⚠︎⚠︎⚠︎⚠︎ some of the content i support, as well as myself, is 🔞 (18+) ⚠︎⚠︎⚠︎⚠︎
tags
#kiyoochie • adulty content
#haikyuu fic rec • good fics
#haikyuu author rec • good people
#muah <3 • usually content I rly like
#gen.blurb • bite-sized content
#gen.thought • nibble-sized content
#pic.art • edits/fanart
⚠︎⚠︎⚠︎⚠︎
i don’t always properly 🏷 (tag) potential triggers so i am very sorry for that but if you think you might see something that you don’t want too then it’s best to not check this blog out any further
☾ Content: popstar f!reader much more famous than your pro volleyball player boyfriend- you finally hard launch your relationship on instagram but the public reaction isn't what you expect, so you take matters into your own hands
☾ A/N: inspired by dua lipa and callum turner and my girl sabrina
— 𝐔𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐣𝐢𝐦𝐚 𝐖𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢;
Ushijima doesn't even have an instagram, naturally. the closest thing is he's got is his team's account, curated and managed by the PR team. so when you wiggle your phone in front of him to show him the chosen piece for your account, he just gives it a cursory glance and nods. the photo is from backstage at one of your concerts earlier this month: you, glowing with joy, arm slung casually around his neck, leaning into him as you beam up at him with a smile that could light up your stadiums. he's got one arm wrapped securely around your waist, usual stoic expression softened by a warmth in his eyes as he gazes down at you- one that only you seem to be able to draw out of him.
but the reactions to your post are swift and crushing. you're beyond proud of Ushijima- proud of his quiet strength, his dedication, his raw talent. you know you shouldn’t and it shouldn’t—doesn’t—matter, but your thumb keeps scrolling through the comments. each one feels like a knife twisting deeper, a personal attack, particularly the ones suggesting he doesn't care, that he looks like he's got the emotional depth of a spoon, that this is all just a PR move somehow. watching the sweetest man you know not get the recognition he truly deserves hurts more than you want to admit.
ᯓ🏐
when Ushijima steps into your shared bedroom, shirtless, his hair still damp from a post-workout shower and sweatpants slung low on his hips, his gaze finds you sitting at your vanity. the soft light of the mirror highlights your delicate features, casting a warm glow over your pretty face.
"toshi," you greet him warmly, turning toward him with an inviting smile. he pads over to you, barefoot, and you tilt your chin up expectantly. he rests one hand on the back of your chair, the other on the edge of your desk and leans down, capturing your lips in a long, slow kiss, his head tilting to deepen it as he lifts a hand to your cheek, gently smoothing his thumb across your soft skin before drawing back, a small smile curving up on his lips when he sees the dazed look in your eyes.
"morning, love." he says simply, before walking off to the kitchen to make himself a protein shake. completely oblivious to the phone propped up against your mirror, the livestream on the screen, and the chaos that you've just unleashed within your fanbase.
readerfanatic_official joined
popicon4life
just fell to my knees screaming in the 711 parking lot
platinum_readerstan
she's dating a TREE
tinyreader777
'morning love'???...our queen is built different i would've evaporated on the spot
bipbop_23
...i get it now
readerfan2024
guess i'm into volleyball now
glitznglamfan
girl i'm scared for ur holes
— 𝐇𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐚 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐲𝐨𝐮;
it's a cute photo: the two of you on a beach at a resort, there for one of Oikawa's games. Hinata's got his head in your lap, one of your hands gently running through his messy orange hair while your other hand rests on his chest. you're gazing out at the sea, a serene smile gracing your face as you enjoy the view, while Hinata looks up at you, equally captivated by what he sees.
the comments that flood in are anything but kind. most of them poke fun at his height, with fans wondering how he managed to catch your eye when he's fighting gravity every day, others insisting that he must just be very funny. and it doesn’t bother Hinata at all, not that you can tell- he just scratches the back of his head and laughs, exclaiming that it's nothing he hasn't heard before, that he’ll just have to work twice as hard to earn your fans’ approval. ignoring your protests that he has nothing to prove.
ᯓ🏐
a few eagle-eyed fans are the first ones to notice it and not long after, screenshots of your activity start to circulate. first it's you liking an edit of Hinata lifting his shirt during ones of his games to wipe sweat off his brow. then it's a clip of him leaping into the air, showing off his energy and athleticism. a third like is a snapshot of Hinata celebrating a victory, fists clenched and knees bent, muscles in his thighs flexed as he roars with triumph.
the one that nips it in the bud is when you share a post to your story. it’s a reel- a compilation of Hinata’s spikes, his raw energy and unstoppable power lighting up the court as he slams the ball past his opponents. your fans lose it when you post a mirror selfie on the same day: you've got your back turned toward the mirror, all dolled up for an award ceremony in a gown that leaves nothing and everything to the imagination. you look good, accentuated by the man at your side who, unlike you, is facing the mirror. but Hinata isn't looking at the camera- his heated gaze is on your reflection instead. one of his arms is curved loosely around your waist, hand resting just above your ass.
the internet goes wild.
mvpmichelle8 2h 385 likes
our girl is thirsting publicly on main i respect it
robsessed247 2h 306 likes
rip to her ass cheeks
keanue_433 2h 243 likes
...what team does he play for again
stanacctreader 1h 178 likes
she got herself a short KING FR
newvolley_98 1h 85 likes
so when’s the next game where you get a front-row seat to his… spikes? 🥵
— 𝐌𝐢𝐲𝐚 𝐀𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐮;
you don’t exactly share the photo yourself, but it might as well be yours. when Vogue posts the cover shot and tags you, it goes viral almost instantly. because Atsumu is seated in a luxurious chair, looking every bit like a king in his perfectly tailored suit, legs spread confidently, an air of dominance about him. you're perched on the armrest beside him, the slit of your black dress exposing the smooth curves of your body. one of your hands is loosely intertwined with his, resting on your thigh. the chemistry is palpable, electric. the sultry confidence in your posture paired with the intensity in Atsumu's gaze makes it impossible to look away. paired with the article about your relationship, this is a power couple at its finest.
or at least so you think.
the opinions of your fans are mixed, but those who disapprove don't hold back. they say that he must be cheating on you, that he looks untrustworthy, that his self-assured interview quotes only highlight how self-absorbed he is, implying he’s too consumed with himself to ever treat you right. Atsumu's ready to fight everyone questioning his devotion to you before you remind him that he can’t spend all day replying to hate comments- he has practice, and that you’ll handle it.
ᯓ🏐
you show up to the world championship that month with your entourage in tow. you visit Atsumu in his locker room to wish him good luck, ignoring the way his teammates trip over themselves gaping at you. he almost doesn’t let you leave, seizing you in a deep kiss that leaves you a little unsteady on your feet, but you plan a firm hand on his chest because you have places to be, a job to do.
when Atsumu steps up to serve and you watch as his routine unfolds, the familiar movements flowing effortlessly, your PR team is at the ready. his signature has evolved since his early days, the fist still a familiar gesture, but now his index finger uncurls at the last moment, pointing into the crowd. he doesn’t need to look; he always knows exactly where you are. but today, it’s different. you’re not in the shadows, hiding behind sunglasses or a baseball cap. today, you’re wearing his jersey, sitting front and center, in the best seat in the house. you’re clapping louder than anyone else, beaming so hard your cheeks hurt.
this time, when he finds you in the crowd, the whole world is watching.
Us Weekly: Atsumu Miya Makes History with Serve: Fans Go Wild over Major 'Couple Goals' Moment at the World Championship
Buzzfeed: Is He Pointing to Y/N? 10 Moments Atsumu Miya Was Literally Screaming 'I Love You'
Sports Illustrated: Atsumu Miya’s Serve Gets Personal: The Unspoken Gesture You Didn’t Know Was for Y/N
Kyodo News: Fans Flock to See Miya Atsumu's Relationship with Global Sensation Y/N in Full View
Cosmopolitan: Y/N and Atsumu Miya: From Music Charts to Volleyball Courts—Their Love Story (Exclusive)
— 𝐁𝐨𝐤𝐮𝐭𝐨 𝐊𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮;
what you think is a beautiful moment, your fans interpret quite differently. in the photo you post, Bokuto's strong arms are wrapped around your waist, pulling you against him as he hugs you from behind. his hands are positioned low on your abdomen, fingers spread wide and pressing down lightly, a playful gesture that has you squirming in response. the candid shot your manager took captures you in mid-laugh. you're tilting away from him, hands gripping his wrists, body twisted in a half-escape as though you're trying to dodge his ticklish touch. Bokuto's lips are pressed softly to the side of your neck, the curve of your shoulder partly obscuring his face. his expression is partially hidden, but the corner of his mischievous grin peeks out, his eyes glinting at the camera as he looks up right at that moment.
your fans tear him apart, their words dripping with criticism- accusing him of being too touchy, claiming that you don’t want him like that, that he's too obsessed, too forward. the comments flood in, one after another, each one more biting than the last. the relentless stream of negativity cuts deep, and you can see the toll it takes on Bokuto as he scrolls on his phone with a downtrodden look. you tell him to ignore it, that he has nothing to worry about, but you can tell it does little to lift his spirits.
ᯓ🏐
you show him that night just how deeply you care about him, straddling his lap and gently cupping his face in your hands. your lips meet his in a soft, reverent kiss, a silent exchange that you hope conveys volumes. you murmur against his mouth, telling him how perfect he is, watching with a quiet smile as the tips of his ears go red. but then he shifts, flipping you over on the bed, caging you in with thick arms all while still blushing so prettily. and when you feel something hard and big pressing against your inner thigh, you wonder what you've gotten yourself into.
Bokuto goes even redder the next day when he wakes up to incessant texting from his teammates and he opens social media to find a photo on your feed: it's of him shirtless, lying on his front and cradling a pillow with his cheek smooshed into it, his hair down and expression peaceful. what's not so peaceful is the view of his bare back- red streaks running down his tanned skin, unmistakably from your fingers. the white sheets thrown over his legs obscure anything from the waist down but his face flushes deeper as he takes in the rest of the intimate scene.
you've got one hand resting gently on his head, fingers woven loosely in his hair, thumb caressing his cheek mid-stroke. it's soft, casual, possessive.
fan_gurl_4 1h 403 likes
the way we thought HE was the obsessed one...how the turn tables
bobfriend_76 1h 386 likes
she's marking her territory
glamjam69 1h 207 likes
...this ain't demure or mindful at all
menin4k22 45m 146 likes
ma’am for science, p-please remove those sheets
readerfan234 14m 121 likes
the way she's touching him...i need a moment to grieve 😩
— 𝐊𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐲𝐚𝐦𝐚 𝐓𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐨;
the release party for your new album goes off without a hitch, and you score tons of cute photos with Kageyama, cuddling up to him that night to scroll through and select the best ones. your top choice is one of the more simple shots: you, with one hand resting on his chest, leaning into the arm he’s wrapped around your waist. his long fingers were hot against your skin through the delicate fabric of your dress, and you swear you can still feel the imprints of them. he's serious in the shot, his lips set in a stern line as he gazes into the camera, but you adore that look on him. especially when that same gaze shifts to you, hinting at something deeper, something darker, waiting for later.
your fans, however, don't see what you do. so you wake up to a barrage of comments, about how he looks boring, how he probably doesn't know a single one of your lyrics, how you could do so much better. naturally, Kageyama doesn't give a single shit as to what your fans think about him. just kisses you goodbye and heads off to practice, duffel bag slung over his broad shoulder. but you care.
ᯓ🏐
it takes a fair amount of convincing and a hefty dose of bribery, which somehow includes you securing an advertisement contract with one of Kageyama's favorite yogurt brands, but he finally agrees to appear in the music video for your latest hit. though, you can't help but think it had more to do with you casually hinting that your company had intended on pulling in one of the hottest actors currently on the scene, known for making girls swoon at meet-and-greets.
he plays a cop arresting you for a string of crimes you commit in the name of revenge on your cheating ex, culminating in him pushing you down in the backseat of his patrol car. it's hot, steamy, and when he shoves his knee between your legs, leaning over you with one hand pinning your wrists above your head, you won't deny that you make a mental note to recreate this scene later, without the cameras.
the music video shatters records and skyrockets to the top of the charts.
and the comments this time? well. they speak for themselves.
bops234 • 1 day ago
this awakened something in me
fando23 • 12 hours ago
i'm going to need this man's @ immediately
barkbarkbark_89 • 12 hours ago
are we sure he doesn't want to switch career paths
stanacctreader • 10 hours ago
i thought he was just a plain slice of milk bread but boy was i wrong
freedomsings145 1h • 5 hours ago
casting your real life boyfriend as the main romantic lead in your music video is such a power move, as always our queen's taste is IMPECCABLE
atsumumiya • 2 hours ago
he looks like a foot
what: adult characters, camping in the woods, fingering, thinking of someone else, getting caught turns threesome, bisexual icon: dominant mattsun, size difference, reader called a good girl, protected sex, bro…
wc: 2700
cross posted to the ao3
tip me on ko-fi ✨
for my wonderful & sweet giveaway winner: @antique-remains 💖 aghhh, thank you so so much for always supporting my writing. this was so incredibly fun to write (if not a lil self indulgent yanno?) i adore you so hard & i hope i captured the moment you wanted!!
The soft rustling of nylon complimented stifled giggles as you crawled backwards across your sleeping bag. Feigned exhaustion from the long day of swimming and hiking presented itself as the perfect excuse to sneak back to your tent with Mattsukawa. The afterglow of the setting sun had already faded to a bleak grey, barely illuminating the intimate interior of the tent. Cicadas chattered without pause in the surrounding trees. The nearby stream sang a steady, bubbling tune. With the descent of dusk came a gentle chill, just to remind you what little summer was left.
But warmth wrapped around you in the form of corded muscle, and skin still sticky with sweat and sunscreen. Mattsun leaned over you closely, his thick thigh finding a home between yours. The simple sensation of his athletic shorts sliding across your bare skin made you shiver. You rolled your hips just enough to show appreciation for the pressure, and tensed your thighs around his. His sturdy arms caged you in, one elbow braced beside your face as the other hand trailed down to your hip. Curious fingers toyed with the hem of your tank top, making your lips part with a lusty sigh.
warnings: +18 mdni, cisfem reader, mutual masturbation, ‘just the tip’…. unbeta-ed: this is an unedited cluster fuck im sorry
Minors DNI banner by @benkeibear
The springs of the couch shift as Ennoshita shimmies his pants down, leaving him in just his black boxer briefs. He watches you from the corner of his eye, biting back a smile as he settles in, trying to hide his clear excitement at being with you. His thighs, thick with muscle and fat, twitch nervously as you do the same, stripping down your underwear wordlessly and then sitting on the opposite side. With one arm thrown over the back of the couch, the other tracing over the elastic band of his underwear, he already looks throughly fucked just at the sight of you.
“Like what you see?” you ask, closer to teasing than serious. Your foot is wedged behind the couch cushion and the other is on the floor, giving Ennoshita a perfect angle to watch you as you trace lazy circles over your clit through the fabric.
“Always.” he breathes. He’s palming himself at the show, bucking up against the heel of his palm with slow rolls of his hips. The way he watches is so intense; his gaze flickers between your fingers, captivated by the way they glisten with your excitement, and your eyes.
When Ennoshita first told you his “no sex” rule, you were a little disappointed. Sure, you didn’t date him just to fuck, but you couldn’t deny that you wanted him. Isn’t that natural? To want to touch and be touched? Previous experiences had left a sour taste in Ennoshita’s mouth and you were more than happy to take your physical relationship at his speed.
'I want it to mean something when I touch you.’ he had insisted, 'I want sex to be special.’
Luckily for you, there were a couple loopholes in Ennoshita’s no sex rule.
It starts the same. You’re lying on his bed, the world quiet except for the low hum of his laptop and the occasional shift of blankets as you both breathe.
Kenma’s hood is up, his face half-hidden, but his eyes are on you. Always on you. He’s quiet, but his fingers trace little shapes against your hip, absent-minded and gentle. He’s thinking, but not about the game on his screen—he’s thinking about you.
You shift a little, turning toward him, and your hand reaches up to brush the hair from his eyes. “You okay?”
He nods, then leans in. “You’re distracting.”
The kiss starts soft—barely there. Just his lips brushing yours, featherlight. He kisses like he’s trying not to wake you, even though you’re both wide awake. But then your hand curls into his hoodie, and your lips part just a little, and something shifts.
His hand moves to your waist, not gripping—just resting. But it’s heavy, like a silent don’t leave. You deepen the kiss, slow and gentle, your lips parting again as his tongue brushes yours, shy at first. He tastes like tea and quiet sweetness.
Kenma sighs into your mouth, and the kiss grows just slightly heavier. His body melts into yours, one leg sliding between yours, his chest against yours. He’s warm. Soft in the way only someone completely comfortable can be.
His hands stay slow—one curled around your hip, the other lazily trailing up your spine under your shirt, his touch light enough to make you shiver. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t need to. Everything is said in the way he kisses you. Like time doesn’t exist. Like the world outside his room can’t touch either of you.
Eventually, he pulls back just an inch, eyes half-lidded, breath mingling with yours. He whispers, voice barely audible:
“Stay right here.”
And you do.
౨ৎ
Nishinoya :
You didn’t even mean to start kissing. One second you were watching some movie, the next, Noya’s fingers were brushing your cheek, and his lips were on yours—quick, excited, barely controlled. Like he couldn’t wait anymore.
His kisses come fast and eager, all tilted heads and laughing into your mouth, like he’s having fun. His hands find your waist and pull you onto his lap without a second thought, and then it’s on.
You’re straddling him, his back pressed to the wall, and your hands are in his hair—messing it up even more than it already was. He groans when your fingers tug, then kisses you harder in retaliation. His lips are warm, a little chapped, moving fast against yours—hungry, but never rough. He kisses you like he can’t get enough. Like he needs one more, and one more, and then ten more after that.
His hands slide up your back, under your shirt, warm and grounding as they spread over your skin. One of them rests right between your shoulder blades, holding you to him like he’s afraid you’ll float away.
You both pause for a moment—just a moment—to breathe. You’re panting against each other, foreheads touching, and he’s smiling.
“You good?” he asks.
You nod. Then kiss him again—slower this time, deeper.
His hands grip your hips like they’re the only thing keeping him tethered. His mouth moves with yours now in a more deliberate rhythm, slower, thicker with emotion. When your tongue brushes his, he moans softly, the sound muffled against your mouth. He chases you every time you pull away, leaning forward to steal more, more, more.
When you finally pull back, his lips are red and swollen, and his eyes are glazed over.
“You’re gonna kill me,” he breathes.
You laugh—and kiss him again.
౨ৎ
Sugawara :
With Suga, it always starts slow. Romantic. He pulls you into his lap on the couch, wraps a blanket around both of you, and kisses you like it’s the only thing on his schedule. Like the world can wait.
His lips are soft. Gentle. He tilts his head just enough to deepen the kiss, and his hand finds your jaw, thumb stroking just under your cheekbone like he’s savoring the feel of you.
You shift in his lap and he lets you, pulling you closer, pressing your chest to his, letting you lean all your weight into him. He kisses you like he’s memorizing you. Not rushed. Not greedy. Just endlessly affectionate.
But then your fingers tangle into his shirt and pull. Just a little.
And something in him flickers.
The kiss deepens, shifts. His hand slides down your spine slowly, and his tongue slips past your lips—exploring, deliberate, slow. You hum softly against his mouth and he smiles through the kiss.
He breaks away only to press tiny, trailing kisses down your jaw, behind your ear, across your neck. Lazy, teasing little brushes of lips that make you melt into him.
“Suga—”
“I know.” His voice is low and warm. “I just want to kiss you everywhere.”
You lose track of time like that. Wrapped in each other, kissing like the world doesn’t need you back yet. His hand holds the back of your head like you’re precious, his mouth moves like a prayer, and your body feels boneless against his.
Every kiss says: I’m yours. I’m here. I’m not letting go.
psychology major. says he picked psychology to “study bitches,” but when attachment theory came up in class, he got real quiet. said, “nah, that explains a lot,” and didn’t speak again the whole lecture.
his dorm’s a double, but his roommate’s always at his girlfriend’s place, so atsumu basically lives alone. there’s a yellow LSU flag thumbtacked to the wall, crooked. purple string lights he never turns off. there’s always a protein shaker on his desk and an air fryer on top of his mini fridge that he’s definitely not supposed to have.
only asian in a d9 sorority. line name: “hurricane.” loud, reckless, unforgettable. most likely omega psi phi w/ his unpredictable ass.
he’s got school spirit like it’s his job, bro. tailgates in body paint, posts “GEAUX TIGERS” every saturday, and cries when they lose. he’s a campus menace, but professors like him ’cause he participates with just enough charm to keep his grade alive.
would definitely fuck one of the basketball player's girlfriends on accident. wasn’t even his fault—she came onto him, but word got around fast. now any time someone says “bro don’t let your girl near atsumu,” it’s not even a joke. he laughs it off in public, but he definitely switches routes to avoid the gym hallway.
when he likes you, it shows up in acts of chaos. sneaking into your lecture just to pass you a note that says u miss me? or waiting outside your class with an iced drink, grinning like a golden retriever. he’s loud, but when you talk, he listens for real.
𖤐 HAJIME IWAIZUMI, university of florida
kinesiology major. in class, he’s focused, raises his hand. he’s not loud about being smart, because he isn’t—not really, he’s just a hard worker. makes the deans list once. kinda falters off after that. schools hard man.
he’s got a dorm in athlete housing, but it’s clean. bed made, shoes lined up, weights by the closet. he’s always up early, always in motion. jogs before class, stretches while microwaving rice.
he didn’t pledge a frat. didn’t need to. everyone already knows him. football players dap him up, med students ask for his notes. he’s the guy people trust to hold their drink at parties.
he’s got school spirit, but only for game days. wears his hoodie, shows up to cheer, but doesn’t scream in the stands. he’s not flashy about pride. this is mainly because he got too into betting on the basketball team freshman year during march madness and literally went so broke he couldn’t afford groceries for 2 weeks until his next paycheck (work study).
when he likes you, it’s in how he shows up. carrying your books when you’re tired. fixing the strap on your backpack. standing between you and the guy who got too close at a party.
eater eater eater eaterrrrr!! bro would eat coochie in a public bathroom if you asked. #sorrythatsnotverycollegerelated.
anywaysss iwaizumi’s love isn’t loud. it’s reliable. it’s strong hands (y’all and i’m talking strong) and a softer voice than you expected.
𖤐 KEI TSUKISHIMA, university of chicago
paleobiology major. please don’t ask me what that means guys.
tsukki’s dorm is cold. literally and emotionally. he shares a double with a music major who’s always practicing guitar, and he hates it. his desk is perfectly organized. his bed’s made military-style.
he despises greek life. his social circle is small: one lab partner, one sarcastic roommate, and the girl who sits next to him in ancient ecosystems. if i called him a loser would y’all be mad LMFAOOO? sorry he just gives very didn’t-take-full-advantage-of-the-college-experience-because-he-was-too-busy-trying-to-aura-farm vibes. or maybe he takes more advantage his 2nd or 3rd year. starts to drink. allows himself to loosen up and goes to parties.
his first ever hook-up is his 2nd or 3rd year and she’s an upperclassmen. rides him so well he tries to ask her out like 2 days later. obviously gets shut down and probably becomes a shell for like a month. probably inspired a hoe era from him, too. good job, girl.
he doesn’t do school spirit. doesn’t do pep rallies. doesn’t even wear the merch unless it’s raining even though he was a prick in high school about how he got into uchicago.
in class, he’s absurdly smart. the kind who corrects professors smart. it’s a combination of too much time on his hands to study and genuine passion for that dinosaur shit. people think he’s arrogant. he is. but he’s usually right. doesn’t get all a’s though because he’s such an asshole to profs.
𖤐 KEIJI AKAASHI, columbia university
english & philosophy double major. was definitely an asshole in ap lit during highschool and got a 4 and almost crashed out. also always makes sure to specify he goes to columbia in ny and not chicago because he’s a pretentious bitch.
he’s got a single in a brownstone-style dorm that smells like bergamot and old books. it’s quiet. floor lamp, clean desk, moleskin journals stacked neatly beside a bluetooth speaker always playing something soft.
he didn’t even think about rushing. greek life isn’t his thing. instead, he edits for the campus lit mag and drinks espresso with the creative writing kids in dark cafes.
he never wears school merch on campus but has two columbia hoodies he likes to wear at the airport incase any wealthy alumni decide to bless his pockets. also has a little keychain.
never misses class. started off showing up in fitted sweaters and long coats, always prepared, until the 2nd week hit him like a truck and he realized everyone was just as great as him. it’s been sweats and dark circles ever since.
his essays however are hauntingly good. he quotes philosophers mid-conversation and makes it sound like poetry.
was long-term fucking w/ this aspiring-director-art-hoe from nyu until his grade dropped to a whopping c and he found himself on the subway train visiting her and sending letters more than he found himself in the library. tries shrooms for the first and last time with her.
when he likes you, it’s not a confession. it’s a gradual, undeniable presence. he saves you a seat in lecture. he remembers your coffee order. he leaves a book for you with a note that says, thought of you on page 84.
𖤐 KENTARO KYOTANI, university of oregon
undeclared. he’s got a double dorm but sleeps alone because his roommate transferred out by october. his side’s a mess of black hoodies, tangled chargers, and a punching bag duct-taped to the wall. there’s an air freshener clipped to the vent, but it’s not doing much. his window’s always cracked for his vape smoke.
he doesn’t do frat shit. hates being told what to do. parties off-campus at athlete houses or with randoms he met at the rec center. there’s always a blunt in rotation, a shoe missing, someone jumping off the roof.
doesn’t own a single piece of duck gear, but you’ll catch him in the student section during football games, yelling his throat out.
he’s technically undeclared but hovering around a kinesiology degree because a counselor told him he could work in sports without writing essays. he acts like he doesn’t care, but when his grades dropped too low to play intramural, he got pissed. started showing up to class with a hoodie over his head, earbuds in, hood still up.
he’s got a stupid, stupid crush on one of the girls from the track team (i mean y’all have you SEEN the oregon track team). walks past the field “on accident” every day.
when he likes you, it’s not obvious. not at first. it’s letting you steal his hoodie without a word. it’s sending you a pic of his dinner with the caption “ate today.” it’s leaning back on two legs of his chair and looking at you instead of the professor.
definitely has beef w/ one of the frat brothers or some shit because his mouth is slick as shit!! there’s atleast 1 frat house that has him banned for life!!
𖤐 KIYOOMI SAKUSA, university of michigan
microbiology major. ok no glaze because i was just lowk on akaashi’s dick but this guy is brilliant. high GPA, terrifying in labs. he’s just one of those people that get the whole college thing. professors love him, classmates avoid him. knows when to ask the write questions, when to challenge the professor and when to kiss-up.
he’s got a single in the newest dorm building, top floor, near a fire exit so no one has to pass by his door. everything’s black, white, or navy. there’s sanitizer by the bed and lint rollers in every drawer.
he hates frats. thinks they’re germ farms. instead, he lowk keeps to himself besides maybe like one club or society related to his major. shows up to class early, sits far back, never shares pens. ALSO is at every single internship job-fair and finds it absolutely disgusting how many hands he has to shake and vaguely considers being broke the rest of his life.
he doesn’t care for school spirit but owns one michigan hoodie because his cousin got it for him. he only wears it when it’s clean.
but when he likes you? you know. he wipes your phone screen when you’re not looking. he texts, drink water. he lets you wear his hoodie home and doesn’t ask for it back. when you’re sick, he shows up with meds and soup and mumbles, “you’re annoying when you don’t take care of yourself.”
guys i’m gonna be honest i’m trying to figure out how i wanna characterize him still y’all gotta let me work through it.
𖤐 KOUTARO BOKUTO, university of alabama
communications major. whatever the fuck that means. he takes class seriously when he connects with the professor. when he doesn’t? he’s doodling mascots in the margins or texting in the groupchat about lunch. still pulls a B+ average on sheer charm and effort. fails like two classes though because charm can’t win em all. also takes badminton as an elective.
and LAWDDD them bama girls love him down!! if he was in any type of relationship leaving high school that is done by orientation week! and don’t let him put on a damn cowboy hat and some boots lord they finna fuck him right there in the stands @ the football game.
he’s in a triple dorm, and somehow all three of them actually get along. there’s a group chat called “THE BOYS” in all caps, a giant whiteboard on the wall with their gym schedules, and a disco light they use for impromptu room raves. it prolly smell like a little bit of shit in there though.
definitely one of those dudes walking barefoot in the communal bathrooms with his NASTY ASS. also takes unapologetic shits in there too.
bokuto pledged and thrived though!! he’s the social chair of his frat, known for making the best playlists and leading the most unhinged chants during rush. he’s the heart of game day, standing on coolers, shirt half-off, rallying strangers like it’s a religion.
definitely had some poor girl make him a frat cooler though. he’s so lovable it’s easy to get sucked into his orbit but girl.. he really is just like that w/ everyone.
BUT on a contrary note when he does stop being a campus whore and finally gets a crush.. it’s loud. when he likes you, it’s so loud. he makes you a friendship bracelet in your school colors. he shows up to walk you to class with two iced coffees and a grin so wide it makes you forget what you were mad about (probably him being a friendly ass bitch). you meet his frat brothers, his favorite professor, the gym receptionist, everyone. he introduces you like he’s proud, like he’s won something.
and when he gets drunk at a tailgate, he grabs your face and slurs, “i love you so much, it’s not even funny.” but in that lovebombing way dudes like to do. there’s probably like seven girls on campus by the time he graduates who he’s told he loves. he’s got a big heart, y’all it’s not even his fault he rlly believes it!!!
it’s never quiet with him. but the love’s loud in the best way. also i forgot he does manage to score a good ass internship through a job fair because he’s goated when it comes to talking his way into shit.
𖤐 OSAMU MIYA, university of georgia
culinary science & business major. in class, he’s quiet but respected. professors know his name. he’s never late, never flashy, just consistent. the kind of student who emails thank-you notes after a good semester (what a sweetheart). does has beef w/ one professor who doesn’t believe in a’s and his praying for her to croak.
osamu’s dorm is off-campus housing by junior year. a small one-bedroom with a balcony herb garden, cast iron skillet on the stove, and a shoe rack by the door that he actually uses. smells like garlic, rice, and comfort.
he skipped the frat route. never saw the point. he’s got a tight group of friends who show up to his pop-up food stand every friday without fail.
he doesn’t care about school spirit but owns two UGA hoodies that he wears on rotation. one has a grease stain he swears isn’t permanent.
when he likes you, he feeds you. always. he packs you lunch “just in case” even though you already ate. he asks about your allergies before your first date. he notices when you’re low energy and hands you a snack without saying anything. PREPARE TO END UP A FATASS.
he’s not romantic in the traditional way. he’s practical. steady. but one night, he leaves a note on your container lid that says, you looked pretty today. eat up.
on a hoe-ier note, he probably only gains like 3-4 bodies during college. much better than his brother who most likely ends up burnt by the time he pledges LMFAOOO #iykyk. osamu ends up settling down pretty quickly.
𖤐 RINTARO SUNA, arizona state university
film major. destined to be broke. a24 asshole. his parents probably convince him to add business in there atleast so their son doesn’t end up spending the next 60 years of his life at 7/11.
freshman year, he lives in a shared dorm, second floor, end of the hall. it’s basic as hell. blinds always shut, a fan in the window humming low, vape clouds hanging lazy in the air. one bed’s made perfectly, the other’s always a mess. his desk is cluttered with film cameras, empty yerba mate cans, and one lonely cactus he never waters.
BRO DOESN’T DO LAUNDRY. definitely a sniff test type of guy (yeah we see that shit stain buddy). but no LMFAOO it rlly does take him to like mid-way freshman year when he realizes the onion smell is him to turn it around 180°. gets rlly into cologne after that. yay improvement!!
he didn’t plan on rushing. at all. thought greek life was weird. he liked pulling up to parties where nobody knew his name. liked being the mystery with the good music. he always had the aux. always. people let him cut the line just to take over. does sometimes get too carried away w that slow shit. why are you playing frank ocean dawg you’re abt to make us cry?
but anyways sophomore year, when a couple of his close friends started pledging, they convinced him to come meet their frat. and surprisingly? he vibed with it. no toxic hazing. no fake shit. just a solid group of guys who threw good parties and respected boundaries. by junior year, he was living in the frat house top floor, corner room, two big windows he never opened, a record player spinning slow. he never wore the letters loud, never posted about it. but when people asked, he’d just shrug, “yeah, i’m in.”
he’s got a reputation. the chill guy who controls the aux like a god. discovered baby keem. was gatekeeping lucki until he blew up and now he’s listening to random underground that sounds like a samsung refrigerator. and gaslighting girls to the 1975 and pink pantheress.
don’t let him hit your pen or vape. this man is addicted. “i can quit whenever” ass!! will chief your shit AND chiefs the blunt too!!
anyways i’m hating too much so.. when he likes you, it starts in silence. he hands you the aux for ten minutes just to see what you’ll play. he saves you a seat on the roof during after-parties. he doesn’t kiss you in front of people, but when the night ends, you’re the one in his hoodie, laughing at nothing, walking back with him under campus lights.
also always has money on the game. friends w/ a couple of the basketball team and tell them he has money on that shit so they better not fuck up. you’ll catch him on the couch during march madness, hoodie up, phone in hand, whispering “don’t fuck this up, bro” like he’s coaching from the couch.
𖤐 TOORU OIKAWA, university of miami
sports management major & public relations minor. he’s a demon in class, but also kind irritating sometimes. talks just enough to sound smart, is saying absolutely NOTHING in the most amount of words possible on his discussion boards, and turns in perfect assignments at 11:58PM. also gives presentations that feel like TED talks.
he’s a little too polished first semester. too flirty with his professors. never seen in sweatpants. but all that shit crumbles second semester. he still looks presentable, but he’s in sweats and slides and basketball shorts way more often.
decorated the fuck out of his room. warm lighting, scented candles, beach towels. a mirror by the door for last looks before going out, and he always checks his hair twice. didn’t really like his roommate at first. fucked 2 girls on his bed (not at the same time.. or maybe at the same time shit who knows!) and then started to become cool w/ the guy so he never told him.
he didn’t pledge. says he’s “above that.” instead, he’s built a curated circle of beach volleyball guys, fashion majors, and business girlies who all adore him. a hoe, but not even that bad fr like he has good standards if that makes sense.
but when he likes you? all that polish starts to slip. he texts you good morning before he even opens his laptop. he lets you see him in glasses, hair messy, eyes tired. he brings you back souvenirs from break and writes notes in spanish on post-its (yes he’s a prick taking advanced spanish.)
kuroo being a nerd while making you squirt for the first time
kuroo lays with his cheek on your thigh, his fingers twirling the hem of your shorts. he kisses your thigh, “baby…” he says softly.
you look down, “hm?” you put down your book. he pouts up at you, “i learned how to make you squirt while fingering you.”
you laugh, “what?” he nods. “i seen it! look!” he grabs his phone and opens twitter. he shoves his phone in your face, showing you a video.
you look at him, “seriously, kuroo?” he lays his head higher, on your stomach. “yes! i wanna try!” he whines. you put your book on the nightstand.
“fine.” he says a little yay! before removing your shorts. he’s fingered you before… just never made you squirt from fingering.
he kisses your panties, “remember when i ate you out… through your panties?” he asks. you cover your face, “don’t remind me.” he smiles, “you were super overstimulated… it’s because of the pressure and tension of—“
“baby..” you stop him. he nods, “sorry.” his fingers carefully remove your panties. he kisses your clit instantly.
you gasp, “kuroo…” you say softly. you look down at him, your head on your shoulder. he stares up at you as his tongue flicks on your bud.
“ready?” he asks. you nod, “mhm.”
he sucks on your clit as his slender fingers enter you. you moan softly, biting your bottom lip. he hums, “good… good girl. i got you.”
your head falls onto the soft pillow, “i’m gonna start now, kay?” he says. you nod again, “o-okay…” his fingers pump in and out of you.
your wetness makes a squelching noise, “oh fuck…” you whimper. he continues to finger you as his lips wrap around your clit.
“i feel you… i feel you squeezing my fingers. you close?” he asks. you moan, “yes… yes…” he sits up more, his large warm hand pressing against your stomach.
“does this hurt?” he looks at you. you open your eyes again, “no, baby…” you reassure him. “tell me when i find it.”
his hand presses harder… and harder until you gasp and tremble, “oh fuck— kuroo.. baby— right there!” you moan loudly. he smiles, “right there?” you nod frantically.
he spits on your cunt as he leans back down, his hand still pressured against your stomach. his tongue attaches back to your clit.
you tremble and moan repeatedly, “f-fuck! it feels like i’m about to pee—“ you throw your head back. he devours you, “i know… it says that squirting feels like you’re supposed to be. even though i would be fine with you peeing in my mouth—“
“shut up… shut up, kuroo,” you whine as your fingers grip his hair. “baby—“ you breath heavily as your juices cover his face. he continues to pleasure you as your high goes down. he gets up, slapping your cunt.
“good fucking girl, baby! you did so good!” he smiles. you look at him. his spiky black hair now messy and covering one of his eyes. he looks down at your sheets, “made a mess but it was worth it, right?” he kisses your cheek.
there's a small chime of the bell as you hesitantly pad into the store, holding the heavy door open and briefly surveying the interior before you commit to entering.
it's a quaint little convenience store just off the road near your apartment. you've never been inside before because you usually buy all your essentials from the supermarket, but while on walk, you decided to pop in quickly to buy an energy drink, as you had already finished the one you brought with you from home.
despite never visiting this shop before, from just a cursory glance you are immediately able to locate the fridge section, and pounce in that direction.
lined up on the cooled shelves was an extensive selection of different novelty drinks, but you decided to keep it classic and pick up the cheapest one without so much as a second thought.
holding the chilly drink in one hand, you make your way over the front of the store to pay for it.
that's where you see, sat behind the counter, an older blonde man, who you assume is the store manager. your throat dries at out at the mere sight of him. sat on a stool, he's lazily hunched over a newspaper, which his narrow eyes are fixated on. while one hand holds the paper, the other balances a lit cigarette between his fingers, resting it his fist near the grey ashtray on the counter. with a gentle tap, the excess falls into the dish and the pulls up the remnants to his lips for a long draw. all the while, his sharp stare is still focused on the headlines in front of him.
from the bleating silence in the store — the only noise your able to hear being the constant droning of the fridge — you suspect the two of you are alone in the establishment. which makes you all the more nervous for the interaction you are about to have with this mysterious stranger.
unfortunately for you though, before you are given any time to mentally prepare, he notices your presense out of the corner of his eye and straightens up, placing his paper to the side and using his newly free hand to beckon you over to the counter.
your whole body stiffens at first, but your legs then move automatically underneath you and stagger worried-self to his register. without thinking much about it, you place your item down in front of him and insantly digging through your purse in search of your card.
"is that all?" he asks in a low voice, and you nod silently, pulling out your bank card to pay.
his expression turns sour at the sight, "sorry, doll. card machine's broken. you got cash?"
the charming feeling of this alluring stranger calling you 'doll' caused an unexpected heat to befall your cheeks and neck, but you didn't have much time to relish in it as you urgently began rummaging through your purse for cash.
thankfully, you were able to find a 5000 yen note stuck to your lipgloss cap.
as he watched, he placed his cigarette between his lips, which caused the intoxicating scent to waft over towards you, and fill your senses with brewing agitation and unrest — which you quickly shrugged off as nicotine cravings.
as he picked up the note as was about to ring up your purchase, you spoke up in a mousey voice, "uh, could i also get a pack of marlboro reds, please?"
the man quirked a brow at you, which caused a shiver to race down your spine, but nonetheless, he moved to open the glass cabinet behind the counter, and pull out a pack for you. however, when he placed it down beside your drink, you noticed that he had brought out golds.
while he was tapping the prices into the register, you piped up, a bit louder this time as he must have misheard you due to your timidness last time, "uh- sorry, i actually asked for reds."
"stick to golds, kid." he scoffed with a smirk, taking another puff of his.
meanwhile the cloud of his second-hand smoke grew thicker, and it stung your eyes, making them increasingly red and damp. "uh, okay." you murmur under your breath, averting eye-contact. you weren't going to beef with the corner store owner on a tuesday.
the tills makes a clashing noise as he rings up your purchase, and swiftly hands you your receipt. and as you are collecting your items, you notice that your total printed on the receipt had come to ¥5,060. 600 for the drink, 4000 for the cigarettes and 10% on top for sales tax.
you froze in your tracks, and from the way you were glaring at the receipt with such a puzzled look, ukai automatically recognised what your issue was, and said unprompted, "i'm not going to give you a hard time over 60 yen. i'm not some tight-arsed, miserable old guy, yet." he muses, tapping off the excess ash from his cigarette once again, gaze fixed on the ashtray as he does so.
"well," you roll your lips together in a pleased habit as your mouth spreads into a big smile, "thank you, sir."
"don't mention it, kid."
----------
not even a week had past before you found yourself back in his store. despite having no authentic reason to go in this time, you fabricated yourself a reason to go in again. just to see him. there was something about him you just couldn't shake. you knew it sounded strange but you just couldn't get this guy out of your head.
regardless, on your walk, you decided to nip into his store again to pick up another energy drink — despite the fact you had plenty at home.
you picked it up, the cheapest one he had on offer, and scuttled up to the counter. placing it down in front of him, you gazed up at him with dewy eyes and asked in your token sickeningly sweet manner, "this and a pack of marlboro reds, please?"
like last time, he was sat on his stool, with his blonde hair pushed out of his chiselled face, and his lips cradling a lit cigarette as he read the newspaper. it was almost picturesque and stunningly identical to the way you saw him last time.
when you approached though, he exhaled a deep, guttural sigh as he stood up from his stool, and slipped his cigarette out of his mouth and between his fingers. but that didn't stop the thick smell from drifting over to you from across the counter. the blunt tobacco scent mixed with his classic, musky cologne. it was hypnotic. a part of you wanted to dive across the counter and get a proper taste.
"you again?" he spat, in teasing accusation.
"mhm."
"already buying more cigarettes? what happened to that twenty pack of golds i sold you not even a week ago." he folded his arms over his chest, looking down at you for an explanation.
your pleasantly surprised he remembers you, and you stutter out, "i- uh, well, i finished it. so i'm buying more."
"finished it? that's twenty cigarettes in six days."
"hmph, maybe i would have gone through less if you had sold me the reds like i asked." you shrugged, and he can't help but smirk, amused at such blatant attitude coming from a previously dulcet girl.
"uhuh. and just for that, you're not getting any." he sighs, relaxing back onto his stool and picking up his paper once more. pretending to read it as though he doesn't clearly see you losing your mind out of the corner of his eye.
"huh? you can't just do that!"
"my store, my rules." he muses, eyes fixated on the folded paper in his hands, not sparing you a glance, "you need to get this habit of yours under control, kid."
"you're literally smoking right now!" you whine, pointing out the lit cigarette nosied between his two fingers, which he idly taps against the edge of his ashtray.
at this point, he finally looked up at you from his paper, but only to shrug in your direction and say, "yeah but i'm grouchy and old, so i can do what i want to take the edge off. young, cute girls shouldn't be smoking. what have you even got to worry about? boba prices? what shoes you should wear with your new dress?"
"i have very real things to stress about, i'll have you know." you argue, crossing your arms over your chest with a huff.
"yeah, whatever. i'm just telling you now that you'll regret it later." he takes another puff of his own, wafting the smoke in your direction to rub it in.
"the only thing i regret is coming to this stupid shop.." you grumble to yourself. "are you at least going to ring up my drink?"
his eyes flicker rapidly between your petulant figure standing afore him and your chilled sugar free energy impact on the counter, and eventually he sighs and heaves himself off his stool to stand by the counter and scan your beverage, muttering as he facilitates the transaction, "you know these energy drinks are bad for you too. filled with a load of nasty chemicals and bull piss. kids your age are dying from these things every day."
you roll your eyes as he speaks, and this doesn't go unnoticed by him, though he chooses not to comment. as he slips your change into your hands, he meets your gaze and asks you, hoarsely, "you like the sweet flavour though, don't you?"
"i guess." you grumble with a shrug, pulling your change from his round palm.
"why don't i make you a deal? you can have your shitty energy drink for free, unless you buy a pack of cigs. then, you got to pay for both. how does that sound?"
you quirk an eyebrow; not sure why this random grocer is so invested in your smoking habits. but you'd be lying if you said the offer wasn't tempting. but you can get the drink for pretty cheap in-bulk at the supermarket, so you pried into the scope of his offer, "any energy drink, or just this brand?"
"any."
woah, that changes things. there's some flavours you've always wanted to try but never had because you couldn't bring yourself to pay ¥1000 for one 500ml can. but any energy drink? just for the sole prerequisite of not buying cigarettes from his store. sold.
you nod, cracking open your drink with a hushed fizz and a smile, "alright, then. we'll see about that."
"i'm a man of my word." he rasps solemnly.
----------------
ding.
the chime of the interior bell rings as you push open the door to the shop and step inside. from routine, making a b-line to the fridge section and picking up an nice, chilled beverage. different brand this time; you didn't plan on buying any cigs so you could treat yourself to a bigger, more expensive can — instead of that cheap energy impact crap — since you weren't going to be the one paying.
you assessed your options, and picked up a cute pinkish can that called to you. surveying the exterior, ultra watermelon, it read. though unsure about what made this watermelon flavour so 'ultra', you were keen to find out. hence, you firmed your clutch on the item and made your way to the register, where a familiar face awaited.
as usual, there was nobody else in the store — bar the manager and yourself — so there was no need to wait in any pesky queue, and instead you swaggered right up to his counter and placed your new can down.
however, his concentation remained stuck to his newpaper that was draped over his hand, as he scanned over the front page with burning insensity in his eyes. his brows knitted together, and he said, "look here."
he stands up and walks to the counter, then leans of it slightly, with a lit cig tucked between his two fingers on his spare hand — no surprise there — and the other holding the paper up to show you the article he was reading, directing your attention to the headline with his thumb.
"ashes of ambition: how workplace stress is fueling rising nicotine addiction." You read the title aloud, then stop right there to quirk a brow at him. "don't tell me you actually believe this garbage."
paying no mind to your comment at all, he flaps the paper to straighten it out and pulls it away from your view, to further examine it himself as he speaks, "says here that nicotine addiction in young people has gone up 263% in the last three years." he clicks his tongue, drawing another breath from his own lit cig.
you roll your eyes, "sounds like a made-up number."
once again completely disregarding your remark, he continues his own thought-spiral, "they're sayin' it's cos of stress, but your generation ain't got nothing real to stress about."
"oh, here we go."
"nah. want to know what's really causing it? it's those e-cigarettes. you heard of 'em?" he coughs, punching his chest to clear his airway of all the thick smoke, and you grimance as his action only cause the smell of tobacco to flood your senses further.
"like vapes? of course i've heard of them."
"you e-smoke?"
you can't help but stifle a laugh at his entirely made-up but understandably derived language, "no. i don't 'e-smoke'."
"hmph, that's a shocker." he huffs with a sarcastic smile playing on his lips, as he crossed his arms over his buff chest, keep the rolled up paper in his fist, "they're all the rage with the kids your age,"
you subconciously roll your eyes. you can't tell if he's being purposefully complimentary or if he genuinely thinks you are that young — because in actual fact, you're likely not much younger than him. depending on how old he is.
he continues his spiel, but in a more frustrated tone, "but they are even worse than cigs. filled with oils that clog your lungs. but people love 'em 'cos they taste like fruit punch. it's a load of shit."
"if they are so popular, maybe you should get some vapes in stock. then maybe this place wouldn't be so dead all the time." you motion to the surrounding emptiness, and he simply scoffs in unamusement and narrows his eyes at you as he spits:
"you're a brat. get out of my store." the metallic bottom of the can scrapes against the surface as he pushed it towards you, before he falls back onto his stool, "and take your shitty drink with you. free of charge."
you giggle to yourself, and pick up the drink, "thanks." you hum, before skipping out of his store, as he ordered.
-------------------
you continued to uphold your end of the little arrangement for a while; you'd come in every week, fight the intense urge to buy a box of cigs, and walk out with a free energy drink each time.
albeit, you know energy drinks aren't much better for you — but hey, battling one addiction at a time. plus, unlike cigarettes, energy drinks have different and sweet flavours. and they come in pretty cans, opposed to packing displaying various tobacco-related aberrations.
also, you were aware that you could succumb to your desire if you wanted to, without him knowing, if you just bought the cigarettes from the counter at your local supermarket. but that would be deception, and for some reason, you know you'd feel massively guilty if you were to do that. so you don't.
and it seemed to be working. the number of smokes you would have per day significantly reduced, and around a week ago, you ran out entirely, and you've not bought more since. it's been hard and you definitely experience cravings, but it's progress.
after a couple months of your ritualistic visits to his convenience store, you began to learn more about the owner. you even got his name — which, granted, you probably should've asked about earlier, though you didn't realise then that you would be seeing him so routinely.
keishin ukai. apparently he's a volleyball coach at the local high school, as well as managing and owning the corner shop.
visiting him at the store would sometimes be the highlight of your week. even though he could be abrasive and acts disinterested at times, your interactions were always sweet and would fill you with butterflies. for some strange reason.
and this encounter was no different.
as per usual, you approach his front desk with your chilled fridge item in your hand, a banana, and a stupid wide grin on your face. you had began selecting a single fruit to buy along with your drink, so it didn't feel like you were robbing him whenever you went into the shop — support small business, and whatnot.
he was sat mulling over the newspaper's crossword, with a lit cig hanging from between his lips. when he notices you from out of the corner of his eye, he takes a deep breath in through his nose and sets his pencil and paper aside, and takes ahold of your banana to process it.
it's like every time you see him, he's smoking. baring in mind, you do come at a similar time — around eight pm — on most occasions where you visit his store. so perhaps he just happens to schedule his smoke breaks for that time. still, for the first time, you inquire further:
"ukai, how come whenever i visit, you're always smoking?" you ask with an innocent tilt of your head, "i mean, you want me to quit so bad, but your habit is worse than mine."
"i'm old so i can do what i want." he grunts to himself, with a slight smile playing on his lips as he types the price of your banana into the card machine.
"you're not old; you're, like, in your thirties. you're just lazy." you scoff, tapping your card when he slides the machine over to you.
he shrugs, removing the cig from between his lips and allowing clouds of smoke to spill from his mouth, "right. i'm in too deep to quit now."
"that's not true," you whine defensively, clutching your drink close to your chest, "i mean, that's what i thought too. but do you want to know a tip?"
his hooded eyes gazed upon you fondly, with a warmness that was concealed by a thin fog of smoke. it pleased him to hear you care about his health in such away, and he found the way you spoke with such excitement and kindness to be so endearing.
"tell me." he states.
you lean in, cupping the side of your mouth and lowering your voice as though you were telling him top secret information, "you just gotta replace one addiction with another, slightly less harmful one. like what i did with caffiene." you pull away with a giddy grin on your face, pleased to have imparted such efficacious knowledge upon your dear friend in need.
eager to see his reaction, you are disappointed when you notice his face is stuck in a contemplative scowl. so you prompt, "do have any ideas? how about gambling, do you enjoy that?"
"do like a game of poker with friends.." his notion begins, but he abruptly shuts it down with, "but i'm way too broke to afford that."
you nod understandingly, "right, well, you don't have to think of one right now. but give it some more consideration." you explain, collecting your banana from his counter as well, "and let me know if there's anything i can do to help. see you later, ukai!" you chirp, ready to turn on your heels and head for the door, until he calls outs:
"actually, there is something you could do."
----------------------------
sex addiciton.
that's what he chose, and you were more than happy to be of serivce. in fact, he didn't even manage to fully articulate his proposal before you were already tugging him into the back room.
although he was pleased by your enthusiasm, he had a different arrangement in mind, he sat his cigarette aside in the ashtray, and dashed over the front of the shop and locked the door, as well as flipping the sign to display 'we're closed!' to any passersby.
he rushed back to the counter were you stood, and you immediately dropped your items on the floor in favour of tossing your arms up and allowing yourself to be engulfed in his strong embrace. his lips came crashed down on yours, and he had you locked in a fiery, sloppy kiss. you could feel his stubble scaping against your chin and your jaws rocked in unison and it was delightfully harsh, like scratching an itch you didn't know you had.
meanwhile, his roaming hands groped at the meaty flesh of you ass and he lifted you up, to sit you down on the countertop. hands still grabbing at your ass, while this new position allowed you to wrap your legs around his waist and pull him impossibly close. you could feel his growing erection make contact with your clothed pussy.
you were wearing just a skirt and panties on your bottom half, hence with your legs spread apart, it was easy enough for him — even while still engaged in a fierce kiss with you — to slip his rough hand down your thigh and harshly tug the fabric of your panties to the side, exposing your wet folds to the chilly air of his store.
you whined into the kiss at his actions, but it was shortly broken when he pulled away to admire your newly revealed pussy. his thick thumb dipped gently between your lips, gathering all the slick and sending a chill down your spine when he grazed your needy clit.
"what a pretty cunt. where've you been hidin' this."
you choke back a giggle by biting your lip, gazing at him while his stare is clearly fixated unwaveringly between your legs. his thumb idly dips in and out of your hole, very shallowly and with little energy. it's not enough stimulation to make you moan, but certainly enough to help build your arousal — which was his intention.
"tight girl.." he muses, able to feel your homey walls from just his initial assessment with his thumb, "pass me condom, doll. behind the counter." he groans, utterly enthralled and visibly turned on by the way your glossy pussy takes just his thumb. it requires every ounce of self-discipline in his body to hold himself back from getting knuckles-deep into you.
"i'm on the pill." you reassure; somewhat muffled by the hand that had moved to your face to conceal the lewd expressions.
"fuck.. that's perfect. you're perfect, baby."
his thumb finally parts from your hole, only so he can hurriedly yank down his joggers and his briefs to reveal his length, which he taps lightly against your cunt, coating his buldging reddened tip with your wetness.
eager for his cock to experience the snugness promised by your hole, he slips into you with a stifled groan of pleasure. his teeth grind together and eyes wrinkle shut, while his fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs. the way your supple walls cling to his girth entirely knocks the wind out him.
"shit, angel. you're— I'm— ngh, so fuckin' good." he grits.
an amused smile stretches across your glossy lips. it was entertaining to see a man you knew to be so firm and intimidating, come completely undone and spiral into a blubbering mess upon inserting himself into your welcoming pussy. it's like you cast a spell on him.
your not able to admire his new-found loserdom for long, as a sharp surge of pleasure strikes into you as he begins thrusting. with the help of your own sticky arousal, his fat cock slips past the defenses of your contracting walls and finds itself deep into your cunt, his tip almost kissing your cervix.
the way his girth overwhelmed your insides made it so you could see the outline of his dick on your lower stomach slightly, and it would even pulse in tandem with his movements. every jagged thrust into your sopping hole would reflect on the imprint on your abdomen, which he found so hot — entirely mesmerised by it.
"heh, pretty little pussy can't handle it, eh?" he huffed out a broken chuckle.
lips pursed, you timidly shook your head. but that didn't make him stop. no, if anything your hushed pleas and constricting pussy only fueled and energised him. seeing you all weak and desperate laying out bare on his counter, it ignited a hunger within him.
he wanted — no, he needed — to see you impaled on his fat cock, to see you submit to his ruthless control over your cunt. see that sweet girl who would always come into his store for a little drink, get fucked senseless on the older store owner's cock. he longed for it.
and he wasn't going to let your snug walls stop him; he'd bully his way through your narrow insides, just to kiss your cervix with his bulbous tip.
"must be a virgin— ngh-" he spat, brows furrowed and he continously rocks his hips into yours, "yeah, baby? never been stuffed with dick befor— fore, huh?"
your head is tossed back now that your neck has essentially gone limp, and your mouth hangs slightly agape as you allow all sorts of mindless babbling to pour out amidst your erotic chorus of mewls. in attempt to cope with the endless waves of pleasure ukai sends wracking through your body, by ploughing into your poor, soppy hoppy repeatedly.
he smirks and mistakenly interprets your senseless garble as agreement, despite the fact you were too fucked-out to even aknowledge his question about you being a virgin. "mmh, doll, a virgin, yeah? makes sense. this— ngh— this pussy explains it." he laughs to himself, stroking your tired little clit with the rough pads of his fingers as he grumbles, "don't worry, baby. daddy's gonna take care of you, 'kay?"
and as clichė or corny as it may have sounded, he was being honest.
within a few minutes you already felt yourself fast-approaching your orgasm, from the way he was stimulating your clit to the satisfaction of his cock destroying your aching pussy, it all felt too much and your legs were shaking as you were ready to burst on his countertop.
an experienced man like ukai could recognise all the tell-tale signs of your impending climax: your staggered breathing, high-pitched moans and (most enjoyably) your twitching pussy. oh, and also the fact you were screaming it loudly for the whole empty room to hear.
" 'm close!" your whiny voice echoes through the store.
and ukai, ever the gentleman, is entirely ready to put his own pleasure aside for a moment to help serivce you through — what he believes is — your first ever orgasm.
his feverish pace slows down slightly, to just the right pace so that you are still getting the satisfaction you need, but your also able to focus on deep he goes inside you. the way the head of his cock brushes against that spongy spot on your walls — it's euphoric, like stratching an itch you didn't know you had. also this reduced rate alllowed him to focus more attention on your clit, poking and rubbing it, watching intently on your face for what patterns and movements would make you squirm.
while one hand was glued to your cunt, he placed the other on your shoulder and pulled you close, gently tracing his fingertips up your spine and whispering into your neck. "c'monn, doll, you're so close. finish up for daddy."
"ngh.. i-" you start, melting into his touch and allowing your head to fall onto his (surprisingly) buff shoulder. your hips subconciously roll against his while the knot in your stomach buldges and pulses.
"don't need to say anything, darling." he rasps hoarsely, "just got'ta feel me in ya. let me make you feel good. you're almost there."
and just like that, your pussy is spasming and gushing around his cock. this sudden jolt of bliss that strikes through you is enough to cause your body to tense and for you to fall backwards onto the counter, or at least you would've, if it not for this open hand on your spine supporting you, and keep your shivering body pressed close to his while you let your climax overcome you.
lewd noises of all sorts are flying out of mouth, while the walls of your cunt clamp down on him, and the crystalline liquid squirting out of you — of which you are blissfully unaware — drenches his trousers and the lower portion of his shirt.
"ukai!" you squeal.
"fuck yeah, just like that, squirt on my cock, messy bitch— oh yeah.."
but despite your sweet moans and tight pussy gripping onto his throbbing cock, he keeps an intimate hold on you, and strokes your back as you struggle through your intense high. he even tries to fuck you through it but it's a challenge due to your steal grip on his length. "ah, that's it, perfect girl. keep going. just relax."
although he wanted to appear calm, cool and collected for you, it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself more than you, judging by his trembling voice and breathless words. "oh, good girl. make a mess on my cock. so fu— huh—ckin' hot."
but who could blame him? when you were whining the most beautiful, erotic noises right into his flushed ear, and your pussy was fluttering around his dick like you were trying to wring him dry.
and it just about worked. as soon as you came down from your high, or at least, your cunt relented it's lethal grip on him, he pulled out and bottomed out all over your glistening folds. painting your puffy lips and inner thighs white with his milky cum.
his orgasm was short-lived compared to yours since he pulled out, but still, one of the best ones he's ever had. it took him a moment to come done even when the high had subsided and everything his dick had to offer had been left either on your flesh or dripping onto the shop floor.
you gaze up at him, with your legs still spread and your chest rising and dropping quickly, as you heaved, "you know, you were okay to cum inside. i'm on the pill." you chuckle breathlessly, recalling telling him this earlier, but perhaps he didn't process it fully due to the racing hormones.
"yeah, but." he pants, just as puffed as you are, if not more, "wanted to play it safe for your first time.. sorry 'bout the mess." he looks down dejectedly at your cum-stained thighs and pussy. "i'll get you a warm rag."
after fixing his trousers, he lurches into the backroom, and you hear the tap running for a few moments. soon, he comes back in with a wet microfiber cloth like he promised.
"i'm impressed. you have pretty good stamina for a chain-smoker." you titter to yourself as he walks towards you, but he simply rolls his eyes in response. though you can tell he is charmed by the discreet smile playing on his lips.
as he stands between your legs, you offer your hand out to take the cloth, but he shakes his head, "nah, let me, kid." he grumbles, back to his harsh old-man persona.
you gulp slightly at his certainty, and mumble, "kay, be gentle?"
" ' course." he utters plainly, immediately getting to work. tenderly wiping away the excess cum on your skin, until only a sticky sheen remained.
"i can get the rest at home. thanks." you insisted, hopping off the counter, with the intention of pulling your skirt back on, but unprepared for how jelly your legs would be. thankfully, ukai fully anticipated it, and his strong arm was right there to steady you until you could find your feed.
"woah there, careful." he chides, keeping an arm securely around your waist even while you put your panties and skirt back on. he only dared to let you go when you slowly began walking away. even then, he inquired, "need me to walk you home? it's dark out."
"i'll be alright, thanks though." you smile warmly at his offer.
"no worries." he mutters, shfiting awkwardly in place, "see ya later then, (y/n)."
"see you later, keishin." you blow him a kiss on your way out.
-------------
after that heated encounter, things became a little different when you would visit ukai's store.
sex was a regular thing during your interactions now; it's like you couldn't escape his store without his dick stuffed into one of your orifices first. not that you were complaining, he was attractive and so expert at making you feel good. but your relationship quickly descended into something entirely physical and indecent extremely fast.
your hole was getting used by him on a weekly basis. and he didn't care to uphold the gentlemanly facade he put on the first time — no, all that stuff he said about 'playing it safe' went straight out the window after that occassion. that instance was the first and last time he'd ever pull out. from then on, he was depositing his load straight inside your creamy walls whenever you'd have vaginal sex. you were basically his talking cumdump.
at first, he would be polite about it and would help you gently slip your panties back on, careful as to not dirty your damp folds with his cum that was seeping out of your hole still. he'd hold your hand or crandle your figure as you put your skirt back on and would assist you in walking to the door if your legs were too numb — he'd even offer you a cup of tea if you looked thirsty! overall, the would treat you like a precious vessel; an irreplaceable container for his hot seed.
but even after a few months, that 'baby doll' treatment vanished too.
he'd bury several rounds of his load into your worn pussy, and once he had decided he was done, he'd tug himself out and search for your discarded panties. when he found them, instead of tenderly helping you to slip them back on, he'd ball them up in his palms and shove it right up your soaking hole. like a uncomfortable, make-shift plug to keep all his cum inside you. then he'd send you on your way with nothing but a wave of his hand and a slap on your ass.
at least he was smoking less, though?
another typical day, you came skipping into the shop looking for the same thing: a free energy drink and some dick. you picked the can of your choosing and approached the counter enthusiastically. however, you notice something different about ukai today; the air around him was off. he wore a suspicious look on his face and couldn't look you directly in the eye, he kept gazing away at the far corner of his shop. "hey, keishin." you hum, "what's up?"
" just the usual, kid." he glanced down at the drink you had sat afore him. with a hushed voice, he said, "there's someone else in the store. we can't get started until they leave."
you quirk a brow, "somebody else? that's a first." you titter, but ukai doesn't seem so amused.
"just take your drink and come round here." he spat, motioning for you to come round the back of the register, and you did as he said. shuffling your way around until you were standing right beside him, and you placed your drink on one of the little shelves he had.
you stare up at him placidly, while he looks down at you. he even snakes an arm behind you to stroke your lower back. he's got a very satisfying face; defined in all the right places. and so effortlessly alluring with his thick tuffs of blonde hair hang in front of his face. you are about to lean in for a kiss until the other customer in the store approaches the register, and ukai suddenly turns to serve them.
the customer is some random guy that you do not recognise. dark hair, dark eyes, nothing particularly spectacular about him. although he did appear close to you in age. either way, on the desk he placed down a few items for ukai to process: some instant noodles, a cereal bar and a carton of milk. run-of-the-mill stuff, really.
even as ukai served the customer and input the prices into the card machine, he didn't take his other hand off of you. in fact, as he worked, it creeped down slowly from the small of your back, to the fat of your perky ass. that's where you thought his descent would end, but no. after he gave your ass a rough squeeze, he slides down even further.
then you freeze, as his risque fingers find themselves against your clothed pussy, and rub against your growing damp patch.
"need a bag?" ukai asks casually to the customer, not even paying any regard to his hand on your sopping heat. the guy responds with muted nod.
while he procures a plastic bag for the customer, and one-handedly puts everything into the bag, his fingers on his other hand hook over the fabric of your panties and skillfully yank it aside. then, without wasting any time, he haughtily pokes one finger right up your pretty pussy. and your expected to stand there and not make a peep, lest you off-put the customer and they become aware of the dangerously inappropriate situation concealed behind the counter.
his finger curls inside your spongy walls and virgously squirms around, and you literally need to bite your tongue in order to keep quiet. admittedly, his lone finger was nothing compared to his cock but it was expert at hitting all the spots on your walls that have been in dire need of stimulation.
and while you are fighting for your life to keep silently — honestly becoming light-headed — ukai is moving aggravatingly slowly, just to tease you. it takes him double the time it should to put three items away, before he finally hands it to the customer. they smile politely and nod, then turn to walk away. and you see out of the corner of your eye ukai is glaring daggers at you, as if to warn you about the consequences of making noise before the customer fully leaves the store.
it takes longer than it should, but when you finally hear the tell-tale noise of the store's door chime, you take it as a signal to let out the brimming moans you've been keeping in. "ngh— keishin, right there! keep going."
ukai rolls his eyes but he knows the inescapable smile gracing his lips always gives him away. he thrusts into your drenched hole even faster, adding an extra digit in too. "what a needy girl, huh. lettin' me finger you while a customer's in the shop. this pussy's got no shame, eh?" he tuts, less focussed on the words falling from his lips, and moreso on his hand's virgous pumping into your hole, and the way your legs begin to quiver in response.
"mmph, no.." you mewl, bracing yourself by resting your arms on the counter and shamelessly arching into hands, so he can get them right knuckles-deep inside you, and hit that delicious spot you were trying to reach with your own fingers all of last night, but to no avail.
"there she is. my slutty doll face." he idles, staring agape at the pornographic expressions you were making while he continued to fingerblast you against the register; your pink tongue poking out of your pretty mouth every so slightly, and your plump cheeks hot with lust.
"you know what i want to do with this tight little body today?" he drones, checking you out from head to toe, "want to make this pussy squirt like it did before. the first time we had sex." he explains, but around mid-way through his sentence, he extends his thumb out to your clit to provide a bit of extra stimulation, and it's around that time where you entirely black out and his chatter falls on deaf ears as you ride out your golden high on his digits.
"nggh! right th— ah, keishin, please." you scream into the vast emptiness of the store, and ukai simply smirks down at you in your newly dishevelled state.
"hmph, only on your first orgasm and i've already got you babbling like a dumb slut." he muses, keeping the power up while slamming into your sopping cunt, without a care for the juices that were splashing around the shop with each harsh impact on your slick-lined folds. "almost there, (y/n). c'mon. 'n let's hear that pretty voice of yours. scream f'me."
perhaps he was the one babbling now, as he had a hand hooked under your chest to idly pinch at your erect nipple, while the other worked virgorously at your hole and clit. and before long, your pussy walls were spasming around his digits, a sensation he had grown plenty used to by now. and he knew not to take it as a sign to cease, but instead, to persevere and fuck you even harder through your climax.
"aghh— keishin!" you screamed, heeding his command of being loud and plenty noisy. you opened your mouth and let your abused pussy yell on your behalf.
"(y/n)." he rasps with his jaw clenched. eyes zeroed in on your dirty hole; despite the fact he could feel your walls convulsing crazily, and could thus tell you had a nice climax, he was disappointed when there wasn't any splashback to accompany it. he was anticipating getting his shoes and clothes soaked again; maybe even his face this time!
but alas, no squirt. so he'll just have to try again.
"this pussy needing dick today?" he asks lowly, slowly leaning forward until his lips are inches away from the shell of your ear, while his hand makes sloppy circles on your labia.
you only mewl quietly in response, burying your face in your arms from embarrassment. at which he chuckles. "fuck's sake, doll. talk to me. don't say i've fucked you stupid already?" he retracts himself from your ear, only so he can kiss down your back, up the curve of your ass and along your inner thigh. until his lips are directly up against your drenched core, and he utters, right between your sticky lips, "or how 'bout eaten? that what she needs?"
"mmh, maybe." you whimper timidly, a slight moan droning at the bottom of your throat from the way his words vibrate against your pussy.
ukai interprets that as an affirmitive, which prompts him to slide his tongue right past your glistening enterence and into your needy hole. it would worm around in there, soaking up all your juices while his lips would massage your supple folds. like the world's horniest french kiss, it was slow and wildly intimate; and he's grasp your thighs as though he was cupping the face of a lover, silently pleading with them not to pull away.
not that you were going anywhere. in fact, you'd only sway your hips in delight and grind back against his face when you were in desperate need of more attention to the hollow parts inside you — urging his tongue even further up and eliciting a deep, erotic moan from your dry throat.
"mmph, tasty pus— fuck!" he grunts against your cunt, not even parting from it to speak, "—so fuckin' good.. tight too.." and there was something about him, where whenever he would dive into your cunt, he just could not shut the fuck up. he's coming out with nonsensical garble every ten seconds, about how delicious you are or how pretty your cunt is. or at least you think that's what he's saying, you can't even make out most of it because he says it while his tongue is engulfed by your hole. not that you are complaining, the vibrations from his mouth when he speaks feels good against your pussy.
occassionally when he became a bit more exicted, he'd yank his tongue out of your warm hole to start feverishly lapping at your slick-coated pussy like a starving pup. "mm, such a perfect cunt. look at that tight little hole. shit." he wanted every last inch of your sweet nectar on his tongue, and he'd glide his tongue over your cunt however many times required until the only thing your skin gleamed with was his own spit.
he was like a monster devouring your pussy. he wasn't the fastest at first — no, he focused more on the intimacy of the kiss — but he built up speed as he went and the entire time, his tongue would work like an expert inside you, knowing exactly what sides to rub and what buttons to press.
that already that the pulsing damn in your abdomen ready to fall, but intertwined with the way one of his hands edges up from groping your ass, to thumbing and teasing your pert asshole — you didn't stand a chance. next thing you knew, your dam had collapsed and your tired cunny was unleashing a crystalline liquid all over ukai's face.
spurts of fluid gushed from your pussy, making a wet mess all around you: the floor, the shelves, your clothes, his clothes. and lest we forget his face, who was right in the splash zone when you reached your second orgasm. his tongue was buried in your cunt, as he was innocently trying to fuck you through your high, but the sheer force pushed him and left him soaked.
not that he minded. in fact, that had been his aim this entire time. so he happily sat back and watched as your pussy clenched around nothing and squirted in front of him.
meanwhile, you were trying desperately to cope with the absurdly strong waves of pleasure that were crashing through you, but it was all too much. even with your toes curled and your whole body tensed, it was still such an overwhelming euphoria that truly rocked you to your core. all you could do was ride it out.
"keishin!!—nghhh, fuck, i--" you shrieked, but ukai hardly paid any mind, he was all too caught up in admiring the obscene sight afore him.
it took you a a minute or so before you properly started to come down, and ukai could tell by your increasingly labored breathes and the way your legs eventually gave out from under you, and you landed on the floor with him, in a shallow pool of your own juices.
"what a messy girl." he tuts, wiping your slick arousal from his chin, "your going t'have to clean this up, y'know."
I don't think we can put this in the sports column (NSFW) - karasuno/reader
m.list - read on ao3
A/N: wrote this months ago. didn't edit it for ages bc I thought it would suck to edit. it didn't suck to edit it fucking rocked and I'm never questioning myself again hell yeah
Summary: You infiltrate Karasuno's volleyball club for the university paper and take to bed a few of the rumors you've heard.
Warnings: smut, orgy/gangbang, oral sex, fingering, handjobs, double penetration, spitroasting, creampies, reader is referred to with she/her pronouns, uhhhhh marking, exhibitionism, accidental voyeurism, overstimulation, light dom/sub stuff (submissive reader), uhhhhhh there's. there's a lot going on here guys. I wasn't fucking around when I said karasuno gangbang.
Word count: ~7000
It’s the night before your first game since you started this little investigation, and you are pressed flat against the wall outside the gym, a hand firm against your mouth in a desperate attempt to not make a noise.
There’d been rumors, sure. And yeah, you were here to investigate those rumors.
Karasuno is such a good team. They’ve gotta be doing some crazy shit to be that close and play that well, though.
That had been the… family-friendly version of the rumors. The more salacious of them had gone into detail you’d blushed too hard to repeat—images of working out issues with clothes off and loud gasps and—
Okay, chill. You’re a journalist. This is nothing.
(Okay, you’re a journalism major, technically speaking. But you need to get used to these things. It’s not like you’ve never had sex before.)
You had enmeshed yourself in the Karasuno University volleyball team after picking up the scent of those rumors about a month ago. Most of the rumors, you thought, were too stupid to entertain. It’s not like they were actually partaking in witchcraft to win games. That would be completely stupid. You assumed, honestly, that they had just clicked. Yeah, it didn’t really seem like everyone got along—the freshmen were constantly at each other’s throats, the captain had his hands full reigning in half the team comprised of spitfires, and there was at least one guy who seemed to believe his job on the team was to piss off as many of his teammates as possible. The only ones safe seemed to be the seniors and the girls, of which there were three if you counted yourself.
So far, it had seemed to be that there was no version of the rumor that was true—no, there were no blood sacrifices, yes, they did sometimes sleep, no, there were no crazy orgies in place to encourage team bonding, and no, they did not seem to be some sort of micro-cult. Disappointing for your article though it was, they had welcomed you in with almost no resistance, and you had found nothing out of the ordinary. They were just… normal athletes. Maybe a bit more passionate than most, but… normal.
Except. Except.
Here you are, the night before they have a match, listening to wet squelches and distinct slaps and what is undoubtedly moaning, unable to figure out exactly who the moans are coming from except that there’s definitely more than two people involved in whatever’s happening inside that gym, and fighting back the urge to peek through the cracked door and figure out exactly what the fuck is going on. (Or, uh, who the fuck is getting it on.)
Fuck. Are they seriously… seriously fucking in the gym right now?
There’s the burning shame of having caught them. The absolute mortification of knowing that you’re sitting there listening to them have sex with reckless abandon. You should be uncomfortable, but instead, you catch yourself squeezing your thighs together.
A particularly loud moan catches you off guard, and you jerk your finger from your mouth—when had you started biting it to keep quiet?—and flee while you still have the chance.
(As far as anyone else is concerned, when you’re safe within the confines of your single-person dorm room, there’s no proof to say that you snaked a hand down your pants, still thinking of that brightly-lit gym, of the idea of having been caught listening to them, of being pulled inside and—
There’s no proof.)
~
The day-to-day doesn’t change. You don’t let it. The guys played their match, and they won, and it was great. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t smiling as they won, and your report for the sports column of the university paper was more than glowing. They’re a really fun team to watch, more so now that you know them—even if you’re now taking every effort in your head to not act like a total freak around them.
Honestly, you even think you're doing a pretty good job of it. You pretended not to notice the smell in the gym the morning after The Event—faint though it was, there was undeniably the hint of sex still in the air—you forced down any errant thoughts around them, and you didn't breathe so much as a word to anyone about it. What does it matter if they're having orgies or whatever the night before a game? What does it matter at all?
Luckily, you spend more time talking to the girls than anything—Shimizu and Yachi are becoming fast friends with you, you think out of an eagerness to have another girl around in a large group of guys. They're easier to talk to, too, since you don't recall hearing any particularly feminine moans during The Event. It's possible they have no idea. Possible that they, too, think things are normal. (Or else, they're the source of the orgy rumors, but neither seems much like the type.) They tell you innocuous little things about the team, like that time Hinata and Kageyama were so focused on their little rivalry that they ran clear to the next town before realizing they'd lost the rest of the team, and you get caught up in much-needed girl talk when you go out to eat together. Little debates on birth control, on dating, on whether or not that one psych professor can get it.
By the time the next game rolls around, you've nearly re-assimilated into the concept of a normal life. It’s really not a big deal, anyways—people have sex. It’s normal.
“Well, [name],” Daichi says towards the end of practice one day, about a week before. “You were only going to be here for a few weeks, right? How have you liked it?”
You nod, polite smile decorating your lips. “It’s been really enjoyable! It’s a bit sad that I won’t be around after the next game, honestly. You guys are really fun to be around.”
“Hmm?” Tsukishima says, an eyebrow raised your way. At some point, you seem to have captured the attention of everyone in the room, though you’re not quite sure what you did. You can sense their eyes on you though—a few of the more open guys stare, a few of the more polite ones glance out of the corners of their eyes. You’re stuck in the spotlight as Tsukishima takes a step towards you.
Why does one step suddenly feel so dangerous?
“You know, I’m sure no one here would stop you if you decided to stay.”
Yeah, your blood’s running cold. You get a firm grip on your brain in hopes of not horribly misinterpreting everything that’s going on, but—
“You confirmed the information you were looking for, right? Two weeks ago, hanging around outside the gym before the game.”
Ah.
Your face isn’t sure whether it wants to go pale or erupt in a furious blush. You, for your part, scramble for an answer. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You don’t? Are you that dense, or are you lying to us?”
A tiny squeak passes from your throat. “W-what’re you—“
“I was expecting something to show up in the school paper by now, but instead we just got a glowing column about how well we played the next day. Not a word of it. Why is that?”
“Oi, Tsukishima, aren’t you laying it on a bit thick?” one of the others says.
“It’s fine,” he replies, looking down at you as you look down at the floor. “Well, [name]? I’m waiting, Miss Reporter.”
The words burn a path down to your crotch, and you are absolutely not losing here, not now. You’ve just decided that. You meet his eye with a determined look. “I run the sports column, not the gossip column, Tsukishima. It hardly matters to me what you guys are getting up to—“
“You’re blushing, though. And you had to have heard before getting wrapped up in this, right? I’m comfortable speaking for everyone here when I say you can really find out the truth, if you want.”
“H-huh?”
He’s boxed you in, your back hitting the wall. Nowhere to run.
“What do you say? Wanna become an honorary member of the volleyball club?”
A sound sort of reminiscent of a boiling kettle leaves you, and you shove him away before you register it. “P-please give me time to think about it!”
A heavy silence.
“Alright, that’s enough. Let’s try not to scare the poor girl, yeah?” Suga says. He places a comforting hand on your shoulder. “If she wants to, she wants to, and if she doesn’t, she doesn’t. [name], if you wanna go for the day, you can.”
“I, um…”
He nods and guides you towards the door. Before you can properly escape, he leans in close: “if you do decide you want to, come see us after practice Friday night and we’ll initiate you. If not, we’ll respect that, okay?”
Initiate.
Friday night.
You swallow, throat feeling suddenly dry.
Just what have you gotten yourself into?
~
You spend the week caught between a rational panic and another emotion you are not willing to put a name to. Yachi had texted you not long after your escape that night, an apology and a really genuine “no one will be mad if you don’t show Friday”. That was relaxing, just slightly, except the little pang as you realized you actually did want to show. You’ve had a text back drafted to her the past three days, glaring back at you as you agonized over your phone screen:
No problem at all! I just had one question about what this “initiation” would entail. You know, to prepare myself!
You’re pretty sure you’ve deleted and re-drafted the exact same text about fifty times. Normally, you’d text a friend, ask them to help you review what you’re saying to make sure it sounds chill, but who the fuck are you going to tell about this? The implication was clear. Freaked out as you are, you’re not exactly interested in spreading the information, either.
Friday morning is when you actually do get the guts to send it, having spend the week pointedly avoiding everyone, volleyball-related or otherwise. The final draft:
Sorry for being a little AWOL! Had some thinking to do, lol. I just wanted to ask what I can expect if I did show up tonight? You know, so I’m prepared?
She’d responded immediately—not with a text, but with an email and a call, the call coming through less than a minute after you’d gotten a notification of an email from her.
Somehow, your morbid curiosity on what you should know before showing up, if you chose to, turns into an hour-long phone conversation turns into sitting down with an open notebook turns into you reviewing the document she’d emailed you, freshly showered while Yachi goes through your closet.
“You wanna wear something sexy, but kinda cheap. Sometimes they get a bit too excited. After the first time, you don’t really have to participate in this stuff, if you’re busy or just not up for it, but especially for this first time, don’t give them the opportunity to wreck any clothes you care about.”
You nod, make a note on your open notebook, thighs squeezing together impatiently. She emerges from your closet, a bright look on her face as she holds up a miniskirt you’d long since relegated to the very back. “This is a cute skirt! It’s a really strong candidate.”
“Do you think so?” you cringe. “Honestly, I’m worried it might be a bit… y’know, short.”
“[full name].” She gives you a flat look. “You do understand what’s happening tonight, right?”
“…right. I’ll wear the skirt.”
She brightens up in an instant. “Good! Now let me find a matching top…”
When she’s satisfied, your outfit laid out and you almost mentally prepared to actually get dressed for this sort of thing, you expect her to leave the room, but she simply waits.
“Uh, Yachi, I need to…”
“I just thought of something,” she says, face blank. “[name], have you ever been with a girl before?”
Ah.
Your cheeks feel hot. You’ve not exactly tried to hide that you’re bisexual—if nothing else, the bi pride flag on your wall would be indicator enough—but as far as actual experience with girls…
“I’ve… thought really hard about it…? I haven’t really had the opportunity.”
She nods to herself. “Right. Before you get ready, it’ll be easier if I do this now.”
Her lips are on yours before you can fully process it, soft and tasting faintly of pineapple chapstick. She kisses you long and slow, lets you relax into it. When she pulls away, she smiles shyly, like she didn’t just kiss you for the purposes of prepping you for an orgy she’ll be involved in later today. “There. Get that first out of the way before we have to make out in front of the volleyball team.”
She waves on her way out of your bedroom. “Get dressed! I wanna make sure that outfit works for today.”
Right. Get dressed.
Well, if nothing else, you’re definitely sure about being bisexual now.
~
If not for Yachi, you would have backed out a hundred times already. As it is, she keeps a gentle, reassuring hand on your back as the two of you enter the gym, a good few minutes after the usual practice officially ends. They’ve already finished cleaning up everything from the day, the air already seemingly charged even before the part where they notice you’ve actually shown up.
Yachi closes the door behind you with a sweet smile. “We got her!” she cheers by way of greeting.
The eyes that suddenly land on you—all fourteen pairs, including Yachi—seem heavier than usual. Hungry. You can’t help the nerves that threaten to make you tremble at the promise of what’s to come.
But there’s Yachi again, ever-sweet and cute as she wraps an arm around your side.
“Oh, I see that!” Daichi is the first to say. “Glad to see you’ve decided to join us, [name]. Here I thought we’d scared you off for good!”
You giggle nervously. “Well, I just… you know me! Always gotta over-think things.” That’s good. That’s casual. You’re managing an almost-even tone while you talk. Almost like you’re a normal, real human person.
“I know the feeling,” Asahi sighs.
Suga sets down a chair near the center of the gym, eyes watching you in silent interest.
“I’m guessing since you came with her that you’ve been coaching her, Yachi?”
She nods. “She’s had the whole rundown. Knows what to expect and everything.” She unwinds herself from you in preparation for whatever’s to come next. You try not to jump at the sound of the lock on the door clicking shut.
“Good. Good.” Daichi nods. “Come sit, [name]. No sense in putting it off, right?”
You nod slowly, timidly stepping forward. Yachi follows close behind.
“Limits?” Daichi asks firmly. “Loud enough so we all hear you.”
Another laugh from you, shaky with nerves as you perch on the chair Suga set out for you. You rattle them off, having memorized the list in order for this exact moment. Knowing you, you’d forget something otherwise, and you nearly do.
“Got it. And Yachi told you about the stoplight system?”
“She didn’t really need to,” you admit, a bit quieter. “I’ve got it.”
“Good. Shimizu, Yachi, if you’d get her ready? Ladies first, and all.”
Wordlessly, they descend on you. You were expecting… you don’t know. Not the sudden press of lips, familiar from an hour or two prior, against your own, or Shimizu’s arms so quick to drape over your shoulders from behind. You press your lips back against Yachi’s insistently, perhaps a bit excited, perhaps just trying to get yourself into the right headspace before you think too hard about the twelve guys currently watching you be sandwiched between the girls or Shimizu’s delicate fingers unbuttoning your top.
Your head spins with it already—Shimizu’s perfume, Yachi’s chapstick. Shimizu’s hand pushing your hair out of the way, her lips attaching to your neck gently. “You didn’t mention anything about marks in your limits,” she mumbles against your skin as a little whine escapes you. “Can we take that to mean it’s okay to mark you, or should I be careful?”
Yachi pulls away a bit, and you chase her lips. She pushes you back with a giggle. “She asked you a question.”
“Oh. Right.” You blink owlishly as you play back the question in your head. “Uh, yeah. I mean—it’s—it’s fine.”
“Are you sure? A few of the guys are not going to let up if they know that.”
Despite the exhibitionist dream going on right now, you don’t quite have the strength to admit that you quite enjoy the marks, actually, so instead: “I’m sure.”
“Alright.” Then, both pairs of lips are back—suckling your neck, kissing you until you’re out of breath. There’s no hurry, none at all, and you barely notice when your top is discarded completely, barely even notice the chatter of the guys bickering—when you strain, you just barely figure out that they’re deciding something about who gets a turn with you when.
You try not to shudder too hard at the thought.
Yachi slides a hand up to your bra and underneath it, rolls a nipple between her fingers. Shimizu follows up, finds your wrist and guides your hand beneath Yachi’s waistband to palm at her heat. “Have you ever…?”
You part from Yachi again, shake your head, eyes half-lidded and head swimming as you look up into the gym lights. “Hadn’t gotten the chance before—before today,” you admit.
She huffs a gentle laugh in your ear. “I’ll teach you, then.”
Her hand slides up your thigh, up your skirt. Yachi crawls into your lap, arms around your neck for stability as Shimizu’s fingers find your cunt, already wet. “It’s not that different from taking care of yourself,” she murmurs as two delicate fingers, too pretty to be where they are right now, stroke your slit. “Follow my lead, okay?”
You nod, whining when her fingers find your clit.
She teaches you in gentle, fluttery strokes. You lose track of it all quickly—your fingers buried in Yachi, thumb dancing over her clit as she leans over your shoulder to kiss Shimizu. You find it’s not that hard to adjust, and with every breathy gasp you draw from Yachi, you’re well rewarded by the slender fingers pumping into your cunt.
Needy and slipping into the mythical subspace you’ve only had the pleasure of reading about, you lean forward to plant your lips on Yachi’s neck. “No marks,” she sighs to you. You whine and move on, not letting yourself linger long enough to mark her skin. Seeming pleased with your listening, Shimizu slides a third finger inside you, stretches you out carefully.
“You’ll thank me later.”
She works you up so easily. Is it because you’re pressed between two pretty girls? Is it the ravenous eyes raking over this scene? Or—
Her hand retreats too soon, just as your hips had begun to really move with the friction, and you whine.
“I promise you’ll get there. Just hold on for now, okay?”
You nod, pouting at having been edged, and focus on the way Yachi writhes on your lap.
She’s close, too, you realize.
“So pretty,” you whisper in awe at the look on her face: eyes closed, head tilted back, lips parted just slightly. “You’re so pretty.”
Ah. Clearly she likes the praise, because she flutters around you. You work her more urgently, the wet squelches from your fingers buried in her joining the hushed moans and sighs of the team watching. When she cums, it’s a soft, quiet moan that you could honestly get used to hearing. Her walls flutter ceaselessly around your fingers as she leans down and kisses you again, and you’re sure not to stop until she slumps a little, though, truth be told, your wrist is already sore.
When she climbs off your lap, legs a bit shaky and a sweet, dopey smile on her face, she backs away, exiting the fray entirely. You nod in understanding. The goal, as she’d made very clear, is to make everyone cum at least once, and she’s gotten her fill. Shimizu takes your chin in her hand, tilts your face so she can kiss you, too. After a moment, you pull back. “Um—can I… my wrist… I don’t think I can…”
God, you’re already stupid. By the time you’ve gotten to everyone, you’re gonna be completely brainless, aren’t you?
She nods, helps you out of the chair only to sit you on your knees in front of her, having taken her place. She’s sweet and perfect on your tongue when you eat her out, paying careful, deliberate attention to her clit, and she instructs you in a low tone as she pets your head. It’s a blessing to be between her thighs, a blessing for her to be the first girl you’ve ever eaten out, a blessing to be allowed to draw a quiet moan from her when at last she cums on your tongue.
“Good,” she murmurs to you with a smile when you pull away, cheeks and chin wet with her slick. “I think you’re ready for us to pass you off. Will you be good for them, too?”
You nod, smiling dreamily. She looks over your shoulder and nods before standing and straightening herself out.
Three of your loyal watchers step forward. Seems like the seniors get you next.
~
You sit nervously, wait for… orders? Guidance? Anything?
You feel like you’re being circled by sharks, honestly. One of said sharks laughs, angelic, and you yelp when Suga’s hands come to rest on your waist. When had he joined you on the floor?
“You’re already tense again. Come on, relax a bit, [name].” His thumbs rub soothing circles into your hips. “See, Asahi’s gonna get nervous, too, if you act like that.”
Daichi pushes Asahi forward, a stern look on his face. Suga pushes you forward, too, until you’re nose to Asahi’s crotch and the prominent bulge in his shorts. “Go on. You took such good care of the girls, and it’s our turn now. Go ahead and open for him.”
You let your mouth hang open. You can be obedient. You can be good.
The bulge in Asahi’s shorts jumps a little as he looks down at you. You’re already deep in this, might as well go all-in—you paw at the waistband of his shorts, waiting for his nod of approval. When you receive it, you grab the shorts and his boxers and pull them down in one swift motion, swallowing thickly when you see the size of the thing.
If all the guys on the volleyball team are this hung, you’re going to be very, very sore in the morning.
You close your eyes, lean in. If you just keep your eyes closed, you don’t have to think about the guys watching you with varying levels of interest, don’t have to think about performing. You stroke him at the base, take as much of his cock into your mouth as you can handle. He lets out a soft groan as you begin to bob your head, and again you feel those hands on your hips. You let Suga do whatever it is he’s planning on, which is how you find your legs being spread a bit, your hips lifted just slightly only for someone—Suga, presumably—to slide his head between your thighs.
There’s a huff of a laugh against your pussy, and you try your best to keep up with sucking off Asahi as you’re yanked downwards to rest on his face. Asahi’s hot on your tongue, and Suga’s tongue is hot on you when he finally lathes his tongue over your sex. Your moan comes out muffled, cutting off into a squeak, almost a gag, when Asahi’s hips buck in response.
A murmured apology, a ruffle of your hair. The gentle affection has your heart and your walls fluttering against your will—Suga pulls away to laugh at you. “She liked whatever you just did, Asahi. Just so you know.”
You whine, roll your hips down in hopes of keeping him from saying anything else incriminating. He punishes you with a harsh suck of your clit, and the three of you fall into a nice rhythm—you taking Asahi’s cock as far into your mouth as you can handle, Suga fucking you on his tongue.
“S-so pretty,” Asahi murmurs when you dare a glance up at his face. He’s been watching you work him intently, sighs and groans filling your ears to let you know you’re doing well. You clench around Suga’s tongue at the praise, go back to work as you dip your head deep. When Asahi cums, he’s low and loud, and you greedily drink up the cum that hits the back of your throat. You’re not far behind, thanks to Suga, writhing on top of him as he forces you to stay seated on his face.
Asahi backs away. Suga slides out from underneath you, moves around to your front to kiss you softly. You shudder at the taste of yourself on his lips, shiver when his tongue slips into your mouth. Against your lips, he mumbles: “you could probably use a little rest already. You’re being really good, you know?”
Daichi chuckles darkly. “Oh, come on. She’ll never be done if we keep letting her rest.”
That’s the only warning you get before your skirt is tugged off. You’re left in nothing but a bra as Daichi begins to slide his fingers between your lips. “You’re doing great. Yachi said you were on birth control—I can assure you everyone here is clean, and she also said you’re okay with no condoms, but I want everyone to hear you say it, if that’s true.”
You whimper. You’re too sensitive for this right now, still shaking from your first orgasm of the night, but his fingers won’t stop moving.
“Well? Yes or no? Don’t make me ask you a third time.”
You gasp—his middle finger dips into your hole, just enough to make your hips buck. “P-please, I—I can—no condoms, please,” you nearly sob, hoping in vain that your bowing to his request will get you some respite.
“You’re so mean, Daichi,” Suga tuts.
You let out a sigh of relief when his fingers leave you, but then you’re being bent over and something hot and thick is sliding through your heat.
“S-sensitive,” you whine out.
“I know,” he replies, and then he’s pressing his way inside you, stretching you out, and you’re letting out a loud keen into the gym. He sits inside you a moment, gives you just long enough to adjust to the stretch before he’s moving. “You really worried us, you know. Do you think it’s polite to disappear without a word all week, [name]?”
“N-no, I’m sorry—“
A single harsh thrust. You cry out. Suga, ever-helpful, kneels down in front of you to give you his lap to rest on. Ever-obedient, you reach out and begin to palm the bulge in his shorts. He takes the chance to unclasp your bra as Daichi sets a slow, almost conversational pace.
You pull Suga out of his shorts, rest your head on his thigh. Focus on jerking him off as Daichi’s pace picks up from slow to harsh. “It’s nice of you to apologize. Don’t do it again.”
“I-I won’t—ah—“
The slow, lazy kisses you’ve taken to pressing against Suga’s cock—pretty and long—don’t mesh well with the bruising grip on your hips, the sharp snap of the captain’s cock in your pussy as he fucks you out. You cling desperately to Suga, jerk him off with no real rhythm as you struggle to take the abuse to your still-sensitive cunt.
By the time Suga’s cum shoots in ropes across your cheek, you’re close again, and Daichi isn’t letting up. “You want it inside, pretty girl?”
“Please,” you whine.
“Good girl,” he croons, and that sends you over the edge a second time, too fast—the fluttering of your walls drags him over with you. Suga takes the chance to stroke your hair almost lovingly as you’re filled up with hot cum, and you whimper as Daichi pulls out of you.
Five down. Nine to go.
You think they might kill you before the night’s over.
~
They really don’t let you rest—before you even process the retreat of the seniors, three more have stepped forward, and from the corner of your eye you notice the seniors holding back two guys in particular.
(“Dude, it’s our turn—“
“She can’t handle five at once. We already decided before this that you two get to go after them.”)
Ennoshita’s cock hangs heavy in front of you, and with a whimper, you drag yourself to sit up and take it in your mouth. He laughs softly. “You got used to this quickly. Look at you, you’re a mess.”
You’re not really willing to reply to that. You’re so far past embarrassment—if he’s trying to embarrass you, all you’re getting is a surge of heat low in your stomach all over again, as though your body could possibly handle any more right now.
There’s a nudge at your side, someone’s hand sliding up your arm and bringing you to take another cock in one of your free hands. A glance—Kinoshita is on one side of you, Narita on the other, and you are more than happy to take care of them, lack of coordination be damned.
“Take your time,” Narita says in a low voice. “I get this weird feeling the other two are not going to be very gentle with you when they get a turn.”
You shudder, moan around Ennoshita’s cock at the thought. His hips roll into your mouth, and you shoot him a pleading look. You weren’t particularly trying to send him any hints, but he takes some sort of hint anyway—his hand tangles in your hair, really expertly, actually, and he takes just a little bit of the load off you as he begins to fuck your throat, slow and easy, so you don’t have to keep track of getting off three at once. You relax your jaw, let him work, almost enjoy yourself as you twist your wrists around Kinoshita and Narita’s cocks.
Ennoshita is careful with you. Forceful, sure, but careful. You could gag on him—easily, if that was what he wanted—but he never makes you take him too deeply, simply enjoys the feeling of your mouth, your tongue, the way you’re completely lost in your little initiation. As his pace begins to stutter, you try to bob your head with him, unpermitted by his grip in your hair. You’re fully under now, head caught in a delicious space you’ve never quite experienced. Floating, really.
He pulls you off him firmly. “Color?”
You let out a little half-whine, looking up at him with lidded eyes and a quizzical head tilt as you try to remember what the fuck he’s asking you through the fuzz.
“Mm?”
“Damn, she’s totally lost.”
“Think she’ll be okay? Should we—“
A little panic surges in you, and you jolt forward as you finally process what he’s looking for. “G-green! Green. I’m green.”
He nods. “You’re sure?”
“Mm. Floaty. But green.”
“Good. That’s a good girl. You’re gonna keep being good?”
You reply with a whine, a tug forward in hopes of giving him the message to put his cock back in your mouth right now.
He gets the message.
The two in your hands tumble over the edge first, and you moan as you feel them paint you with their cum. You might like being taken advantage of like this. Ennoshita isn’t too far behind. He spills into your mouth with a groan, untangling fingers from your hair and smoothing it down gently. Before he backs away to let the next guys have their way with you, he leans down, keeps an affectionate hand on top of your head. “Good luck.”
“Mm?”
He backs away without explanation, and before you fully process it, you’re being pushed into a new position on your hands and knees. “Finally,” Noya groans from behind you, hands groping your ass almost reverently. “You’re being so good, it was so hard not to come take you while the others were busy with you.”
A whine. You’re more or less losing your ability to speak, between the soreness building in your jaw and the cotton in your head. Something bumps against your pussy, and you flinch with a whimper.
Tanaka is in front of you, watching your face carefully as Noya’s hands roam your body from behind. “Still good, [name]?”
You nod.
“Good,” he says, and then there’s yet another cock in your mouth. You’re starting to lose count. But, hey, Tanaka’s dick is an effective gag to keep you from getting too loud when Noya slides into you with an obscene squelch.
“There you are,” he groans, grip bruising-tight on your hips. “Fuck, you’re tight.”
Tight and sensitive. Noya isn’t particularly thick, but at this angle he’s already pressing against a spot soft and delicious in your cunt. Fuck, he hasn’t even moved yet and you already feel dangerously close.
You rock your hips back against him, desperate even as you take Tanaka’s cock as deep into your mouth as you can manage. You get barely any movement before Noya takes the hint, and then one hand is holding you steady as he snaps his hips, sharp and hard, into you. The other sneaks around, finds your clit with ease and begins to frantically torture it. You cum hard and fast around him, and he lets his head drop backward with a groan, not stopping even as you struggle to hold yourself up and take it.
It’s all so much. So much. So much—
You barely manage to bring a hand up to finish Tanaka in your mouth, desperate to have just one less thing drowning you, and lucky for you, it works—he grits out praises as he spills into your mouth, strokes your hair as you swallow as much of his cum as you can handle.
With your mouth free, Nishinoya pauses just long enough to pull out and flip you onto your back. “Your knees are starting to hurt, right?” he coos, cock throbbing against your entrance again. “But you’re doing so well.”
You whimper. It’s all you still know how to do. He takes in your body, chest heaving and tits shaking from exertion, and slides a hand up your side, pausing to tweak a nipple. Your back arches. “God, you’re perfect. Are your tits always this sensitive, or do you just like being watched?”
“Al-ways,” you moan out, voice broken. His eyes are ravenous as he takes you in, like he doesn’t know where to look.
“Oi, Noya, you’re not the last one that gets her today. Go ahead and fuck her already.”
He doesn’t need telling twice. His arms are shaking as he pins you down by the wrists, shaking as he plunges into you all over again.
Noya is brutal. Dimly, you have the thought that you understand why they held him back as long as possible, though you think it might have made things worse. He leans down, lips against your neck, and groans when you immediately clench around him. “Your neck, too?” he hisses out.
You nod, barely able to catch your breath or un-fuzz your head long enough to talk.
“Fuck,” he breathes, taking the time to suck a few marks into your throat.
“Please,” you whine in reply. That’s all it takes for him to sink his teeth into a soft spot on your neck, and then you’re cumming again with an actual sob as he cums inside you, the second time someone’s cum inside tonight.
Nine… ten? Down. You can’t count anymore. He pulls out of you, lathes his tongue over where he’d bitten you, leaves you laying there to catch your breath.
~
“Need a break?”
You shake your head, not even bothering to check who’s asking you.
A laugh. “You sure? You look a little dead.”
One eye opened lazily. Yamaguchi. “Can take it,” you slur out. You’re utterly boneless. Exhausted, really. But you’ve got… a number more to get through, and fuck it, you’re in way too deep to give up now, and Yamaguchi’s looking kind of delicious, and—
Next thing you know, you’re slumped between him and Tsukki, one in your ass, the other in your cunt, you openly sobbing as Tsukki hisses condescension in your ear, fingers in your mouth to keep it open while they split you in half—
(“How is she even alive right now? I don’t think any of us made it through the whole thing without a real break.”
“We’re keeping her. We have got to keep her.”)
Next thing you know, you’re jerking Kageyama off onto your face, tongue lolling out to catch every drop of cum you can—
(“Genuinely impressive. Are we sure she’s never done this before?”
“Dude, I’m serious, what do we have to do to get her to come every time?”)
Next thing you know, Hinata is thrusting into you at blinding speeds, and you’re cumming again, moans more like broken sobs—
(“I mean, she keeps saying she’s good, and she’s almost through…”
“She’s just having a good time. Probably been dreaming about something like this since before she showed up for her ‘article’.”)
There’s a few expectant looks as you lay there at last, thoroughly fucked out, unable to even think about moving as the TV static in your brain begins to finally fade out.
Holy fuck.
Are you done? That was the last of them, right? You’re done, aren’t you?
“Now, now, [name],” Tsukishima says, and his tone has you whining. That was everyone. You’re done.
“The rule was that you have to make everyone cum before you’re done,” he explains, like you’re five or something.
“D-didn’t… didn’t I…?”
A few slow shakes of the head from a few guys.
“You’re here, too.”
Your blood runs cold.
“Noo,” you whine. “Can’t.”
“You can’t?” Tsukki crouches down beside you. “You’ve made fourteen people cum tonight, and you’re giving up now? What happened to the slut we’ve been watching all night?”
“Can’ttt,” you repeat, new tears already forming. How many times have you cum already?
He sighs. “You’re really not serious about this, are you?”
“No, I am, I-I—“
“Then you can make yourself cum one last time for us to see.”
You whimper, limply bring a hand to rest between your legs. Should’ve brought a damn vibrator.
You work yourself up as fast as you can handle, cup one breast in your off hand to roll your nipple between your fingers. Slide two fingers in and shudder when you find the mix of cum there.
(“It’s just mean making her do it herself after all that.”
“If she can actually cum again after all that, I don’t even know what to say.”)
Technically, you could probably get away with faking it. …probably. But, well…
The little competitive bitch in you wants to prove them wrong, and, hell, you’ve already put on a show for everyone here, right? So you get into it, best you can. Roll your hips weakly against your hand, sigh and whimper at just how much this all is. Rub your clit as fast as your wrist can still handle, actually fucking thrash as you fall over the edge one last time.
~
You blacked out.
That, at least, you can figure out. You’re being held against one of any number of potential muscular bodies, cradled, really. Like you’ll break or something.
“How long do you think she has to be out before we call someone?”
“Don’t,” you groan. “’M alive. Barely.”
Fucking hell, your throat is dry. You open one eye to peek at Suga, who’s already got a water bottle ready for you. It’s Asahi holding you, and he shifts to let you tilt your head back as Suga tips the water bottle into your mouth.
Someone is wiping the worst of the cum off you with a damp rag. You squirm, whine as they clean you up. Drink like you’ve spent the past six months in the desert.
“How’re you feeling?” Yachi asks sweetly. Ah. She’s the one cleaning you up.
“Gooood,” you slur out. “Tired. Sore. Don’t wanna be a good girl for the next twennyfour hours at least.”
She laughs. “You know you could have taken a break, right? You didn’t have to get everyone off in one go.”
You simply groan. In the background, a few of the previously unaccounted-for guys are cleaning up the mess where you’d been laid out on the floor. Someone taps something against your lips. You accept it, mostly out of laziness. Sweet. Crunchy. Chocolate-covered pretzel. You wonder if you can get them to move your jaw for you.
“Do you still want to come back after this, [name]?” Shimizu asks.
You nod. Accept another pretzel. Snuggle into Asahi’s arms. You think they picked him for cuddle duty because he’s got good arms. “’Sgood. ‘Mgood.”
She laughs slightly. Drapes something over your naked body.
A black jacket, reading Karasuno Volleyball Team.
“Welcome to the team, then,” she says, tilting her head with an ethereal smile. You blink blearily. Smile back.
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content warnings ➞ minors dni, f!reader, horny iwa. not proofread.
love notes ➞ do not perceive, I wrote this in like 20 mins because I want to suck him dry.
hajime iwaizumi (27), has an infuriatingly high libido. thick fingers wrap around his heavy and throbbing cock, with his pearly white teeth biting into polyester fabric to stifle his groans as he fucks his fist to the thought of emptying his seed inside you. he used to silently boast that he didn't need to jerk off often but after meeting you, his hand can't seem to keep away from his cock. in between practice sessions find him in his car with his track pants around his ankles, frantically stroking his veiny cock as he thinks of your pretty mouth sucking the weeping tip past plush lips. he grunts, nearly folding himself in half as he continues the harsh tugs on his dick. sweat beads along his temples as he tries to imagine your moans, the sound filling his ear as he splits your pussy apart on his cock.
his vision crosses as his orgasm approaches, free hand fisting in his sweat damp dark hair as he thinks about bouncing you on his cock; your back to his toned chest with your trembling legs held up and spread apart by his impatient hands. broken whimpers of his name leaves your lips and he can't resist kissing you, wants to get drunk off the sound as he thrusts his hips into you, cock rubbing snugly along your slick walls. when he cums, it spills pitifully down his fingers, the thick globs he'd rather pump you full with, drips in wasted tiny puddles that stand out on his tanned and tense thigh.
ATSUMU earns a 1/5, he has no self control, a complete whore beneath you. “bunny, go faster.” he urges against your lips, voice accented with a whine for you to just stretch yourself till he’s balls deep. a grunt rakes his chest when you eventually seat yourself fully. “fuck.” within seconds, he’s pinning you to his lap as he furiously thrusts up into you, chanted on by the shrill sound of name from your voice. “shit-baby, i’m … fuck.” the blonde struggles fiercely. the nectar leaking from between your thighs saturates his pelvis, the slapping of your bodies a loud, wet symphony of your wild intimate exchange. “deeper.” he growls, hands now raising your legs till they’re on his shoulders, you pinned beneath his looming figure.
HINATA earns a 2/5, he can’t sit still and patiently let you cockwarm him, not when you’re so pretty and struggling to take his thick cock. a small circle of cum laces at the base of his shaft. “c-can’t.” shoyo grumbles, hands flushed to your hips. “s-slow down.” the red-head’s barely fully tip in when you’re exclaiming about his size and girth. you weakly paw at his chest, praising his build to distract yourself from the burn. “just…lemme help you.” doe eyes saturated with bright sunlight stare back at you, pleading softly. “wanna make it easy.” his thumb rubs over your clit, hoping to ease the penetration with your essence. “wanna make you feel so fucking good sweetheart.” slowly, the athlete sinks further in, adding micro thrusts as he goes, each motion drawing out breathy moans that meet his own. “what a good little bunny, baby. you fit me so well.”
PARING. dom!iwaizumi hajime x f!reader x dom!tōru oikawa.
SUMMARY. after breaking off your engagement with your fiancé, you find yourself at a beach in south america, not realizing the two men who have been on your mind since high school are at that same beach—and they haven’t been able to forget about you either.
WARNINGS. smut. unprotected sex. threesome. sexual tension. mutual pining. mentions of breaking off an engagement. mentions of past male masturbation. handjob & blowjob. oikawa breaks your gag reflex. oral (f). head pushing. fingering. creampie. overstimulation. pet names like princess, pretty girl, sweet girl, baby. dacryphilia if you squint. light choking (its me cmon we all know how i am). probably too much plot. clear author bias (sorry tōru). oikawa is a fucking tease. shit ending but what's new.
WORD COUNT. 7.3k and not at all proofread.
NOTE. NO ONE LOOK AT ME.
it's irritating. the crushing weight of the feelings you've had for the two of them for what seems like ages now, knowing damn well you'll never get the chance to call one of them yours, let alone both. in the beginning, you told yourself it was because of the bad timing because they were so caught up in volleyball and you didn't want to ruin their flow with your dumb feelings that you imagined would go away after you graduated.
unfortunately, you were wrong and the pesky feelings you had for iwaizumi and oikawa stuck around even after you left miyagi to chase your dream of having a nice, successful career.
you thought your feelings for the boys would go away if you fell in love with someone else, but after relationship after relationship, you gave up. every time your new partner would take you on a walk, you'd find yourself thinking about how iwaizumi would offer to carry you on the way back, knowing your feet probably hurt.
every time your new partner would take you on a date to a carnival, you'd find yourself thinking about how oikawa would try to win you the biggest stuffed animal from a rigged game in an attempt to impress you.
every time you thought you were happy with your new partner, you would remember that they're not iwaizumi or oikawa, and you'd realize that your new partner will never make you as happy as the boys you've loved for years do.
eventually, you knew you had to settle, find someone to love, and pretend to forget about your high school crushes; pretend to not care when they stopped texting and calling, finally giving up hope on a response from you.
ignoring them was the best way to get over them, you told yourself, they're busy with their own lives anyway, it's not like they wouldn't forget about you at some point, right?
so you settled and got engaged to a man that resembled your boys, iwaizumi especially—a replacement for the man you couldn’t have. you met at a bookstore; both reaching for the same book that was the last one in stock, which ended him you allowing him to take it and him offering to buy you coffee in return for your kindness. he was nice, attractive, and liked the same things you do. he cared a lot about you and never did anything to hurt you, so why you chose to call off the engagement six months before the wedding was a mystery.
maybe you got cold feet and realized that wasn’t what you wanted, you’re too young to be married anyway, there’s still so much you need to experience before settling down with some boring man. maybe it was the promotion you just got, and how you’re expected to travel for it, and you couldn’t do that to your fiancé; long-distance isn’t his thing. or maybe it was because you saw tōru on the television the other day—he visited your old high school to sit in with the new first years who are interested in volleyball—and seeing him brought back all the feelings you had for him and made you realize that your fiancé wasn’t the right man for you.
so you went to south america, argentina specifically, a change is what you needed after all—not that leaving your fiancé and packing up all your things wasn’t a change itself.
you told yourself you would stay in argentina for a week, two max, but you fell in love with the weather, the people, the view, everything. and when it came time to board the flight back home, you couldn’t even bring yourself to leave your hotel room.
you had saved up enough money to go without work for a while anyway, so what was the problem? if you wanted to stay in argentina for the rest of the summer, you should be able to.
today is colder than most, possibly the coldest it’s been all summer, but it’s still warmer than the summer’s back home, so instead of cowering in the hotel room with the heater on high, you’re laying out on the beach under the sun in a bikini no mother would approve of.
despite the colder temperatures, the weather couldn’t have been more perfect and your day couldn’t have been better, until, that is, the sun goes away, confusing you. it’s not nighttime yet, you thought, i just got out here, there’s no way.
you sit up, looking up at the sky to check if the sun really has gone down, but you’re faced with two people blocking out the sun as they stand over you. you almost roll your eyes under your sunglasses, you really aren’t in the mood to deal with the people trying to sell you items. with a ‘no, thank you’ on the tip of your tongue, you pull down your glasses to look at the figures, only to be faced with the two people who have never failed to take your breath away with just one glance.
“y/n? what’re you doing here? looking for me, i hope,” the brunet asks, a flirtatious tone laced in his words, you swear there’s nicotine in his voice with the way you’re addicted to hearing him speak.
you hadn’t seen him in years but he had aged like fine wine, immediately reminding you of your feelings for him within seconds of seeing his cocky smile.
“oikawa…” you pan over to the man standing next to him, “and iwaizumi…” you push yourself up to get a better look at them, grabbing the hand iwaizumi offers to help you stand.
“you would think that after knowing me for so long you would call me ‘hajime’, but i guess you’ve always been like that,” iwaizumi pulls you into a hug, eliciting a small gasp from you, not expecting him to be so physical after so long; usually that was oikawa’s job.
after a moment, iwaizumi lets go of you and you allow oikawa to pull you into a hug as well, still shocked at the sight of them but you pretend like seeing them for the first time in years isn’t that big of a deal.
“so? when did you get to argentina?” oikawa repeats his question, looking down at the hand he is holding, not ready to let you go just yet, afraid you’ll disappear off the face of the earth again like you did years ago, but also to scan for a ring, having been told a while ago by a mutual friend that you were to be married.
you let go of his hand and hide your own behind your back, hoping he didn’t notice the faint tan your engagement ring left on your finger before you left your fiancé. you smile, “i’ve been here on vacation for a little over a month, i needed a break from… work. and you? what are you two doing here?”
“tōru went pro,” iwaizumi laughs, “never would’ve thought with how shitty’a volleyball player he is, huh?”
“oh, c’mon now, iwa, don’t be mean! i’m on the argentina national team, we’re about half-way through the season now! you should come watch sometime!” oikawa suggests, getting a little too excited about volleyball, but you don’t mind, you think he’s cute when he talks about something he’s passionate about.
“yeah, i might, uh…” your words fizzle out as you look over at iwaizumi, who is openly trailing his eyes up and down your figure, making you suddenly remember just how tiny your bikini really is. you’ve never been an insecure person, but the two of them had always made you nervous. you meet his eyes and force out the rest of your sentence, “i might come watch a game one day.”
you glance over at your bag on the ground, filled with your flip flops, hotel key, sunscreen, and probably sand. you don’t want to leave, but all this talking with the men you’re in love with is exactly what you’ve been trying to avoid.
they’re just… too much… standing too close, being too nosy, too touchy, you can’t stand it—you think your face will melt with how hot it’s gotten from their presence. they always managed to fluster you all too easily.
“you hungry?” iwaizumi asks. after knowing you for so long, he could easily spot the telling signs of you thinking of ending the conversation, and just like oikawa, he wasn’t ready to lose you again.
you said no, you really weren’t hungry, and they said they weren’t either, but you settled on tacos anyway, a food all three of you like that’s cheap and easy to find in the city you’re in. the restaurant the boys take you to isn’t nice, it’s a crowded hole-in-the-wall that you must have passed by a million times, but oikawa claims it’s his favorite place so you don’t complain—not that you were going to anyway, just happy to be with them after all this time, even if their presence was overwhelming.
oikawa thanks the waiter and orders drinks for the three of you, speaking perfect spanish as he does so which shocks you, but you don’t really pay it any mind; it’s been years since you saw him last, some things had to have changed.
“vacation, huh?” iwaizumi asks, easily seeing right through you, “you’ve never been much of a vacation kind of person, always busy with whatever work you could get your hands on.”
“yeah, haha, but a little change never hurt anybody, right?” you lie through your teeth, adding a smile after your words to make it convincing— sadly, they aren’t fooled.
oikawa shoves a chip drowning in salsa into his mouth as he looks over at iwaizumi, swallowing and wiping his face before facing you again, “so, we heard you got engaged, it’s that one guy from fukurōdani, yeah? what’s that like? the almost-married life, i mean”
“o-oh, i wasn’t expecting that, um,” your eyebrows raise and you look down at the table, staring at the drink in front of you as if it was going to tell you what to say in this situation. you take a deep breath, “i’m… not engaged anymore. i, i broke it off a little over a month ago.”
iwaizumi elbows oikawa in the side, calling him an idiot under his breath, “oh, y/n, i- i’m sorry, oikawa, fucking dumbass, didn’t mean to pry or bring up any bad memories or… anything.”
no one really knew what to say. what does one even say when the loves of your life bring up your ex-fiancé?
“did he hurt you? i’ll kill him, y’know. i know a guy who could make him disapp—”
“oikawa, stop,” you chuckle, kicking his leg under the table, “i’m actually the one that broke things off, not the other way around. he never hurt me, he was always very, very good to me… if anything, i was the problem.”
“‘problem’?!” oikawa protests, his hand hitting the table and knocking his drink over, effectively spilling it all over himself, “ah, shit! now i gotta- gotta go clean up, damn it. when i get back we’re going to talk about that, don’t move,” he stands up and begins walking toward the restroom, leaving you and iwaizumi, who’s trying to hold in his laughter, alone together.
iwaizumi bites his lip and swallows his laugh, sighing as he watches his best friend leave before looking back over at you with a small smile plastered on his beautiful face.
he knows exactly what he’s doing, you tell yourself, and two can play at that game.
you put your forearms on the table and lean forward slightly, reminding the brunet that you are still in the tiny bikini that leaves almost nothing to imagination, a small, almost transparent sarong being the only thing covering you.
iwaizumi takes a deep breath, and he realizes that keeping his eyes from falling to your chest is one of the hardest things he’s ever had to do. he already made the mistake of shamelessly sizing you up back at the beach, letting himself go for a moment while you were distracted with oikawa, he blames it on the shock of seeing you, not his attraction to you, and he swears he’s not going to do it again.
he pats oikawa’s seat, “come here, come sit next to me, let me get a good look at you,” iwaizumi breathes and you listen, standing up and walking around the table to sit, chairs so close it’s like you’re sitting on top of him.
you can’t breathe when iwaizumi reaches up and gently pushes your hair out of your face, his thumb sliding over your cheek in the process, “i missed you.”
“don’t tell me the iwaizumi hajime got soft over the last couple of years,” you tease, taking in the feeling of his skin on yours.
“oh please, you know i haven’t, i’m still the same iwaizumi from high school, it’s just been a while… yet, you’ve barely changed.”
“really?”
“yeah, haven’t changed a bit: still the same girl who caught my eye when i was just a little first year,” he mumbles, leaning in, unable to resist pressing his lips against yours oh so desperately. you don’t mind though, you’re just as desperate as he is, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer to you. his words lighting a fire inside you, making you realize waiting all this time for him wasn’t pointless like you thought it might have been.
the hand on your cheek moves, trailing his fingers down your neck and chest before landing on your hips. you fight back a groan, you want his hand lower and you would do just about anything to feel his touch beneath your bikini, even if it was just for a moment.
“h-haji, please,” you pant against his lips, hoping he wouldn’t make you tell him the thoughts that were flying through your head—hoping he would just take you right here, right now.
“fuck. i know, trust me,” he chuckles. iwaizumi takes your mouth in his again, he’s waited years to feel this, he’s not going to rush it now.
you don’t hear the approaching footsteps, only getting snapped out of the trance iwaizumi had you in when you hear oikawa’s voice loud and clear, “what the hell.”
“oh my god, o-oikawa! it’s not, um- it’s not what it looks like!” you exclaim, pulling away from iwaizumi and standing up to create distance between yourself and the man whose lips are just as swollen and red as yours are.
“it’s not?” they question and you look at both of them, frowning when you see the almost identical smug look they have on their stupidly perfect faces.
“no. no, it’s not.”
you lied. you’ve never been a good liar, especially when it comes to them— when it comes to them, lying to them is basically impossible. so when oikawa asked you how you were feeling, knowing damn well it was difficult to form a coherent thought with the way he was kissing you as iwaizumi undressed you on your hotel room bed, you knew there was no point in lying.
“good, so good. please, i need more,” you beg, grabbing his hand that is resting on your jaw and moving it down to sit on your chest, silently telling him that it’s okay to touch you.
he grabs your face and pulls your lips back to his with his unoccupied hand. a little noise of surprise escapes your lips as he moves your bikini top aside to flick and thumb over your nipple, but he swallows it with his tongue. it’s hot, the kiss that is, and filled with all the feelings he’s been shoving aside for years, holding inside of him so he didn’t ruin the friendship—but now he knows you have always felt the same way, and he’s not holding back anymore.
for a moment, you falter, failing to kiss him back, the feeling of both him and iwaizumi touching you, kissing your body, is too much. the way oikawa kisses you is making you dizzy, mixed with the way iwaizumi runs his fingers up your thighs, slowly, sensually, preparing you for what’s to come, and you’re worried you might forget how to breathe.
you’re not used to the way they’re treating you; your ex-fiancé was always gentle, too gentle, concerned that he might harm you in some way. oikawa, on the other hand, kisses you like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do, lips on yours so urgently, so desperately it almost hurts.
oikawa can feel you falling apart in his grasp, your breath catching in your throat every time his fingers brush against your nipples. with every gasp he pulls from you, he feels his cock twitch in his pants; his restraint quickly leaving his body, he needs to feel more of you.
you whimper when he takes your bottom lip between his teeth, teasing you as he pulls against it lightly until your body jerks below him, pressing you into iwaizumi’s touch, a soft pressure on your clit through your bikini that he has yet to rid you of.
you try to keep it in, but a soft moan escapes your mouth at the feeling anyway, the noise you let out went straight to their dicks, setting off a chain reaction—iwaizumi groans and oikawa chuckles against your lips.
iwaizumi can’t take it anymore, he pulls away and taps on your thigh, muttering a ‘hey’ to get your attention. you pull away from oikawa and look down at the man between your legs. and when iwaizumi meets your eyes, he completely falls apart. your hair splayed out prettily beneath your head, face flushed with embarrassment from being so easily affected by the boys, and lips swollen as a result of oikawa’s neediness.
he doesn’t have to say anything for you to know what he’s asking, his fingers brushing against the fabric covering you tell you enough. “please,” you breathe, voice ragged from the noises oikawa has been eliciting from you.
his eyes don’t leave yours as he tugs your bikini bottoms down your hips slowly, holding eye contact as he undresses you so he can take in your expressions before he loses himself in your cunt. you can feel your heart beating out of your chest, air leaving your lungs leaving you breathless, and iwaizumi— neither of them have done anything yet.
oikawa lets you take a break from kissing him for a moment, allowing you to focus purely on the way iwaizumi is kissing up your leg, occasionally nipping at the skin just to hear you gasp and whine all for him. instead he caresses up and down your torso, and his touch has goosebumps rising all over your skin. he loves feeling your body twitch in his hands, looking over your face as you whimper for someone else, it doesn’t matter though, ‘cause he’s the reason your lips are wet and bruised.
you can feel iwaizumi’s thumb on your bare clit, circling it slowly. and while that touch is just the first taste of what he is going to do to you, your back still arches slightly off the bed. he bends down, laying on his stomach to give you more. his cock was already straining against his pants, but the added pressure of the mattress pushing against it made his breath catch in his throat.
and then his tongue replaces his thumb on your clit and his hands move to your thighs to hold you in place; he wants to taste you properly without your twitching body ruining it for him. every lick of his tongue against your cunt has you letting out sweet noises and they were music to both of their ears.
iwaizumi takes your moans as a hint to keep going, and he runs the tip of his tongue against you real slow, savoring every bit of you in case he never got the chance to taste you again.
you’re unable to stop your hand from rushing down to thread your fingers through his soft hair, unable to stop the moan from leaving your throat, too. you whine, “oh my god, h-hajime, fuck.”
he looks up at you to make sure you’re okay, your pleasure above his, always, and when he sees the blissful expression on your face, he knows there’s nothing to worry about and ignores the way your fingers are tugging on his hair a little too hard—focusing only on the cunt in front of him.
you feel oikawa’s hand turn your face toward him, making you look at him, more so he could look at you, flushed and breathless, and he kisses you again. he kisses you harder and faster than before, if he wasn’t so dead set on you being the first one to cum, he would’ve had his cock so deep in your throat that pretty little tears would be streaming down your face.
your lips taste like strawberries and he’s jealous of iwaizumi, wondering what your cunt tastes like as well, but he decides that can wait until next time—too addicted to your lips to stop now, you’re like a drug to him and he hates himself for not doing this sooner.
you pull away for a moment and he’s quick to protest, but you ignore him, knowing he’ll understand in a moment. you untie your bikini top, finally ridding yourself of it, the feeling of the fabric still on your skin was frustrating, suffocating.
he hums and smiles, leaning forward to attach his lips to the soft skin of your neck and it sends a shiver down your spine. little whimpers leave your throat as he kisses you, he loves the way you’re keening for him.
you hands tug at the shirt on his chest, balling into fists in an attempt to silently tell him you want it off, and you know he hears you because he chuckles like the tease he is, but he waits for you to say it aloud.
“tōru- tōru, please, i want it off,” you plead and he immediately grabs the hem, pulling it up and over his head, revealing the toned muscles of chest and abs. you’ve seen him shirtless before, but never in this way, and you don’t know what to do other than try your best to keep the moan threatening to escape you buried deep inside as to not let him know how he affects you.
oikawa leans back down and attaches his lips to your throat once again, kissing up and down your neck and chest, only flustering you more. as he does so, iwaizumi flicks his tongue more aggressively against your clit, sliding it down over your dripping hole just to keep you on edge. he grabs your thighs and lifts them up over his shoulders to get a better angle. you’re squirming and shaking, that nice, hot arousal beginning to make itself prominent in your stomach.
“oh my god, hajime,” you moan and he can’t stop himself from grinding his hips into the bed. he knows he must look pathetic, but at this point, he was too turned on to care, needing nothing but to feel you cum on his tongue like you both deserve after years of waiting.
his tongue slides down to swallow up the slick that leaks from your cunt, eating you up like you’re his first meal in a decade. you can feel him pressing inside you, daring to feel your insides—and then he does it, he pushes his tongue inside you and your hips rut up against his mouth. your entire body was on fire, the tight hold on his hair that your hands have is the only thing keeping you grounded.
“more—shit, i need—haji, please,” you dig the nails of your free hand into oikawa’s back and you feel him inhale sharply against your neck.
“oh yeah?” iwaizumi asks, words mumbled against your cunt. he pulls away, mouth dripping in your arousal, “what do you need, pretty girl?”
“any- anything, just touch me, please.”
your begging goes straight to his cock, and oikawa’s, who detaches his lips from your tits to say, “iwa, dude, if you don’t fuck her, i will.”
iwaizumi gives oikawa a look before removing one of his hands from your thighs to rest the tip of his middle finger against your entrance, feeling the way your pretty little cunt flutters against his finger before he slowly presses inside of you. your mouth falls open in a silent moan and iwaizumi places his lips back on your clit, licking and sucking on your skin like he was before.
he can feel your cunt stretch around his finger, coating him in your arousal and pulling him in, squeezing him tight and pulsing against him. he thinks he might have died and gone to heaven, this is really too good to be true.
and you’re thinking the same thing, because while he’s barely done anything, it’s better than anything you’ve felt before. his fingers are longer and thicker than your own or your ex-fiancé’s, reaching deeper than you thought possible with just one finger, and the feeling has you jerking around beneath him.
iwaizumi is only feeding the fire inside you as he begins curling his finger inside of you, simultaneously sliding it in and out of you.
with one specific thrust of his finger, he finds the spot that makes your legs shake, and he rubs the pad of his finger right against it.
your breath is stolen from you as he does so, “f-fuck! hajime! don’t stop, i’m so close, please!” and so he kept doing it, over and over again until you were seeing fucking stars. you can barely keep your eyes open to look down at iwaizumi as you cum all over him, writhing in oikawa’s grasp as he toys with your nipples to ease you through your orgasm.
you open your eyes right as iwaizumi pulls his hand away from you to lick his finger clean, gently rubbing his other hand up and down your thigh to calm you down. you watch as iwaizumi presses a kiss to your lower stomach, lips soft and wet against your skin, and he makes eye contact with you, looking at you with a mixture of love and lust.
“god, okay, i can’t wait anymore,” oikawa utters, grabbing your face in both hands and pulling you into a rough kiss before sitting up and hurriedly tugging his pants down. iwaizumi continues massaging your twitching thighs, giving you a break and letting you focus on his best friend for a moment before he goes back to prepping your pretty little cunt for his cock.
oikawa’s head is filled with nothing but the thought of your swollen lips around him, thinking back to the times back in high school where he would find himself hopelessly jerking himself off to the idea of you, even going as far as quietly moaning your name in the dead of night, unable to control himself.
his name is on the tip of your tongue, ready to beg him to let you see his dick, the one you’ve imagined a dozen times. and when he finally does rid himself of his pants, you’re not disappointed in the slightest as it’s even better than you imagined. you think your mouth might even be watering at the sight of his cock. it’s pretty, from the way it twitches when your breath hits it to the pink tip you’re dying to wrap your lips around. you can almost feel your throat hurting already at the length of him, but you know it will feel good either way.
you reach your hand up before he can protest, wanting to have some control over the situation, even if it was just a little. your fingers curl around his cock that’s dripping in arousal and he moans, hot precum dripping down your skin. you can’t tell if it feels like it’s been forever since the three of you stumbled into your hotel room or if it feels like only a couple of minutes, but what you do know is that you don’t want this to end just yet, don’t want him to cum just yet—you want to savor the moments you have with him exposed to you like this while you can.
you slowly begin to pump your hand around the length of him, feeling iwaizumi press his touch up against your clit once again. you look down at him for a second before immediately focusing your attention back on the man in front of you who’s got his jaw slacked and eyelids heavy, watching as your hand works him in ways that draw breathy moans from his throat.
he’s blushing, his entire body red at the realization that every dream he’s ever had of you is finally coming true.
“fuck me,” oikawa whines when your thumb slides over the tip of his cock, and your insides tighten at the sight of him twitching in front of you. his voice travels straight south, you’re pulsing with need and you think iwaizumi can feel the fluttering of your cunt.
oikawa’s hand moves to rest gently on your jaw and you take that as a sign to open your mouth, sticking out your tongue as you bring his cock closer to you. you prop yourself up on your elbows, using the new angle to place your other hand on his thigh, right near his sensitive balls that were itching to get the same attention from you that his cock is.
you watch his expression shift as you drag the head of his cock over your lips, spreading the precum over your tongue, resting on your tastebuds. your lips are so perfect, he just wants to stretch them wide with his girth, he wants more, and he wants more now.
he tilts his hips forward, just the slightest bit, not wanting to overwhelm you, but silently tell you what he wants instead. your tongue comes out a bit more, mouth opening, sweet eyes looking up at him as permission to do whatever he wants. he exhales, “shit.”
oikawa pushes forward more and keeps going until he feels the resistance of the entrance of your throat, pulling back when he feels it in an attempt to keep you from choking. he lets his cock rest on your lips, speaking softly to you, “you alright?” you nod eagerly, wanting nothing more than for him to fill the sad emptiness of your throat. oikawa clicks his tongue, “need to hear you say it.”
“tōru, yes, please. i-i need you, please.”
he curses under his breath and taps his finger against your jaw, telling you to open your mouth as he pushes his cock inside again. his pace is slow, too slow for both of your liking, but he waits to speed up as he’s afraid he’ll cum far too fast if he does.
your lips stretch around his cock, body jerking whenever he brushes up against your gag reflex. he’s too much for you to handle, mouth and throat completely full of him and you still want more. before he finally picks up his pace, he pushes his cock all the way into your mouth, allowing himself to take in the warm, wet feeling as you deep throat him.
as he does so, iwaizumi surprises you by inserting two of his fingers into your cunt, ripping a moan from your throat, sending vibrations up oikawa’s spine. oikawa gasps, “god! fuck, iwaizumi, don’t do that,” and the other man snickers and begins to finger you, making your task of sucking oikawa off even more difficult than it already is.
oikawa pulls out and pushes back in, a fast pace set now as he continues shoving his pretty cock into your mouth. the new speed had soft groans leaving his throat every time he filled you. it only took a couple of bobs of your head for him to tighten his once gentle grasp on your jaw, using it to guide you and also to level himself, thinking he might have to stop for a minute to regain his composure with how fast he was falling apart.
iwaizumi’s fingers hit that spot inside you a few times before he removes them from your cunt almost as quickly as he had put them there, but you’re not disappointed as you know he’ll give you something even better. he taps your thigh, desperation in his voice, “get up, flip over. c’mon, pretty girl.”
iwaizumi takes off his pants as you flip over, positioning yourself on your hands and knees. oikawa moves to sit in front of you, wanting to get back to what he was doing as soon as humanly possible. when you hear iwaizumi’s pants hit the floor you look back, eyes searching for the cock you’ve been drooling over, dreaming of for years, and you have to hold back a moan at the sight of him fully undressed for you.
his cock is thick, and there’s so much girth, too much actually. he’s long, too, and you know he’ll leave you in tears, begging for more. his cock is very different from oikawa’s and for a moment you’re almost glad you’re sucking oikawa’s dick and not iwaizumi’s, believing he would have easily ruined your throat if the boys had switched positions.
“oh my god,” you breathe, making eye contact with him again, your glossy eyes tell him exactly what you want, but hearing you say, “please, fuck me, hajime” is what really takes the cake.
you’re so needy it’s pathetic, you’re basically begging him to shove his cock inside you until you can barely speak. the anticipation, while short lasted, is brutal—you can feel his cock sitting against your cunt, just waiting to be fucked inside, and it’s torture watching him take his time.
“hajime, please!” you sob, pushing back in an attempt to fuck yourself on his cock, but thankfully he gave in and quickly thrust inside you, making your mouth drop open, allowing oikawa to fill your throat with his pretty cock once again.
iwaizumi gave you a moment to adjust to the size of him, taking the time to regain his composure, the pulsing of your cunt squeezes his cock, already trying to milk him of what he didn’t want to give you just yet. his hands rest on your hips, waiting for you to give him a sign to continue, knowing you can’t speak with the way oikawa is relentlessly shoving his length down your throat.
one of your hands reach behind you in search of his hips, trying to grab ahold of his body to urge him, beg him to fuck you, to slide deeper—to make you feel good, you didn’t care how he did it.
he pushes inside a bit more, now pressed right up against the spot that had you moaning for more, cunt tightening around him, unaware that the squeezing of your cunt was making iwaizumi lose his mind. he grips your hips harder, the feeling of you wrapped around him like this was unbearable.
you take oikawa’s cock from your mouth, turning to look at iwaizumi, mumbling something along the lines of “more, give me more. please, i need you” and the brunet behind you wasn’t going to deny you, especially not with the way you’re looking at him.
his stomach clenches and tightens every time he draws his hips out, leaving just his tip inside before thrusting back in, reaching deeper than you thought he could and effectively stealing a choked up sob from your throat. you wish you could tell him how good he feels, wish you could ask for more, wish you could tell him how he’s too much for you, but you also can’t stop yourself from continuously running your tongue over the cock that feels so good in your throat.
oikawa doesn’t mean to get lost in the moment, but it’s not his fault, if anything, it’s your fault: sucking his dick like this, making him feel this good… it should be illegal. it’s your fault he’s teetering on the edge like this, unable to comprehend anything other than the way your swollen lips wrap so perfectly around the tip of his cock before you shove it deep inside your throat, staying there for a minute and allowing your tongue to do all the work, aided by the vibrations of the noises iwaizumi is pulling from you.
he puts his hands on the back of your head, liking the way you hummed at his actions, giving him the go ahead to use you however he pleases. he matches his thrusts to iwaizumi’s, making it so you were deep throating him at the same time iwaizumi’s cock was threatening to bump against your cervix.
“fuck, princess, that’s it,” oikawa praises, watching the way your lips stretch with the thickness of his cock, occasionally giving a harder thrust to slip even further down your throat, purposefully gagging you on his cock.
your cunt tightens at the pet name and iwaizumi groans, “shit- she likes when you call ‘er that.”
“yeah, i bet she’d like any name i call her, wouldn’t you, princess?” oikawa teases, every word he mutters shoots straight down to your cunt, sending another wave of arousal through your body. your eyes roll back into your head and every vibrating moan that came from your throat had oikawa’s hips bucking against your jaw that much harder.
you’re being fucked like an absolute whore, being used like a sex doll between the two of them. but they know you love it, you wouldn’t be crying on their cocks unable to hold back your moans if you didn’t—and it only threw them deeper into desperation.
you can tell oikawa is close, it’s obvious. he doesn’t want to cum yet, but he just can’t help it. the hand on the back of your head tightens its grip on your hair and he holds you down, pushing you further and further down his cock until he feels your nose press against his pelvis. oikawa keeps you there as he cums, orgasm so overwhelming that he struggles to breathe– just like you are as your throat clamps down around him, attempting to remove him from your mouth. the feeling of you choking and gagging on his cock is enough to send him over the edge, using you for his own pleasure as he cums down your throat, only pulling out of you warm and welcoming mouth when he’s shooting blanks, allowing you to finally breathe as he sits down on the bed.
you want to be mad at him, want to scold him for not warning you about what he was going to do, but you just can’t be mad at him, not when he’s as beautiful as he is; cheeks flushed and lips parted, eyes closed as he tries to calm down. even if he didn’t look the way he does, you still wouldn’t be able to be mad at him, not with the way iwaizumi is fucking you so good you can’t form a single coherent thought.
with your mouth now free from oikawa, you find yourself rambling nonsense, babbling on about how good iwaizumi is making you feel, crying for more as he makes you feel better than you’ve ever felt before. he pushes against your waist to force you down, face shoved into the sheets as he finds a different angle, one that’s even better, even deeper than the one before.
the feeling pulls a sob out of you, your hand flying down to your stomach, fully believing you’ll be able to feel his cock through your skin with the position he’s got you in. your other hand searches for something to grab onto, something to squeeze when your legs start shaking again, you find oikawa’s hand and dig your nails into it.
however, the position doesn’t last long as iwaizumi is quickly pulling you up and holding you by the neck against his chest. he turns your head to face him so he can take your lips in his, and you mentally agree with him that it’s been far too long since he felt your lips on his.
“fuck, baby. you’re close, right? you’re gonna—oh my god—cum for me, yeah?” iwaizumi asks, voice whiny and strained like he’s ready to cum at any given moment. you cry out at his words, telling him exactly what he wants to hear all while still begging for him to fuck you harder, begging for him to make you cum, begging for him to cum for you.
his hips ruthlessly snap against yours, only faltering every once in a while. every one of his thrusts push the tip of his cock against your cervix, but his thrusts are quick enough that he’s pulling out before you can register the pain as anything other than pleasure.
you pull away from iwaizumi’s lips to gasp when you feel another pair of lips on your body and fingers rubbing circles on your clit. you whine, “tōru, i can’t! too- too much!” and if you weren’t almost limp in their hold, you would’ve pushed oikawa’s hand off you; his movements causing your high to come faster and more intense than you would’ve liked. you’re struggling to take what iwaizumi is giving you and now you’re being given even more— you can’t handle it.
your pussy clenches around iwaizumi’s cock, drawing him closer to his own release, your high pitched whines only aiding his fast approaching orgasm. you feel his grip on your waist and neck tighten as his hips begin to struggle to push into you in the same rhythm as before.
“please. haji, cum, please,” and he does, thrusting as deep as he can possibly go and you can feel him in your throat when he cums, and you swear you’ll lose your mind with the way he’s invading all of your senses like this.
your vision goes white, everything around you blurring as the feeling of him cumming inside you sets off your own orgasm. you can barely hear the praises oikawa is throwing your way as you pulse around the cock inside of you. “such a good girl taking us like that. c’mon, princess, come back to me,” oikawa whispers and your head falls onto his shoulder, body still tense from cumming, aftershocks running through your body.
iwaizumi slowly, gently pulls out of you and you frown at the emptiness, but you allow it to happen anyway. you try to calm yourself as oikawa places you on the bed next to him, wrapping you in his arms, letting you relax against him.
you hear iwaizumi groan quietly, still kneeling on the bed by your cunt, trying to steady his breathing as he watches the mixture of his and your own cum seep out of you, so stick and damn near opaque and he has to hold himself back from bringing his fingers down to shove it back inside you. instead he moves to lay on the other side of you, rubbing his hand over your waist to help bring you down from your high.
after a little while of laying in between them, just listening to their heavy breathing as you teeter on the edge of falling asleep, you speak up, “can you guys, um, help me clean up?”
oikawa snickers and iwaizumi raises his eyebrows at your question, “who said we were done?”
“i still haven’t gotten my turn, pretty girl,” oikawa pauses and presses a kiss to your forehead, “i don’t want to break you though, so catch your breath… and then we’re going again, okay?”
you don’t respond, instead you exhale heavily and stare at the ceiling, mentally preparing yourself for what’s to come as you feel their hands on your body again, suddenly extremely thankful you came to argentina.
❥ note: this is my first time writing something like this!! any and all feedback is appreciated
sakusa — he brings his own pillow, but by the morning, both of you are sharing. the bed is too small to be that far apart (not that he’d want you to be too far away from him). he’s so prim and proper and sharp during the day, but while he sleeps, all of that melts away. he wakes up first, and though he’s not as cuddly, he stays until you’re ready to wake up too, not wanting to disturb you
atsumu — you stay up too late talking. you’re lucky you don’t have a roommate, but your next door neighbors definitely heard you laughing at his stupid jokes way into the night. you fall asleep first, his hands carding through your hair as you bury your face in his chest. he sleep talks, and whenever you can, you take a video of his sleepy gibberish to show him in the morning
hinata — both of you fit comfortably with a little room to spare. you fall asleep side by side, but wake up completely entangled, your back against his chest, his arms wrapped around you. he also wakes up first, and even though he tries not to, he wakes you up too. you stay in bed though, watching the sunrise through the gaps in your blinds
bokuto — unsurprisingly, he takes up the whole bed (he barely fits in his own twin xl). you’re practically on top of him, or else you’ll fall out. he kicks the covers off halfway through the night because he’s a human space heater, but you’re warm enough in his arms. you wake up first, and even though he’s half asleep, he squeezes tighter and sleepily asks you for ten more minutes
play fighting that leads him with his wrists pressed down, showing your dominance with a smirk to your lips as you rolled your hips on top, continuously teasing with your lips as you hovered just lightly above, but him reciprocating your energy by bucking his upward to make you jerk up, and hit the most inner part of your sensitive walls — moaning mess with sloppy kisses, as he watched you growl at his play with a pretty smirk to his face.
You’ll think you’ve won, most definitely feeling content that you were the one to finally end up on top… with your breasts exposed and bouncing, your tummy bare for him to simply touch, and your eyes — your half lidded beautiful eyes that he just wanted to kiss…
But little did you know on how much he was actually restraining his strength on you, to put himself below you for once, to not let his dick take control but more so his heart - to hear your small giggles and to see your eyes shining bright in believing you’ve topped him, in simply believing you’ve won. It’s not embarrassing for him to lose to you… hell he’ll do it again and again if needed be, because if…
if he could always see your precious smile as you got off on his cock, bouncing so prettily with your nails scratching his skin, and your voice illuminating a chorus that made his cock pulse in heat and his head to automatically be thrown back into the pillow as he too let out a gluttonous moan from feeling you deep within…
what more could he ask for? he’ll give you his all.
in the heat of the moment, when he’s rutting deep inside your swollen pussy, as your thighs quiver in pleasure and your moans turn into a mumbling mess, he’ll place his arms around your head, covering the top from hitting the wall, with his face close to yours, with both your lips bruised and swollen — he’ll gently ask you as he softly cups your cheeks,
“baby look, look at me.. open your eyes, I’m here.”
and when you do, using all your strength to keep them open, to keep them from flying back and letting your climax threaten your sanity, he’ll kiss your forehead as he gazed deep into your eyes,
“fuck so good for me… look at me while I’m fucking you…”
and with an unexpected harsh thrust in, causing your body to jolt up from the brute force, causing your mouth to gape open in a yearning ‘O’ and your hands to immediately cling onto his arms,
4play
Matsukawa Issei, Hanamaki Takahiro, Oikawa Tooru, Iwaizumi Hajime/reader (haikyuu!!)
word count: 8.2k
rating: E (18+, minors DNI)
tags: gangbang, dry humping, oral f!receiving, edging, unsafe sex, creampie, mentions of alcohol, consensual sex while mildly under the influence, voyeurism kinda?, makki and mattsun are bad roommates
a/n: this is the filthiest thing i've ever written! sorry!
CROSSPOSTED TO AO3
Through the trials and tribulations of first-hand experience, you’ve come to the conclusion that there is no such thing as a good roommate or a bad roommate — instead of a binary, it’s more like an ever-fluctuating spectrum that exists between the two.
Some roommates are tidy but loud; others are messy, but beyond the disaster they leave in the kitchen after every meal they cook you hardly notice they’re there; some roommates respect your privacy and belongings, but insist on keeping their lube in the fridge next to your orange juice.
In short: it’s never black and white.
Ultimately, living with roommates is just an unfortunate inevitability — though if you could afford to live alone as a broke university student, you would — and you have to learn to adjust your lifestyle to cope with it.
Living with strangers is a bit weird, like your first roommate freshman year: a tiny girl who was perfectly pleasant to cohabitate with, and said almost nothing beyond the absolute nightmare fuel she used to mutter in her sleep on the other side of your shared shoe-box of a dorm room. You, decidedly, preferred living with friends whom you knew and trusted not to tell you they were going to kill you in their sleep.
Which is precisely how, after moving out of your dorm first year after realizing residence just wasn’t for you, you ended up moving in with two of your best friends from high school: Hanamaki Takahiro and Matsukawa Issei.
Living with members of the opposite sex presented an entirely new spectrum of difficulty, to be sure. But you knew Makki and Mattsun, you’d been friends since you were 15, and you’d long grown used to their antics and eccentricities. So all in all, the three of you made a pretty solid trio of housemates — so solid in fact that your cohabitation somehow managed to endure all the way through to your senior year.
Which is how you find yourself on the phone with a friend in the kitchen of your three-bedroom apartment just off campus in the early afternoon, AirPods in, tidying up some dishes that someone (probably Makki) left out that morning before heading to class. Your lab that morning was cancelled, and rather than make your way to campus for the one other class you had scheduled that day, you decided to treat yourself and play hooky for once.
“His name was soooo long, too,” your friend’s plaintive voice sighs from the other end of the call, in the process of regaling you with the story of a dating app hookup gone wrong the evening prior. “And I only called him ‘daddy’ because I didn’t know if we were close enough to nickname him, and somehow that felt less personal!”
You huff out a little breath of air, halfway to a chuckle, twirling the slightly damp towel that you’d just finished drying the dishes with between your hands. “What’s the point of a boy even having a name if it isn’t moanable?”
Your friend’s tittering laugh resounds through your headphones and you giggle along with her, a sly smile pinching at your cheeks at your own joke.
Movement in the corner of your eye startles you, and you whip around suddenly to see Hiro (aforementioned dish-leaver and everyday bane of your existence) leaning in the doorway as though waiting for you to notice him, both hands tucked down the front of his grey sweatpants. He looks at you with a single eyebrow drawn up.
“Jesus christ, make your presence known you creep — No, not you,” you assure your friend on the other line when she makes an indignant, confused noise. You roll your eyes after tossing a brief glare at the boy still standing in the doorway, looking as pleased as ever. “Makki was lurking behind me.”
You quickly end your call with your friend once you realize that your nosy roommate has no intention of going anywhere anytime soon, popping your headphones out from your ears and turning to look at him with an unimpressed scowl on your face.
The corner of his mouth quirks up, the exact opposite of your own.
“So, moanable names, huh?”
You huff, annoyed that not only was he eavesdropping but now he was trying to make some sort of group discussion of the indignity. “Fuck off.”
“No, no. Tell me more.” Makki slides a little further into the kitchen, grinning down at you. “Is my name moanable?”
“Makki, I swear to god,” you try to sound threatening but it just comes out exasperated. You’re used to his antics — you’ve been friends for long enough that you’ve simply become acclimatized to the garden-variety chaos he seems to exude at all times, but this conversation felt like it was toeing a lie that you didn’t want to cross.
“I didn’t even know this was something girls care about, so help me out here,” he said, cajoling you further. “Friend to friend, I gotta know. Tell me.”
“No.”
“No as in it’s not moanable? Or no as in you won’t tell me?” he pesters on, and you only get more flustered and annoyed as he bullies you a little further into the corner of the kitchen where the counter meets the stove in an L-shape.
“No as in there’s no way in hell I’m having this conversation with you.”
You hit him with the dish towel in your hands, though not hard enough to do any real damage, and he yelps but he’s still grinning all the while.
“Now what’s going on in here?” a deep voice full of mirth pries your attention away from the strawberry blonde crowding over you, and your gaze lands on your second roommate.
Mattsun is leaning against the doorframe in much the same way Makki had been only a moment prior, still wearing his jacket — he must have just gotten back from his morning class, though you hadn’t heard him come in.
If you’d been hoping for salvation in his sudden appearance, the smirk on Matsukawa’s face all but dashes that aspiration.
Once Makki gets him up to speed, he all too delightedly joins in.
“It’s really not that hard of a question,” Mattsun drawls, cocking his head to the side. He’s still on the opposite end of the room, a full six feet or more away from you, but his presence is just as stifling as if he was hovering over you like Makki presently found himself. “We’d tell you if you were the one asking, you know.”
Your lips part a little, and a terrible, treacherously inquisitive voice in the back of your mind tells you that you should ask — that you want to know if they think your name is moanable.
You bury the thought as quickly as it surfaces, choking it back with your indignation.
“Well I’m not asking, and I have no plans to — now or ever,” you shove a little against Makki’s chest to give yourself a bit more space. He hardly budges.
Why are your friends all so fucking tall?
“Well, it is.”
You blink, eyes flickering up towards Hiro who had said the words.
“Your name,” he explains, pressing the tip of his pointer finger to the furrow that had made itself known upon your brow, reading the signs of your confusion without you needing to openly express them. “Super moanable.”
“Agreed,” Mattsun pipes in unprompted from the doorway, and your eyes flicker over to see his smirk had given way to a full-on grin — wolfish though it may be.
You snap out of your stupor and smack Hiro’s hand away, throwing your dishtowel right in his face as you shoulder by him towards the door, glowering at Mattsun on your way past for good measure.
You storm off, footfalls heavy on the floor of the hallway as you go, and slam the door behind you once you make it into the sanctuary of your own bedroom.
You’re mad at both of them — borderline fuming as you throw yourself down atop your unmade bed.
Because it’s awkward.
And annoying.
And unnecessary.
They both have perfectly moanable names.
You know it.
They know it.
Hell, you hear their hookups do it often enough through the paper-thin walls of your three-bedroom to say it with an almost unfair degree of certainty. Walls so thin it’s like you can see through them — can see all the ways the two boys you’ve known for years are making those girls you’ll never actually get the opportunity to properly meet scream.
Admittedly, you hear cries of Issei more often than Hiro, but the latter is always more ragged, more desperately obscene than the former. The sounds echo through the apartment so clearly that not even your noise cancelling headphones are enough to drown them out some nights, and you find yourself falling asleep to the mortifying thought of what it might be like to be the one who was screaming their names.
You bury your burning face in your pillow at the thought and resist the urge to shriek.
The rest of your day is spent hiding in your room; watching Netflix on your laptop, taking sporadic naps, and rationing the water in the bottle you kept on your bedside table to stave off the need to leave your bed for as long as humanly possible.
There’s a bit of noise that drifts into your room throughout the afternoon, specifically in the evening as two familiar voices join the other two that had been in the apartment for most of the day. Oikawa and Iwaizumi were supposed to come over to drink and play video games that night, and their arrival had crept up on you faster than anticipated.
About half an hour after they land, you get a text from Iwa asking if you’re gonna come out and join them, but you ignore it and pretend to be asleep.
Eventually the water bottle goes dry, and you can’t ignore the grumbling of your stomach any longer, and when you think the coast is clear — shouts in the living room telling you that the boys are likely distracted by whatever game they were playing —you slink out of your room to grab a snack from the kitchen.
You’re quiet as you pry open your bedroom door, careful to avoid the parts of the floor along the way which you know are a little creaky and might give you away. You’re so focused on where you’re stepping that you don’t notice a figure stepping out from the bathroom until you’re colliding with a broad, muscular chest that smells like expensive cologne and fabric softener. You squeak in surprise, looking up to see Oikawa grinning down at you.
“Going somewhere, sleeping beauty?” he teases you, and you stumble back from him.
“I was just, uh, I just wanted to get something to eat,” you say quietly, nodding towards the doorway to the kitchen at the other end of the hall.
Oikawa takes a step forward, bullying you with his much larger frame back towards the living room.
“We’ve got plenty of snacks to share,” he says with a knowing smirk that makes your skin prickle, and you wonder just how much of your altercation earlier in the afternoon Mattsun and Makki had already shared with him. “And now that you’re awake you can join us!”
You sigh in defeat, following along behind him to where the other three boys are waiting in the living room.
The coffee table is already covered in empty beer cans and bowls of half-eaten snacks, and your eyes immediately hone in on a bowl of the pretzel sticks you’d been hoping to snag from the kitchen on your pilgrimage that had been unceremoniously derailed.
“Look who finally decided to join us,” Oikawa chirps as he flops himself back onto the couch next to Issei, whose attention remains focused on the screen in front of him as he and Hiro (who was seated in the chair beside the sofa) went 1v1 on some combat game you never really got into.
Iwaizumi looks up from his place on the floor, spotting you hovering in the doorway and shooting you a little smile. He pats the open space on the floor beside him and you resignedly shuffle over to join him.
“Did you have a good nap?” he asks with a laugh as you sit crosslegged to his left.
You nod curtly. “Can you pass me the pretzels?”
You settle in with the bowl in your lap once he hands it to you, popping a salty snack into your mouth and risking a glance at your two roommates on the other side of the room. Neither of them appear bothered or otherwise moved by your sudden appearance, and they seem to have let your earlier conversation go. Mattsun even brings you back a beer after his next trip into the kitchen, which you accept — cracking the can open and carefully sipping the carbonation that fizzles up over the rim.
Your empty stomach from barricading yourself in your room all afternoon means that the beer hits you faster than the pretzel sticks you and Iwa were sharing, and before you know it all the tension you’d been feeling in your shoulders has fizzled away like the bubbles in the beer you’re all drinking.
You really should have seen it coming.
“So,” Oikawa drawls, draping himself over the arm of the sofa overhead, leaning towards you. “Do I have a moanable name?”
And you’re mortified.
Makki does nothing to conceal his laughter at your horrified expression. Mattsun’s smirk is thinly veiled at best. Iwa (the only one you’re leaving in your will, decidedly) tells them to fuck off and drop it, his voice gruff and firm.
“I think as a friend we have a right to know these things, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa counters his friend’s command, holding a hand to his chest. “Don’t you want to know?
“I don’t care,” Iwa bites back, but there’s the slightest waver in it, the furtive way that he steals a glance at you that betrays the comment’s sincerity.
Oh.
“God, fine!” you huff out, exasperated and embarrassed and ready to just put this entire conversation to rest once and for all. “I’m sure you all have moanable names — happy now?”
The boys take pause at that.
“But which one of us has the most moanable name?” Makki asks with a smirk, leaning forward in his seat to leer at you. The look in his eyes is predatory, and makes something in you rise like panic, but without the actual fear of any danger.
Anticipation, you realize. That’s what you’re feeling.
Their video game has been abandoned now, one controller dangling loosely from Makki’s hand while Issei’s has been discarded on the coffee table.
Their eyes are all on you.
“I- I don’t know that, you perv!” you squeak out, heat climbing so quickly in your cheeks it’s making you dizzy, and you’re uncertain if it’s the beer or the blood rush that’s to blame. Maybe both. “Who am I to judge that?”
“Could you?”
Your eyes flicker to Mattsun.
“Judge it, I mean,” he adds when he sees the blank look on your face.
“Wh- how?” you squeak out, your heart thumping wildly in your chest. The atmosphere in the room has changed, become charged, in the few moments since the subject had come up.
“Moan for us,” Oikawa says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
You blink, absolutely bewildered by the request.
“Moan for us, please?” Oikawa stretches forward, his hand cupping your cheek. He looks so sweet and beseeching as his thumb presses down into your bottom lip.
“Why me?” you manage to ask through the pulse pounding in your throat.
“You’re the only girl, so you’re the only one who can do it, y’know, authentically,” Makki says from his seat. Your eyes flicker over to him, Oikawa’s thumb still prodding against your mouth. “Plus you’re hot.”
You roll your eyes, but you undeniably feel a shiver run through you when none of the other men in the room make any efforts to dispute his claim.
“So?” Mattsun asks, and the single word is so loaded that you feel like it sucks all the air from the room.
Oikawa finally pulls away from you, and the five of you sit quietly for a moment.
“Okay.”
You have no idea what makes you say it. Maybe it’s the alcohol in your bloodstream, maybe it’s something more depraved that was already inside of you long before you brought the can of beer to your lips that evening, the same thing that occasionally had your fingers creeping into your panties on the nights that your headphones aren’t enough to hide the sounds coming from your roommates’ bedrooms.
Something shifts in the room the minute you agree, like a spark catching on a pool of gasoline.
Oikawa laughs, the sound absolutely delighted and conniving, from his seat on the sofa.
“How far are we taking this?” Iwa asks gruffly, your eyes flickering over to him as he sits beside you. He looks reluctant.
“That’s up to her,” Makki says, nodding in your direction.
“Whaddya say?” Mattsun asks, eyes trailing all the way up your body before landing on your face. A little twitch at the corner of his already smirking mouth, ticking upward to make the curl of his lip a little more feral. “It’s your call: how far will you let us go, sweetheart?”
Your mouth feels too dry to form a response.
“First base?” Oikawa asks sweetly, leaning over the edge of the sofa once more as his fingers skirt up your arm. His touch ghosts over the swell of your breasts, right where the neckline of your tank top dips down, but only grazes you lightly enough to leave you squirming and unsatisfied.
Your breath hitches as you feel the warmth of his lips on your neck, your head lolling to the side instinctively — but the touch is so brief that you’d almost consider it chaste if not for the way his hand had slithered down to cup your pussy through the material of your leggings, brazen and self-assured.
“Second?” he poses a another question, murmuring the words directly into your skin, even though you’d never responded to the first.
He pulls away when you say nothing, your thighs clenching unconsciously to trap the pressure of his hand where it rests between your legs. His eyes are alight with something entirely too devious to look so tender as he locks gazes with you.
“Oh, you’re letting us go all the way,” he breathes the knowing words out like a prayer, honeyed and exalted.
“Don’t assume things, pervykawa,” Iwa snaps, but his voice is tighter than it had been a moment prior.
“Go on then,” Oikawa urges you, nosing at the edge of your jaw before pressing another featherlight kiss to your throat. “Tell us.”
You let a little noise out at way he presses his hand down a little firmer between your legs, your hips rolling against the pressure instinctively. Your eyes flutter closed, and when they open again, you’re acutely aware of the four men whose attentions are intently focused on you.
You swallow hard, fixing your eyes on the floor to avoid their esurient gazes.
“You can do whatever you want.”
They draw pretzels to decide the order. Four broken sticks held tight in Iwaizumi’s curled fist for them to pick from. Longest stick goes last, and the shortest first. You feel the blood drain from your face when you see who’s holding up the fated stub to start the endeavour off.
Matsukawa seems far less hesitant than you as he beckons you over into his lap. You shakily crawl a bit closer to him across the floor and then pause.
You’ve made out with Mattsun a few times over the years, mostly when you were high or a little tipsy — but it was always lazy and pointless and just for fun.
This was different.
There was a purpose to this — a goal that effectively erased all of the boundaries that normally existed between you and your friends.
“You, I-I… you can’t go first,” you say, your tone panicked as you slowly process the facts in front of you.
Mattsun smirks at you from his place on the couch, leaning down so his face is closer to yours.
“And why’s that?”
Your eyes widen, flickering to the other boys around the room who are watching you squirm with varying looks of interest - Oikawa’s smirk in particular is acutely sadistic from the other end of the sofa.
“You’re too big,” you say quietly, too much breath behind the words to make them anything more than a whisper.
You’ve heard the conversations they’ve had about the size of Mattsun’s cock over the years, and though you’ve never seen it in full view, you’ve caught him half-hard in his sweatpants first thing in the morning enough times to know they weren’t exaggerating when they called him massive.
“What was that?” Issei feigns ignorance, holding a hand up to his ear. “Repeat yourself, so we can all hear you a bit better.”
“You can’t go first,” you repeat yourself adamantly, but it’s not the part that Matsukawa wanted to hear you say, and he clicks his tongue admonishingly.
“Sure I can,” he drawls, holding up the piece of pretzel that he’d pulled, by far the shortest of the four that had been tucked into Iwaizumi’s curled palm, “it’s the luck of the draw.”
Issei extends his hand to you, and eventually you take it, allowing him to guide you up onto the sofa so you’re straddling his lap. His hands settle on your waist, thumbs dipping under the hem of your tank top to brush against the skin underneath.
“There you go,” he says, smiling up at you toothily as you brace yourself on his broad shoulders. “That wasn’t so hard was it?”
This is familiar enough. You’ve sat on his lap before, felt the way his palms flatten and slide down down down to palm your ass through the material of your leggings. He’s not smiling anymore as he peers up at you — no, that look has been replaced with something hungrier as his eyes flutter down to your lips.
You lean forward and kiss him.
Issei is a good kisser.
He has been since the first time the two of you made out in the backyard of a house party in high school when you were both drunk off of pitifully meagre amounts of liquor you’d convinced one the boys’ old volleyball senpai’s to buy for you. His lips are just as soft as they were back then, and he takes his time — focusing on your lips for what feels like an eternity before even thinking to swipe his tongue forward, pressing into your mouth gently in a gesture you’re all too happy to reciprocate.
Your lips start to burn from the way Issei nips and sucks at them, pulling away and watching with a heavy-lidded fascination as he lets your swollen bottom lip snap back into place as it slips from his teeth. You writhe in his lap.
You feel hot.
Too hot for someone who lives in a drafty apartment and isn’t wearing that many clothes to begin with.
You feel like you’re melting when Mattsun leans forward and presses a kiss to the hollow of your throat, his teeth biting down into the skin.
“Issei,” when his name finally slips out from your parted, stinging lips, it’s a whimper more than a moan. You head lolls back as your eyes flutter shut.
“Come on, that doesn’t count and you know it, sweetheart,” he says, the words smug and smothered by your skin between his teeth.
“He hasn’t even touched you yet and you’re this whiny,” Oikawa chuckles breathlessly from the other end of the sofa, and for the first time you remember that the two of you aren’t alone. Your eyes flash over to the young man only a few feet away from you, watching your face carefully.
“Hey,” a hand on your chin guides your face back towards the boy whose lap you’re perched on top of. Issei’s dark eyes bore into yours, his lips pink and swollen in a way that you’re sure yours also mirror. “Why are you looking at him when I’m right here? You distracted or something?”
Issei places the hand not holding your chin on the small of your back, pulling you forward at the same time that he ruts his own hips up. You gasp as you feel the pressure of his hard cock pressing against your clothed cunt. Even through the layers of clothing separating you, you can feel just how big he is.
“O-Oh my god, Issei, you’re…” you let out a strangled yelp, your train of thought lost as he repeats the same roll of his hips as before.
“Seems like I’ve got your full attention now,” Mattsun laughs, but his words are a little hoarser than they were before, a little more laboured. He grunts as you press your chest into his, wrapping your arms around his neck to kiss him again, your hips continuing the same steady pace that he’d set for you both.
You should be embarrassed how quickly the knot in your stomach builds up while you grind against Matsukawa’s lap, or at the very least embarrassed that you have an audience to the entire spectacle, but the heat thrumming through your veins makes you shameless and desperate. Mattsun moves with purpose and an almost inhuman precision, riling you up so fast that you find yourself on the brink of cumming and all of your clothes are still on.
His teeth bite down into the flesh of your shoulder at the exact moment the outline of the head of his cock ruts directly against your clit.
“Issei!” you throw your head back, gasping at the feeling.
“That was a moan!” Oikawa says with a sudden sharp clap of his hands, shattering the intimacy of the heated moment.
Before you know what’s happening you’re being pulled off Issei, who can only groan in response, his hands trying to cling to you as you’re pried from his lap.
“No, no, please I-“
“Don’t worry, I’ll make you feel good, too. Better even,” Oikawa smiles at you as he cuts off your desperate babbling, but it’s sharp and predatory as he lays you out on the sofa, flat on your back.
Your thighs are shaking, panties sticking between your legs as he crawls over you.
“Isn’t that right, Cherry-chan?”
You have half a mind to kick him off the couch just for the nickname, and call the whole thing off.
You dated Oikawa in high school, much to both of your dismay now that you’re older and wiser and not virgins. And he’d started calling you the pet name not long after you’d started seeing each other — citing the way your cheeks would always flush a telling, rosy hue at the slightest bit of provocation. You’d actually found it sort of sweet, until you learned (way later than you should have) that the nickname came from the fact he popped your cherry, not because you looked like one.
But you’re too worked up to do either of those things, and instead you fist the material of his t-shirt and pull him down towards you to crash his lips to yours.
Oikawa shows none of the patience that Mattsun showed in the preamble, immediately working the waistband of your pants down over your hips, underwear along with it. Before you know it, you’re naked from the waist down and Tooru is sinking to his knees on the floor between your parted thighs.
He wastes no time. Oikawa Tooru is a man who knows what he wants, and he has been for as long as you’ve known him.
Driven.
Unyielding in the pursuit of his goals.
And what he wants right now?
To break you apart.
Maybe it’s because of how worked up Mattsun had gotten you, maybe it’s the skillful way Oikawa uses this mouth, but in no time at all you find yourself on the edge.
“Oh my god, oh — haa — my god,” you’re babbling as the boy between your legs sucks your clit into his mouth. You’re trying your best to be quiet as you speak, all things considered; not quite moaning yet, though you’re uncertain as to whether or not it’s because you don’t want to give him the satisfaction, or that you know the moment you do you’ll be denied yours again.
“You taste so good.” Tooru licks a long stripe up your pussy with his unfairly talented tongue, flicking the tip against your sensitive clit as he reaches the top. “So sweet.”
You keen, back arching up off the sofa as he curls two long fingers inside of you without much warning beyond the brief glimpse of him wetting them with his mouth.
You’re going to cum.
You’re going to cum.
“Then do it,” Oikawa says, peering up at you lustfully from his place between your thighs, his tongue flicking out to lave against your clit again. You didn’t even realize you’d said it out loud.
Tooru spits into the hand that’s not currently three knuckles deep inside of you, and shifts slightly as he reaches down out of sight. The slick sound of him pumping his cock fills the room along with the obscene noises of him lapping at your cunt. The fact that he’s getting off on this as much as you are makes you feel even more unhinged.
When you finally cum, you feel like you’re going to die.
“Tooru!” you cry out, unable to hold the moan back any longer even in spite of your best efforts. Your thighs clamp around his head as your hips buck up against his face, back arching like a bow string drawn taught. Your hands tangle in his soft brown hair while you ride out the wave of heat that rips through your body.
You’re too far gone to worry that you’re going to be interrupted, but it doesn’t matter: the boys around the room are watching with such a fascinated intensity that none of them dare to interrupt.
“Look at that,” Makki breathes.
“Shit,” Mattsun grunts out an agreement as you struggle to catch your breath.
Oikawa’s hand has sped up it’s frantic passes along his cock, and when he shifts up to his knees on the floor below you, you catch sight of it for the first time since you were a teenager: still long and curved and nicely pink at the head, glossy with the precum oozing out of it.
“Like what you see?” he rasps out when he catches the way your eyes have travelled down to his dick, the muscles in his abdomen clenching to make them even more defined in a way that you’re uncertain is intentional or instinctive.
You nod weakly.
“Cum on me, Tooru.”
His muscles tense again.
“Where?” his pretence of nonchalance is fractured by the way his voice cracks, a pretty hand wrapped around the base of his equally pretty cock to keep himself from cumming before you tell him exactly where you want it.
“My tits,” you breathe, eyes flickering up to his feral gaze, “cum on my tits.”
One of his hands wraps around your knee, tugging you to the edge of the sofa where you’re still lying flat on your back. Your shirt rucks up slightly in the scramble, but his other hand tugs your tank top the rest of the way up over your chest, positioning himself over you between your spread legs as he pumps his hand hard and fast one, two, three times more before you feel the first spatter of cum hit your sweat-dampened skin.
You watch as he rests back on his haunches, reaching up to push his ruffled hair back from his face.
Tooru smirks, dragging a long finger through the mess he made on your chest — probably writing his name in it — as he speaks again.
“I don’t remember you being so lewd when we were in high school, Cherry-chan.”
“I don’t remember you being able to make me cum when we were in high school, either. Guess things change,” you say, and your words would have been more cutting if you were a little less breathless. Your hand reaches up and cards through Tooru’s impossibly soft hair, but what could have been a tender moment turns cutting when you curl your fingers in the tresses and tug hard — Oikawa looks like he’s holding back a moan. “And stop calling me that.”
“Here,” a voice says softly from beside you, pulling your attention away from the obnoxious boy who’d just made you cum. You let your head loll to the side to see Iwa handing you a bit of tissue. You have no idea when or where he got them from, but you thank him, watching the way his eyes follow your careful motions as you clean yourself up.
“You missed a spot,” Oikawa says, dipping down and dragging his tongue across your breast, maintaining eye contact with his best friend while he does it. You whimper a little at the way his teeth graze you when he suckles your nipple into his mouth — just for the hell of it.
“Alright, enough rekindling that old flame,” Makki says, eager for his own turn, before grabbing Oikawa by the collar of his shirt and dragging away from you. The brown-haired boy makes an indignant squawk as he’s so unceremoniously uprooted, but you have virtually no time to process it before Hiro is pulling you up to your feet and maneuvering you over to his seat, flopping down and pulling you into his lap along with him.
“Take this off,” he says, tugging at the shirt bunched up over your chest. He helps guide it up over your head properly and then he appraises you for a moment, moulding his hand to the shape of your breast.
He sighs, and it sounds soft and almost dreamy. You don’t trust it at all.
“Perfect.”
If Issei and Oikawa had been determined to unravel you as quickly as possible, Hiro is the opposite — he touches you like he wants to drive you to the brink, but never quite allow you to go over.
“‘Atta girl, just like that,” Hiro breathes as his thumb rubs infuriatingly slow circles into your clit, his other hand guiding the thick head of his cock through the slick of your slit. His shirt is long gone, but his sweatpants had only been tugged down around his knees — unsurprisingly he’d not been wearing underwear beneath them.
He’s been teasing you like this for what felt like an eternity, painstakingly circling your clit, rolling your nipples between his teeth, laving his tongue over the bite marks he’d littered across your collarbones to match the one’s Issei had made while you mewled. He appeased your needy whines with the occasional dip of his tip pressing into you, a little bit of a burn each time as you adjusted to the intrusion, you still feel too empty.
“H-hiro, please. I need it,” you’re almost sobbing as you plead to him. Hell, you are sobbing — the words mangled and watery as your fingers tangle their way into Makki’s perpetual bedhead.
“Nah, you don’t,” Makki says. “You can cum like this.”
“I don’t want to,” you warble, fingernails raking bluntly over his scalp. “Wanna cum on yo-on your cock.”
That makes him falter, slipping a little bit further inside you due to nothing but pure shock. You feel his cock twitch as you sink halfway down it.
“Oh I felt that,” you keen, tossing your head back and dropping your hips down onto him as much as his vice grip on your waist will allow — which isn’t much. “Please Hiro. I know you want to.”
“‘Course I want to,” he groans, thrusting shallowly into the tight heat between your legs. “But you’re so pretty like this, all wrecked and desperate. Who’re you begging for?”
“You,” you murmur, kissing up his throat to his jaw, sliding little pecks all the way across to his mouth. “It’s for you Hiro — so please just fuck me.”
“I don’t have a condom on,” Hiro hisses out through clenched teeth. “And I’m out.”
“I’ve got some,” Mattsun drawls from his spot on the couch and your half-lidded gaze lands on him. He licks his lips as you make eye contact, your walls clenching around the tip of Hiro’s cock that’s still half-inside you.
“Fuck you,” Makki spits, not to you, and you all know why. Mattsun is the only man in the room that would fit into the king size condoms tucked into his bedside drawer.
“I don’t care,” you keen, head lolling back.
He’s halfway in already, no condom in sight. Was it your finest hour? The most shining example of reason you’d ever set? No. But you were three quarters of the way through letting your four best friends have their way with you, so it’s fair to say that logic and reason were well beyond you by that point.
“Really?” Hiro’s voice is comically pitchy as he croaks the question out, desperate and hopeful.
“Just don’t cum inside me, ‘kay?” You nod, leaning forward and resting your forehead against his. He rolls his hips a little deeper than before, not all the way, but fuller than he’d been filling you up until that point.
“You got it, princess.”
Makki’s cock may not be the most impressive in the room, but god does he know how to use it. The first thrust to the hilt he makes has you crying out — a pitiful, broken sound that rips from somewhere deep in your chest.
“Fuck you’re so tight,” Hiro moans, pulling out just to repeat the same toe-curling accuracy he’d executed on the first thrust. Three more and you’re ready to snap, and the softest pressure of his thumb on your clit has your eyes rolling into the back of your head.
“Hiro, H-Hiro, Hiro!” you moan his name as you come undone, nails digging into the soft flesh of his shoulders as you scrabble for purchase in the pale skin.
“Fuck, fuck,” Hiro chokes out, managing two more sloppy thrusts through your orgasm before he’s pulling out of you and cumming all over his own tightly-drawn abs.
You crumple forward, hands gripping the back of the chair as your sweat-slicked chest meets Makki’s. His hands immediately reaching around to stroke your back as the two of you struggle to catch your breaths.
It’s an unusually gentle gesture, and you find yourself melting into his touch — though careful not to get the cum splattered across his skin onto yours.
“Wow,” he says with a huff of a laugh, the warm breath fanning against your ear. “Your pussy’s unreal.”
You pull back, looking at him through narrowed eyes.
Way to ruin the moment.
You flick him on the forehead, right between his brows.
You stand up onto unsteady legs and almost immediately stumble, but a strong arm around your waist keeps you upright.
You turn in the aforementioned grip to see Iwa supporting you.
“Hi, Iwa,” you say softly, for lack of anything better to say, a delirious smile on your flushed face.
“Hi,” he repeats the greeting with a sweet chuckle. He says your name quietly, and you feel something stir in the pit of your stomach. “You good?”
“Mhm,” you hum, with a little nod, very aware of the way his stiff cock is pressing into your hip as he holds you.
You wait for a second before stretching up to press your lips to his.
He freezes momentarily — like even after everything he’d just witnessed he wasn’t quite expecting it — before responding in kind, kissing you deeply and holding you a little bit tighter.
You stay like that, making out in the middle of the living room, before Iwa sweeps you up into his arms. Your legs wrap around his waist as he holds you like it’s effortless and carefully he leans down, laying you out across the floor — hardly breaking the kiss all the while.
Iwa steals a pillow off the couch — you think it’s Oikawa who hands it to him but you can’t be sure — nestling it under your hips to angle them up and protect them from the hard floor underneath.
“Is this okay?” he asks, though he barely separates from your mouth to speak the words, so soft and quiet and close that it’s like you’re the only person in the world who’s meant to hear them.
You nod a little bit, your fingers tracing through his short hair while he’s hovering over you.
“We can stop here, you know,” he says, brushing his nose against yours. “You’ve done so much already.”
You panic a little, your grip on his hair tightening.
“No,” you say, voice pitching up in your fluster. “Please, Hajime. I want you to fuck me.”
Iwa swallows hard, leaning back on his knees as he tugs his sweatshirt up over his head.
You’re wet and more than ready for him when he finally presses in — but there’s still a delicious stretch as he carves his way inside of you that has you arching up underneath him, grabbing his corded shoulders to ground yourself.
“Oh,” Iwa gasps out as he feels the way you’re wrapped around him, sucking him in.
You whimper as he pulls back only slightly before rutting into you again, sending you sliding up on the carpet, the burn against your shoulder blades little more than a dull ache even if you know you’ll feel it acutely in the morning.
“More, Iwa,” you plead to him breathlessly. “I want you.”
“You’ve got me,” he replies hoarsely, but he still obliges your request readily, looping your knees over his forearms and bending you in half. The change forces a sound out of you that’s so carnal it even takes you by surprise.
He’s so deep at this angle, you swear you can feel the tip of his cock hitting your diaphragm — anatomical possibilities be damned. Your throat is tight, breath hitching with every slow, calculated thrust inside of you as he takes his time.
“Ha-“ your moan is cut off before you can say his name, his hand pressing against your swollen lips to trap the word behind them unspoken.
“Sorry, baby,” Iwa murmurs, eyes tracing over your wrecked face. “I just don’t want this to end too quick, okay?”
You can only nod underneath his palm as it covers your mouth, tears of exertion gathering along your lash line and dripping back towards your temple.
“Be good for me,” his words are strained, tendons in his neck flexing as he swallows hard and rolls his hips down into yours once more.
If any of the boys want to complain about how this is breaking some unspoken rule, they don’t. A silence so profound has settled over the room that you wonder if they’re even breathing.
Iwa fucks you languidly — tenderly. Like he’s savouring every slick slide into your cunt for all the moment is worth. He’s groaning openly, the sounds occasionally muffled by your skin as he presses hot open mouthed kisses to every inch of it he can reach - your mouth is still covered by his heavy hand, so he focuses his attention on your jaw, your throat, your tits.
He doesn’t care about the competition, the way he’s taking his time makes that clear, but when he finally removes his hand and you moan — properly moan — it’s a sound so high and sweet you can almost feel the shiver that runs down the length of his spine.
“Hajime.”
“Shit,” the grunted curse isn’t from Iwa, who is still rocking his hips into yours, but rather Makki — who had begun shamelessly jerking himself off again on the other side of the living room.
You cum for the third time that night, but it’s no less impressive than the first two. Your vision goes from black to white with how hard your eyes squeeze shut, and Iwa moans your name out when he feels the way you clench around his cock — so tight he can barely keep fucking you through it. Your legs wind themselves around his hips and keep him still as you writhe through your peak.
“‘M gonna cum,” he grunts out through clenched teeth, hands moving to try and pry your legs away, “baby, I’m gonna cum, you gotta-“
“Inside,” you keen, “cum inside me, Haji.”
With a defeated, wanton groan he nods, rolling against you again— it’s harder this time, more frantic.
“You sure?” he manages to bite the words out though it seems to take every last ounce of resolve he has, hands pressed into the carpet on either side of your head as he leans over you fucking you into the floor.
You nod frantically, tears still rolling down your cheeks. Your hands press weakly against the smooth planes of his chest as you feel the first pangs of overstimulation, your fingers scratching into the skin beneath them a little more on every thrust. You loosen the lock of your legs, allowing Iwaizumi a bit more leeway to fuck you harder, and after only a few more bruising thrusts you feel him cum, cock throbbing and filling you up so well that you feel on the verge of bursting.
Iwa collapses on top of you, his face tucked into the crook of your neck as his heavy weight bears down and crushes you into the floor — but you don’t quite mind it.
He gets his bearings soon enough, as though realizing for the first time he might be harming you, rolling onto his side.
His eyes are a little hazy as they rake over your features, a look of concern pinching his handsome face. You can tell without him saying it that he’s worried he went too far, so you reach up and cup his face in your palm with a weak but genuine smile.
You feel a pressure on your knee unexpectedly, gently nudging your legs apart. You look down to see Hiro’s foot coaxing your thighs open, eyes fixed to where Hajime’s cum is dripping out of you. He’s tucked his cock away and pulled his sweatpants up again, meaning he must have finished again at some point, but his lip is stuck out in an obnoxious pout as he looks at you.
“How come he got to nut inside you but I didn’t?” Makki whines, and Oikawa reaches out and smacks the back of his head lightly — shooting him a look that you don’t quite understand.
“I’ll go get a warm cloth to clean you up,” Iwa says to you, pulling your attention back to him as he pushes himself up into a sitting position. He clears his throat a little. “Okay?”
You nod weakly, your exhaustion having finally crept up on you.
“Iwa-chan, get one for me too! My face is still all sticky!” Oikawa calls after Iwa’s retreating form.
“Get it yourself!”
“But Iwa!” Oikawa complains, standing and shuffling after his friend, grumbling about the injustice all the while.
“You need some water?” Makki asks, standing from his seat and peering down at where you’re still laying flat on the floor of your living room. He stretches his arms up over his head, the muscles of his upper body flexing under his skin as he does so. You nod, hissing a little as you pull yourself upright.
“Yes, please,” your throat is hoarse so you say the words a little weakly, and you wince as you feel more cum seep out of you and smear along the tops of your thighs. Makki nods and saunters off towards the kitchen, but you could have sworn you spotted a little blush along the tops of his cheeks before he left.
You sigh a little bit, blinking away some of the residual wetness in your eyes.
A figure appears in the periphery of your blurry vision, and you turn, peering upwards.
Mattsun grins down at you, his towering height only amplified by your position on the floor. He tilts his head to the side.
“Kinda unfair that I’m the only one who didn’t get to cum, you know.”
He crouches down beside you, his eyes trailing all the way up your body until he reaches your flushed, tearstained face. He cups your cheek in his hand, the pad of his thumb swiping away a lone tear still clinging to your skin. He brings the thumb up to his lips, and you watch raptly as his tongue sweeps out to taste the brine from his fingertip.
Your stomach clenches.
“Think you’re ready for me now, sweetheart?”
None of you even seem to notice that the competition had been all but forgotten.
