around the hallways before whispering, "you'd come over tonight, right?"
"i-" you bit down your lips. you really shouldn't. especially not after that little stunt you pulled in the staircase of his apartment complex. you swallowed, shrugging defiantly. "i'm busy today. going for karaoke with my girls."
"but..." he looked like a kicked puppy, like someone who had been rid of every thing good and holy. "but we had a deal."
"yeah, that we can do stuff in exchange for my assignments." you nodded, "however, this assignment is due next week. so, really there's no need for me to come over today." you hummed, already preparing to turn on your heels and go back to your group, "see ya later."
kuroo's hand circled your wrist, tugging it to stop your way. immediately, your eyes widened. why was this fucking nerd holding your hand out in front of everybody?!
you turned around, quickly tugging your hands away from him, "what."
"i can't wait that long." he heaved, his erratic gaze fixed against yours. there was something more than just lust swirling about in his hazel irises. determination. he pleaded with you, his body bending forwards to meet your face. "i gotta see you. please. tonight."
the intensity of his words turned your sinews into mush. you blinked at him, helpless. you had had your fair share of idiots falling head-over-heels and being obsessed with you, but none like this. never like this. nobody had ever wanted you as carnally as kuroo tetsurou had.
you turned around again, huffing with blatant attitude, "fine. i'll come over after karaoke." glancing back at him, you narrowed your eyes with a hiss, "this better be worth my fucking time."
"y-yes." you heard him breathe out a sigh of relief, something that was accompanied with a wide, wiiiide grin. your girls were so gonna flame you for this interaction. "okay. see you."
you walked away before you could regret your decision. when you met back up with your girls, they raised a brow at you, "what was up with him?"
you laughed it off, "you know how nerds are. give them one little sliver of attention and they go a bit crazy."
however, it was hard to tell who was going crazy. kuroo or you.
later, that night.
as soon as you were inside his small, suffocating dorm, he pushed you to his bed. his hands were clammy, coated with a layer of sweat. you looked at him, thoroughly amused as he pawed up your skirt to bunch above your pelvis.
"whoa, what's with the hurry?" you laughed, almost flattered at his animalistic desire. kuroo met your eyes and grinned, something feverish and proud. "i did research."
you tilted your head to a side, "on... what?"
"on cunnilingus."
you winced at his words. "jeez, don't call it by its official name."
"is it... not cunnilingus?"
"it is. just—" you sighed, "nevermind, kuroo."
"okay!" kuroo tugged at your panties to pull them down your smooth legs. it was pocketed into his sweats. he looked at your glistening core and licked his lips in anticipation. "i read about what makes a woman feel good, and how to engage the g-spot. oh, and how to find the clitoris!" he nodded, proud. "i even watched a few videos."
"you did research...?" you blinked at him, mouth agape at the sheer smugness in his face. then, a loud laugh broke out of you, "wow, you're such a nerd."
kuroo blinked, "i am?"
"okay, then." you smiled, laying yourself down on his bed comfortably. you closed your eyes, bringing your breath to a steady crawl. "how about you show me whatcha learnt, ye—AHH?" you yelped as he wrapped his arms around your plush thighs and pulled you towards himself. the lower half of your body dangled off of his tiny bed, resting on his (suprisingly sturdy) shoulders.
"okay..." his warm breath fanned over your cunt. "i read that i- i gotta star slow..." your felt his breath hitch as he brought his lips closer to your apex. he exhaled, fanning the hot breath over your trembling nub. "tell me if i hurt you or-or if i do something that—"
"oh my god," you wove your manicured fingers into his hair and pushed his face into your cunt. he groaned against you, the sound reverberating through your pliant cunt and into the column of your spine. "mmmph—!"
you hissed, "get on with it now."
kuroo tetsurou didn't need to be told twice. his arms (surprisingly beefy) tightened against your thighs, pulling your body against his face tighter and tighter. he started with a kitten lick, starting from your fluttering hole as his nose nudged on the throbbing nub and then to your clit. he repeated the action for a little bit, until he felt your grasp on his hair tighten in desperation. then, he latched his lips around your clit and sucked. hollowing out his cheeks, his eyes tried to look for your reaction. your back arched off, eyes clenching shut as your thighs tightened impossibly around his face. suctioning your clit, he used the tip of his tongue to swirl about patterns on the hood of your clit.
"s-shit, kuroo!" you moaned, so sweet and achy as he repeated the action to it's nth degree. your body keened into his warm mouth as he stroked you with his tongue, playing with your body with such skill that it trembled you to your core. his fingernails dug into your thighs, his mouth drinking your nectar as if he was ravished. you felt your stomach tighter, felt an abyss grow within your humanly body. your muscles tightened, "shitshitshit- okay."
biting down on your lips, you all but drew blood in an effort to not let him know that he was undoing you, that he was about to make you cum.
the abyss grew deeper and deeper, the hallowing feeling traversed through your body and lodged itself somewhere deep in your belly. your entire pussy was hot — molten lava. a jerk ran from your tailbone to your nape as you felt your thighs tremble in surrender and wrap around kuroo's face. your jaw hung open, eyes clenching shut in ecstasy, "shit—hnghhh! ku-kuroo!"
you came, sinking your teeth into your lips to conceal your lewd noises. your body shook, each muscle trembling with the overflow of your orgasm. kuroo tetsurou drank down your nectar like it was all there was to life. slowly, you removed your phantom-like grip off of his face. kuroo parted from your cunt with a deep exhale.
he was a mess of spit and your essence. his lips were swollen and painted red. when he looked at you, a nauseating pool of shame swiveled about in your chest. you couldn't believe that that virgin made you cum! god, this was embarassing!
you wondered what he's say next. would he be smug? would he walk about uni campus telling everyone that he had made you cum? nauseating.
but instead of any of the aforementioned options, kuroo tilted his head to the side and stuttered, "d-did you cum?"
wait. he didn't even know you came?!
you furrowed your brows, "do... do you think i came?"
kuroo licked his lips, standing taller on his knees as he regarded you, "i- i didn't exactly read about... female orgasms... so..." his voice fainted, eyes flickering downwards to his own clothed cock. "did you?"
gah! there was your opportunity to deny!
"sorry, no." you sat up, pursing your lips together in a queasy smile, "good job, though. i was almost there. almost."
kuroo looked heartbroken yet again. your cum pooled at the edge of his sharp jaw and fell down in obscene strings, and yet, he didn't even know that was his cum on his skin. he wiped it off with the back of his hand, mumbling to the floor, "i really thought i got you this time." he lifted his gaze up to yours, "it looked intense."
"yeah..." you chewed on your cheek, coming up with yet another lie. "female orgasms are a lot different, y'know? takes years to- um... master. yes, master."
"but you... you moaned out my name." he said it so innocently that you felt a bitter twang waving him off, "i just didn't wanna make you feel bad."
"so, you were faking your moans...?"
that was probably the least fake you had been with a guy, but you nodded nonetheless. you couldn't have his ego climbing high up. you couldn't have him discover the truth.
he sighed, defeated, "i'd read up more next time around. maybe i fucked up."
"uh-huh. don't think too much about it." you nodded solemnly, "see ya later."
and as you stood up, you felt it harder to put forward one step in front of the other. your legs were numb, shaky and utterly useless. you made it out of his dorm without shaking and collapsed as soon as you boarded the lift. god. that stupid fucking nerd! what was he doing to you?
━━━☆⭒
☆ assignment 03.
you had foolishly believed that you could ignore kuroo tetsurou for atleast two weeks now. the next assignment was due towards the end of the month, so, you probably didn't need to see him any time soon. avoiding him on campus was easy enough. your circle didn't mesh with his. you never really went to any classes. yes, kuroo tetsurou could be avoided. easily.
"hey!" kuroo waved to you as you sat with your friends in the cafeteria three days later. you looked at him, blinked and decided it was best to ignore him. however, blissfully ignorant to your ignorance, he kept waving and waving and waving!
"girl." one of your friends spoke up, throwing kuroo a nasty side-eye. "maybe go talk to him. he's icking me out with this constant waving."
you scratched the back of your neck, sheepish, "yeah, maybe he wants to talk about uh... an assignment. be right back."
pulling him out of the cafeteria and in a secluded corner of a hallway, you stood in front of him with your arms crossed, "what. can you stop pestering me?"
he pressed his lips together, tightening his grip on the strap of his bag. "i finished your assignment."
"kuroo." you sighed, rubbing your temple. "i get that you wanna fuck me but the next assignment is due at the end of the fucking month. you can't keep pulling this shit every other day."
"i know." he nodded, pushing his metal-rimmed glasses up his nose, "i actually thought maybe i should do your statistic assignment too."
"stat? the one that is due this friday?" you mumbled and he nodded in agreement. you were back to crossing your arms against your chest, looking up at him with confusion etched into your features. "i thought you were only gonna do inorganic chem for me."
"i was, but then..." he trailed off, "i can do as many assignments as you want. as many subjects. jus'... just keep the deal up."
your first instinct was to fucking life. seriously? was he that desperate to see you? you huffed, "you know i have other people to do other subjects."
"you do?" and for the first time, you felt kuroo tetsurou to be 6'2. he towered over you, his narrow eyes piercing your skin with the way he was looking at you. he took a step forward, then another, till you felt like you were drowning under his shadow. your breath faltered, eyes darting about in the abandoned hallway. "k-kuroo?"
his words were sharp. "am i not good enough?"
"w-what?"
he licked his lips, bending down slightly to meet your eyes, "is it cause i can't get you to cum?"
"no." your breath trembled as you exhaled, "nothing like that—"
he stepped forward again, "i'll do it properly this time 'round. i won't stop till I have you cumming." swallowing, there was this haste in his voice, this sense of urgency that clawed at your chest. his voice dropped down to a whisper, "please. please?"
your mouth felt awfully dry, as if each taste bud had been exchanged for a morsel of sand. you tightened your grip against your own body, holding yourself lest you unraveled. "you don't need to worry so much about that—"
he was so close to you already, and yet he was stepping closer. you swallowed, taking a step back. his lips dropped into a frown, "i can do it. really. i won't disappoint you. please."
with no way out, you exhaled shakily. your eyes met his, "f-fine. i'll come over tonight."
"really?" he smiled, his full lips stretching into a grin. "i promise it'll be good—"
"but if you can't get me to cum today, we aren't doing this again." you snapped, "i have a lot more guys who actually know what they're doing."
that was a lie. there was no one who could compete with kuroo, who could make you feel even half the things he could. but you weren't gonna confess that to the nerd! what if he went out and told others that?! he could potentially tank your entire reputation.
"o-okay." his smile faltered, broad fingers coming to paw at the rim of his glasses again. he fidgeted on his spot, "but if I do... make you cum?"
"then—" you inhaled sharply, "then the deal can continue. but you gotta do all my subjects."
"okay." he nodded, "I'll see you tonight?"
"y-yeah." you chased your gaze away from his face and to your nails, "see ya later, nerd."
later, that night.
you were teetering on the edge of your third orgasm, already teary-eyed and whiney. your cunt was so sensitive, your bottom lip was red and raw from the way you kept biting it, your muscles shook of exhaustion. you hadn't let your mask slip yet, you hadn't moaned out his name and confessed that you were cumming.
you assumed kuroo would give up somewhere along the line. you assumed a man — no matter if a persistent man like him — would eventually give up. rejection wasn't easy, after all. but you were wrong. boyyy, you were wrong.
kuroo pushed the dildo inside slowly, testing your gummy walls with his slow, burning pace. his lips latched onto your sticky, dripping clit and as he pushed the toy into your hole.
your back arched, eyes screwing shut and brain turning into mush as the tip of the silicone wand grazed your g-spot. kuroo's eyes tested you as if you were his personal lab experiment, waiting for your demeanor to reveal to him what your mouth couldn't.
"w-why the fuck... fuck— did you get this— hah, this toy?!" your words shook, half of them cracked and the others high-pitched. kuroo licked the hood of your swollen clit, making out with it so slow and sloppy. he mumbled against you, "i heard some girls need— mmph—! 're so sweet—! to cum."
"y-you fucking idiot!" your chest rose and fell rapidly, the entire upper half of your body blossoming red. "i- it doesn't— hah... ohmygod! do anything for me!"
he stilled against your clit even though his wrist didnt, "you still didn't cum?"
"nuh-uh!" you grimaced as he fastened the toy in and out of you, you bit down your lip again. your hands grasped his sheets, tugging at them with such sheer force that they were to rip. kuroo groaned against your quivering sex, "then, i just gotta keep goin', yeah?"
and that's what he did. kuroo kept going, waiting for you to confess that you were breaking. you didn't.
even as tears leaked down the planes of your cheek, taking down your mascara with it or even as your bottom lip swole as an aftermath of your shame, you didn't say the words, "im cumming."
it was at the 45 mins mark that kuroo finally parted from your lips. three orgasms later. you were far too dazed to even realize when he had parted from your pretty pussy, when his lips had removed themselves from your sensitive, overused cunt. he pulled the toy out of your heat, mesmerized at the your cunt had painted white, creamy rings around the hot pink dildo. you breathed hard, chest rising and falling in sick desperation as you tried to retain your sanity.
though your eyes were clenched shut, you felt kuroo's hollow words hang in the air. "i couldn't get you cum today either."
slowly, you pried your eyes open. the fluorescent white of his room stung your eyes, your bottom lip felt numb and bleeding, and your thighs shook even after he had long departed from your cunt. you blinked up at him, trying to play the part of an unbreakable vixen. "y-yeah, it's okay."
his looked undone as well, mouth red and swollen and wrecked. your slick dripped down the toy and onto his wrist. his hair was a mess, as always, but there was this appeal to it. he bit down his bottom lips, his eyes trained directly against yours. "i don't know what I'm doing wrong..."
you all but clenched your thighs shut at the sight of him. you still felt the phantom feeling of the toy stretching you open, still felt kuroo's breath against your overused pussy. you stole your gaze away from him and flopped onto the bed. looking at the ceiling was easier than looking at him. "n-nothing's wrong with ya. it's just hard making me hic—! cum."
kuroo scratched the back of his neck, dejected. "i guess today's the last day then."
you raised your upper body to look at him, "uh... i guess, yeah."
there hung a beat of silence between you two. kuroo tilted his head to the side, scrutinizing your current state, "you sure you didn't cum?"
"uh, yeah?" you tried not to sound as exhausted as you felt, "i'd know if i came or not, idiot."
"r-right." his sheepish, narrow gaze dropped to his own lap. his cock strained in his sweats with a dark patch of cum right where his tip was. he felt you rustle on his bed and lifted your head up to see you attempting to sit. "are you leaving already?"
you nodded, "uh, yeah. i'll go. thanks for doing my assignments."
kuroo leaned forward, pressing his warm palms to your thighs and pinning you to the bed. you blinked at him, "wh-what the fuck, nerd?"
"if... if today's the last day... then, can i—" he swallowed, sheepish and hesitant. "can I fuck you...? please?"
your eyes blew wide open at his words. you couldn't let him. you were so sensitive, you couldn't possibly take his dick right now. though kuroo had never undressed in front of you (not even take off his shirt), you didn't need an x-ray machine to see how big he was. his cock strained against his pants even on a normal day. that was part of the reason why you struck the deal anyways. you wanted to see the nerd's sexual prowess up close. but now? after eating you out for forty five minutes? you were sure he was gonna fuck you dumb, and you weren't sure how long you could conceal the truth and keep your little act up.
you tried to lighten the situation, laughing, "why? did you do research on how to fuck a girl right?"
"no." kuroo admitted, still staring at your face. "but I wanna try it. i mean..." he mumbled, "i mean if you want me to."
you were quick to shake your head, even quicker to attempt to flee his unyielding grasp on your thighs and attempt to stand up. in retaliation, kuroo just pressed his palms to your feverish skin even tighter. the fat of your thighs squeezed under his grip. he looked up at you, utterly ruined, "j-just once?"
and you should have said no, you should have shaken your head and told him that if he didn't get off of you, you'd tell everyone that he was a creep. instead... you felt yourself nod — slowly but surely. your voice came as a whisper, foreign even to your own self, "just once."
kuroo was quick to move to action. the broad palms on your thighs scaled up your clothed torso. he pressed your skin through the flimsy material of your crop top. squeezing your tits, he leaned in for a searing kiss. his lips against yours were awkward, inexperienced. he just mushed his pout against yours. you laughed against his lips, rolling your eyes to oblivion, "that is not how you kiss."
kuroo looked at you half-lidded, with his glistening lips parted open, "t-teach me."
you grabbed his jaw by your manicured hands, pulling him close to settle his body over yours. your lips slotted against his, and he opened them up in compliance. your tongue licked along the seam of his lips before diving in, rolling your tongue against his. he moaned into your mouth, eyes rolling back and heavy body pressing against yours.
"take- fuck. take off your pants." you panted in his mouth.
"oh-okay." kuroo fumbled over you, barely able to find his footing on the small bed, which already cried creaks of protest with each one of your lewd actions. his shirt came off first and your eyes widened as big as saucers to see the rippling muscles on his tanned skin. his nimble fingers work quick, pulling his sweats by the waistband to reveal his lengthy cock.
any semblance of sanity abandoned you at the sight of kuroo tetsurou. he was toned, everywhere from his sturdy, bulging biceps to the tantalizing v-line. his thighs were defined, with muscles rippling beneath the skin. a gasp of disbelief left you as you scanned him up and down, "you look... good?" you shook your head, "for a nerd, i mean."
"thanks." he smiled, surprisingly smug, "i play volleyball, so um, maybe it's that."
you licked your glossy lips, "maybe."
your eyes traveled from his hazel eyes to his weeping cock. god, it was pretty. all lengthy and girthy, with veins lining it like lightning. his tip was flushed, red and embarrassed as it weeped out wisps of clear pre. your trembling thighs parted, eyes regarding his with suffocating lust, "c'mere."
his body circled over yours, his palm grabbing his heavy cock to line your entrance. his chest stuttered, thighs flexing as the crown of his tip kissed your warm entrance. shuddering, he groaned, "i— 's so warm."
his hand shook, his length trembling with it as he attempted to sink inside your velvety warmth. your hand grabbed a hold of his length gingerly, you thumbed his achy mushroom tip. kuroo bit his lip as you slowly guided him in. your snug pussy swallowed him graciously, taking in inch after inch with surprising ease.
"haah— jus' like that." your jaw hung open, his cock penetrating you fuller. by the time he was sheathed inside you, you could feel his bulbous tip kiss your cervix. your arms came to circle his neck, your thighs came to circle his waist. he steadied his beefy arms on either side of your head and moved slowly. you raked your nails through his scalp, "just move slowly now."
kuroo took a steadying breath and reeled his pelvis back. you awaited the gentle thwaps! of his toned lower abs against the back of your thighs. instead, kuroo smacked his body into yours with all his force. your entire body jiggled, eyes blowing wide open as he fucked into you hard.
"k-kuroo—!?" you squealed, feeling him drive his cock into you with such fervor. his tip hit the bullseye with every stroke, his thick cock massaged your sensitive walls and your clit fluttered with each harsh slap of his skin against yours. your eyes rolled backwards, arms tightening against his neck, "k-kuroo... fuck, f-fuck—! slow down, slowdown."
he buried his face in your crook, the cool metal frame of his glass was cold against your overheated skin. you moaned loudly, squeezing your cunt snugly against his length as his canines punctured an indent on top of your pulse. tears welled up in your eyes, the stimulation was too much. way too much. everything was driving you insane. everything! from the fast drivels of his cock inside you, to the way he nibbed on your sensitive skin, to the way the tufts of his pubes tickled against your skin, or the way his hot skin smacked into your sensitive clit. unable to contain yourself, you scratched down his back, "ku-roo! fuck, fuck fuck— ngghh! hah, right there—!"
you were losing your sanity with each powerful pound into your pussy. the abyss in your stomach came back with vengeance — consuming everything from your lower stomach to the top of your spine. your entire skin tingled with the anticipation of an orgasm. you weren't sane anymore. you couldn't censor your thoughts anymore. holding onto him tighter, you screamed, "fu-fuuuck imgonnacum! i—" your chest tightened, eyes rolling to the back of your skull, "cummin', cummin', haaa—!?!"
he lifted his flushed face up from your neck, groaning at the sight of you. hot tears steamed down your face, taking down clumps of mascara with it. your kissbitten lips were swollen and red. blotches of red had broken over your entire face and neck. you looked like he had ruined you. wrecked you. "you're cumming—?!"
you nodded, uncaring for your pride or status. "f-fuck. yes, yes— ngghhh... yes. cumminnn~"
he grunted in disbelief, "y-you're gonna cum on my cock...?"
you nodded again, gaze bleary with a tear-stained face, "y-yes, on your cock—!" you couldn't even manage another word before a violent orgasm crashed into you. your entire body shook, vision going white and body going slack. a stream of squirt poured out of your trembling pussy, soaking kuroo's thighs and abs. he kept fucking into you, even as you clawed and cried for him to stop.
"f-fuck, fuck, fuck." each word sounded more desperate than the last, his thrusts grew more erratic as he snapped his pelvis up to yours. "shit— im gonna cum?!"
he barely pulled out in time, with his cock spurting out a thick load of cum on your soaked thigh. his fluids mixed with your own, tainting your skin with him. he looked at you sprawled on his bed. your eyes were clenched shut, face red and chest heaving. your body seemed to still be weathering the aftershocks of your orgasm. the juncture of your thighs was a mess — creamy rings of sex, with your squirt and his cum swirling into one huge mess that dripped down to his bedsheet.
kuroo sat on his knees, panting. you cracked open your eyes, opening your arms to beckon him to lie atop you. he followed, gingerly resting his big, broad body on top of yours. you felt his muscles press against your syrupy, soft skin.
kuroo buried his head into your neck again and closed his eyes, his tongue came out to lick a stripe of your perspiration. he groaned, "y-you're so sweet."
a hollow laugh left you by, "thanks."
his bed was too small for you to lie comfortably next to each other. so, kuroo manhandled you, slipping on his back so you could rest on top of him. his chest rose and fell with yours, and you felt your eyes droop down with exhaustion.
kuroo pushed your sweaty locks out of your face and smiled, "uh... you came right?"
you inhaled, shakily, readying yourself for the humiliation that was to come next. you couldn't deny it now, not after how you had screamed his name and marked his back. "yeah, i did."
kuroo smiled wider, "w-was it good?"
"yeah." you met his eyes, hardening your gaze, "but if you tell anyone about this, I'll fucking kill you."
"that... that i made you cum?" his brows furrowed. you nodded, "yeah. that. i have a reputation to maintain. can't be associated with..." you stalled your words and he chimed in. "a nerd?"
you rested your cheek against his chest, curling into his warmth. under you, he rose and fell softly. you mumbled into his skin, "something like that."
"i get it." kuroo played with your strands and you find yourself keening into his soft actions. "i won't say a word. i won't tell anyone that i probably made you cum like four times today."
your head shot up, lips parting and eyes widening. a nervous laughter shot out of you. "w-what?"
kuroo gave you a lazy smile, still playing with your loose hair, "did you think I'd do my research and leave out female orgasms? i knew you came. i mean it was obvious from the second time onwards."
he knew you were lying all this time?!
you blinked and he admitted, "i just wanted to hear you admit it." you blinked at him again and he grinned, "don't worry, i won't tell anyone. it's a secret between us."
"r-right...?"
"but this means that we can keep doing this, right?"
kuroo's broad palm rubbed up and down your back, trailing to your ass where he cupped and massaged it. you bit down your smudged lip, "i guess so."
"so, another round?"
a.n: NOT PROOFREAD. BACK INTO WRITING WITH MY BABY KUROO! this is my first time writing him and this may or may not have been influenced by that one post that said that "kuroo is not a playboy. he's the sweetest boy." sooo yeah. hope you enjoy the nasties mwuah mwuah.
old m.list | new m.list
part 2!!
your roommate has been running her mouth to her now ex-boyfriend that you were a nerdy little virgin, and after they broke up you let kuroo find out if she's telling the truth.
starring. kuroo tetsuro x fem!reader
genre: fluff, romance, smut, timeskip!kuroo
wc: 9.7k
warning: 18+ mdni., smut. nsfw. unprotected sex. cunnilingus. some themes of exhibitionism (?). cheating. mentions foursome. detailed smut. tit play. oral (f and m!receiving). face sitting. creampie. p in v. pwp (?). kuroo and reader matches each others freaks.
You live in a two-bedroom apartment tucked away in a quieter ward of Tokyo—not too far from the city’s rhythm, but just enough to give you a breather. It's modern, clean, and honestly more space than you need. You could’ve gone solo. The rent was well within your budget, a little indulgent even, but something about sharing the space felt… right. Whether it was a leftover instinct from dorm life or just the quiet knowledge that silence in too many rooms can get heavy over time—you weren’t entirely sure.
Eventually, through a casual coffee catch-up with an old college colleague, you were introduced to someone else who happened to be in the same position: apartment hunting, strapped for time, and looking for something stable. The arrangement was convenient. She seemed easygoing enough, worked long hours like you did, and respected shared space. No red flags, no awkward tension. You didn’t overthink it.
And for a while, everything just... worked. You had your routines—brushing past each other in the kitchen during rushed mornings, the occasional shared takeout dinner in front of the TV, the soft hum of separate lives running parallel. You didn’t hang out much, but you coexisted comfortably. That was enough.
What you hadn’t expected, though, was the shift that happened a few months in. The subtle kind. The kind you wouldn’t notice at first—until a stranger’s shoes started appearing by the door on the weekends, or the low murmur of laughter drifted from her bedroom late at night.
You didn’t care.
She could do whatever she wanted, and it wasn’t your business. When she first told you she was seeing someone—some guy named Kuroo, apparently—you offered nothing more than a nod. They’d been together for a few months, she said. “He might start staying over more. Was that okay?” You told her it was. You didn’t mind. Not really.
Even the nights when the walls failed to hold their secrets didn’t bother you. You’d hear it, sometimes. Soft giggles turning breathy. The rhythmic creak of her bedframe against the wall. The occasional slip of a moan that crawled down the hallway. But it was always distant. Easy enough to ignore. You’d just turn up the volume on your music or pretend your pillow muted everything. It didn’t affect you.
You rarely crossed paths with him.
Work kept you out late, and on most nights, you slipped into the apartment quietly, careful not to wake anyone even when you knew they were still awake. Sometimes you’d see him in passing—a flash of dark hair as he leaned over the sink, his hoodie thrown carelessly over one shoulder. His voice would drift from the other room, low and teasing. But he never really looked at you. Never acknowledged you. And that was fine. You had no interest in making small talk with your roommate’s boyfriend.
He must have thought she lived alone.
And maybe she wanted it that way.
Still, there was something oddly satisfying about the way he lingered in the living room sometimes, eyes drifting over the shelves that lined the far wall. The ones filled with manga spines, collector’s editions, limited-release box sets. Hand-built Lego models positioned with the care of a gallery. You’d catch the subtle pause in his voice when he spoke near them, the shift in his tone from casual to curious.
“This stuff’s cool,” he said once, running a hand along the edge of a display. “Didn’t know you were into Legos.”
You hadn’t been close enough to see her face, but you could hear the disdain wrapped around her reply.
“God, no,” she laughed, that practiced little snort she used when she wanted to sound above something. “That’s my roommate’s. She’s like, a total nerd. Obsessed with comics and kids’ toys and whatever. I let her keep it out here. It’s, like, her thing.”
You stood just out of sight in the hallway, expression unreadable, your bag still slung over your shoulder.
You didn’t say a word. Just turned toward your room, the door clicking shut behind you as her laughter faded into silence.
Let her laugh. Let her act like it was something to be embarrassed about.
Because the way his voice had caught before she answered? You didn’t miss that.
It was subtle—the kind of pause most people wouldn’t think twice about. But you weren’t most people. You caught that split-second hitch in his voice. Like he was expecting someone else to respond. Like he had a different name on his tongue before hers came out. And once you noticed that—everything else started to unravel.
After that, your roommate’s colors started bleeding through her carefully layered persona. The kind of girl you swore you left behind in high school. Pretty, mean, passive-aggressive. The type who needed to feel above someone just to breathe easy.
She liked to act casual, like it was all girl talk. Like she wasn’t trying to sink her claws into your insecurities.
“Kuroo was so good last night,” she would say, eyes glinting as she leaned against the counter, always loud enough for you to hear. “I swear, he knows my body better than I do. He had me pinned—biting, moaning, choking. I couldn’t stop shaking.”
She’d glance at you as she said it. Smirking. Cruel.
“I mean... not that you'd know what that’s like,” she added with a fake laugh, stirring her tea like she hadn’t just thrown acid at your self-worth. “He doesn’t go for girls like you.”
You smiled. Calm. Unbothered.
“You’re right,” you said sweetly. “And I’m not interested. That’s fine.”
But inside? You were laughing.
Because she had no idea.
You’d lived that wild, messy, electric kind of life she only pretended to understand. Back in college, you’d had your fair share of boyfriends—and girlfriends. Pretty ones, sweet ones, dangerous ones. The kind who got on their knees just to worship your thighs. Who sucked on your tits like they’d die without the taste. You’d been kissed against dorm walls, fucked in music rooms, devoured in the backseat of a car while your heels dug into fogged-up windows. You’d had people beg to taste you—tongue-deep until your legs shook, until your moans echoed down quiet hallways.
You’d been wild. Reckless. Insatiable. You’d even tried a threesome with a married couple once—just to see if you could make them both fall apart. You did. Twice.
But then you graduated. Got a job. Realigned your priorities. You weren’t that girl anymore—not all the time.
You hung up the stilettos and the lipstick-stained wine glasses. You traded morning-after texts for early meetings. Nights spent tangled in sheets became nights at your desk, fingers flying across a keyboard instead of someone else’s skin.
You retired from the chaos and focused on your career.
But that girl—the one she thought you couldn’t possibly be?
She still lived within you, and she was just waiting to come out and play.
You’d almost forgotten her until that morning. The one where she sat at the kitchen island with bed hair and a proud smile, sipping her coffee like it was just another Tuesday. She didn’t just talk about her night with Kuroo—she dissected it, glorified it, sprinkled it over your morning like sugar in your tea. Not that you asked, but she offered every lurid detail anyway, like you were the best friend she never had and the enemy she always needed. He was so big. He made her gag. She choked a little—laughed as if the memory alone still lingered at the back of her throat.
You didn’t flinch. Not then.
But it didn’t stop. It became a pattern. Whenever Kuroo stayed the night—his shoes by the door, his laugh echoing in the kitchen—she’d find a way to mention it. How her throat was sore. How she could still feel him. How she couldn’t walk straight. All of it tossed out with that lazy grin and self-satisfied tone. At first you told yourself it was just her way—crude, bold, a little drunk on the attention. But something in her voice changed. Something smug. Pointed.
And then came the men who weren’t Kuroo.
You saw one first by accident. You’d woken early for work and padded down the hallway, half-asleep and still rubbing your eyes, only to nearly crash into him outside the bathroom. He was tall, wearing nothing but boxers and looking for a jacket. He blinked at you like you were the one in the wrong hallway. He muttered a soft “morning,” then disappeared into her room.
You didn’t say a word.
But the worst—no, the most unforgettable—happened one humid night when sleep just wouldn’t come. You'd tossed in bed until frustration took over, deciding a warm glass of milk might help settle you down. The hallway was dark, the tiles cool beneath your feet. But the second you turned the corner toward the kitchen, your breath caught.
Her bedroom door was wide open.
You froze.
The sounds were unmistakable—flesh on flesh, low groans, the wet thud of skin colliding with skin. Heavy breathing, slurred moans, and the distinct slap of motion too fast to be just hands. The room reeked of alcohol and sweat. And you saw it all—every obscene detail lit by the dim glow of her desk lamp.
One man was behind her, rhythm sharp and relentless, his hands gripping her waist as she braced herself on shaking arms. Another lay beneath her, her knees braced on either side of him while he thrusted up into her from below, mouth latched to her breasts, tongue circling one nipple then the other like he couldn’t decide which to devour first. And a third—God—the third stood in front of her, hips pumping as she sucked him down, her mouth stretched wide around him, spit slicking her chin and dripping to her collarbone.
You watched as her whole body trembled under the force of it—three men, three directions, all taking turns. Her throat constricted as she took him deeper. Her back arched as the one underneath groaned into her chest. The man behind her pulled her hips back, harder, rougher. She whimpered. Moaned. Her nails scraped the sheets. And when the one in front finally shuddered and came, you saw the spill of it leak past her lips, trailing white down her chin as she let out a breathless laugh—uncaring, uninhibited, completely lost in pleasure.
None of them noticed you.
Not even when you stepped back and nearly knocked over the dish rack in your daze.
You almost laughed.
So much for good sex.
So much for Kuroo not going for girls like you.
You didn’t sleep that night.
The next morning, she confronted you in the hallway, freshly showered and still damp, eyes smug with victory. “You saw, didn’t you?”
You didn’t deny it. Just nodded once, softly.
And she beamed—fucking beamed. “I can take three cocks at once,” she said proudly. “Feels good, you know? Having every hole filled at the same time. It’s like—ecstasy. And they even took turns, babe. I lost count of how many times they came. My holes have been filled thrice as much.”
You stared at her, mouth dry, heartbeat unsteady. Her words were half confession, half performance.
And then, as if it were an afterthought, she added, “I wanted you to see it.”
Your brows furrowed. “What?”
“I left the door open on purpose. Thought it might loosen you up. But I figured you wouldn’t join anyway. Those guys probably aren’t into your type.”
You didn’t rise to it. Not yet. “How about Kuroo?”
That made her pause for a second. Just a flicker.
She shrugged. “The dick’s good. But he’s getting clingy. Talking about labels and exclusivity and all that serious shit. I don’t like that.”
Your stomach sank. “You told me it was serious.”
“It wasn’t. Until he thought it was.”
And just like that, she turned away, humming to herself as she made her coffee like she hadn’t just shattered something in the room. Something delicate. Something quiet and private and stupidly hopeful that you didn’t even realize you’d been holding on to.
You never judged her. God knows college has been a blur for you too. You’d partied, drank too much, made your own share of mistakes. But still—something about seeing her like that, twisted and shaking and laughing with a mouthful of someone else, had done something to you.
Maybe it was the betrayal. Maybe it was the performance. Maybe it was that deep, unspoken part of you that had started to care about Kuroo even if you didn’t want to admit it.
But what you never forgot—what stayed carved in your mind, looping over and over like a cruel joke—was the smirk she wore as she wiped cum off her chin and looked toward the door.
She knew.
And you’d never seen her look more pleased.
It was one of those rare, treasured off days—the kind where time stretched and slowed, unbothered by alarms or obligations. You padded out of your room with a fresh mug of coffee and a sealed box in hand: the latest Lego Architecture set you’d been dying to build. The living room was quiet, lit by soft daylight filtering through the sheer curtains, and for once, blissfully yours. Or so you thought.
You settled cross-legged on the rug, carefully opening the box and sorting the pieces into neat color-coded piles across the coffee table. The soft clink of plastic against plastic was meditative, your fingers already moving by muscle memory as you started on the foundation.
Then, the door creaked open.
You glanced up, expecting it to be your roommate stumbling in from a late-morning hangover—or another boy doing the walk of shame. But instead, it was him.
Kuroo Tetsuro.
Hair tousled in every direction, eyes half-lidded with sleep, and wearing nothing but a loose shirt and sweatpants slung far too low on his hips. He blinked at you like you were a hallucination.
“…Shit,” he muttered under his breath before stiffening like he’d been caught stealing.
You raised an eyebrow.
There was a beat of stunned silence before he scrubbed a hand down his face and cleared his throat. “You’re—wait, you're the roommate?” He pointed at you like he couldn’t quite believe it. “You’re her roommate?”
You looked back down at the half-built Lego set and calmly clicked a few pieces together. “Mmm. That’s what it says on the lease.”
Kuroo stared at you, then at the Lego box, then back at you. “Is that—oh my god, is that the Fallingwater set?” His voice pitched up slightly, boyish excitement suddenly blooming on his face.
You blinked, slightly surprised at the sudden shift. “Yeah. Limited edition, too.”
His eyes lit up in a way you hadn’t expected from someone who, until now, had only existed in your mind as a tangled mess of sex sounds and sneaky exits.
“I’ve wanted to build that one for months,” he said, stepping closer without even realizing it. “Frank Lloyd Wright is—God. His work is insane. That cantilever design? Pure genius.”
You stared at him for a second, momentarily caught off guard. “You’re into architecture?”
“I’m into Legos,” he corrected with a grin, dropping down to sit a few feet away from you on the floor. “Architecture’s just the gateway drug.”
The way he said it was so earnest, so casually nerdy, that you couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh. He didn’t seem to notice he was still inching closer, eyes darting across your sorting piles with the practiced gaze of someone who had done this a hundred times before. His fingers twitched like he wanted to reach for a piece, to help build.
“You’re not usually home,” he added after a second. “She always says you’re working.”
“I usually am,” you replied, not bothering to hide the slight edge in your tone. “Today’s the exception.”
Kuroo paused, then gave you a sheepish look. “Well, I feel kind of dumb. I’ve been talking to your Lego collection like it was hers.”
You glanced at him, amusement tugging at your lips. “So you do talk to the Lego sets.”
“Only the ones that deserve respect,” he shot back easily, gesturing toward your build. “That one? Deserves a round of applause.”
There was a pause—just long enough to realize how quiet the apartment was with only the two of you in it. Just long enough for the tension to crackle faintly in the air, unfamiliar but not unwelcome.
For the first time, you were seeing him as something more than your roommate’s cocky lay. He was still smug. Still smug and way too attractive for his own good—but there was a softness there too, the kind that clung to people who used their brains for more than ego. A surprising amount of dork nestled beneath the devil-may-care smirk. You didn’t know what to do with that just yet.
Still, you couldn’t resist the tease.
“You can help sort, if you wash your hands,” you said, tilting your head.
Kuroo gave you a mock gasp. “You think I’d touch a limited edition set with dirty hands? I’m offended.”
You laughed under your breath as he stood up and headed to the sink, and as the sound of running water filled the space, you glanced back down at the instructions in front of you.
It seemed like, for once, today might actually be interesting.
And maybe—just maybe—so was he.
Eventually, you and Kuroo became close, as he sometimes helped you with your builds if you were free and he happened to be in the apartment.
It was just an innocent hangout since you two shared an interest—nerding out over collectors' sets, comparing mini-figures, debating Marvel versus DC, and even spending quiet evenings building modular LEGO cities in comfortable silence. It was never anything more than shared company, quiet companionship, and a love for plastic bricks and fantasy worlds.
But apparently, that probably hit a nerve with your roommate.
Because a few days later, you came home from work and stepped into the middle of a storm brewing in the living room.
“You always hang out with her now,” your roommate spat, her arms folded tightly across her chest. “Why?”
You froze, one foot just inside the doorway, the other still outside. You blinked at the tension in the air—at the way Kuroo stood across from her, jaw tight, like he hadn’t expected this either.
“She’s cool,” Kuroo said simply, voice calm but edged in confusion. “We like the same stuff. That’s all it is.”
“That’s all it is,” your roommate echoed mockingly, rolling her eyes. “So what, you're into nerds now? You think you're gonna build a little LEGO love story with her?”
Kuroo frowned. “It’s not like that.”
She scoffed, arms flying up in the air. “Bullshit. You’re getting soft. And since we’re airing things out—guess what, Kuroo? I’ve been fucking other people the entire time. Not just one or two.”
You watched from the hallway as she stepped closer, lips curling into a smirk. Like this wasn’t a confession—it was a flex.
“Three guys,” she said, slowly, as if daring him to react. “At the same time. And I liked it.”
She said it proudly. Like there was no shame, no remorse, no thought to how it might hit him.
And it did hit him.
You saw it in the subtle shift of his stance, the way his shoulders pulled back and his jaw clenched. He didn’t yell. He didn’t crumble. But you saw the exact moment it clicked—that he wasn’t just some convenient hookup to her, but completely disposable.
“You’re serious?” he asked, slowly.
She shrugged, unapologetic. “Dead serious. And I don’t get why you’re acting like we were exclusive. I never promised you anything.”
He inhaled sharply through his nose, glancing away like he was trying to keep his temper level. “I just thought we respected each other. I thought you gave a shit. And I thought you and your roommate were friends. That’s why I even talked to her in the first place.”
The room fell uncomfortably silent after that. You felt a sting deep in your chest—for him.
You knew Kuroo wasn’t the type to get attached easily. But he had cared. He wouldn’t have lingered around your coffee table for hours helping you alphabetize your manga, or asked you what your dream Star Wars set was, if he was just killing time between fucks.
And now, he looked like he’d just had the wind knocked out of him.
You didn’t want him to see your face, the way your brows pulled together or how your heart ached with sympathy for him. So, quietly, you backed away from the hallway and slipped into your bedroom, shutting the door behind you before the fight could escalate further.
You didn’t want to hear any more of it—not the insults, not the ego, not the unraveling of something he’d believed was real.
All you could do was sit on your bed, palms pressed to your thighs, and let yourself hurt in silence—for the boy who never deserved to be treated like a backup plan.
After that argument, you never saw much of Kuroo again. You hadn’t asked for his number or any of his socials, and he never asked for yours either. Maybe it was intentional—maybe it wasn’t—but either way, you chalked it up to a chapter that closed before it could fully begin. It was easier that way, wasn’t it? Your roommate moved on fast. So fast that the same night you’d heard her moaning another boy’s name through the thin apartment walls while you buried yourself under a pillow and turned the volume of your anime up louder than usual. You weren’t sure if it was pity or residual anger that lingered in your chest, but either way, you avoided bringing it up.
A few months passed. Your job had picked up pace, and while your calendar was often cluttered with deadlines, you managed to put away enough money to indulge yourself a little. Which is why you didn’t even flinch at the entrance fee for the local comic and toy convention—hell, you even treated yourself to priority access, determined to beat the crowd before anyone could swipe that rare LEGO Star Wars Ultimate Collector Series set you’d been eyeing online for weeks. You weren’t sure if it would even be there, but the hope was enough. And if not, there were always manga volumes to haul home, limited prints, and maybe another blind box you didn’t need but would justify with weak logic about resale value.
The place was buzzing with life. Cosplayers brushed past you in elaborate wigs and armor; booths were stacked high with colorful displays; the air smelled like plastic wrap, buttered popcorn, and overpriced takoyaki. Your bag was already a little heavier than it should’ve been—three volumes of a manga you hadn’t even started and two keychains you didn’t need clinked together at your side—but your heart was light. It was a good day. You were in your element. You were happy to be spending money that you earned doing something you didn’t hate. That in itself felt like a win.
You were crouched in front of a display, squinting to read the fine print on the LEGO box tucked in the farthest shelf corner—your prize almost within reach—when a familiar voice slid in from behind you, smooth as ever, but touched with disbelief.
You turned. And just like that, the convention disappeared for a second.
Kuroo stood a few feet away, noticeably overdressed for the venue. His dark button-up was tucked neatly into charcoal slacks, the lanyard from the Japan Volleyball Association still clipped to his belt, a blazer slung casually over one arm. His hair was a little more tamed than the last time you saw him, like he’d just stepped out of a boardroom instead of a crowd full of anime fans and collectors. And yet, his expression—wide-eyed and visibly caught off-guard—was anything but polished.
“…Tetsu?”
He grinned then, that same crooked smile that used to flash your way over unfinished LEGO builds in your living room, the kind that warmed something unguarded in your chest.
“I thought that was you. I’d recognize that laser-focus over a brick set anywhere,” he teased, stepping closer. “You stalking LEGO aisles now?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” you said, glancing pointedly at his outfit. “Did you just come from a funeral or are you here to do tax audits on people’s purchases?”
He laughed, the sound genuine. “Meeting at the JVA ran long. I was supposed to head straight home after, but I saw the convention signs on my way out and figured I’d pop in. Nostalgia, you know? Didn’t think I’d run into anyone I knew… especially not you.”
Your smile faltered only slightly, the past nudging its way in. “Yeah… I didn’t think I’d see you again either.”
For a second, neither of you said anything. The noise of the convention carried on—someone shouted about free pins at booth twelve, another person squealed over a celebrity sighting—but in that moment, it was just the two of you, standing shoulder to shoulder in front of a LEGO display that felt like a full circle too ironic to ignore.
“I didn’t get to say sorry,” Kuroo said quietly, his voice softer now, lower. “Back then. I should’ve reached out. But I didn’t even know how.”
“It’s okay,” you said, and maybe you meant it. Maybe part of you still felt the sting of that goodbye-that-wasn’t, but seeing him again like this, in the middle of a day you thought would be just another solo outing, made the ache feel a little more bearable. “You don’t owe me anything.”
His eyes searched yours for a long moment, as if trying to read between the lines. And then, with a small smile, he gestured toward the shelf. “So… you finally get it? That LEGO set you’ve been after?”
“Almost. Some guy just bought one before me. I’ve been debating if I should just fight him for it or cry in the corner.”
Kuroo smirked, like it was 3AM again and you were bickering over missing pieces. “I’ll help you strategize. Worst-case scenario, we distract him with a full-blown scene in the Gundam section.”
You laughed, and just like that, the heaviness began to lift. Maybe the past didn’t need to be reopened in full detail. Maybe there was something worth picking up from here instead—on neutral ground, between plastic bricks and overpriced manga—and maybe this time, neither of you would let it slip so easily.
You eventually started spending more time at Kuroo’s apartment—not because it was necessarily more convenient, but because the idea of inviting him over to yours felt layered with complications you weren’t ready to unpack. Your roommate still lived there, and after everything that had transpired—the awkward tension, the quiet spite, the ghost of her moaning someone else’s name just hours after things ended with Kuroo—it didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel neutral. And you didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of thinking she had any space in whatever it was that you and Kuroo were slowly building now.
He never asked questions. Just unlocked the door, let you in, and cleared space on his coffee table for your snacks and whatever LEGO set he’d been tinkering with that week. It became your quiet ritual. He’d handle the bulk of the instruction booklet while you sorted pieces by color or shape, occasionally bickering about which build deserved priority. You laughed more often than you had in weeks. Kuroo, for all his smug quips and relentless teasing, had a calming presence when he was relaxed like this—lounging in sweats, hair pulled back haphazardly, glasses perched on his nose, and a cup of instant coffee steaming between you.
It was during one of these hangouts—somewhere between building a replica of the Millennium Falcon and reorganizing his manga shelf—that he really started noticing the little things about you.
You wore glasses at his place. Not the contact lenses or styled versions of yourself that the world got to see, but the comfort version—the one with oversized hoodies, your hair tied up, and those thick-rimmed frames slipping down the bridge of your nose every few minutes. You’d wrinkle your nose every time they slid too far, push them back up with a finger, then hunch further into the build like you were preparing for battle. It was absurdly endearing.
Kuroo found himself watching you more than he watched the pieces. The way your brow furrowed in focus, the way your voice softened when you talked about your favorite arcs, how your hands hovered when he got too reckless snapping bricks together.
And the more time he spent with you, the harder it was not to remember all the things your ex-roommate used to say about you.
He hadn’t thought much of it at the time. She’d speak in offhand remarks—half-laughed criticisms and quiet jabs that he hadn’t really questioned. Stuff like, “She’s sweet, but kind of childish, don’t you think?” or “Her room’s full of toys and junk, I don’t know how she lives like that.” It sounded harmless then. Maybe even normal, like the kind of light annoyance roommates always had about each other.
But now, sitting across from you while you earnestly explained the rarity of a certain manga edition you were planning to hunt down next weekend, he realized how misplaced those comments really were.
Your roommate hadn’t been annoyed. She had been dismissive. Cruel, in subtle ways that made him feel gross now that he understood the full picture. Because if this was you—brilliant, expressive, unapologetically passionate—you weren’t someone to mock. You were someone worth watching. Worth listening to. Worth knowing.
Kuroo was starting to think he’d like to know you even better.
And he did.
The more time you spent at his place, the more the line between casual hangouts and something softer, something more intentional, began to blur. It wasn’t sudden—nothing about it was rushed or dramatic—but rather a quiet shift, the kind that unfolds slowly when two people realize they enjoy each other’s company more than they probably should.
It started with the little things.
He began walking you home instead of just waving from the doorway. He'd pick up your favorite snacks without needing to ask. Once, he texted you in the middle of the workday just to share a photo of a new LEGO architecture set he spotted in a store near the JVA office—“Made me think of you,” he’d said.
Then came the first not-quite-date, when he asked if you wanted to grab ramen after a long build session. It wasn’t phrased romantically, but when he held the door open for you with a lopsided grin and a low, “Dinner’s on me,” it lingered like a promise.
After that, it became a quiet pattern—late-night meals, museum dates disguised as “research” for future builds, bookstore strolls where he let you drag him into the manga aisle even though he always ended up walking out with more volumes than you did.
One evening, he surprised you with a black box tied in yellow ribbon, smugly handing it over like he was presenting you with a Nobel prize.
You opened it to find a bouquet of LEGO flowers—intricate, colorful, and painstakingly detailed.
“I figured they wouldn’t die on you,” he said with a small shrug, but his ears flushed red, betraying just how much the gift actually meant.
You smiled so brightly it made his chest ache.
Later that night, you sat side by side on his floor, building each stem and petal piece by piece. Your fingers brushed occasionally, and each time it happened, he didn’t pull away. Neither did you.
And when you were finally finished, the vase of plastic blooms sat proudly by his kitchen window, catching the light like real blossoms might. It stayed there—quiet, permanent, and real in its own way. Just like the two of you were starting to become.
More sets of LEGO flowers bloomed forever in the corner of Kuroo's bookshelf, perched beside a manga box set he'd later surprise you with. Then another. Then a collector's figurine. A special-edition Blu-ray. It became a habit for him—dropping by a shop after work, carrying something that made him think of you. Something you’d gush over while adjusting your glasses or scrunching your nose in delight. Kuroo loved how animated your voice became when you explained the significance of a certain volume or lore from a world he only half-understood but always listened to anyway.
He loved the way your eyes sparkled when you carefully peeled away the plastic wrap, reverent in a way that almost made him jealous of the object in your hands.
“Tetsu, I told you to stop giving me gifts randomly.” you scolded him after he just handed you a new set of Lego figures.
Kuroo shrugs his shoulders and gives you a sheepish smile, “I like giving you gifts just because, okay?”
That went on and on—nights tangled in LEGO instructions and accidental laughs, meals shared over manga discussion, and growing routines that never needed to be spoken aloud. Eventually, he started asking you on actual dates. A quick dinner after helping him with his laundry. A detour to the park after a weekend spent sorting model kits. You never had to ask if it was a date—he made it clear every time he paid, every time he walked you home, every time his fingers lingered at the small of your back.
Then one night, he took you somewhere just a little fancier.
A cozy, tucked-away place with dim lighting and soft music humming underneath clinking silverware. You wore something nice—not over the top, but enough to make Kuroo smile the moment he saw you. He was dressed in a dark button-down shirt, sleeves casually rolled, a silver watch peeking from his wrist. Formal enough to make your heart thump a little harder when he pulled out your chair for you.
You talked—about work, a new LEGO release, some anime remake coming out soon, and halfway through dessert, it slipped out.
“So…what are we?” he asked, fingers absently running along the rim of his wine glass.
You paused, lips parting—but he beat you to it.
“I mean, I already know what I want us to be,” he added, voice quieter, more certain. “I’d just like to know if you feel the same.”
Your heart skipped. You didn’t answer with words—not right away. Instead, your hand slid over his on the table, your thumb brushing his wrist like it had always belonged there. Kuroo’s smile widened, soft and crooked.
That night, after he drove you home, it was meant to end the same way it usually did—warm, unspoken affection lingering in the air, a kiss on the cheek, a casual “see you soon” exchanged in the quiet of the night. Kuroo leaned in like always, one hand still gripping the steering wheel out of habit, his lips brushing against your cheek.
But this time, you didn’t let it end there.
"Stay," you said—softly but with no room for refusal—as your hand curled around the lapel of his coat and tugged him through the door. The click of the lock behind you echoed in the quiet, both of you breathing just a little heavier now.
His brow lifted, slightly amused, but when you reached for him—when you pressed your lips to his without hesitation—Kuroo dropped all pretense. He kissed you back just as fiercely, meeting the pull of your mouth with a hunger that had simmered under the surface for far too long.
You wrapped your arms around his neck as if anchoring yourself there, while his large hands settled on your waist, grounding you. The soft press of your bodies swaying closer felt like gravity had chosen this moment to pull tighter.
His mouth moved down—along the curve of your jaw, then lower to the sensitive spot just beneath your ear. When his lips found your neck, hot and deliberate, you tilted your head back and let out a breathy moan that made something flicker in his chest and spark in his eyes.
"God, you have no idea what you do to me," he murmured into your skin, voice low and gravel-thick with restraint. His hands were already wandering—sweeping over the curve of your waist, tracing the line of your ribs, bunching the fabric of your top like he couldn't decide whether to peel it off slowly or just tear through it and devour you whole.
Then, in one fluid motion, he hooked his arms under your thighs and lifted you effortlessly. You gasped, instinctively wrapping your legs around his waist, clinging to him as he carried you through the apartment like he already knew every step of the way. He nudged open the door to your bedroom with his foot and kicked it closed behind him with a soft thud.
“Are you sure about this, darling?” he asked, lips ghosting over your throat, warm breath teasing your skin. His voice was careful, velvet-wrapped concern undercut by the tension thrumming just beneath it.
“Yes,” you whispered without a second thought—breathy, aching, already burning. “Kuroo, yes.”
That was all he needed.
He set you down on the edge of the bed, fingers already working the hem of your top. He tugged it over your head, eyes darkening as more of your skin was revealed to him. “Fuck,” he breathed out, like seeing you undone just for him knocked the wind from his lungs. “You’re unreal.”
You helped him out of his shirt next, palms gliding across his toned chest as if you needed to commit every line, every scar, every warm plane of skin to memory. His pants were next, discarded somewhere along with yours, clothes tossed carelessly onto the floor as your mouths met again in a kiss that was less polite now—more heat than hesitation, more teeth, more tongue, more everything.
When he finally laid you down on the mattress and hovered above you, bare and wanting, the look in his eyes wasn't just lust. It was reverence.
“You're so fucking beautiful,” he said, almost like he was scolding himself for taking this long. “You’ve got no idea how long I’ve been thinking about this—about you.”
And then he kissed you again, slower this time, as his hand drifted between your legs—testing the waters, coaxing more of those breathy moans he was already addicted to.
“Gonna take my time with you,” he growled, “because after tonight, I’m not going anywhere.”
His voice was thick—low and rough with promise—as his mouth descended onto your chest. Kuroo's lips wrapped around your nipple, tongue swirling slow, lazy circles before he sucked hard enough to make your back arch. His free hand slid between your thighs, fingers parting your folds before his thumb found your clit with practiced ease, rubbing gentle, teasing circles that made your hips twitch.
“Tetsu,” you whimpered, threading your fingers through his dark, unruly hair, tugging just enough to draw a low moan from him.
Kuroo glanced up, eyes half-lidded but gleaming. “That’s it,” he murmured, voice vibrating against your skin. “Keep saying my name like that.”
You gasped as his fingers pressed in deeper, sliding along your slick heat, fingertips curling just right—just enough to make your thighs tremble and your breath catch.
He sucked on your other breast, taking his time, leaving red blooms along your skin like a trail he’d follow again later. The slow, wet sounds of his mouth on your tits mixed with the obscene slick of his fingers fucking you open, setting your nerves alight.
“Tetsu—fuck, I can’t—” you choked out, hips stuttering beneath his touch.
“Yes, you can,” Kuroo whispered, lips ghosting over your nipple before he kissed the swell of your breast. “You’re doing so good for me.”
He pulled back just slightly, lifting his head to watch you unravel for him—your body flushed, eyes glassy, chest heaving with every broken breath.
“Taste yourself, baby,” he said, bringing his glistening fingers up to your lips. You parted them instantly, moaning as he pushed them past your tongue. His groan was almost feral. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”
When he kissed you again, it was rougher—needier. He cradled your head in his hand, the other already stroking his cock as he lined himself up at your entrance.
“Tell me you want this,” he said, pressing his forehead to yours, voice trembling with restraint. “Tell me you want me.”
“I want you, Tetsu,” you breathed, wrapping your arms around his neck. “All of you. I’m yours.”
Kuroo didn’t hesitate. With a low groan, he pushed inside—slow and deep, stretching you open inch by inch until he bottomed out.
“Fuck,” he cursed, jaw clenching. “You feel… fuck, you feel like heaven.”
And when he started to move—thrusting slow, deliberate, grinding deep—you knew you’d never want anyone else. Not when Kuroo made you feel like this.
Each stroke was intentional, like he was mapping your body with every inch of his. One hand anchored beneath your thigh, fingers pressing into the soft underside, while the other stayed between your bodies, lazily circling your clit in time with the slow grind of his hips. The sounds he drew from you were loud, raw, almost embarrassing if they weren’t so fucking honest. You didn’t care. Not when Kuroo was whispering filth in your ear, kissing along your neck like he was claiming you with every mark.
“You feel that?” he murmured, lips brushing your skin. “That’s me. That’s all me, baby.”
When your back arched and your nails raked down his spine, Kuroo groaned—low and guttural, like the sight of you unraveling under him was too much to handle.
To say the least, Kuroo was obsessed with you in bed. He didn't expect someone so quiet, so soft-spoken and unbothered with drama, to be this wild and insatiable behind closed doors. Sometimes his stamina was off the charts—athlete-built and fueled by ego—but even he could admit: fuck, he couldn’t always keep up with you.
It drove him crazy in the best way.
You were demanding in all the right places. Greedy with your kisses, shameless when you rode him like you needed him deeper than physically possible, and vocal when you came, screaming his name like a prayer and a curse. Every time he thought he had you figured out, you flipped the script.
Kuroo used to think he was the one with the upper hand. He wasn't.
Your roommate—back when she and Kuroo were still trying whatever you’d call that—once mentioned you in passing. They were cuddling on your couch, legs tangled up in each other, when she scoffed and said, “She’s probably a virgin. You’ve seen her room, right? It’s full of Legos and manga. All that nerd shit? She’s definitely never been touched.”
He hadn’t thought much of it at the time, just hummed and nodded, though something about the certainty in her tone stuck with him.
Months later, when things with your roommate fizzled and Kuroo found himself in your bed, tangled in your sheets and catching his breath after your second round, he brought it up.
“She said you were probably a virgin,” he told you, laughing, head resting on your stomach.
You had chuckled, brushing your fingers through his messy hair.
“Yeah?” you replied, eyes gleaming. “Tell that to the guys I had in college. I practically broke one of them.”
You weren’t lying.
You proved it to him that same night. Straddling his face with that lazy smile and those goddamn glasses sliding down your nose. You rode him like you’d been waiting to prove a point and holy hell, Kuroo swore he saw the light. You had him pinned, hips grinding, thighs squeezing around his head like a vice, and he welcomed it. Happily. Drowning in your slick, drunk on your moans, Kuroo didn’t even care if he suffocated in your thighs that night.
He’d die a happy man.
You were so hot like that—uninhibited, filthy, hungry for him. And god, you looked so damn good when you sucked him off still wearing your glasses. Hair all messy from his fingers, mouth slick and eyes daring him to look away. He couldn’t. Not when your tongue ran along his shaft like you were savoring every inch. Not when you moaned around him like he was your favorite flavor.
“Fuck, baby,” Kuroo had groaned, head tilted back. “You’re gonna kill me.”
And you? You just smirked.
“I’ll make it worth your while.” He didn’t doubt it.
Kuroo had been ruined for anyone else after that.
The moment you rode him in his home office, shirt half-unbuttoned, your hands gripping the back of his chair, hair falling into your eyes and mouth hanging open when you moaned his name—Tetsurou—like it was the only thing that mattered in the world.
He never wanted to let you go anymore.
If he could marry you right then and there—naked, sweaty, your panties dangling from his desk lamp—he would’ve gotten down on one knee without a ring. Just a promise. Just you and him.
But you deserved something better. Probably something by the ocean. A quiet, golden beach proposal with the sound of waves behind you and a little velvet box tucked behind one of his science joke t-shirts. Yeah. That’d be perfect. He’d plan that out eventually.
Still, your little dates didn’t slow down.
Lego-building marathons in his living room, your legs tangled across his lap as you bickered about which minifig was better. Cuddles during movie nights where you wore his college volleyball hoodie and snuck popcorn from his bowl. Quiet mornings when you stayed over, sipping coffee and flipping through manga in nothing but your panties and his button-down shirt.
You called it simple. He called it everything.
Kuroo kept giving you things. His love language wasn’t subtle.
Whenever you were at your apartment, a box would show up. Your favorite snacks. A collector’s edition manga you mentioned only once. That limited-edition Ninjago set you joked about. Sometimes he even had them delivered while you were out—just so he could text,
"Check your doorstep, sweetheart."
And when you opened the door, it was there. Sometimes with a post-it that read, "Build this with me tonight?"
And you always did. The second you stepped inside his apartment—his real home, now that you’d practically claimed it with your spare toothbrush and the fluffy slippers he bought for you—there’d be a new set waiting on the table. Or a volume laid neatly beside your favorite spot on the couch.
You would groan playfully, “Tetsu, this is too much…”
But your eyes always sparkled. And that was all he ever needed to see.
Kuroo wasn’t a man of restraint when it came to spoiling you. He liked seeing your expression when you tore the wrapping off. He liiked hearing your happy little gasps. And he especially liked the way you thanked him—sweet kisses at first, and then crawling into his lap and grinding down until his hands gripped your thighs, his voice rasping near your ear.
"Fuck, sweetheart. Is this how you're gonna thank me every time I buy you something?"
You always gave him cuddles… or him fucking you in return.
Neither of you would have it any other way.
Most of your dates happened right there in his apartment. It was your little world. The walls full of bookshelves, scattered Lego creations proudly displayed beside framed photos of his team. Your favorite blanket always draped over his couch, because he swore it smelled like you. You’d both start watching something—some superhero rewatch, some obscure Netflix docuseries—and end up tangled on the couch, kisses turning sloppy, laughter breaking into gasps as he dragged you under him.
It was always his apartment. His couch. His bed. His office. You bent over his desk, your nails scratching at the surface as he fucked you from behind. Or on his kitchen counter, panties pushed aside as he held your thighs apart and groaned against your neck.
"You’re fuckin’ perfect, sweetheart," he’d whisper against your skin. "Can’t believe you’re mine."
And you—smirking, breathless, always ready to drive him wild—would moan out, “I’m all yours, darling.”
That was the thing about you two. No matter where, no matter what—it was always just the two of you. A little domestic chaos, a little nerdy fun, and a whole lot of love.
Kuroo Tetsuro was ruined for anyone else.
And truthfully, he liked it that way.
He liked waking up in his apartment with your leg tangled with his. He liked how your shampoo clung to his pillows and how your glasses sat on his kitchen island beside your empty mug. He liked carrying you to bed when you fell asleep on the couch with a LEGO brick half-built in your hand. He liked that you left things behind—your books, your socks, your presence.
Kuroo Tetsuro had turned his apartment into a second home for you, and he didn’t even realize it until one afternoon when you opened a drawer in his bathroom and found your toothbrush, your hair ties, and your lip balm already waiting. It felt easy with him—domestic. Warm. Comfortable. Real.
But last night, he needed more than domestic.
He’d just come back from a grueling business trip—seven days without you. Seven days of restless sleep, ignored hotel breakfasts, and staring at unread messages while stuck in JVA meetings that ran longer than necessary.
And the second he saw your text, “Door’s open. I’m still up.”
He didn’t go home.
He went to your apartment instead. And the second he walked in and saw you in your oversized sleep shirt and those thick-rimmed glasses you forgot you were wearing—his restraint snapped.
He took you right there in your bedroom.
On the bed. Then again on the floor. And once more with your thighs trembling on the edge of your desk as his name broke from your throat in loud, obscene cries you couldn’t muffle even if you tried.
Kuroo always had a thing for your glasses. Something about the way you looked up at him while you were on your knees, eyes blown out, lips stretched around him, lenses fogging up while you sucked him deep like you missed the taste of him as much as he missed the heat of your body. And he always loved how you let him fuck you in them—wanted it even—telling him how dirty it made you feel when his cum splattered your lenses or dripped down your chin as he kissed you hungrily after.
And last night?
He made you wear them the entire time. Told you he’d missed seeing your pretty face get ruined while they were still on.
So yeah, Kuroo made good on every lost second from that trip. Filled you so many times you couldn’t remember if your name or his was the last thing you said before passing out. Your inner thighs ached. Your sheets were still crumpled with drying stains. And you still felt the wet, pulsing mess between your legs as you stood in the kitchen making breakfast the next morning, robe half-open, neck blooming with hickeys.
He had left early for another JVA morning call—but not before kissing your forehead and stuffing you full one last time in the shower.
But of course—unfortunately for you—your roommate had heard everything.
At first, she brushed it off. You weren’t exactly loud usually, and she assumed you were probably a virgin or celibate by choice. But when she heard your voice—unfiltered, breathless, begging—moaning “Tetsu!” like a prayer answered through gritted teeth and slick skin, it made her stomach churn.
And it was the final straw when his voice echoed in return.
Moaning your name.
Groaning about how tight you were. How much he missed your pussy. How pretty you looked taking every drop.
It made her snap.
So when you entered the living room that morning, holding your travel mug and your bag slung over your shoulder, she was already there—arms crossed, face sour, passive-aggressive aura bleeding into the walls.
“How long has that been going on?” she asked without looking at you.
You didn’t pretend to misunderstand. You just sipped your coffee.
“Define that.”
Her nostrils flared. “Don’t play dumb.”
You leaned against the counter, hair still wet from the shower, smirking slightly.
“If you mean Tetsuro—last night was just making up for lost time,” you said airily. “He missed me. So did my thighs, apparently.”
“You’re disgusting.”
“Funny. That’s not what you said when you told me all about your foursome while dating him,” you replied, tilting your head. “One behind, one underneath, and one shoving it down your throat, right? You left the bedroom door open just so I’d see. Said you were trying to prove a point. What point was that again?”
Her mouth opened, then closed. Scoffed. “That doesn’t mean you get to snake away my ex.”
Your grin widened—sharp, knowing.
“Sweetheart, you cheated on him constantly. I just didn’t say anything because, frankly, it wasn’t my relationship to mourn.”
She rolled her eyes. “He’s probably just using you to get back at me. You really think Kuroo Tetsuro would go for you? You said it yourself—he’s a career man. And you—well, look at you.”
You took another sip from your mug. Unbothered. Your petty meter had barely lifted.
“You told me he wouldn’t fuck someone who wore glasses. Now he asks me to keep them on. Funny how things change.”
She scoffed again, louder this time. “You’re seriously going to act like I wasn’t the best sex he ever had?”
“I don’t have to act. I know he’d disagree,” you replied, voice sugar-sweet. “Besides, we were just friends at first. You remember that, don’t you? He liked my LEGO builds. We bonded over manga. I still have the first limited edition he gifted me. First of many.”
“I knew something was up when he started hanging out with you more. You’re not even his type.”
“He said I’m exactly his type,” you said softly. “Smart. Funny. Loyal. And, apparently, really good at taking his cock.”
That was the one that hit.
Her eyes narrowed. “Just because you finally lost your virginity doesn’t mean you’re special.”
You laughed, really laughed, and set your mug down.
“Oh, sweetie. I’ve had a wild sex life in college. I just toned it down to focus on work. Tetsu just brought it back out. And then some. He fucks me in every corner of his apartment. Did he ever do that with you? Kitchen table? Floor? Balcony during rush hour?”
She didn’t answer.
“Didn’t think so,” you murmured.
“You’re lying.”
You stepped forward and whispered like it was a secret.
“He came in me three times last night,” you said casually. “Told me he missed seeing it drip out. Even helped push it back in.”
Her face twisted.
You raised your brows. “But if you want, I can play you the voice memo he sent me last month. He had his cock in his hand and couldn’t stop moaning my name. It’s really quite romantic.”
“Bitch.”
You tilted your head. “Always have been. Just quieter about it.”
She let out an angry shriek before stomping back to her room and slamming the door hard enough to rattle the coat hooks.
You took another sip from your mug and hummed under your breath.
Toned down? Maybe. But this?
This was your victory lap.
And you hadn’t even told her yet about the time Kuroo made you cum just from sucking on your tits while you rode his thigh—glasses on, mouth wet, his hand around your throat as he whispered that he wanted to keep you forever.
satoru suguru shoko and reader who are all bsfs who sometimes kiss for fun getting really drunk and all fucking each other ….
do u see the vision babes …..🦇
5 star ride
sashisu x reader
warnings: 18+ implied drinking, messy kissing, everyone is kissing and touching, oral(f), face riding, fingering(f), pnv, riding, they share you shoko and switch off mid fuck, creampies, its messy hot and sticky
a/n: u make me wet everytime ur in my inbox like im a mess babes
w/c: 2770
♡ ♡ ♡
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘♡⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘♡⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘♡⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
It’s late when the four of you finally stumble out of the club. The music is still thumping behind you while Shoko orders the uber. Satoru is pushing up against you and Suguru, trying his hardest to crack jokes in between hiccups and giggles. A black car rounds the corner and Shoko shoves her phone in her purse and turns towards the three of you.
“Let's go and be quiet.” Shoko hisses at a giggily Satoru and Suguru. “You take one and I’ll take the other.” she looks at you with half lidded eyes.
“I want Shoko!” Satoru drapes over Shoko's shoulder.
“Looks like you’re stuck with me, Suguru.” you hold your hand out to him.
“Wouldn’t call it being stuck.” he takes your hand and brings it to his mouth.
“We’re not going to wait all night.” Shoko turns after getting Satoru into the uber.
“C’mon.” you tug Suguru’s hand, leading him to the car.
Suguru ends up helping you in, a little too handsy, but the four of you are squished into the backseat and the door gets shut nonetheless. Shoko mutters a thanks to the driver and looks at you slightly exasperated before Satoru pulls her attention to him.
“D’you have any snacks in your purse?” he leans in, breath fanning across her neck.
“Sit up and be quiet.” Shoko pushes his cheek away.
“Sounds like someone’s in trouble.” Suguru whispers to Satoru.
“Am I in trouble??” Satoru turns to Shoko with round eyes.
“Don’t start.” you hiss at Suguru.
“Ohh am I in trouble now?” he leans in closer to you.
“If any of you make me lose my five star rating you will walk home.” Shoko silences you all with a glare.
The rest of the car ride is filled with sharp looks from Shoko and the driver glancing in the rearview mirror every time Satoru laughs a little too loud. Suguru has been whispering lowly in your ear, fingers grazing your bare thigh. A quick slap of Shoko’s hand on his and he’s sitting up straight with a smirk on his face.
Satoru is still pouting, hands folded and letting out dramatic sighs. Shoko asks for the music to be turned up and offers a small apology to the driver who just nods at her with a smile. The car comes to a stop outside of Shoko’s building and she pushes you all out the door.
“Thank you again.” she leans her head in. “Especially for dealing with them.”
“I need something to eat.” Satoru whines and tugs on her hand.
“I’d give you ten stars if I could.” she calls to the driver as he rolls up his window.
Suguru’s got his hands on your waist as he’s pressing against your back. Satoru is trying to hang off of Shoko but she’s pushing him off to grab your hand and pull you into the building. Satoru stumbles after you two and Suguru grabs him to steady him.
“Slow down Toru, don’t want you to fall.” Suguru wraps an arm around his waist, hands running up the front of his torso.
Shoko ushers all of you into the lobby and over to the elevator. It’s as if the elevator isn’t on her side and takes forever, assisting in making Satoru more antsy and grabby. Suguru is busy holding him back from pouncing on either of you but only leads to Satoru twisting in his arms.
“I need a kiss.” Satoru whines.
“Someone kiss him so he shuts up.” Shoko presses the button over and over.
“Who do you want a kiss from?” Suguru cups his cheeks.
“Anyone.” he slowly blinks up at him. “Everyone.”
Suguru leans down and presses his lips to Satoru’s, silencing his whines. The elevator opens and you shuffle in with Shoko as Suguru slowly walks Satoru and him in, never breaking the kiss. When the doors close Satoru pulls back to take a breath and turns to you and takes your lips.
“You’re an animal.” Shoko looks over at him.
Satoru’s eyes open and glance at her as the elevator starts to shoot up. He places one last kiss on your lips and turns to her. She tries to look stern but can’t bring herself to push Satoru off of her lips. She lets him pull her closer and you let out a small giggle.
“Keeping him real quiet Shoko.” you cover your mouth as more giggles spill out.
Suguru closes in on you and your breath catches when he dips down to swipe his tongue across your bottom lip. Just as you open your mouth, so do the elevator doors and you all pull apart to walk down the hall. Shoko is batting Satoru off as she slips her key into the lock and leads the three of you into her apartment.
She throws her keys on the counter kicking off her shoes as the three of you do the same. Satoru is pushing past everyone to get into the kitchen and rummaging around for food. She mumbles about him having water first and his only response is to attach himself back to her.
“Water.” she pulls back and he starts kissing her neck.
“Not thirsty.” he mumbles.
“C’mon.” Suguru coos and pries Satoru off of her.
“Thank you.” she leans up to Suguru and he presses his lips to hers.
“That’s not fair!” Satoru whines watching Suguru deepen the kiss.
“Yeah.” you match his tone and scrunch your eyebrows. “I haven’t gotten to kiss you yet.” you pout.
“My god you’re all insufferable.” she pulls off Suguru and tugs you over. “C’mere then.” she presses her lips to yours.
“Why can’t all three of us kiss?” Satoru tries to get closer when he watches Shoko push her tongue into your mouth.
“Relax.” Suguru pulls him back against his chest. “You’ve already had so many kisses.” he brushes his hair back.
“And I want more.” Satoru sounds like a petulant child.
“If you keep pouting you’ll have no more kisses.” Shoko pulls back from your lips. “The three of you go to the living room while I get water.” her tone final.
You plop down on the couch and Satoru practically crawls into your lap to attach his mouth back to yours, mumbling about just wanting more kisses. Suguru takes a seat next to the both of you and leans back to watch with a lazy smile on his face.
“Lemme have a kiss.” Suguru squeezes Satoru’s side.
“You guys look like you’re trying to shoot a porno on my couch.” Shoko pads into the living room with bottles of water. “Looks like you were left out.” she smirks down at Suguru.
Suguru pulls her down onto his lap and presses his lips to hers. She dumps the waters on the couch, the coolness making you and Satoru jolt. You both turn to the side and watch Shoko and Suguru kiss before moving the waters and scooting closer.
Satoru lets his hand wander from you and over to Shoko, sliding up her thigh. She pulls back from Suguru and leans over to take Satoru’s lips. Suguru threads his fingers into your hair and pulls you against his mouth and pushes his tongue past your swollen lips.
Satoru’s hand moves from Shoko’s thigh to Suguru’s to grab his attention. Suguru pulls back from you and pulls Satoru’s lips to his own. You lean under and Shoko does the same to tug you in. Her hands start to push your shirt up and when you let out the fist moan the air in the room shifts.
Clothes start getting half pulled off and everyone’s hands are everywhere. Shoko pushes Satoru off of you, quickly taking his place and shoving her tongue back into your mouth. Satoru pushes in next to you, pressing his lips to Shoko’s neck and slipping a hand up her skirt.
Suguru’s hand slides under your skirt and you and Shoko moan into each other's mouths as Satoru and Suguru work you both. Suguru is the first to join the kiss and move back and forth between you and her, taking time to swallow down each of your noises.
“Toru, c’mere.” Shoko pants. “Thought you wanted- hah- kisses.” she gasps when Satoru dips his fingers under her panties.
“Can give you kisses down here.” he blinks at her dreamily as he circles her clit. “Counts as a snack to me.” he starts to slide off the couch.
He sits on the ground and tilts his head back onto the couch and pats her thigh. “It’ll keep you quiet too.” she climbs off you and straddles his face.
Satoru groans, tugging her panties to the side and pulling her hips down to his face. He flattens his tongue and licks up her dripping slit before sucking her clit into his mouth. You’re panting watching Shoko toss her head back and grind against his face, her hands grabbing her breasts above her shirt.
Suguru pulls you into his lap so your back rests against his chest. “Open these thighs for me.” Suguru purrs into your neck.
You hook your legs over Suguru’s thighs and he’s immediately pushing your skirt up to your waist and pulling your panties to the side. He chuckles at how wet you are, teasing two fingers up and down your dripping folds.
“Stop teasing her Suguru.” Shoko’s breathy words pull your attention to her.
Suguru pushes one long finger into you and you let out a low whine. “I’m not.” he chuckles when he pulls the finger out to swirl around your clit.
“Sugu.” you wiggle your hips.
“If Suguru can’t- fuck Satoru !” Shoko squeezes her eyes shut when he flicks his tongue faster.
“Was just about to say Toru.” Suguru presses his foot against Satoru’s thigh. “Not doing good enough if she can still talk back.”
Shoko leans towards you and pushes her tongue in your mouth. Suguru circles your clit faster, watching the way you gasp and melt into her mouth. Satoru is lapping at Shoko so feverishly the sounds of her juices reach yours and Suguru’s ears.
You’re both brought higher and higher, whimpering and moaning into each other's mouths. Suguru slips two fingers into your drooling core, grinding his palm on your clit and sending sparks throughout your body. Shoko presses her forehead against yours and lets out a loud moan when Satoru shoves his tongue into her fluttering hole.
“Fuckfuckfuck Satoru! Yesss, just like that.” her hips are jerking and rolling against his face.
“Gonna drown him, Shoko?” Suguru taunts.
“Yeah, I’m- I.. make her cum with me.” she pants, grabbing onto Suguru’s wrist.
Shoko’s trembling fingers are sliding next to Suguru’s on your dripping slit and you let out a broken cry when Suguru starts to curl his fingers. Your thighs start to shake and Shoko presses her mouth back to yours. Satoru is licking and sucking at Shoko so desperately that it makes her fall against you when her orgasm washes through her.
The sound of her cumming and the curl and drag of Suguru’s fingers push you over the edge. Satoru slowly lifts her off his face and places a kiss on her clit before he scoots back up onto the couch. He pulls her back onto his lap and lolls his head to the side to look at Suguru.
“Lemme taste.” Suguru leans in and takes Satoru’s lips.
You and Shoko are still catching your breath while they kiss behind the both of you. You can feel the way Suguru’s cock is throbbing beneath you and from the way Shoko is squirming Satoru is the same. They pull apart and a string of spit connects them before they lean back.
“Switch?” Satoru tilts his head.
“Course.” Suguru grins.
They move you both around and soon you’re straddling Satoru’s thighs and Shoko is doing the same to Suguru. You lean back and quickly undo Satoru’s pants and look over when you hear Suguru hiss and see Shoko already pumping him.
Satoru tilts your head back to him and presses his lips to yours. You wrap your fingers around his cock and he groans, jerking his hips up. He lifts your hips up and grabs his cock to slide his leaking tip up and down your puffy slit. He presses the head in and you whimper when you start to sink down.
“Fuck you feel perfect.” Satoru mumbles into your mouth.
He keeps slowly guiding you down, his fingers digging into your hips when you’re finally flush with his thighs. You rock forward, whining as he stretches you open and starts to slide you back up. He helps you start to bounce up and down, each drag of his cock pulling a moan from your throat.
“Suguru!” Shoko lets out a broken cry of his name.
Suguru keeps his lips just out of reach as he fucks up into her. His hand is low on her tummy just barely ghosting over her clit, making her gasp and whine. His hand on the small of her back coaxes her to ride him faster and he grins at the feel of the mess she’s leaving all over his thighs as she begs and pleads for his touch.
“Sounds like Sugu’s being mean.” Satoru lets out a breathy laugh.
“You’re so good t’me Toru.” you pant, jerking your hips even faster.
“Yeah?” he watches your face twist with your building orgasm. “Gonna cum?” his thrusts meet your hips each time, perfectly grinding against your throbbing clit.
“I wanna cum.” Shoko whines, pressing closer to Suguru.
“Yeah?” Suguru rolls his hips.
“Mmmph! Yesyesyes Satoru I- !” you fall apart around him and he keeps fucking up into you.
“Come take a ride on me Shoko and I’ll take good care of you.” Satoru grins, fucking you through wave after wave.
“Push over.” Suguru rolls his eyes and with a pinch of his fingers on Shoko’s clit, she arches her back and bursts around him. “There you go.” he coos.
“So.. wanna switch?” Satoru looks at Suguru with a lazy grin as he keeps you steadily bouncing.
Suguru and Satoru lift you both off, the sounds of yours and Shoko’s moans and juices filling the room as they move you around. The second you’re in Suguru’s arms he’s pulling you down on his cock. Your toes curl as you lean against his chest, getting used to his size.
“Fuck Toru.” Shoko pants, fingers digging into his shoulders.
Satoru chuckles, starting to rut up into her faster, his own fingers digging into her ass. He pushes her down to meet each of his thrusts and he can already feel her velvet walls fluttering around him. He clenches his jaw at each wet smack of her thighs onto his and leans up to push his tongue into her mouth.
“Feel me in your tummy?” Suguru presses his palm against you, making you gasp.
“Yeahh.” you nod your head, eyes rolling back as you desperately hump against him.
“Wanna feel me fill you up?” Suguru grins, dropping his hand lower and circling his thumb around your clit.
“Please Sugu.” you nod, your eyebrows pinched together.
“Fuck that’s hot.” Satoru grunts. “Shoko want me.. hah- fuck, want me to fill you up?” Satoru’s pace becomes erratic as his pleasure races towards him.
“Shut up and make me cum Toru.” Shoko presses her lips to his.
Satoru’s fingers find her clit and she jerks against him at the first tight circle. It only takes a couple more and she’s pulsing around him. Satoru chokes on air, cock twitching as he fills her, still fucking up into her making it leak out between them.
“YeAhh I’m.. I’m I- Sug- !” you press your forehead to his as your orgasm slams through you.
Suguru’s fingers dig into your hips as he starts to fuck you full of his cum. Your hips are rocking against his, whining as you feel the stickiness seep between the two of you. You finally slow down and rest on his chest to catch your breath.
The four of you turn and look at each other with flushed cheeks and hair sticking to your foreheads. Shoko is the first to move, pulling a groan from Satoru as she lifts off of him. She looks around for the water bottles she brought out and hands them out with mumbles about needing to hydrate.
“Thanks.” you and Suguru hum out together.
“Need food.” Satoru mumbles, pulling her back on his lap.
“I’m not making anything. You can order in for us.” Shoko collapses back onto his chest.
tw ⇢ friends to lovers, making out, biting, cunnilingus, fingering, praise kink, unprotected sex, begging, multiple orgasms
wc ⇢ 5.7k
The buzzer sounded just after noon, and you grinned as you hit the button to allow Suna entry into your apartment complex's lobby. It was just like any other lazy weekend day when your old friend would swing by to hang out, watch bad movies, and inevitably find some way to engage in your long-running campaigns of relentless shit-talking between fits of laughter.
You had known Suna Rintarou for years now, long enough for any initial awkwardness or uncertainty in his company to have faded away into the well-worn comfort of real friendship. He was one of the few people with whom you could spend hours upon hours just existing in each other's space without it ever feeling stilted or forced.
By the time his trademark dual-toned drawl of "oi, I'm coming in" echoed down the hall toward your door, you were already kicking off your slippers and assuming the usual sprawl across the sofa - ready for an afternoon of pure, familiar vibes. The telltale rap of knuckles against your entry had you calling out for him to enter without bothering to get up and answer it yourself.
When Suna appeared around the corner, he was already looking perfectly at home in your space as usual - stylishly rumpled t-shirt untucked to hang loose over slim athletic shorts that separated to reveal a teasing glimpse of toned thighs and calves with each lazy stride. His hair was artfully mussed as if he'd rolled straight out of bed and onto your doorstep, radiating the type of effortless charisma and striking features that might have made you self-conscious in the presence of someone you knew less intimately.
As it was, you simply quirked an eyebrow at him and reached for the game controller resting on the coffee table. "Looking hopelessly hungover as always, Rintarou," you quipped without missing a beat. "You'd think making the national team would mean they teach you better hydration habits."
"Not all of us slob around in stained sweats every time we have a lazy day," Suna fired back smoothly, dropping down onto the opposite end of the sofa from you with careless grace. His dark, hooded gaze somehow conveyed pointed judgment even as one corner of those perpetually smirking lips quirked higher. "Some of us like to maintain at least a bare minimum of personal standards."
You scoffed loudly, purposefully stretching your legs out to drape obnoxiously across his lap - wiggling your barefeet in his face with a wicked grin. The tip of Suna's nose crinkled with distaste as he tried and failed to shove your ankles away, making no secret of his displeasure.
"Personal standards, my ass," you crowed, taking petty delight in his discomfort. "You're just prioritizing sleazy looks over comfort in a desperate plea for attention, as usual."
When Suna's large hands succeeded in shoving your legs off his lap, it was your turn to grouse in annoyance at having your prime lounging real estate revoked. But you maintained the teasing smirk as you sat up properly and bumped his shoulder with your own.
"Besides, you really think a slob like me even registers on anyone's attractiveness radar? Unlike some posers I could mention."
There was a weighted pause then as your playful ribbing lapsed into something thicker, more weighted. Suna slowly turned to face you more fully, analytical gaze flickering over your features with unmistakable intent. You resisted the urge to squirm under the sudden scrutiny.
"You might be surprised," he said at last, quiet words slicing through the tension with their ambiguous double meaning.
Your breath hitched minutely as you registered the undercurrent of suggestion baked into that simple statement, gaze momentarily dropping to trace the obscene curves of Suna's mouth before flicking hurriedly back to his lidded, piercing stare.
Did he just...? Or was that simply Suna being his usual quietly provocative self, skating the line between casual commentary and subtle flirtation in that masterful way of his? You swallowed hard against the strange spiral of heat that single heavy look had sent unfurling low in your abdomen.
Before you could think better of it, you leaned in closer until the space separating you from Suna's striking features had narrowed into something unmistakably charged. "Is that so?" You heard yourself murmur, holding his gaze boldly despite the sudden thundering of your pulse. "Do tell..."
For a protracted moment, the atmosphere thickened further, both of you suspended in fraught consideration of the intimate boundary you were toying with blurring. Suna's lips parted slightly on an indrawn breath, dark eyes dipping briefly down to your own parted mouth before reconnecting in smoldering lock.
Then the spell was abruptly broken by two things:
First, Suna reaching over to snake the gaming controller from your lax grip, nimble fingers ghosting against yours in a feather-light brush of contact that sent tingles rushing straight down your spine. The second was the low, sandpaper-rough rasp of his tone undercutting the heavy tension with a teasing edge.
"You wish you knew," he murmured, lips curving into one of those signature smirks that could make your insides clench with how arresting it looked painted across those striking features. "I'd shatter that simple mind of yours into a million pieces."
He accompanied the provocative statement with a slow, pointed once-over of your dumbstruck form that had heat prickling across your skin anew.
"Now quit hogging the controls, or I'll wipe the floor with your score like always."
Just like that, the heavy atmosphere seemed to evaporate - replaced by the comfortable cadences of well-worn camaraderie and low-stakes competition. Except this time there was an undercurrent of heightened awareness that refused to dissipate completely no matter how much you tried to will it away.
You found yourself hyper-focused on little things like the brush of Suna's bare arm against your own each time he shifted position, or the deep timbre of his voice sending subtle vibrations across your hypersensitive nerve endings whenever your bodies drifted too close on the couch. Even something as innocuous as the shifting of muscles in his shoulders and biceps as he maneuvered the game controller was enough to set your pulse fluttering with a strange, avid sort of attention.
Suna, damn him, seemed to barely register the newfound tension singing through your form as he remained focused on trying to narrate over the gameplay with that usual brand of cutting snark and obscenely bitten-off curses. His posture was deceptively relaxed as he slouched back into the cushions in that effortlessly sensual way of his, clearly still operating under the assumption that this was just another routine hang session.
But for you...nothing felt quite so pedestrian any longer. Not after you'd both tiptoed up to the precipice of that scorching new intimacy and gotten a tantalizing glimpse of the unfamiliar vistas lying in wait on the other side. You were profoundly, viscerally aware of Suna's nearness in a way that neutered all compulsions to keep viewing him in that safe, established light of long-time platonic companionship.
Instead, you kept finding yourself helplessly drinking in details and dynamics you'd allowed yourself to overlook or take for granted until now. The long, sinewy lines of his neck tapering into sharp, defined collarbones that disappeared tantalizingly beneath the scooped collar of his shirt. The hypnotic flex and release of biceps tensing beneath bronzed skin during particularly intense bouts of trash-talking over the game.
Oftentimes your straying gaze would stray further, taking the opportunity to indulge in dragging your heavy-lidded stare across the lean, powerful expanse of Suna's exposed abdomen - admiring the cuts of muscle etched there beneath a thin sheen of perspiration and imagining how those ridges would feel branding against your palms, your inner thighs...
Inevitably, you would tear your hooded eyes away with shuddering inhalation, a pulse of molten heat lancing straight to your core and leaving a dull, liquid ache throbbing between your legs. This was your oldest friend you were ogling like a piece of meat here - someone whose physical form you should have long since adjusted to seeing in every context without a scintilla of indecent thoughts intruding.
Yet damned if the newfound promise of intimacy sparked between you earlier hadn't set your subconscious reproductive drive into painfully heightened sensitivity - tuned to appreciate the eroticism and aesthetic of Suna's gloriously honed body down to its most minute, tantalizing details. Of course, he seemed utterly oblivious to the roiling conflict of compulsions making itself known in your ungoverned lapses from nonchalant coolness into burning longing.
That is...right up until one of those heated lapses in your focus resulted in you reflexively licking your lips while drinking in the sensual view of Suna's arms - lean but corded with flexing sinew - as he delivered a particularly searing verbal takedown of your lamentable gaming session.
To your bright shock and dismay, those richly hooded eyes you found so aesthetically arresting captured the motion instantly. You watched with frozen tension as Suna's trash-talking trailed off mid-sentence, lips parting with the unmistakable glimmer of realization flickering through his turbulent stare as it tracked your own molten regard.
Pinned speechless under the escalating weight of that unmasked look, you could do nothing as the heavy seconds stretched out and your respective roles - that of long-time best friends just hanging and fucking around, grew increasingly tenuous. There was no mistaking the shift of energy between you as Suna reached up to run a hand through his tousled hair, casually showcasing the flex and drag of his long, strong fingers through dark strands in a strangely intimate pantomime.
"Having trouble concentrating?" he husked out at last, sotto voce inflection bearing enough blatant suggestion to stoke the rapidly kindling blaze of lust now roaring in your lower belly to an outright conflagration. You watched, dry-mouthed and transfixed, as his tongue darted out to trace the plush curves of his lower lip - mirroring your own subconscious gesture of yearning just moments earlier.
When you managed a fractional shake of your head, voice failing you utterly, you saw clear flashes of intent and scorching arousal blaze to vivid life in the glittering depths of Suna's heavy-lidded gaze. The game controller tumbled abandoned to the floor as he prowled forward until his long, muscular frame was hovering bare inches from your own tingling, heated skin. You could feel the erratic puffs of his breath fanning across your slackened features as he drank in the sight of you utterly enthralled.
"Then let me help you focus..." Suna rasped against your searing skin, mouth a hair's breadth from yours. Any further protests, any attempts at maintaining propriety or equilibrium, fled before the promise of rapture blazing in that final, weighted moment between you.
His lips ghosted your own in a barely-there touch, igniting every hyper-sensitive stretch of nerve endings until all that existed was the liquid, throbbing maelstrom of your mutual wanting. When you unconsciously lurched forward to seal the contact between you with a desperate whine...
Suna didn't give you a chance to fully close the infinitesimal distance between your parted, yearning lips. With a low, guttural sound of impatient arousal, he surged forward - broad palms cradling your face with surprising gentleness even as his mouth came crashing down over yours in a searing, demanding kiss.
The contact was electric, whiteout pleasure jolting down your hyper-sensitized nerves at the initial slick glide of Suna's tongue licking insistently against the seam of your lips. You parted for him on a breathless keen, finally surrendering fully and allowing him to plunder the molten recesses of your mouth in a dizzying spiral of dominance and desperation.
His kiss was every bit as intense and consuming as you'd allowed your treacherous fantasies to envision during all those stolen heated glances from the corners of your eyes - an unhurried, sensual cyclone of lips, teeth, and questing tongue that rapidly had your fingers fisting into the soft fabric of his shirt simply to keep yourself grounded. When the first rumbling groan of appreciation vibrated from Suna's chest into the trembling hollows of your own, you thought you might shatter apart from the intoxicating onslaught.
It was a struggle to maintain even a modicum of coordinated thought with the blazing distraction of Suna's mouth doing such punishing, profane things to your senses. But you were somewhat aware of one broad palm sliding down from where it had been cradling the nape of your neck to splay hotly across the span of your lower back. Then deeper still until thick fingers found the generous swell of your ass and kneaded the yielding flesh there with insolent possession and need.
That proprietary caress sent a giddy spiral of heat lancing straight to your core. You whimpered in a haze against the velvet glide of Suna's tongue undulating so wickedly against your own and arched instinctively, pressing your chest harder against the hard ridges of his own as you unconsciously sought more unbearable friction.
Suna made a low, hungry sound deep in his throat at the wanton motion and the sensation of your lithe form writhing so feverishly in counterpoint to his dominance. His hand momentarily abandoned its thorough exploration of every lush curve to instead fist convulsively against your throat, barring your arching retreat and binding you in the scalding, breathless cavern of his devouring kiss.
You moaned outright at the borderline-aggressive display of appetite and possession, shuddering as your body responded with another involuntary wave of liquid heat gushing between your clenching thighs. Every raw instinct was howling for you to twine yourself around the hot, unyielding lines of Suna's powerful physique until you were effectively immobilized in his embrace, slave to whatever raptures he deemed to inflict upon your senses.
But before you could even muster the coordination to attempt wrapping your legs around his narrow hips and haul him bodily on top of you, Suna tore his mouth away in a ragged gasp. His eyes blazed with an incandescent storm of lust and something darker, more primal - an infinite well of compulsions barely leashed behind adamant ridges of self-control.
In that searing, suspended moment where you both gulped down one ragged breath after another, Suna's gaze was like a physical caress - scorching a lascivious path across every one of your features rendered feverish and dewy from the intensity of his kisses. His fingers continued kneading insistently against your nape, every teasing scrape of calloused fingertips sending sparking waves of blissful torment arcing down your sensitized nerves.
"Don't even think about stopping now," Suna growled against the swollen crest of your bottom lip before sucking the tender flesh between his teeth in a sharp nip that wrenched an inarticulate sound of desperation from you. "We're just getting started."
True to his word, the next searing collision of your mouths dissolved whatever remaining shreds of propriety or restraint had still persisted between you. Any concept of stopping things before they spiraled into outright debauchery simply evaporated under the unholy lashings of Suna's relentless, all-consuming passion.
He seized you by the hips and simply hauled you forward until your heated bodies were flush together, legs hopelessly tangled as he proceeded to lay an scorching path of biting kisses down your jawline and throat. Your head lolled back in blind rapture, both hands burying convulsively into Suna's thick, sweat-dampened locks as he nibbled and sucked at the vulnerable juncture where your pulse rabbited beneath silken flesh.
Every nerve in your body was strumming with fiery need, skin prickling and hypersensitive as if lying exposed against the blazing desert sands at high noon. Each scrape of Suna's teeth and calloused caresses felt like molten brands in their wake, driving both of you towards a fever pitch of outright delirium that was rapidly proving insurmountable.
All the while, the cavalcade of filthy compliments and growled encouragements continued to pour from Suna's lips between each punishing new worship against your skin - each one more scandalizing than the last in their absolutely shameless appreciation of your rapidly-overheating senses. You could only keen and writhe shamelessly in return, far too intoxicated by the storm of sensations to offer any coherent responses beyond breathless mewls of blissed-out acquiescence.
"So fucking gorgeous like this...hot and desperate and ready for me to take you apart," Suna husked against the swollen peaks of your nipples – which had hardened into insistent buds clearly visible through the thin cotton of your shirt at some point during the proceedings.
He raked his sharpened canines over the taut fabric in deliberate torment, drinking in the way your back arched convulsively at the electric sensation with that same burning stare from beneath hooded lids. When his broad palms shoved the thin barrier of material aside to finally bare your sensitized breasts to his scorching mouth, you cried out in wordless bliss...only to find your raptures muffled against the searing, eager crush of Suna's lips an instant later.
He swallowed down every cry and whimper with a ravenous hunger, his dexterous tongue twining sinuously with your own even as his broad palms continued to knead and toy with the heaving mounds of your chest with wanton greed. You couldn't remember the last time you'd been so utterly lost to the throes of pleasure - your entire being consumed by the scalding slide of lips, tongues, and questing fingers against the heated contours of your quivering body.
When Suna's teeth caught and pinched sharply against one erect nipple, you nearly shattered apart from the overwhelming sensation. Your inner walls clenched reflexively, a fresh flood of molten heat pulsing through your core as your hips rocked helplessly in a desperate search for more stimulation.
Suna swore raggedly at the way you moaned and shivered in his arms, the low, graveled rasp of his voice resonating straight down your spine and making the aching void between your thighs spasm. In one fluid motion, he released his possessive hold on your abused, spit-slick nipples to instead grip the waistband of your sweats.
The thin cotton and cotton panties beneath were summarily dragged down your thighs, leaving you utterly exposed and panting with wanton anticipation. You felt rather than saw Suna's heated gaze sweeping across the naked planes of your body, taking in the full glory of your quivering thighs spread wide and the glistening slick of desire staining the plump folds of your cunt.
When he reached up and traced a long, calloused finger down the glistening seam of your weeping slit, you nearly sobbed at the exquisite feeling of relief - arching wantonly against his questing hand and grinding your sensitive clit against his knuckles in a bid for more friction. Suna's nostrils flared as he watched you writhe wantonly against his palm, dark eyes blazing with unrestrained need as they roved hungrily across every inch of flushed skin laid bare for him to see.
"Fucking look at you...all hot and needy, just begging for it," he rasped, his voice gone husky and thick with lust. You watched, breath hitching as he slowly raised his hand to his face and dragged the wet fingers that had been stroking and teasing your soaked folds across his full, swollen lips.
Then, holding your rapt, stunned stare, he dipped his head forward and slowly licked the slick coating off his digits in one deliberate swipe. Your stomach clenched with arousal at the erotic sight, the sound of his appreciative hum at your taste sending a fresh gush of wetness to slick the sensitive folds between your legs.
"And you taste like a fucking dream..." Suna murmured, the corner of his lips quirking as he registered the fresh rush of moisture that had spilled out at his salacious gesture. He gave you one last slow, deliberate drag of his fingers along your pulsing seam, savoring the way you squirmed and trembled against the delicious friction.
Then his dark, predatory gaze snapped up to lock with your own as his broad hands came up to grip the backs of your knees and shove them wide. You couldn't hold back a shuddering gasp at the sudden motion, your entire body flushing with renewed heat as you realized how shamelessly exposed and vulnerable you were to Suna's piercing regard.
"Gonna eat you out until you can't even remember your name," he vowed, the rough edge of lust saturating his low drawl sending a fresh, giddy rush of desire spiking through your overheated senses. You could only moan in reply, eyes fluttering closed as his palms slid up the inside of your trembling thighs, thumbs teasing the sensitive creases where leg met pelvis before trailing across your swollen folds.
Then his long fingers were spreading you obscenely open for him, and you were suddenly drowning in the most exquisite, mind-melting pleasure as his hot, insistent tongue swept along your soaked slit. Every nerve ending seemed to spark to vivid life under the dizzying onslaught, your whole world shrinking to the scorching, sinful drag of Suna's mouth against the swollen petals of your cunt.
He licked and sucked at your drenched core with wanton greed, lapping up the fresh surge of wetness that had spilled forth from the erotic sight and sound of his own lewd devotions. When his agile tongue finally found its way up to circle around the taut bud of your clit, you keened and bucked wantonly against his mouth, all sense of modesty and dignity erased in the all-consuming firestorm of your shared arousal.
Suna moaned in appreciation at the shameless display, the vibrations reverberating straight down your hypersensitized flesh and sending another pulse of molten heat throbbing through your molten core. He wrapped his arms around your thighs and hauled you closer, locking your writhing body against the unyielding, scalding heat of his own and burying his face ever deeper against your dripping cunt.
There was no room left for coherent thought as Suna proceeded to lap and suck at your swollen, sensitive folds, the wet sounds of his tongue gliding through your slick folds and the wanton, broken moans escaping from your lips combining into a symphony of lust. The rhythmic drag of his talented tongue was relentless, the wicked suction of his mouth almost painful in its perfection.
Each new surge of pleasure had you writhing harder against Suna's merciless ministrations, the tension building at the base of your spine threatening to snap any moment. Just when the pleasure was reaching its zenith, the tip of his tongue suddenly plunged inside your aching entrance, thrusting in deep and hard to lap at the silken inner walls of your weeping core.
The feeling of his velvety tongue probing so deeply into the tight, grasping depths of your cunt was all it took to send you tumbling over the edge, the orgasm exploding through your senses with an intensity that left you seeing stars. Your head fell back against the cushions as you thrashed and cried out, fingers burying themselves once more into the thick tangle of Suna's hair as you rode his tongue through the searing aftershocks.
Only once the last shudders of ecstasy had faded did he release his punishing grip on your thighs, allowing your body to sag against the cushions as you fought to regain equilibrium. When you finally managed to crack open a bleary eye, it was to find him hovering over you, the sharp angles and planes of his features softened into a rare, genuine smile.
You could feel the warm puff of his breath caressing the skin of your cheek as he leaned closer, the subtle scent of his musk and sweat mingling with the more potent aroma of your combined arousal. Then his lips were ghosting feather-light against yours, the soft brush sending little jolts of residual electricity through your already sensitized nerve endings.
"I'll be honest," Suna murmured, the raspy edge to his voice somehow making the simple words sound indecent and erotic. "I never imagined that would happen, but fuck, it was even hotter than I could've hoped for. How about you?"
When you didn't respond immediately, his hooded eyes searched your features and a slow, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
"Still speechless? I must have really done a number on you then."
The teasing quip was accompanied by the sudden brush of a calloused palm trailing a scorching path up your thigh, coming to a stop right at the junction where hip met pelvis. You shuddered and tried to summon up the brainpower to fire off a suitably witty retort, only to end up moaning instead when two long, dexterous fingers suddenly slid against your drenched core.
Suna chuckled, clearly pleased by the reaction, and leaned closer to murmur against the shell of your ear. "But I'm not done with you yet," he husked, punctuating the statement by thrusting those questing digits up into your slick channel, causing a fresh wave of molten heat to flood your aching walls.
You gasped at the sudden invasion, inner muscles clenching and fluttering around the thick intrusion as the rest of Suna's weight settled over your trembling form. He hooked his fingers deep, dragging his knuckles along your tender inner walls in a sinfully decadent motion that made your toes curl.
"Fuck, you're tight," he groaned, his voice dropping to a rough growl that sent an answering throb straight down to the apex of your thighs. You felt his teeth catch against the sensitive skin below your ear, biting down gently and eliciting a fresh shiver of arousal. "And you're going to feel even tighter around my cock..."
His fingers twisted and curled again, setting off another cascade of sparks behind your eyelids. A wanton moan spilled from your lips, only to be stifled as Suna's tongue plunged into the cavern of your mouth. He kissed you deep and wet and filthy, letting you taste the heady musk of your own arousal on his lips.
When the kiss finally broke, you were both gasping for air, the air thick with the scent of sex and pheromones. Suna's dark eyes were blown wide with lust, his cock throbbing and heavy against the soft curve of your belly. You could feel his heartbeat thundering in his chest, his skin slick with sweat as he pressed against you, trapping you against the couch cushions.
"I'm going to fuck you now," he rasped, the raw desire in his tone sending another bolt of liquid heat pooling in your core. His fingers were still buried deep, stretching you open with slow, deliberate thrusts that had your back arching and toes curling with each delicious slide.
"God, please..." you moaned, unable to help yourself. It was all too much and not enough, the sensation of being filled and stretched so thoroughly sending shivers of pleasure racing up and down your spine. You could feel another orgasm building in the pit of your stomach, your whole body tightening with anticipation.
Suna's gaze was burning, his lips curled in a smug smirk as he watched your reactions. His fingers worked in and out of you, twisting and curling in a torturous rhythm that had you keening and squirming beneath him.
"Please what?" he purred, voice dripping with smugness and lust. You couldn't believe how utterly wrecked you sounded, your words a garbled mess of pleading and desire.
"Please, Suna, I need you...need to feel you inside me..."
A low, feral sound rumbled in his chest, the vibration resonating throughout his powerful frame and sending a fresh shiver down your spine. His free hand slid up to cup your jaw, the pad of his thumb tracing over your parted, swollen lips.
"Good girl," he murmured, the praise sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core. He withdrew his fingers slowly, savoring the way you shuddered and whimpered at the loss. Then he reached down, gripping his throbbing length and sliding it along your dripping folds.
"Let me hear you scream my name when I fuck you senseless."
And with that, he plunged into you in a single, fluid stroke. Your head fell back against the pillows, a cry of bliss ripping from your throat as his thick cock filled you, stretching you open with his girth. You could feel him throbbing inside you, his heartbeat matching yours as he buried himself to the hilt.
Suna's breathing was ragged, his pupils blown wide with desire as he looked down at you. His hips rolled, grinding his cock against your aching walls, drawing out a strangled moan. He set a slow, deep rhythm, the slide of his shaft dragging along every inch of sensitive tissue in your core.
Your hands came up to clutch at his broad shoulders, nails digging into the taut muscle and sinew there as you struggled to hold on. Suna's eyes were locked on yours, his expression intense as he fucked you with steady, measured thrusts. His teeth caught your bottom lip, the sudden pain sending a jolt of pleasure racing down your spine.
You could feel the pressure building again, your entire body tightening like a coiled spring. The heat in the pit of your stomach was growing more intense, a liquid heat coursing through your veins. Every thrust of Suna's cock was driving you closer and closer to the edge, the delicious friction setting your nerves on fire.
You could feel the pressure mounting, the tension in your lower belly drawing taut until it was almost unbearable. Suna's hips rolled, grinding his cock against the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs.
"Fuck!" you cried, the sound muffled against the hot press of his mouth.
"That's right, sweetheart," he groaned, his pace picking up as he drove into you. "Come for me. Come for me, and I'll fill you up nice and deep."
The filthy promise was enough to tip you over the edge. You shattered around him, pleasure ripping through you like a tidal wave. Your muscles clenched around him, your inner walls rippling around his cock.
Suna grunted, his movements becoming erratic as he chased his own release. He fucked you through your orgasm, his hips pistoning furiously as he sought his own. His eyes were squeezed shut, his lips parted as he neared the edge.
Suddenly, his entire body stiffened, a shudder running through him as his cock twitched and jerked inside you. Warmth flooded your core as he came, his seed filling you. The feeling of his hot spend inside you, marking you, was enough to trigger a second orgasm, your body writhing beneath him as you rode the wave of pleasure.
Suna's arms wrapped around you, his breathing ragged as he buried his face in your neck. You clung to him, fingers digging into his skin as you both fought to catch your breath. After what felt like an eternity, the haze of ecstasy began to recede, the reality of the situation settling in.
As the euphoric afterglow gradually ebbed away, a wave of disorientation crashed over you - leaving you struggling to reconcile the sudden shift in dynamics between you and your best friend. It didn't help that Suna still had you pinned beneath his lean, muscular frame, his cock softening inside you as his labored breaths continued to fan across your cheek.
Your mind was still reeling from the unexpected turn the evening had taken, and you could feel the telltale prickle of anxiety beginning to creep along the fringes of your consciousness. Before you could fully descend into the familiar spiral of self-doubt and regret, Suna lifted his head, pinning you in place with that same piercing gaze.
"Don't start getting weird on me now," he drawled, the lazy rasp to his voice doing little to mask the thread of steel underlying the warning. You blinked owlishly, trying and failing to gather enough wits about you to formulate a coherent response.
"Wha–"
"I said," he interjected, voice dropping into that low, authoritative purr that somehow managed to send a fresh jolt of desire shooting straight to your core despite the lingering fatigue weighing down your limbs. "Don't start getting weird on me, or I'll fuck that anxious little look right off your face."
When you gaped up at him in slack-jawed disbelief, Suna smirked.
"Just giving you a taste of what's coming if you start to doubt me. And this." His hand swept down the length of your body in a possessive caress, eliciting a sharp hiss of pleasure-pain as the rough calluses on his palm scraped over your abused nipples. "What we've just done here is just the start, and I can guarantee it'll only get more intense from here on out. So keep that in mind before you go and ruin a perfectly good post-orgasmic cuddle with that self-deprecating shit."
"But..." you protested weakly, struggling to find some kind of anchor in the midst of the chaos. "How do you even know I was about to...?"
Suna snorted, the derisive sound managing to convey exactly how stupid he found the question. "You've been my best friend for how long now? You think I don't know your anxious ticks and tells by now?"
He leaned in closer, the dark glimmer in his eyes sending a fresh shiver of apprehension and anticipation down your spine. "But that's all the more reason to trust me when I say it's going to be fine. You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this – how long I've wanted you, and this is only the beginning."
The confession stunned you, your eyes widening as a new surge of emotion rose up in your chest. Your heart fluttered, a giddy warmth flooding through your veins and making your toes curl with delight. Suna's expression softened at the sight, the faintest hint of a smile curving his lips.
"See? That wasn't so hard, was it?"
Before you could formulate a response, his mouth slanted over yours, the slow, sinuous glide of his tongue against yours banishing any remaining doubts and fears in a wash of pure bliss. Your eyelids fluttered closed, your body melting bonelessly against his as you surrendered to the exquisite sensation.
When the kiss finally broke, Suna was wearing that infuriating, smug grin you'd come to associate with the most devastating, game-changing wins. You glared at him half-heartedly, unable to maintain the act for more than a few seconds under the force of his knowing stare.
"I hate you," you muttered, even as you wound your arms around his neck and buried your face in the crook of his shoulder. Suna chuckled, his fingers carding soothingly through the tangled strands of your hair.
"I love you too, sweetheart. Now, how about we get cleaned up and then we can continue this in your bedroom?"
COULD U DO MATTHEO X F READER DURING HER OVULATION WEEK AND SHES SUPER NEEDY AND HORNY? (Pls I’m ovulating and craving ur fics so bad babe😭🙏🧎🏼♀️)
I love how feral this is lmfao -
𝐍𝐨 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐬 | 𝐌.𝐑.
Mattheo Riddle x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Established Relationship, Dark Fic, Violence, Language, Mention of drugs and alcohol, Slight fluff, Public Affections, Possessiveness, Smut (+18), Dirty Talk, Touch starvation, Fingering, Humping, Grinding, Whining, Sub/Dom Undertones, Blood Kink, Fighting Kink?, Squirting, Major Degradation, Praise Kink, Breeding Kink, Slight Humiliation Kink
The night is deep, and the dungeon is dim as a few sunken eyes peer curiously at you while you make your way through the crowd. Seeing you emerge from within the walls of your private dorm room was a rare and curious sight for everyone involved. It was especially rare for you to embed yourself amongst your fellow pupils shenanigans, seeing yourself as above such baseless devilment.
You were not here for them.
You were scanning the crowd for him because an unfamiliar warmth had been festering inside your stomach and it had propelled your feet forward, until you reached the very centre of the Slytherin soiree commencing in the common room.
Your core is still aching with the after affects of your fingers as you manoeuvre your way through the party. You were touching yourself under satin sheets only moments ago-spurred on by the imaginings of his bloodied fingers slipping inside you, stabbing your cunt until you mewled like a useless whore and he affirmed you as such. His recklessness and delinquency cracked something vital in your brain and you felt yourself get wetter as you pushed through the crowd. You needed him to touch you, your body practically burned for him to absolutely ruin you, and you set out to do just that.
Although you had turned down a concoction of Firewhiskey from an already inebriated Ravenclaw student, your stomach burns with the anticipation of seeing him.
Feeling him.
Smelling his near constant fragrance of Firewhiskey along his lips. You were never clingy but you wished for nothing more than to be in the presence of your insufferable and clingy boyfriend.
A month into your courtship, and you had failed to bring up how much of his habits bypass all sensibilities in your brain. If only he knew how much his recklessness brought about an unmistakable moisture in between your thighs. That,coupled with his bruised and bloody knuckles, spurred on your need, especially during this time of the month.
It had been easy to maintain your composure throughout the rest of the month, effortless, even. Detachment and independence was a by-product of your personality, showing up in the way you shied away from Mattheo's public affections and always appearing uninterested in any of his verbal charms.
One such occasion; you had found him taking up purchase on your bed after an incredibly tiresome day as a Slytherin prefect.
"Make yourself scarce, Riddle. I'm not in the mood," He, of course, was delighted in your indifference- truthfully, he basked in it. Mattheo was somewhat of a masochist, craving the attention of someone so emotionally detached. The very second he noticed how unaffected you appeared with his shenanigans. He might as well have transfigured into a mermaid, because he was hooked.
"How easy you are to repel my affections," He said, letting a bandaged hand fall on his chest as he lay supine like a starfish on your Satin sheets, "How swiftly you deny my companionship-"
"Dont you have any orphans to torture?"
You mourn the past you... how indifferent she had been.
How utterly in control!
The bed dipped as he slithered closer, letting a hand rest on your shoulders as he began to knead the tense muscle there.
"Don't I get a 'How was your day, Riddle?' How did you sleep, Riddle? How did you acquire these bruises, Riddle, and I hope you looked hot doing it, Riddle" it was then that you glanced at the hand on your shoulder. Busted knuckles bred bloodied and broken skin. Riddle's hand was a smorgasbord of cuts and bruises that disappeared up his black, cotton sleeve shirt. You ignored the useless warmth knotting in your core as you continued to undo your shoelaces.
"I needn't ask you because I know you were in the centre of yet another degenerate fight," you had said, burying all the feelings of need amongst your usual, scholarly distractions.
"You love it"
"I hate it actually. It makes me question my affiliation with you.
"You say that princess, but you secretly love it"
You did love it, and right now, distracting yourself is not an option. You watch with bated breath as the object of your affections walks into the Slytherin common rooms. There are plenty of bodies swaying in the dungeons illuminated by various Ravenclaws who have casted Lumos
You see Riddle across the room, head thrown back while he nursed a cup of Firewhiskey. When his head comes back, he sees you too, he raises his cup and he pushes himself off the wall to lessen the distance between you. Your legs certainly achieve a quicker gait as you push past the swaying bodies and soon enough you're bombarded by firewhiskey, with an undercurrent of sweat and leather.
The second you’re close, Riddle lowers his cup on the desk, already having his explanations ready for the impending combat. "If you think I'm gonna let you take my freedom away again, you’re fucking crazy. I'm barely buzzed and I'm getting drunk, or high by the end of this night and there's nothing you-" But your fist is already digging into the softness of his button up shirt and your lips are open as you force them onto his.
Right there, in the open.
Mattheo is naturally stunned, possibly discombobulated.
Had he really gotten higher than he thought?
Did that fucking Hufflepuff make him a stepped on joint?
Frankly, he couldn't care less, and as the shock of it all wore down, and he could feel you begin to slip away, Mattheo slithers his battered hand around your waist and pulls you impossibly close. He smirks into the kiss, as he brings his hand up, fingers gliding across your collarbone, while the other hand lingers around your waist.
"What happened to your hand?" It is a question that threatens to burst the bubble established between the two of you. Why would you ask him this? Why would you bring him back to the events of earlier today when you were so prettily malleable in his hands right now?
"Nothing,"
"Matt..." You say, clouding your words with innuendo, which has him looking up at you with furrowed brows.
"Nott," Is all he says before he buries himself in the crook of your neck. His proximity awakens something animalistic inside of you, it pushes you to the depths of your lascivious desires and has you melting right there on the dance floor. All around you, fellow Slytherins continue to sway to the beat, letting the thrum of the enchanted muggle music speak for them. You throw your head back, gasping at the overwhelming need pooling in your core as Riddle begins to send reckless kisses down your collarbone, all while you imagine beating another guy silly. You blame your cycle. You blame your body. You blame every single hormone responsible for allowing you to emit such a wanton moan so openly in the very centre of a crowd.
"Who do I have to kill in order to get this reaction out of you everyday?" Mattheo is panting, with his hazel eyes dilated (whether from pleasure or substance, you might never know). Who do I have to curse in order to get you to be this slutty for me every single day?" His breathing is shallow and audible, even through all the noise. Mattheo's mind is foggy and the party guests are reduced to a memory. The only image he's able to conjure up is his lips between your wet folds - his tongue eager to find the source of your need while you moaned above him and kneaded your own breasts in a slutty haze.
"I need you, Mattheo," it was fucking infuriating to admit but the wetness has completely soaked through your underwear and a fresh scar is present in the corner of Mattheo's eye. There's a slight red smudge under his nose, and his knuckles are red and angry at the best of your neck, cradling your head close to his.
"Say that again-"
"What? No, I will not fucking-"
Mattheo's grip on your neck immediately unhooks and he detangles your limbs but before he ventures any furthers you're pulling him down to you and with your lips to Mattheo's greedy ears you angrily mutter, "I fucking need you. I need you really badly,"
He stares in your desperate, dark eyes with wonder and awe before letting your wrist be enclosed by his iron grip. Soon, you're being dragged through a Slytherin party with a boy adjusting the front lf his pants and barking orders at the drunken strangers to move before they fucking died.
Just as you succeed in cutting through the crowd a voice stops both of you in your tracks.
"I'm going to fucking kill you, Riddle," the voice booms from over the thumping bass of whatever muggle music was enchanted over the dungeon. Mattheo's gaze cuts away from you, but before he turns completely away, a slow Cheshire cat grin curls at the ends of his lips.
"That threat has grown so unimaginably tedious after years of overuse, Theo but I can't do this right now-" His sentence has already been cut short by an audible blow to his lower jaw. Theo Nott blocked your path towards the darkened hallway, leading to your dorm room and you're left wholly unsatisfied as Mattheo is sent barreling backwards. He lets go of your hand, stopping to wipe the wetness at the corners of his lips and checking to see if it's blood. It is. And something scratches inside of you.
The Prefect inside you wants to intervene but an even darker part of you tells you not to.
Theo is livid, and his wide chest rises and falls as he descends on Mattheo,
"Why the fuck am I being told by Draco of all people, that I can't play Keeper because I'm stuck in the hospital wing-"
"Theo, I really don't have the time for this-" Mattheo begins, but Theo cuts him short,
"Are you trying to steal my fucking place, Riddle?"
Mattheo's voice is leveled as he raises his fingers and says, "Okay, first off, yeah, I am. Obviously I'm trying to take your place. You're a shit Keeper and secondly, I've got somewhere to be," Theo's barreling towards Mattheo once more.
A silly, borderline maniacal smirk explodes on Riddle's face before he makes the shotgun decision to charge and lands a punch at Theo's jaw, allowing for the taller boy to stagger backwards. Your shoulders jump, and you flinch at the sickening sound as you watch with a wide gaze as Mattheo nurses his hurt hand. Theo is a raging bull, but Draco appears from the crowd, with a firm grip on Theo's shoulder. A stern, quiet reprimand.
At the exact same moment, Mattheo's hand finds yours and he smirks as he stalks past Nott, wiping away at his chin as he leads you towards your dorm.
The quietness within is almost jarring compared to the noise out there and as soon as the door closes, Mattheo's lips descend on your neck, "I know, I know," He sighs heavily, as he brings his hand up to your shoulder, "I’m sorry. I just hope I haven't ruined the vibe-"
"I want your fingers inside me, Riddle." He stills at your quiet command, and you leave him standing by the door as you pad over to your bed. "I don't know why, but I just need you, okay? And my own fingers aren't quite doing the trick and I keep thinking about how fucking crazy you are and-", You sigh as you sit at the foot of the bed. Lifting the skirt of your dress, Mattheo watches in the dimness of your room as you venture your fingers under your dress and hook them into your panties. He walks towards you, propelling the wings of the butterflies in your stomach.
All he says is, "Which hand?" He doesn't know why he asks, but he does and his voice is barely above a whisper as he hopes you pick the right answer. His cock twitches in his underwear at the thought of seeing his blood on your skin.
Mattheo stops in between your legs, causing the fabric of the dress to rise while a breeze drifts over your soaked pussy. You bend forward and reach for his bloodied hand.
"I want your fingers inside me,"
Mattheo's resolve immediately snaps and his hands grip tightly at your hips, pushing you backwards and exposing your wet core to him.
"You're fucking dripping through the sheets like a slut- you're a fucking slut,"
Excitement. It rushes through you like a wave of magma at the neediness in his own voice.
Matheo rushes to rid both of you of the excess fabric, casting Evansco, until all he can see is your warm, glistening skin.
"Oh my fuck-" Mattheo's voice cracks as he stares down at your aching cunt, his fingers almost instinctively rubbing over the wetness.
"Touch your breasts," He commands, "I wanna see you do it,"
Your eyes pierce into his dark ones as you bring a shaky hand up towards your puckered nipples. The smallest brush elicits a violent streak of pleasure which would have occupied your entire mind were it not for Mattheo's long fingers already stabbing into your dripping cunt.
"Fuck, you're so wet," He whines, unconsciously burying his hips into the sheets at the foot of your bed as he watches. He is utterly transfixed by his middle and ring finger disappearing into your cunt. Every time they sink deeper your mind gets filled with images of Riddle's unrest and violence. You're utterly wrecked with the thought of his bloodied fingers being inside you, touching the most private parts of you.
"Pick up the pace, Riddle,"
"Shut the fuck up," He mumbles as he takes his time in exploring the very depths of you. Your voice soars to higher octaves as you feel your first orgasm cresting quite literally against your will. How utterly embarrassing, to cum so quickly.
"You're fucking squeezing my fingers- fuck-" You're desperately humping at his hand, hoping your hips might achieve the feat of sinking his fingers further into you. "You're humping my hand so fucking well." His cock aches as he continues to grind it into the sheets, in tandem with your swollen cunt taking his fingers.
"Are you seriously going to cum so soon? Are you that desperate to get fucked-" Your cunt spasms around his fingers and you're moaning as you squeeze your sensitive breasts, already soaring to the heights of your orgasm. Your screams rival the music outside but Riddle never tells you to keep quiet, instead he watches with hungry eyes as your body melts into its orgasm.
"Look at what the fuck you've done," Mattheo's words have you slowly coming back to earth, but not quite... his voice is heavy with lust as you raise yourself by your elbows. Your stomach sinks as you watch Mattheo, he's frozen in front of you, with his head lowered and his gaze on his palm.
"I-I'm sorry-" Your sheets were soaked with your release, leaving a visible damp spot. You squirted everywhere.
"You're gonna do that on my cock," before you can comprehend your words Mattheo already has his cock positioned at your wet folds.
"I'm going to fucking cum inside you and you're going to take it, yeah?" The serious shadow in his darkened eyes hold no room for negotiation, you'd never seen Mattheo quite this serious because seriousness just didn't run in his bloodstream. However, he's utterly ruined by your neediness, needing to take advantage of your compliance before it slipped through his fingers.
"Oh my fuck- Mattheo!"He pulls your hips towards the edge of the bed and his cock forces itself through your folds, until Mattheo is quite literally fucking you with reckless abandon.
"Matt- I can't-'' You're still riding on the sensitivity of your previous high and you think Mattheo could be a little mindful of this but his goal, it seems, is to leave you overstimulated.
"You can," he mumbles, with his eyes squeezing shut before he quickly opens them, wanting to see every emotion flowing over your face.
"You're a slut but you're not a useless slut, are you?" You tits bounce with every movement of Mattheo's hips, and you're shaking your head despite the fog. Your cunt is squeezing the life out of his cock and you feel him pushing at a very sensitive part of you.
Your head is buried in the pillows as your back arches and you swallow him deeper.
Mattheo bends forward, his hips quickening into a needy, restless rut as his teeth sink into the skin around your nipples.
"FUCK-" The pain bleeds into pleasure which streams into your next orgasm. Riddle moans around your skin, suckling at your nipple while he fucked you like he is as touch starved as you are.
"I'm cumming, Matt-" The fact that you're still able to form words is a complete and utter mystery because, not a second later, you're exploding around his cock. A gushing, clear liquid rushes through you while your lips chant his name like a prayer.
"I'm going to fucking breed you, baby- oh fuck, you're so pretty squirting around my cock-" the cracks in his voice; the desperation laced on every word has him cumming inside you, pushing his hips with every spurt of warmth.
You're still shuddering when Mattheo slumps over you. You're both huffing and puffing and basking in each other's release with his cock still very much inside you. "You're getting a contraception potion from Madame Pomfrey tomorrow," you can do nothing except nod as your satisfaction settles.
“fuck is this about?” he asked as his gaze stayed on the screen, the camera already recording. you giggled, a sound he’d once admitted was his favorite with all its sweetness, and he sighed deeply, already accepting defeat. because who the hell did he think he was, before his sweet girl he’d certainly burn the whole world for?
“you’ll see.” you mumbled, a playful grin stretching across your face. the camera angle was already perfect, catching both his figure and every grumpy expression, but you kept checking it just to be sure.
you had stumbled across the trend while scrolling, knowing your boyfriend probably hadn’t since he avoided social media like the plague, claiming that place was full of dimwits. from the moment you’ve seen the trend, you’ve always wanted to try it. and now, quite late to the trend, he stood there with his hands shoved into his pockets, an amused look resting on his features, about to partake in a trend he wasn’t even aware of.
after checking the camera one more time, you made your way over, still giggling with a disturbingly joyous tone.
“you sound fucking evil.” he groaned at the sight of your grin since he was already familiar with the scene, aware that you were planning something.
you stopped in front of him, your eyes were sparkling with joy and you were barely containing your laughter. he, visibly defeated, also smiled warmly, a sweet gesture he only ever showed to you. the stretch on his lips could’ve looked unfamiliar to anyone else, but to you it was known and comforting. a gesture so unlike him yet so much of him. so much of a part of him only you knew.
you gently took his arms, lifting them above his head. “the hell?” he asked, but you simply shrugged, making sure he keeps them there. for a moment, you also enjoyed the vision, his tight tee clinging onto his huge biceps and stretching the poor fabric.
then you tangled your fingers into his short, pinkish hair, and rose onto your tiptoes to meet his lips. the moment your lips caught his, he let out a low groan, straight from his chest.
his hands dropped almost instantly. they smoothly found your hips, pulling you against him, his warmth seeping through his hands to your body.
you’d guessed he would probably lower his arms as he openly disliked listening to others, but then again he had built an habit of obeying you over the years you were together —and still, even if he did lower them, you hadn’t expected it to be this quick.
“kuna you are so weak-“ you barely breathed the words with a pleased laugh out before he cut you off, crashing his lips onto yours again with aggressive yet careful moves.
“babe, let me breathe— okay the trend’s over-“ you tried to speak, laughing against his moist lips, as his hands wandered all over your body.
“trend?” he muttered, merely pulling back as his lips still hovered over yours, his brows furrowing, and you laughed.
“mhmm, to see if you’d melt into the kiss. you are sooo weak baby.” he glanced at the camera, and rolled his eyes as he finally understood the situation. even so he kept his hands on yours again hips, his grip tightening just slightly.
“yeah,” he said, a wicked grin tugging at his lips, “so fucking weak.” he said, before leaning in to kiss you again, muffling your laughter with a warm look in his eyes, and an amused glint beneath his gaze.
Synopsis: Toji is away for work while you are ovulating — and you are suffering deeply from needingtobefuckeditis. When he returns, boy does he deliver.
CW: horniness like you’ve never felt before, mentions of masturbation, established relationship, smut — unprotected sex, spanking, creampie, overstimulation?, anal fingering, squirting, hair pulling, dom!Toji, breeding kink (MDNI)
WC: 4k
A/N: oh to be Toji’s toy during ovulation… 😵💫
You could not think straight. Usually, the ovulation stage of your cycle would bring the to be expected egg white and some out of pocket dirty thoughts here and there, but this time? Your reproductive organs were on steroids.
Even before your period had ended, your mind had been clouded with such downright dirty thoughts of being absolutely rawed that you worried to think what your body would be like once it actually did finish.
And oh, were you ill-prepared.
It hit you with full force the first morning without your period. All you could think about was sex. Of being fucked so good that you’d see god. Of your cunt being used and abused in the way that she was clearly craving so fucking badly. Of being so stuffed full of cum that it would leak out all over your legs.
Going to work in these conditions was brutal. The work day was ordinarily not so long, but now? You were suffering. To add insult to injury, Toji was out of town for work, so you had no one to satisfy you except the sad little piece of plastic in your bedside drawer.
You had long retired your rabbit since being with Toji, for obvious reasons, the main being that nothing and no one could ever come close to him. And you’d gotten so used to how good he would give it to you that you knew that nothing you could do with the rabbit would ever compare.
Every time he was away, you’d have no communication until he came back, which you understood due to his line of work, but right now, you hated that fact because you wish you could at least hear his voice. Something, anything from him would help.
So here you were, on day 2 of your ovulation phase, trying to get Megumi to sleep sooner so you could get to bed yourself.
When he eventually did fall asleep, you darted out of his room and into yours, pulling off your clothes hastily and grabbing your current sleeping companion from the nightstand.
While it wasn’t Toji, you managed to satiate your aching cunt for the time being.
The next day was ever the challenge, but thankfully you had some tasks at work that required additional brain power so this distracted you briefly from the dire need to be fucked.
The constant horniness was getting tiring without Toji truly satisfying it, but you did your best to nonetheless, counting down the days until he’d come home, which — you check your watch — should be in 3 days, 2 hours, and 24 minutes.
You decided to get creative with your methods, one such being a Pilates class. Your friend had told you, verbatim, “If you want to feel like you’ve been bent over, disrespectfully, and have your legs quaking by the end, go to a Pilates class.”
So you had decided to do just that. Megumi had a babysitter for that evening while you were at the class, so you got to fully immerse yourself into it. You did not expect it to be so difficult, having to bend your body into all these different positions and engaging your core in a way that you’d never felt before. The burn was undeniable and strangely, you did find that it helped somewhat.
Your muscles truly ached the next day, a Friday. This helped keep the dirty thoughts and the horny feelings at bay as you winced from the muscle ache at work, but by the time you got home, your mind had clouded once again.
You had Megumi to tend to for the evening until his bedtime, so you had to keep it all at bay while you watched over the sweet boy. He was a great kid and you were grateful that he was as such.
Finally, finally, you tuck him into bed a few hours later and make sure he’s asleep before you shut his door and head into yours like a woman on a mission.
Day 4 of ovulation and it was probably the worst of them all. The desperation you were feeling was like you were a bitch in heat.
So, imagine the sheer anger that strikes through you when you find that your rabbit’s batteries had died and you had no spare ones to hand. Of fucking course.
Toji is very many things. Toji is a punctual man. (Or, at least, he tells himself that. He tries to be.)
He had told you he’d be home after his mission on Sunday afternoon, and usually his missions take the whole predicted time, but this mission he’d gotten lucky with and he’d managed to finish up quicker than anticipated by Friday evening. He was happy about that; he’d be getting paid the same figure and also get to go home sooner.
While he’s making the journey home, he wonders what he’d do with his “paid time off” as you’d call it — probably primarily family time with you and Megumi. You. He’d missed you, your voice, and your sweet body. He wouldn’t say it outright, but he was excited to see you. And so was his cock.
Toji had expected to arrive home to a quiet, dark house since it was nighttime and you loved your beauty sleep. What he didn’t expect was to find you splayed out open on the bed, fingers knuckle deep as you pump them furiously in and out of your weeping pussy, quiet mewls falling from you as you gasp and rub quick circles on your swollen clit.
Toji can do very many things. Arriving early to places is not one of them, you’ll note.
Your eyes were closed and your face twisted into one of pleasure as you made do with your hands and fingers, but you opened them to watch yourself when you suddenly notice Toji stood in the doorway, raging hard on poking through his pants, and you instantly stop.
“Toji?” You sit up quickly, unable to believe the sight before you. Were you so far gone that you’d imagined him?
“Oh, don’t stop, baby, I was enjoying the show,” he husks, a sexy smirk on his lips as he kicks the door shut and stalks towards you.
You kneel over to the end of the bed and let out a soft whine when he pulls off his shirt and comes to stand in front of you, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. He was real. When you break apart for air, you sigh, “I can’t believe you’re home already, I was going insane without you.”
“That so?” He chuckles lowly, big hands groping the bare skin of your hips and sliding back to your ass as he connects your lips again. He can sense some urgency in the way you kiss. “Unwrapped my gift for me, huh?”
“I’m ovulating, Toji. I’ve been fucking feral. I needed you so bad this past week…I still do. I need it. I feel like I’m going to die if you don’t give it to me,” you look at him and he can see the desperation in your eyes.
He laughs quietly, letting you pull his shirt over his head and open the ribbon of his pants, “Death by lack of dick. Interesting way to go.”
“I’m serious, Toji,” you responded, pulling him onto the bed with as his pants are at his knees. He lets them fall down the rest of the way and he kisses you again, hungrier this time. You moan into his mouth, lying back and pulling him on top of you. He hovers over you, your legs instantly wrapping around his hips.
You feel the hot press of his heavy cock against your puffy folds, and the excitement of finally getting what you had been longing for, for this entire week gives you a rush. He grunts as he rocks his hips into yours, covering his thick cock with the copious amounts of wetness that had already accumulated at your core. The rubbing of his cock on your clit makes you mewl and you get restless, reaching down to guide him into you.
“So needy for me, aren’t you? My perfect little wife,” he hums against your mouth and you lift your hips, pumping him with your hand once, twice, before you’re guiding him into your waiting entrance. She’d been waiting for this, waiting for him, and the pure relief that you feel of his cock filling you and stretching your walls is something heavenly.
You let out a filthy moan when he bottoms out inside you, and he covers your mouth with his large hand, “Meg’s sleeping, sweetheart, I know you’ve been waiting for this but keep it down.”
You swallow, biting your lip and nodding before he gives you a dirty grind of his hips, his pubic bone grazing your clit. You nearly go cross eyed at the pure bliss this gives you. Truth be told, he was surprised at how easily you’d taken all of him on the first try, but he wasn’t complaining. You were snug as always, wrapped around him so perfectly like you were moulded just for him.
He draws his hips back and you let out a gasp at the heavy feeling of his cock dragging against your plush walls. When he thrusts back into you, you feel like you might explode. You need him to fuck you senseless.
“Faster, baby, please,” you plead, grasping onto his beefy arms, nails digging in a little.
“I love when you beg for me,” he murmurs, lips curled into a smirk as he sucks on your neck. He rolls his hips steadily a few more times, ever the tease, but then he obliges with your request, quickening his pace. He brings his lips to yours in an open mouthed, breathy, messy kiss while he fucks you into the mattress, then leans back because he wants to watch the way you fall apart under him.
You’re on cloud nine; there’s nothing better than the satisfaction of having a craving fulfilled, nothing better than the pleasure of Toji putting you through the mattress. You try to stifle your moans but you can’t, your face twisted in pleasure as he rams his thick, delicious cock into your needy cunt over and over again.
It’s when he grabs your legs from your knees, pushing them up one at a time to fold you in half, that you feel the tingles of your orgasm fast approaching. He hooks his arms under your thighs and pins you to the bed that way, fucking into you rougher despite you being tighter around him now. “Ah— mm, T-Toji-!” Your hands trail up around his shoulders, nails leaving angry red tracks on his muscled back while he pistons his hips repeatedly into yours, the sound of your hips colliding echoing in the room alongside your lewd moans.
You can feel your orgasm approaching fast and you grip onto him, gazing up at him, dazed. “Cum f’me, sweetness— hah— oh, fuck,” he grunts, dipping his head to tease your taut nipple with the flat of his tongue.
He loved having you in this position, he loved testing fate every time you fucked like so. It’s the combination of your carnal desire being satisfied, his mouth on your tits, the deep plunge of his cock inside you, and his direct order that sends you over the edge into the deepest depths of euphoria with a moan so dirty it sounds like a cry. The wave that overcomes your body makes you stiffen and your walls pulse so tightly that it almost becomes painful while he continues to fuck you through it.
“That’s it, baby, f-fuck, give it to me,” Toji groans, hips stuttering as he feels his balls tighten, signalling his imminent release. He pants as he keeps thrusting, and you pull his face up to yours so that you can kiss him. Tongues tangled, his pleasure overcomes him and he buries himself deep inside you as he cums, releasing his thick ropes into your waiting cunt.
He breathes heavily and tries to catch his breath for a moment, lips moving lazily against yours. You bask in the delicious feeling of him fucking his cum inside you.
You’re holding onto him tightly as he releases your legs and you wrap them around his waist again, letting out a quiet mewl when you feel him slip from your confines. “Baby…wait…”
“Remind me to go on missions while you’re ovulating,” he says, a smirk curling at his lips while he pecks kisses on your jaw, “we should do that again sometime.”
You feel up his back, a part of him you loved especially, already feeling empty and wanting more of him. “Sometime? How about… again, right now?” You suggest, and he stops for a second, looking down at you incredulously.
“Wh—now?” He repeats and you nod, biting your bottom lip as you bring your hand to cup his face. Thumb caressing his cheek, he turns his head to kiss the palm of your hand, his eyes hooded as he feels the rush of arousal through his body once again. His cock was still hard and he grabs your face in both his hands, crashing his lips to yours in a rush of desire. You moan into his mouth as he pushes his tongue past the seam of your lips and against yours.
You push him up and this causes him to break the kiss as he sits back on his haunches and waits to see what you want to do. Precum oozes from his slit when he watches you get on all fours and rock your hips sensually for him.
The mess between your thighs drips down them, but you don’t care. You just needed him, again. You wanted more. You wanted all of him. You arch your back, bringing your arms down so you can rest on your elbows. “I want you this way,” you tell him and he wets his lips as he kneels behind you.
He’d never seen you be this damn needy. It was so sexy to him.
Large hands grabbing your hips, he rests his heavy cock on the crack of your ass as he reaches around you to toy with your clit. You keen at the calculated movement of his thick fingers, absentmindedly pushing your hips back against his. “God, Toji…” you sigh contently, eager to have him inside you again.
He can be a tease sometimes and make you beg for it, but right now, he was more than happy to entertain this. Taking his hand away from your clit, he holds onto your hip while he guides his leaking cock into your cunt. You keen at the feeling, the difference in position being felt entirely. You rest your cheek against the bed with a breathy sigh.
He feeds you inch by delicious inch of his thick cock, letting out a tsk when your walls clench around him involuntarily. He swats your ass in response and you let out a small cry, the sting of it going straight to your pussy. He finally bottoms out inside you again, and he pulses his hips, his balls teasing your throbbing clit.
“O-oh…mmnh…” you let out incoherent sounds, gripping the bedsheets when he draws his hips back until only his tip was inside you, slamming his hips into yours with a forceful thrust.
He begins a brutal pace, the sound of your hips slapping together even louder than before. Your eyes are screwed shut as you enjoy the feeling of being thoroughly fucked, your mouth agape while he pulls you back onto his cock.
It’s too much, too fast, your brain can hardly keep up with the fast pace of his. He’s drawing out lewd and dirty moans of his name from you, to which he reaches up and wraps his hand around your hair, pulling on it a little. “I told you to be quiet, sweet thing.”
You bury your face into the sheets and muffle your moans while he continues to ravage your greedy cunt. He releases your hair and lets out a low growl at the sight of your pussy creaming around his dick. Toji loves your ass. It’s why he doesn’t even think about it before he’s gathering your slick and teasing your asshole with his finger.
He’s fucking you into oblivion now, and the sensations are getting slightly overwhelming but you want to power through because you’d been needing this like you needed air. You wanted this.
With each mean thrust of his cock against your plush walls, you edge closer and closer to another, no doubt, life changing orgasm.
“Takin’ me so damn good, baby,” he grits out, dipping his finger into your ass as he continues his mean pace, the thump, thump, thump of his hips hitting yours like the base of a delightful melody.
And boy, oh, boy, was he playing your body like his favourite instrument.
It’s when he’s fully fingering your ass that it happens all at once, your orgasm hits you in an instant and a sudden rush washes over you; a pressure in your abdomen being released as you squirt all over him and the bed. You cry out, tears in your eyes from the ecstasy of it all, your legs almost giving out.
He lets out a gasp, both from the surprise of you squirting all of a sudden, and from the sheer strength of your orgasm which had your walls gripping him so tightly that he struggled to keep his own at bay. Again. Fuck, you were addictive. “Jesus—! Fuck!” He hisses through clenched teeth.
The mess of your squirt, your juices and your cream covered his lower abdomen and he was living for being this fucking filthy with you. He fucks into you a few more times before he starts to cum, slamming his hips into yours again and again to ride through it. His breath shudders as he slows gradually to a stop. He stays there, plugging his cum in you, and you inhale shaky breaths, eyes still closed.
Toji can do very many things, especially with you. Fucking like rabbits was one of his favourite.
He bows over your back, panting for breath, and you both fall onto your sides as you come down from the high. He caresses your hip, where he’d held a bruising grip on you before. You take a moment to gather yourself, and you move off of him, your puffy pussy feeling (and looking, Toji noted) truly abused by that point. You grab the glass of water you’d put on the bedside table earlier and take a long sip, rehydrating yourself.
Toji rolls onto his back, closing his eyes, hand splayed on his abs. You let yourself shamelessly ogle his body while you drink your water; eyes raking down from his pretty face to his large torso, bulging pecs, defined abs, prominent v-line that led straight to his beautiful, big, curved, and still hard but slowly softening cock.
You salivated at the sight of it. The tiredness in your body starts to dissipate the more you look at him.
More, more, more. You wanted more.
You set your glass down and crawl over to him, straddling his hips. He opens his eyes at this and gazes up at you in question. As far as he was concerned, you should have been satiated following that last round.
He can see the glint of mischief in your eyes as you reach between you and wrap your hand around his cock, pumping it slowly. He doesn’t protest — if anyone can keep up with you it’s him — and he watches with piqued interest at how you work his cock so easily, doing all the right things that he likes.
“We already got this messy and you wanna go again?” He inquires, and you nod lazily, thumbing over his slit and smirking to yourself when you feel it jump. Not only are you stroking his cock but you’re also stroking his ego, and he is thoroughly enjoying being the recipient of both of those things.
It doesn’t take much before he’s rock hard again, and he’s groping your ass as you lift your hips and aligning him at your entrance, sinking down onto him in one smooth and steady motion.
He grits his teeth, jaw clenching as he gazes up at you, your eyes almost rolling to the back of your head as you feel yourself being split apart on his thick cock for the third time that evening.
You didn’t need much time to adjust to him so you rock your hips back and forth, feeling the base of his cock catch at your clit, making you cream around him. Toji’s groans are deep and rumble from within his chest as you take the reins, lifting your hips and sinking back down, over and over, desperately. You look so wanton as you ride him, your pretty tits bouncing in his face so he can’t help but give them the attention they deserve.
You clench around him when you feel his mouth on you, so messy with it; open mouthed kisses, sucking, licking, damn near drooling all over your chest.
“Christ, you’re gonna end up pregnant at this rate,” he says with a warning tone, but you only look at him with hooded eyes.
“What if that’s what I want, Toji?” You murmur, bouncing your hips faster. “What if I want you to put a baby in me?”
“Yeah? Wanna give Gumi a sibling, huh?” He rasps, squeezing your ass tightly.
It was at that point that you go onto autopilot, your body moving on its own accord, fucking down onto him with such carnal need that you felt like an animal.
“Yes…yes, fuck, Toji, yes,” you ramble, feeling that you’re nearing your release. You reach back and play with his balls, squeezing them, pulling ever so gently, wanting him to cum with you.
“I’m gonna give it all to you, pretty. Gonna give you every last fuckin’ drop,” his chest rises and falls quicker as you both get closer and closer to the edge.
You lean forward and bounce your hips faster, filthy moans being drawn from your lips which Toji tries to quieten by crushing his lips on yours in a bruising kiss.
You both reach your peaks within seconds of one another, and you try to keep your pace to ride through it but you simply give into the rush of your orgasm and let it take hold of your body. Toji shoots his hot load into you, holding your hips tightly as you both let out breathy moans of each other’s names alongside profanity.
Your walls greedily milk him of every drop that he has to give, and you sigh in contentment as you relax against him, sweaty but satisfied.
Your legs had gone jelly now, the lactic acid build up was catching up to you. Many won’t know this but Toji does have an attentive side that he keeps reserved for you (and his son sometimes). You find yourself smiling when he brings his hands to your thighs and massages them gently, squeezing your muscles a little to get rid of the lactic acid burn.
You kiss him slowly, taking your time to savour the taste of him.
“Can we go again?” You ask with a needy tone, but you couldn’t quite hide the slight tiredness in your voice.
“Honey, we’ve gotta pump the brakes…I’m tired as shit right now and I need— we both need to sleep,” he sighs, running a hand up over his face, pushing his hair back a little.
You pout at him, rubbing the base of his neck and leaning in to suck a dark mark onto his skin, knowing you’d have to let up. “Tomorrow, then? Breakfast, lunch, and dinner?”
“Do I look like a buffet to you?” He quips, and you dissolve into a fit of laughter. “But…fine. Since you asked so nicely.”
